Bride, Bought and Paid For. HELEN BIANCHIN
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asking me to become pregnant with your child,’ she demanded with incredulity. ‘Give it up after birth…then be cast out of its life?’
‘Why would I cast a wife aside?’
The colour leeched from her face. ‘What do you mean—wife?’
‘Marriage,’ Xavier clarified succinctly. ‘Adequate recompense for me dropping all charges against your father,’ he added in dry mocking tones. ‘And clearing his gambling debts.’
For a moment she lost the power to think as erotic images filled her mind…images she’d never been able to erase, and words tumbled from her lips without thought. ‘I don’t want to marry you.’
‘Consider the advantages.’
‘At the moment, I can’t think of one.’
Was that a quick gleam of amusement she glimpsed on his face or merely a trick of the light?
‘No?’
Romy swept his impressive form a deliberate appraisal, and successfully tamped down the unbidden emotion threatening to consume her body. ‘What we shared wasn’t anything special.’
Liar, she silently castigated. Once, just once she’d attempted to erase his lovemaking from her mind by superimposing it by having sex with someone else…and the memory still gave her cause to regret the experience.
Xavier tamped down the urge to pull her in close and take possession of her mouth, to tame her fine anger and turn it into purring pleasure. Instead, he reached out a hand and trailed light fingers down her cheek, then he cupped her chin and eased his thumb-pad gently over the soft fullness of her lower lip. He watched her eyes darken and sensed the faint hitch in her breath.
So much for thinking she was immune to his touch! Strength of spirit ensured she stood perfectly still, her eyes steady as she held his gaze, and she wondered if he had any inkling just how much it cost her to do so.
‘You want a deal for your father,’ Xavier reiterated quietly. ‘I’ve offered a solution. Take it or leave it.’
The thought of her father having to appear in court again, be escorted under police guard to prison, suffer indignities, fear, not to mention several years incarceration, possibly die there, was more than Romy could bear.
‘Do you need me to spell out what form of reminder the loan shark will serve Andre, and ultimately you, if payment isn’t forthcoming on time?’ Xavier queried and saw her features pale.
She had until midnight tomorrow to produce a large sum of money neither she nor Andre could scrape together.
Face it, she reminded herself grimly. Every possible resource had been explored. Xavier DeVasquez was their last hope for any form of rescue package that would help her father.
A hollow sensation settled in her stomach as desperate reality hit home. She had a choice, which was really no choice at all. The question had to be—did she have sufficient courage to take what Xavier offered? Yet how could she not?
The faint burr of his phone intruded, and he picked it up, listened, offered a curt instruction, then he ended the call.
There was little to be gained from his expression, and she didn’t even attempt to hazard a guess as she bore his measured scrutiny.
‘I have an important meeting scheduled.’ He paused fractionally. ‘Your answer, Romy?’
This was it, she recognized with a sense of fatalism. She’d come this far and would gain much—at considerable personal cost—if she agreed to the deal. A deal which didn’t need to be a life sentence, for marriage carried an escape clause. There was always the option of divorce.
Her eyes sparked brilliant blue fire. ‘Yes…damn you.’
For a brief second she thought she glimpsed humour in those dark eyes, then it was gone.
‘I don’t recall you being quite so verbally explicit,’ Xavier drawled and watched as she made a concentrated attempt to rein in her anger.
‘It’s the effect you have on me.’ Calm, she had to remain calm. Difficult when she was filled with mixed emotions…not one of them good.
‘I need a contact phone number before you walk out the door.’ His voice was like silk and sent her stress levels up a few notches.
‘I’ll leave it with your PA.’
Xavier withdrew a card and handed it to her. ‘I prefer to keep my personal life and business matters separate.’
Romy took the pen he offered, scrawled her mobile number onto the back of the card, and placed both on his desk, then she turned, walked unseeing out to main Reception and took a lift down to the ground level.
She’d succeeded in gaining her father a reprieve.
It should have felt like victory…instead it felt like hell.
CHAPTER THREE
THE phone pealed as Romy was about to step into the shower back at her St Kilda apartment, and she quickly pulled on a robe then raced into the bedroom to pick up her mobile, checked caller ID and failed to recognize the number.
‘Romy.’
Xavier.
There was no doubting the male voice, or to whom it belonged, and she drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it.
‘What do you want?’
‘We’re due to meet with my lawyer in half an hour.’ He moved fast…but what else did she expect?
‘I have plans,’ she said coolly. She didn’t, except he wasn’t to know that.
‘Do you really want to do this the hard way?’
If only she didn’t have to do it at all!
‘I’ll be at your apartment in fifteen minutes.’
‘You don’t know the address.’ Empty words, given he’d already cut the connection.
A soft oath escaped her lips in the knowledge he had the means to discover almost anything he wanted to know including her new place of residence.
For a few timeless seconds she considered slipping out before Xavier arrived only to give up the idea almost as soon as it occurred.
Fool, she silently berated herself as she stepped into the shower stall. Such an action could lead to financial suicide.
The in-house phone pealed as Romy was putting the finishing touches to her hair, and she picked up, identified Xavier and quickly announced she was on her way down.
Tailored trousers, neatly buttoned blouse beneath a jacket, killer heels, with her hair swept into a careless knot held in place by a large clasp. Casual, yet chic. Minimal make-up.
Good to go, she decided as she picked up her keys and tossed them into her clutch as she exited her apartment.
Xavier was waiting for her when the lift doors slid open at ground level, and she tamped down the sudden quiver in her stomach at the sight of him.
He bore the look of a man whose sophisticated exterior belied the dangerous earthy quality that lay beneath the surface.
Black trousers, an open-necked shirt and a black softleather jacket replaced the formal business suit. Attire which did little to lessen the lethal impact of the man.
For a wild moment she considered telling him she’d changed her mind. Except doing so wasn’t an option.
Her chin lifted fractionally, and she met and held his level gaze with equanimity as she crossed to his side.
Stilettos added inches to her petite height, but even so the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Three years ago she’d felt protected, whereas now