The Marriage Of Inconvenience. Nina Singh
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This wasn’t going well. “I love Louis Armstrong.”
“I know.”
It dawned on her suddenly. “You’re teasing me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
She leaned a knee next to him on the couch and gave him a useless shove on the shoulder. “Robert James Davet, you’ve been teasing me all this time with contradictory pretend answers.”
He reached up and tapped a playful finger on her nose. “I guess I must know more about you than you think.”
Electricity crackled between them. She had the sudden urge to ask him the questions that were running through her mind. The same ones she’d been seeking the answers to every day for the past three years.
Is there someone special in your life now?
Has someone been lucky enough to snare your interest and attention the way I used to?
She cleared her throat. “What’s the last book you’ve read?”
He told her, but it didn’t register.
She nodded. “What do you do in your spare time?”
Do you still like to linger in bed Saturday mornings?
“Work,” he answered.
That much she should have guessed. “What’s been your proudest achievement?”
“The phenomenal growth of Davet Security Services.”
Ditto.
“And your greatest failure?”
He hesitated, staring at her, almost looking right through her. His eyes were full of meaning. A gust of wind rattled the windows outside. Understanding dawned on her, and she felt a wrenching ache start around the area of her heart.
He was thinking about the two of them. She knew it. He was thinking their marriage was his biggest mistake.
She tried to pretend the world hadn’t crashed in around her. Slowly seating herself on the ottoman in front of him, she tried to change the direction of the conversation. She would somehow get past the burning pain. “I bet you haven’t changed the way you drink your coffee. Or the predawn workouts you never skipped.”
He nodded.
She decided to go on. “And I’m guessing you can still ride a motorcycle like a daredevil. I bet your pool game is as smooth as it used to be. And something tells me your poker hand has lightened casino coffers all over the world these past couple of years.” She looked up to see a muscle twitch in the hard set of his jaw.
He leaned toward her, a scant inches from her face. “That’s right, Angel. I still have all the characteristics that made me an unfit son-in-law for the Scott dynasty.”
She bit her lip. “That’s not what I was getting at.” Looking away, she added, “I’m so sorry for everything you were put through. My father can be a ruthless man.”
R.J. sniffed an ironic laugh. “A ruthless man who had definite ideas about whom you should marry. And it wasn’t anyone like me.”
She should have been prepared for this, should have seen it coming. Damn her father and his ideals for her future. He’d done everything he could to make sure R.J. knew he thought he wasn’t good enough. “Maybe this isn’t the time to get into all this.”
“Why not? Don’t talk about my background? Don’t talk about who I am? Who I’ve always been.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He was putting words in her mouth.
“What do you mean, then?” he asked. “You know me well enough, Angel. You know I’m South End litter, from the part of Boston people like you avoid.”
“That’s not true. I’ve always been impressed with what you’ve managed to accomplish despite everything. You know that.”
He let out a sarcastic laugh. “Is that why you came on to me that night at the campus party? Was it some type of debutante bet? To see who could win a token from the wrong side of the city?”
She lifted her chin. “I came on to you because I wanted to. Because of the way you were looking at me.”
“But we both should have known better. It was against all the rules, you were out of my league.” He let out a weary sigh. “I should have stayed away from you. As your father made crystal clear.”
Like it could have been so easy. “What about what we were starting to feel?”
His sharp features seemed to take on an even more angular set. She felt compelled to continue, perhaps foolishly. “I know it wasn’t my imagination, R.J. I know I saw attraction in your face those first few times we ran into each other.” Her voice came out in a whisper. An imaginary fist had wrapped itself around her throat, its fingers strong and relentless.
He leaned back into the cushions, putting some distance between them. “I remember you’ve never had a problem being bold.”
She cleared her throat. “Then we have changed after all. Because I certainly don’t feel that way now.”
“Perhaps I’d better go.”
“Are you walking out on me? Just because the conversation has gotten a little serious? Again?”
His laugh was sharp. “Now, that’s an interesting question. If I recall, I asked you to come with me. As long as we’re remembering, we may as well be accurate.”
She sighed, trying to find a way to explain how difficult such a move would have been for her back then. “There was no easy way for me to do that. You don’t understand. And you didn’t then either.” She noticed his fingers tighten around the glass and worried it might snap in his hand.
“So it would appear.”
“Besides,” she continued, “things had gotten bad for us way before you took the physical steps out the door. We had my father set against our union from the very beginning. And we were both much too focused on our professional careers. I regret that.” She decided to take a chance and move forward with her next question. “Why didn’t we try harder, R.J.? Why did we let outside forces drive such a wedge between us?”
He stiffened ever so slightly and set the glass down hard on the coffee table. “What does it matter now? We have to take care of this one scenario, and then the past will be dead and buried.” He paused, then added, “Once again.”
Angeline felt the mask of neutrality she’d put up begin to crumble, and she tried to hold on to some semblance of control. Why did his nonchalance hurt so much? It didn’t take a genius to realize he wanted out as things had gotten difficult. Granted, her father’s behavior toward him had been reprehensible, down to promising to cut her off entirely if they did get married. A threat her father had followed through on. Well, she’d prove to Richard Scott that she didn’t need his money to be successful. He didn’t have a right to meddle in her life the way he had with R.J. She couldn’t let him get away with what he’d done to alienate her husband from the very beginning.
In the end, her father had won. Her marriage had crumbled. R.J. had walked away.
Angel hadn’t seen or spoken to her only parent since. Unable to forgive and forget, she refused to contact her father. Not that he’d bothered to make any contact either. Apparently they were stuck in a stubborn standoff to see who would blink first. She vowed that it wouldn’t be her.
In a daze, she nodded. “You’re right, R.J. I agree,” she lied. Her voice sounded strained even to her own ears, and she glanced at him to see if he’d noticed.
A wave of sorrow struck her for what she’d lost. Her eyes moved over his face of their own volition. Nostalgia for days gone by engulfed her, and she found herself moving closer toward him into the sofa.