Wed on His Terms: Million-Dollar Marriage Merger. Charlene Sands
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Rena was in trouble. Tony didnât think he could wait much longer.
Heâd promised David.
He drove his Porsche through the Purple Fields gates for the second time today and parked in front of the gifts shop-wine-tasting room adjacent to the main house. The quaint shop attracted tourists during the late spring and summer months when the weather was mild and the scent of grapes flavored the air. Rena had worked there during high school, serving sandwiches and cheese and crackers to their customers.
Tony ran a hand down his face, bracing himself for Renaâs wrath. She wouldnât agree to his terms lightly, if at all. He got out of the car and walked the distance to the house. Using the metal knocker on the door, he gave three firm raps and waited. When she didnât come, he knocked again, louder.
âRena,â he called out.
He gazed over the grounds as the last remnants of evening light faded. Focusing intently, he glanced around at the other buildings and through the vineyards. There was no sign of her. Tony tried the doorknob, and to his surprise it opened.
Sheâd left the door unlocked.
He felt a surging sense of alarm. Rena lived alone now. It wasnât like her not to be cautious. Without hesitation, he walked inside the house. The entry that led to the living room was dark. As he took a few steps inside, it seemed the entire house was dark. âRena?â
He made his way down the long hall and opened one door, peering inside to an empty room. He checked another room without success. When he got to the end of the hallway, he found the last door open. A small amount of moonlight illuminated the middle of the room where Rena slept on her bed.
Tony winced, seeing her sleeping soundly, her chest lifting and falling peacefully, her raven hair spread across the pillow. A few strands curled around her face and contrasted against her creamy complexion. She wore the same austere dress heâd seen her in earlier today, but it couldnât conceal the feminine slope of her breasts or the luscious curve of her hips.
Tony had loved her once. Heâd taken her virginity when she was eighteen. When sheâd cried, overwhelmed by emotion, heâd clung to her and assured her of his love. Rena had given herself to him one hundred percent and though heâd tried to give her everything she needed from him, he couldnât. He had another great passionâracing. It was in his blood. From the time he was a small boy, Tony needed to feel the wind at his back. He loved speed and thrilled at the danger of being wild and free. Later, heâd learned to harness his passion. Heâd learned that precision and accuracy as well as spirit made you a winner.
Heâd achieved his goals without much struggle. Heâd been born to race. But heâd also disappointed his father by not working alongside him as was expected by the eldest son, and heâd hurt the girl heâd admired and loved most in the world.
Memories flashed again, of making love to Rena and how incredibly poignant and pure itâd been. But Tonyâs mission here wasnât to rehash the past but to move on to the future. Rena was Davidâs widow now, and the strain of his death was evident on her beautiful face, even in sleep.
His first inclination was to quietly leave, locking the door behind him, but he found he couldnât move, couldnât lift his eyes away from her sad desolate face. So he stood at the threshold of her bedroom, watching her.
It wasnât long before she stirred, her movements lazy as she stretched out on the bed. Tonyâs gaze moved to the point where her dress hiked up, exposing long beautiful legs and the hint of exquisite thighs.
His body quickened, and he ground his teeth fighting off lusty sexual thoughts. Yet, quick snippets of memory emerged of hot delicious nights making love to her all those years ago.
Rena opened her eyes and gasped when she spotted his figure in the doorway. Immediate fear and vulnerability entered her eyes. She sat straight up, and when she recognized him, anger replaced her fear. âWhat are you doing here?â
âWe had a date.â
âA date?â To her credit, she did appear hazily confused. Then the anger resurfaced. âHowâd you get in?â
âThe door was unlocked. Not a good habit, Rena. Anyone could have gotten into your house.â
âAnyone did.â
Tony chose to ignore the swipe.
Rena swung her legs around and set her bare feet on the floor. She rubbed her forehead with both hands and shook her head. âI guess I fell asleep. What time is it?â
âEight-fifteen.â
She looked up at him. âWere you standing there all that time?â
âNo,â he lied. âI just got here. I was fashionably late.â
She closed her eyes briefly. âI donât know what happened. I felt exhausted and fell into a deep sleep.â
The baby, Tony thought. Heâd had many a racing buddy speak about their wifeâs exhaustion during their early pregnancy. âMaybe itâs all catching up with you. Youâve been through a lot this past month.â
âYou donât know what Iâve been through.â She was being deliberately argumentative, and Tony didnât take the bait.
âHow long before you can be ready?â
Her brows furrowed. âReady?â
âFor dinner.â
âOh, I donât think so. Not tonight. Iâm notââ she began to put her hand to her flat stomach, then caught herself ââfeeling well.â
âYouâll feel better once you eat. How long since youâve eaten?â
âI donât knowâ¦. I had a salad for lunch around noon.â
âYou need to keep up your strength, Rena.â
She opened her mouth to respond, then clamped it shut.
âIâll wait for you in the living room.â
Tony turned and walked away, not really giving her a choice in the matter. There were many more things heâd have to force upon her before the evening was through.
Rena got up from her bed, moving slowly as she replayed the events of the day in her mind. First, Tony had visited her this afternoon, a fact that still irked her. Yet he had something to say and he wouldnât leave until he got it off his chest. Thatâs how Carlinos operated; they did what they darn well wanted, no matter how it affected other people. Bitter memories surfaced of her father standing up to Santo Carlino, but Rena shoved them out of her mind for the moment. She couldnât go there now.
Next came thoughts of her conversation with Mr. Zelinski at the bank. Heâd been kind to her, confessing his hands were tied. She wouldnât be getting the loan she desperately needed. She wouldnât be able to pay her employees. Purple Fields was doomed.
Her head began to pound. She felt faint. Though her appetite had been destroyed today, she admitted that she really should eat something. For the babyâs sake, if nothing else. She couldnât afford to sink into depression. It wouldnât be good for the unborn child she carried.
As quick as her body allowed, she got ready, cringing at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was drawn, her hair wild, her clothes rumpled. She washed her face, applied a light tint of blush to her cheeks, some lipstick to her lips and brushed her hair back into a clip at the base of her neckâjust to appear human again. She changed her clothes, throwing on a black pair of pants and a soft knit beige sweater that ruffled into a vee and looked stylish though comfortable. She slipped her feet into