Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates: Purchased: His Perfect Wife. HELEN BIANCHIN
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message from an anxious groom-to-be didn’t happen, nor the appearance of a bridesmaid or three, make-up artist and hairdresser.
Instead, Lara rose early, bade Wolfe a perfunctory ‘Good morning,’ as he pulled on sweats, and offered, ‘Coffee?’
She needed to do something, anything, to keep her mind occupied.
‘Half a cup, black, no sugar.’
A few days of occupying a hotel suite should have accustomed her to Wolfe’s presence. Instead, it merely accelerated her nervous tension, and she felt the familiar curling sensation in the pit of her stomach as he crossed to her side.
Would it be easier tomorrow, the day after, when she’d shared her body with his?
Sure, and piglets should sprout wings and fly!
A hollow laugh choked in her throat, and she swallowed compulsively.
He stood close … too close … and there was nothing she could do to prevent the fine body hairs rising up in sensual recognition.
Oh, for heaven’s sake … get a grip.
Wolfe drained his coffee and replaced the cup onto the servery. ‘I’ll head down to the gym.’
‘OK.’
Her eyes flew wide as he caught hold of her chin and tilted it so she had no option but to meet his gaze. ‘Don’t think of bailing out.’
His voice held a tinge of silk, and for a fleeting second he caught a glimpse of shock … and something else.
‘Why would I do that?’ she managed reasonably.
Why, indeed? Yet there was something evident beneath the surface he couldn’t quite tap into, he reflected thoughtfully as he rode the lift down to the gym.
She kissed like an angel, and he’d be fooling himself if he said he didn’t want more. To taste and savour, gift her pleasure … and take his own.
During his absence Lara showered and washed her hair, shared a leisurely breakfast with Wolfe on his return, then she began preparing for the marriage ceremony.
Make-up was minimal, with a soft pink blush adding colour to her cheeks, gloss accenting her lips, and she highlighted her eyes with a light stroke of blue to match them.
Simplicity was her chosen style, and she swept the length of her hair into a smooth twist at her nape and fixed it with a pearl-studded hinged clip.
The ivory dress with its fitted lace overlay was perfect for the marriage ceremony. Scalloped lace edged the wide scooped-neckline, the short sleeves and hemline providing a delicate fragility to her slender, petite frame. Stilettos added height, and she fixed a slender gold chain at her neck, gifted to her by Suzanne.
The final touch was a delicate spray of seed pearls fixed in her hair … and she was done.
‘Ready?’
She turned to see Wolfe leaning one shoulder against the en suite aperture, looking incredible, she had to admit, in a superbly tailored black suit, white shirt and grey silk tie.
‘Yes.’ She sounded calm, when inside she was a mass of nerves.
There wasn’t much she could discern from his expression, and she collected a small spray of white orchids and followed him from the suite.
The brief ceremony was due to be conducted in the hotel’s private lounge in the presence of Darius’ lawyer, Sally and Shontelle.
Last-minute nerves were acceptable in a bride, Lara conceded as she stood at Wolfe’s side while they waited for a lift to ascend to their floor.
She was fully aware of the reasons why she’d committed herself to this marriage. So why now did she suddenly yearn for it to be a love match instead of a convenient merger?
How many times over the past few days had she questioned if she was doing the right thing?
Too many, she admitted, aware she’d swung like a pendulum between hesitancy and reassurance.
The lift arrived, the electronic doors slid open and she preceded Wolfe inside the empty carriage to stand in silence as they were swiftly transported down to the second level.
She didn’t need prompting to smile when Wolfe took hold of her hand as they reached the private lounge.
It was show time, and she intended to give the performance of her life.
The celebrant, lawyer, Sally and Shontelle were already gathered in the elegantly furnished room. Greetings were exchanged, together with formal introductions, then without further delay the celebrant suggested the bride and groom stand together adjacent to a white-linen covered table containing a votive candle, and a crystal vase containing a delicate spray of orchids.
Wolfe threaded his fingers through her own as Lara focused on the celebrant and the deep sincerity evident in the spoken words, the deep timbre of Wolfe’s voice as he made his vows … and the quiet, faintly trembling sound of her own.
Her hand shook as Wolfe slid the wide diamond-studded band onto her finger, and she almost dropped the gold band as she prepared to slide it in place on his left hand.
‘I now pronounce you husband and wife.’
Lara experienced a sense of unreality as the celebrant proclaimed the words, and she barely hid her surprise as Wolfe lifted her left hand to his lips, then followed the gesture by lightly brushing his mouth to her own.
His eyes, so dark and slumbrous, rendered her boneless as she signed the marriage certificate, and it took all her effort to remain standing, to smile, even laugh on occasion, as congratulations were offered by Darius’ lawyer, Sally and Shontelle.
Champagne was produced, and afterwards Lara barely held back the tears as she hugged Sally, then Shontelle, when it came time to say goodbye.
‘Look after her,’ both girls bade Wolfe fiercely as they paused at the hotel entrance.
‘You have my word.’
It didn’t take long to return to their suite and change, and Lara chose dress jeans, a knit top and jacket, then slid her feet into flat shoes … aware Wolfe had exchanged a suit for tailored trousers, a collarless shirt and soft leather jacket.
Downstairs a limousine stood waiting with their bags stowed in the boot, and the chauffeur opened the rear door as Wolfe and Lara approached.
Mascot airport lay south of the city, and as soon as the obligatory customs inspection was completed they boarded a private jet stationed at the edge of the tarmac.
Luxury fittings, Lara noticed, with the interior resembling a private lounge, with wide deep-cushioned leather recliner chairs, a work station and a personal attendant whose greeting held familiar warmth.
Did her duties include joining the mile-high club with the boss?
‘No,’ Wolfe drawled close to her ear as he ushered her into a seat. ‘Although I’m not averse to testing the theory with my wife.’
Colour drained from her cheeks, to be rapidly replaced by twin tinges of pink. ‘I don’t think so.’
Musing humour gleamed in those dark eyes, and his mouth curved into a teasing smile. ‘It’s a long flight.’ He brushed his lips to her temple. ‘Buckle up. We’re about to move out towards the runway.’
Show time?
If Wolfe was intent on playing a part, then so would she, and she offered him a stunning smile. ‘Perhaps you should do the same … darling.’
A tad overkilled, but what did she have to lose?
No sooner had the Gulfstream jet reached the desired altitude, than Wolfe extracted his laptop and became immersed in work.
Given differing time zones, the wheels of world business never ceased, and Lara extracted a thick