Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates: Purchased: His Perfect Wife. HELEN BIANCHIN
Читать онлайн книгу.
had a steadfast rule—no female staff left alone this late at night.
‘I won’t be long.’ Lara extracted Wolfe’s card and crossed to the phone, all too aware the nerves in her stomach had twisted into a painful knot.
Seconds later she cursed beneath her breath as she keyed in a wrong digit and had to start over.
Wolfe answered on the third ring, intoning, ‘Alexander,’ in a voice that sounded deep and slightly more accented over the phone.
‘Lara.’ She identified herself at once.
‘You’ve reached a decision?’
It was hardly the time or the occasion for small talk, and she didn’t even try. ‘Yes.’ ‘And?’
Heaven help her. She gripped the handset a little tighter. ‘Yes.’
Lara wasn’t sure how she expected him to respond.
‘I’ll be in touch tomorrow with relevant details.’ There was a click and the line went dead.
It took a second or three for her to realize he’d cut the connection, and her fingers tightened momentarily before she replaced the handset.
He at least could have acknowledged her acceptance!
Oh, get real, a silent voice chastised. What did you expect?
Forget sentiment … there was none.
So what did she care?
Even thinking about Wolfe in the role of husband accelerated her pulse and did strange things to her equilibrium.
Oh, for heaven’s sake … get over it! He’s just a man, like any other … And she knew she lied.
Ten years down the track she still retained a vivid recollection of his erotic kiss … Worse, the oral foreplay he’d metered out as a stark warning, and the way it had affected her.
What would he be like as a lover?
Don’t go there. At least not now, not yet.
For, if she allowed herself to go down that path, she’d never make it to the wedding.
Best not to think too deeply … and keep busy!
It was time to check the windows, external doors, set the alarm, lock up, then pull down the security grill and padlock it.
A nightly routine they executed in tandem before walking briskly to the nearest train station.
Lara took a deep breath, turned and collected her bag, then she signalled Sally she was ready to leave.
It wasn’t until they’d boarded the train that she remembered a vital phone call she should have made to the loan shark, begging a further twenty-four-hour extension, and the promise payment of the total funds would be made in cash.
Something twisted painfully in the region of her stomach as she checked the time, and her heart began to pound.
The week’s loan extension ran out at midnight.
She needed to make that call … fast. Explain, give Wolfe’s name as verification the money would be paid.
Please hurry, she bade silently as the train sped towards their station, and as they disembarked she had to restrain herself from running to the boarding house.
The inner-city suburb of Darlinghurst contained some less-than-salubrious streets where numerous bedsits and boarding houses existed in old converted homes. The dark of night and dim street-lighting hid their daytime grime and general state of disrepair.
Definitely not an area in which to linger long, and as far removed from Lara’s former apartment as chalk from cheese.
Lara’s relief was palpable as she entered the house via the front entrance, and she extracted the requisite coins from her purse to feed the pay-phone.
Seconds later the phone rang out, and she redialled, hoping, praying, for an answer. But there was none, and a second later a male figure appeared out of nowhere, a hard hand angled beneath her jaw, and she was lifted off her feet, then slammed against the wall.
Fear, stark and terrifying, almost made her pass out as the man’s face came within inches of her own.
‘Pay up by midnight tomorrow. Or else.’ His grip tightened. ‘Blink if you’ve got the message.’
Lara instantly obeyed, almost choking beneath his relentless grip, then he released her and disappeared out the front entrance as she subsided to the floor in a state of shock.
‘Hey. You OK?’
She looked up in dazed terror, recognized a male tenant, and tried to speak … except no sound came out. ‘You need help?’ Like you wouldn’t believe! ‘Want me to call someone?’
There was only one person who could handle this mess, and Lara reached into her purse, withdrew Wolfe’s card and indicated the mobile-phone number written on the back.
She was dimly aware of a brief one-sided conversation, then the tenant led her into her room, sat her down and applied a dampened towel to her throat.
Lara had little recollection of how long it took Wolfe to appear … only that suddenly he was there, looming large in the small room, his features grim as he took in her pale features, the darkness apparent in her eyes.
He didn’t say a word as he took the few steps necessary to reach her, and her gaze never left his as he hunkered down in front of her.
With care he removed the damp towel, and a muscle bunched in one cheek as he saw the reddened marks apparent, noted the pain it caused her to swallow, and trailed gentle fingers along the underside of her jaw. He was close, too close, she registered … and she hated that he appeared to swamp her.
She was aware of him thanking her rescuer, then closing and locking the door as the tenant left, and she watched as he returned to her side.
‘Give me the contact number.’
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand, and she retrieved a card from her pocket and gave it to him, watching as he made the call on his phone.
There were terse, hard words as Wolfe made arrangements to pay her debt in full at a mutually agreed time and place.
He slid the phone into his jacket pocket, and retrieved his wallet. ‘What do you owe on this place?’
The rent was paid in advance and up to date. It had to be, or personal belongings were held for a week, then both tenant and belongings were out on the street.
She attempted to speak, heard the croaking sound, and resorted to hand signals, watching as he anchored a large bill beneath her room-key on the scarred dresser.
The room was spartan, comprising a single bed, a dresser and chair, and a tiny wardrobe. There were shared bathrooms, a shared kitchen at the end of the hallway and a communal lounge. A laundry was situated in a separate building out back of the house.
‘You have a bag?’
Lara spared him a startled look.
‘For your belongings,’ Wolfe elaborated. ‘You’re not staying here.’
She was tired, jumpy with nerves, and she shook her head in a defenceless gesture. Where could she go at this time of night?
‘My hotel,’ he informed her as if she’d spoken, and her eyes blazed as she opened her mouth, then closed it again, aware that anything she said would emerge as an indistinguishable refusal.
He opened the small free-standing wardrobe, removed a capacious sports bag and placed it on the single bed.
Lara rose to her feet as he began opening drawers, refusing to have him go through her things.
Not that it had the slightest effect, as she battled with him in transferring contents from the wardrobe and