Purchased: His Perfect Wife. Helen Bianchin
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damn it!’ She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Aiming for cool, calm and collected was proving difficult when there was an internal battle going on. ‘You’re proposing a convenient marriage?’ She was on a roll. ‘Which will entail…?’
‘Sharing a home, a partnership in bed and out of it. A generous allowance.’ He lifted a shoulder in a negligible shrug. ‘An enviable lifestyle. Children, eventually, God willing.’ He paused fractionally. ‘Is that sufficiently specific?’
He was still. Too still, like a predator indolently waiting to pounce.
‘And, if I refuse, you’ll withdraw your offer to transfer funds.’ Her voice shook with the effort it cost her to speak.
‘Yes.’
She picked up her water goblet, and barely restrained the urge to throw the contents in his face.
For a few timeless seconds her eyes blazed with anger as they collided with his, and it took all her control to restore the goblet onto the table.
‘A wife, bought and paid for.’
His expression hardened a little at her succinct summation, and his grey eyes assumed the colour of dark slate.
A silent war rose to the fore, and she battled against the unbearable need to hit him.
It didn’t help that he knew.
‘Don’t discount the offer, Lara,’ Wolfe warned with dangerous silkiness. ‘You have no other option.’
Wasn’t that the truth! Yet the fact rankled unbearably.
‘You expect me to meekly comply?’
Meek and Lara didn’t feature on the same page, he mused idly. The smitten teenager of ten years ago had grown in spirit and attitude to become the fiercely independent young woman seated opposite him today. Who, despite being down and almost out, could still attempt to do battle with him.
Wolfe leaned back in his chair. ‘The choice is yours.’
Some choice.
A deal with the Devil…or the Devil to pay.
It was no contest.
‘If…if I agree,’ she continued in a voice stiff with latent anger, ‘When do you envisage the marriage to take place?’
‘As soon as it can be arranged, by special licence.’
That soon.
‘Provide me with all the relevant paperwork involving your debts, and I’ll take care of them.’
‘When?’ It sounded so mercenary, but she was past caring.
‘The funds you so urgently need will be available in your bank tomorrow. The balance authorized immediately after our signatures appear on the marriage certificate.’
This is business, she reminded herself bitterly, with no sentiment or trust where money was involved.
However, it rankled…badly. Her chin lifted a little and her eyes assumed a deep sapphire-blue.
‘I want to continue running my restaurant.’ It was her pride and joy…more. And she refused to give it up.
Wolfe’s expression hardened. ‘You can retain the restaurant as an investment,’ he allowed equably. ‘But your continued involvement will be minimal.’
She suddenly had trouble regulating her breathing. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard.’
No quarter given in those obdurate words, and she barely resisted the temptation to tell him exactly what he could do with his proposal.
Think, a tiny voice prompted in silent warning.
She had everything to lose if she walked away from him.
What price pride in the face of wisdom?
Besides, marriage didn’t have to mean for ever.
If she gave him an heir…
Yet how could she walk away from her own child?
The whole scenario was fraught.
‘You can’t expect me to give you an answer now?’
‘Tonight.’
‘I’m due at work.’ She spared a glance at her watch, and stood to her feet. ‘Oh hell, now.’ Staff were at a minimum, and she could ill afford to be late. ‘I finish somewhere between eleven and midnight.’
Wolfe signalled the waiter, extracted his wallet and paid the bill. ‘I’ll drive you.’
She was walking quickly. ‘I can take a train.’
‘But you won’t.’
What was the point in arguing? A car would reach her destination more quickly than public transport.
Minutes later he disabled the locking mechanism of a top-of-the-range black Lexus, saw her seated, then he slid in behind the wheel and eased the car into the stream of traffic.
The Rocks area held numerous cafés and restaurants, and Lara directed him to double-park outside her own.
Wolfe handed her a card with his mobile-phone number. ‘I’ll expect your call.’
She slipped it into her purse, inclined her head, then sped quickly down a side alley to the back entrance, and used her key in the lock.
In the small back-room space she discarded her outer clothes, donned her chef’s uniform, tied on an apron, wound the length of her hair beneath a protective cap…and went to work.
They were one staff member down, which made for chaos in the kitchen, with delays and short tempers as three pairs of hands attempted to do the work of four.
Shontelle acted as maître d’, taking reservations, welcoming patrons, ensuring they were seated.
Sally held the position of head waitress, and both girls had been with Lara’s from the day the restaurant had opened. Long-time friends who were equally as dedicated to the success of the restaurant as Lara herself.
Together they’d enjoyed the good times, and had stayed on to help Lara battle through the financial mess left by her business partner.
Around ten the rush began to ease as customers lingered over dessert and coffee, and by eleven the numbers had dwindled down to a few.
It was a relief when the last patrons left, the doors closed, the kitchen staff finished up, and all that remained was the nightly cleaning. Something which didn’t take long as Sally lifted chairs onto tables while Lara vacuumed the floors.
There hadn’t been time to give Wolfe’s suggestion much thought, except in fleeting moments which in no way encompassed the big picture of marriage, children…intimacy.
How was she going to deal with that?
Being so aware of the man, his sensual chemistry and the way it affected her. His sexual partner…and knowing, to him, it would just be sex.
That love didn’t enter the equation, and never would.
Could she live with him and pretend?
Lara moved the vacuum cleaner with increased speed in an attempt to expend some nervous energy.
For heaven’s sake!
Wolfe was offering a way out.
What other option did she have?
Disappear and assume another identity? Contact the police and report the loan shark for harassment?
Sure…like either of those scenarios would work!
Besides, it wasn’t part of her nature to run from anything.
Marry