Claiming His Wedding Night. Louise Fuller
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about Addie. His wife. But this time of year, this month—tomorrow, in fact—always made him unusually tense. He had to dig deep to calm himself, to stop his nerves from ringing.
He jolted forward in his seat. The ringing wasn’t inside his head. It was his phone. Mouth hardening, he stared at it in disbelief and then, frowning, snatched it up. ‘This had better be good,’ he said tersely. ‘Or at least entertaining enough for you to have disturbed me—’
There was a short, tense silence, and then he heard his personal assistant breathe out nervously.
‘I’m sorry, Mr King—I didn’t want to do the wrong thing. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but she said it was important so I put her on hold. Is that okay?’
She! In other words, his mother. Gritting his teeth, Malachi felt a surge of irritation. But he couldn’t really blame his assistant. Serena King could make a broken nail sound like a diplomatic incident if she chose.
Imagining his mother’s likely mood, he grimaced. Please let it not be something too sordid. Or illegal. ‘It’s fine, Chrissie. I’ll speak to her now,’ he said slowly.
Better just to take the call, for Serena would not take kindly to being fobbed off after having been kept on hold. And her unkindness was not something he wanted to provoke.
‘Yes, sir.’ The girl hesitated. ‘And Happy Anniversary for tomorrow, Mr King!’
Suddenly his jaw was clenched so tightly he could feel his teeth vibrating. His whole body was on high alert, his mind rewinding their conversation.
There was only one other person aside from himself who knew that tomorrow was his wedding anniversary. And it certainly wasn’t his mother. He’d made damn sure that his parents had been kept well away from his marriage.
He breathed out slowly. ‘I think we might be speaking at cross purposes.’
Glancing down, he saw that his hand was curled tightly over the armrest, the knuckles protruding whitely against his skin. With an effort, he splayed the fingers apart.
‘Who exactly have you got on hold, Chrissie?’
She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her voice was high and nervous. ‘I—I’m sorry, Mr King,’ she stammered. ‘I thought you understood. It’s your wife. Ms Farrell!’
Malachi stared across the cabin. Outside the window the sky had clouded over. Everything was the same pure white as newly settled snow. The same pure white as the dress Addie had worn when she’d spoken her wedding vows. His throat tightened. His motives for marrying might have been a little self-serving—even a little manipulative. But either way, she’d promised to love and cherish and honour him. Only her promises had been as fragile and tenuous as the clouds breaking apart outside the window.
Why now? he wondered. Why, after all this time, had she chosen this moment to get in touch? For a moment random thoughts collided in his head—irritation, curiosity, disquiet—and then abruptly he sat up straighter.
‘What a charming surprise,’ he said smoothly. ‘You’d better put her through.’
The phone line clicked and his stomach tensed as, for the first time since their wedding, he heard the light, clipped voice of his wife.
‘Malachi? It’s me. Addie!’
‘Apparently so,’ he drawled softly.
It had been five years, but nothing in his manner gave any hint of how unsettling it was to hear her again. Nor would it. Years spent playing high-stakes poker had taught him early and hard the value of never giving anything away. He grimaced. That and being Henry and Serena’s son. It was just a pity he hadn’t remembered that lesson when he’d first met Addie.
‘It’s been a long time, sweetheart,’ he murmured. ‘To what do I owe the honour?’
Addie felt the walls of her office shift and shrink around her.
In her haste to call him she hadn’t considered how he might react. But now, hearing his voice, she felt confused and thwarted, for he sounded exactly as he always had: cool, smooth, in control. Almost as though the last five years had never happened.
She gritted her teeth. What had she expected? Anger? Outrage? That would mean being emotional, and Malachi King didn’t do emotional.
Her hands felt suddenly hot and clammy and, closing her eyes, she gripped the phone more tightly. She might not like it, but the truth was that it would take more than hearing from his estranged wife to make Malachi lose his cool. After all, even when their marriage had been disintegrating he had been like the eye of the storm: calm, detached. Separate.
But that was all in the past now. This phone call wasn’t about raking over their personal history. It was about her husband’s despicable behaviour now. And its impact on children’s futures. Breathing out, she opened her eyes.
‘How can you even mention the word honour after how you’ve acted? And don’t act so surprised to hear from me. I sent you an email ten minutes ago—’
She broke off suddenly, anger making her trip over her words, the misery and pain suddenly as fresh as it had been five years ago. How could that be? It didn’t seem fair to feel like that. But then she had never really got over his deception. Nothing—not even her job—had ever really filled the void that Malachi had left.
A shiver ran through her body and she was grateful that he couldn’t see her face, see just how strongly he affected her. Her eyes narrowed. There was no way she was about to give him the satisfaction of hearing it in her voice either and, trying to project poise and confidence, she said coolly, ‘I know you’re short on empathy, Malachi, and that you have the morals of a shark, but I didn’t think even you would stoop this low.’
The plane was turning. They were making their descent. Frowning, Malachi flipped open his laptop, punching the keyboard, his face impassive as he searched through his emails.
‘I feel your pain, sweetheart,’ he said softly, ‘and I wish I could help. But unfortunately I’m a little baffled as to what it is you think I’ve done.’
Despite the neutrality of his words, he felt her anger gritty on his skin. Five years of silence and she randomly decided to ring up and shout at him about his morals and his lack of empathy. He frowned again. For some inexplicable reason she had once managed to turn his world upside down and inside out. It was a little surprising, not to say unsettling, to discover that she could still do so.
But his surprise was forgotten as finally he found the source of her outrage. So that was why she was so upset!
Leaning back, he stared at the screen, his eyes fixed on his wife’s name. In theory, their conversation was over. He could and probably should simply hand the matter over to his social responsibilities department but—his eyes gleamed—where would be the fun in that?
‘As I’m sure you remember, I run a huge operation,’ he said disingenuously. ‘Perhaps you could explain exactly what it is you think I’ve done.’
Addie felt a flash of impatience.
First he pulled the financial rug from under her feet, and now he was pretending he didn’t know anything about it. She might have been idealistic and eager enough to take his words at face value when they’d first met, five years ago, but thanks to Malachi she’d become an expert in double-dealing.
‘Oh, please! Do you really think I’m that stupid? You can’t bluff your way out of this one, Malachi. This is not some game of cards!’
‘Indeed it is not. Card games have rules, and players don’t tend to screech unfounded accusations at one another.’
The taunting note in his voice made her heart bang in her throat, and suddenly she was gripping the phone so tightly her hand hurt.
‘They are not unfounded. And I’m not screeching,’ she snapped.
Damn him. He was so infuriating! Always