Claiming His Wedding Night. Louise Fuller
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her skin?
Her head was pounding. And it wasn’t just because of her precarious finances. Speaking to Malachi again had stirred up feelings she had buried deep, deep down, and now she was battling emotions she still wasn’t ready to acknowledge or resolve.
Her heart gave a lurch. It wasn’t only her feelings she couldn’t face. She’d spent the last five years more or less pretending that her marriage had never happened. Now, in the space of twenty-four hours, she’d been forced to confront not only her husband but the state of estrangement between them.
Sighing, she slumped back in her seat and reluctantly contemplated the mess she’d made of her private life. Since splitting with Malachi she’d focused her energies on work. Yes, she’d been on a few ‘dates’ but no man ever quite measured up to him. But then she hadn’t just fallen for Malachi. She’d dived in headfirst, captivated not only by his looks and charm but by how he’d made her feel like her true self. The self she’d discovered through music and lost the night of her accident. Only through music had she felt able to be the real Addie—wild and free. And Malachi had made her feel like that too.
But not for long. Pretty soon she’d been out of her depth and drowning. Only by that time she’d become his wife.
Her pulse twitched and she shifted in her seat. It had all happened so long ago. So why were they still married?
As far as Malachi was concerned it was probably because he’d forgotten all about her until yesterday, when she’d called him, whereas she— Her face coloured painfully. She was still married because she was a coward. The thought of seeing him again had been just too painful. In the months following their separation she had vowed to confront him and demand a divorce, but she had always found a reason not to do so. And so the months had become years.
Five long years. In fact, tomorrow it would be five years exactly.
Remembering her wedding day—his tension, her confusion over his parents’ absence—she felt a shiver of sadness. It was obvious even then that what they’d shared was nothing more than physical attraction.
She frowned. But her marriage wasn’t the issue here.
She needed money, fast, and if having lunch with Malachi meant that she got her funding then maybe she should just call him. No doubt he was sitting there in his office, smugly waiting for her to do just that. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to help him choose a restaurant as if it was some kind of a date. Her eyes narrowed. She needed to do something to make it clear that she was meeting him on her own terms.
So why not surprise him at lunch? All she would have to do was follow him to wherever he was eating and confront him, and then finally she might wipe the self-satisfied smile from that gorgeous mouth of his. Easy!
Her breath jammed in her throat.
Easy?
One look from Malachi had once been enough to turn her into a rippling mass of desire. But not any more, she told herself firmly. For even if her body hadn’t learned the consequences of falling for that shimmering, sensual gaze her mind had, she had more sense and pride than to let it happen again.
* * *
Was it only lunchtime?
His grey eyes widening with disbelief, Malachi glanced at the one-of-a-kind Swiss-made watch on his wrist. Unusually for him, the day had seemed to drag—and his mind was only half on work. The other half was picking over his conversation with Addie.
Leaning back, he smiled slowly, remembering the frustration in her voice.
She’d been good and riled. But it wasn’t only exasperation that had made her so hot and bothered. He’d heard another kind of heat.
And just like that an image of Addie flared inside his brain. The soft pouting lips, glossy red curls and legs like a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby. All wrapped up in a take-it-or-leave-it manner that he’d had no choice but to take...
Breathing heavily, he shifted in his seat, remembering the feverish touch of her mouth against his, the heat between them blurring their edges so that it had been impossible to feel where she’d ended and he’d begun.
He smiled grimly. For most of his life he’d watched his mother and father use passion and emotion like poker dice, uncaring of the consequences. As an adult, away from their orbit, he’d sworn never to follow in their footsteps. His private life would be conducted in the realm of reason.
Only then he’d met Addie, and thrown away caution and control and broken every damn rule in the book.
A pulse began to beat in his neck and suddenly his chair felt cramped, confined. Standing up, he walked quickly across his office to the large floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the gaming area of his flagship Miami casino. He breathed in sharply. There were nearly seven hundred gaming tables down there, not including the club privé, each one offering a change of fortune, a new beginning, a better life.
Watching people as they gave everything they had—sometimes literally—to the turn of a card or the roll of a dice seemed to him to represent the rawest, most pure expression of what it meant to be human. It was all there—hope and hunger, fear, and the desire to win. He found it fascinating, stimulating. But not as fascinating or stimulating as the thought of seeing his estranged wife again.
Staring down at the men and women, their faces tight with concentration, he felt a flicker of anticipation. She’d told him she never wanted to speak to him again. But she would. She’d have no choice. And not just because of the money.
His eyes gleamed.
So, where should he take her for lunch?
Snatching his jacket from the back of his chair, he tugged it on. Addie would no doubt refuse to meet him if there was even a hint that they would be alone together. A busy, open-plan restaurant would be better. His eyes gleamed again. He knew just the place.
Opening his door, he was met by the startled faces of his secretary, Chrissie, and her assistant.
‘I’m going out for lunch.’
‘But—’
The women glanced up at him in confusion.
‘You’re meeting Andy here at twelve-thirty,’ said Chrissie. ‘You always meet him.’
It was true. Most days he met his casino managers as they came on shift. But today was different.
‘So it’ll be a nice change for both of us,’ he said smoothly. ‘Call Eights. My usual table. And tell Andy I’m indisposed.’
‘Would you like your car to be brought round to the front, sir?’
Malachi shook his head and smiled. ‘No, thank you, Chrissie. I need a bit of fresh air.’
He ran a finger under his collar. After thinking about Addie, what he actually needed was a cold shower, but a tall chilled mojito might just be a tolerable alternative!
* * *
The restaurant was crowded with the usual mix of suave businessmen and glamorous, golden-limbed women. His table was set slightly apart from the other diners, with a view over the ocean. Like all the best views in the world, it was unchanging and yet never the same.
His choices made, he waved away the waiters and sat back, his eye drawn to the horizon between sea and sky, where dense black clouds hovered above the turquoise water. A storm was coming. According to the weather reports, it was due to hit land just after three. Not that he minded. A storm—bad weather in general—was good for business. But it meant that his lunch might have to be slightly curtailed.
His phone gave a small shudder and, turning, he glanced at it, his face expressionless. It was a message from Henry, asking him to call. But he didn’t want his father’s voice inside his head. Not when his mind was filled with thoughts of Addie.
He picked up his glass. The wine was an interesting choice, the crisp hint of apple surprising him. But it wasn’t