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Hannah’s mouth trembled. What future? she wanted to say, but she knew better than to give herself away.
‘It’s foolish to put it that way, Grant. I’m not “escaping” anything. I just want to get back to San Francisco so I can get——’
‘—back to your life. Yes. A charming phrase. But what does it mean?’
‘I should think it’s obvious what it means. I need a job, and a place to live.’
‘A return to your much coveted independence,’ he said coldly.
‘Yes. That’s right.’
‘And you don’t want to have an affair with me. Let’s not leave that out.’ He rose and poured himself a cup of coffee. ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s polite to wait for an invitation before you turn it down?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You gave me your decision even before I’d asked you anything.’ He gave her a chill smile above the rim of his cup. ‘But then, you always were most perceptive, Hannah.’
Her face flushed. ‘Come on, dammit! I’m not a fool. I know what you have in mind.’
‘Amazing, isn’t it, how you always seem to know what I’m thinking?’
She stared at him, at the unyielding grey eyes and harsh mouth. ‘That’s hardly true,’ she said, her voice shaking just a bit. ‘I’d never have got myself into this mess in the first place if I did.’
His teeth flashed in a cold smile. ‘I take it you’re referring to our marriage.’
‘Yes. If I’d known what you expected of me, I’d—I‘d——’ She broke off and turned her back to his chill stare. ‘Look, this is all beside the point. I want to go home. End of story.’
‘You mean, if you’d known I expected you to behave like a woman and not a machine, you’d never have agreed to marry me.’
‘What about what I expected?’ Hannah swung around, glowering.
‘Oh, I know what you expected, Hannah.’ His voice was like silk. ‘You thought you’d get everything and give nothing in return, that you could have all the benefits of the arrangement without participating in it.’
‘I didn’t want an “arrangement”, damn you!’ Tears rose in her eyes.
‘Of course not. Why would you want to be reminded that there are a woman’s needs and desires tucked away inside that block of ice you call a heart?’
Hannah slammed down her cup. ‘Now I understand. The great Grant MacLean thinks he awakened my libido, and now he expects to be properly thanked.’ She rose to her feet. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you. You didn’t awaken anything. What happened last night had—had nothing to do with you.’
‘Didn’t it?’
His voice was ominously soft, but Hannah was beyond hearing anything but her own anger and pain. She rose to her feet and faced him, her face pink, her hands on her hips.
‘You’re right,’ she snapped. ‘I suppose I do have certain needs. Who doesn’t? You were just in the right place at the right time.’
He stepped forward swiftly and clasped her wrist tightly. She cried out as he twisted her hand up between them, until her fingers were spread before her eyes.
‘What do you see?’ he grated through his teeth. Hannah stared at him. ‘Let go!’
‘Answer the question!’ His head shot forward. ‘Tell me what you see.’
‘I don’t——’
‘A ring. A circle of yellow gold.’ His smile was frigid. ‘And I’m the man who put it there.’
‘Much to my regret,’ Hannah snapped.
Grant laughed. ‘Such sweet words for a bride to whisper to her husband after their first night together, darling.’
‘Stop this nonsense! You are not my husband.’
‘I am whatever the hell I say I am,’ he snarled. Their eyes met. ‘And I say we’re still married.’
Hannah stared at him. ‘But you said—last night——’
‘To hell with last night!’ His words were taut with barely contained fury. ‘I’ve had it with jumping through hoops.’
‘What?’
His mouth narrowed. ‘You’re going to have to find yourself the best attorney money can buy if you want out of this marriage.’
‘It’s not a marriage,’ she said quickly. ‘You know that. It was an arrangement.’
Grant’s face darkened. ‘Tell it to the judge.’
He let go of her wrist, brushed past her, and stalked into the house without so much as a backward glance.
Hannah stared after him. How could she ever have deluded herself into thinking that she loved him?
CHAPTER TWELVE
AT LEAST Grant came to his senses long enough to agree that there was no point in staying in Mexico. It was a small victory, but by then Hannah was willing to take whatever she could get.
It took all her determination to sit silently beside him while they drove to the airport; she knew that any pleading, even any further show of anger on her part, would only deliver more control of her life into his hands. She had nothing to go home to: no job, no flat, no money. She was tied to him by a certificate of marriage and his insistence on holding her to a contract made in hell.
Once they were seated in the first-class cabin of the jet bearing them back to the States, he turned to her.
‘I telephoned Marilyn,’ he said crisply. ‘I told her the same thing we’ll tell anyone else who asks—that I was called home by unexpected business.’
Hannah stared straight ahead. ‘Tell them what you like.’
‘Just be sure you have the story straight, Hannah,’ he said coldly.
She looked at him. ‘I hardly think I’ll be talking to anyone who gives a damn.’
‘People will expect to see us together for the next few weeks,’ He smiled tightly. ‘After all, darling, technically, we’ll still be on our honeymoon.’
Hannah glared at him. ‘Only because you decided to extend it.’
‘Yes.’ A muscle knotted in his jaw. ‘One of my many errors, and too late to do anything about now.’
‘It’s never too late,’ she hissed. ‘You’re just afraid your damned ego will take a beating if——’
‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ he said, his harsh voice cutting across hers. ‘For the next few weeks you’ll be seen in public with me, you’ll entertain guests in our home——’
‘If you try and—if you touch me,’ she said in a shaky whisper, ‘I promise you, you’ll regret it.’
His mouth became a thin slash in his dark face. ‘I already do,’ he said coldly, and then he looked away from her, folded his arms across his chest, and laid his head back against the seat.
Hannah didn’t answer. She hadn’t meant to say that; it was foolish to let him see her fear. Besides, what was there to fear, anyway? She had never been afraid of him forcing himself on her and she still wasn’t. The danger had been in his seducing her, but that was finished. She’d never tumble into his bed again. Never!
If only she had someone or somewhere to run to. But she’d kept to herself since her divorce; Sally was the closest she had to a friend, and she could never drag her into the middle of this disaster. Grant could be vengeful; he’d not hesitate to destroy anyone who came to her assistance.
He didn’t want her, he never had, except in the terms of their contract. All this was an exercise of power, and the ache deep inside her that would not go away had nothing to do with caring about him. It was about—about hating him.
‘Madame?’ She looked up. The flight attendant was offering a brilliant smile along with a glass of champagne. ‘What may I get you?’
My life as it was, before Grant MacLean took it over, Hannah thought.
‘Nothing,’ she said with a quick shake of her head, ‘nothing, thank you.’
‘Nor for me,’ Grant said in clipped tones.
It was the last either of them spoke until their plane had landed.
Hannah knew that Grant lived in a large penthouse apartment. She had expected it to be elegant, even opulent. But, when the doors to the penthouse’s priv
ate lift slid open, what she saw took her breath away.
An enormous marble entry-foyer stretched before her, illuminated by a glittering crystal chandelier that hung from a ceiling that stretched three storeys high. Hannah craned her neck up. Paintings hung on the walls, of a sort she’d only seen in galleries and museums, and above them rose the shadowy second-and third-floor balconies. She looked down again, to where a statue that looked suspiciously like a Brancusi stood in solitary splendour in the far corner.
‘I trust you’re not waiting for me to carry you across the threshold,’ Grant said coldly.
Hannah took a quick step forward. ‘I’m too tired to play games,’ she said. ‘If you’d just tell me where my rooms are… ?’
