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He took a deep breath then got up to pour himself a large measure of bourbon. He downed it in one, then poured another.
The doubts that had been amassing in his head since their arrival in California had grown. Yet he always came back to the fact of that damned letter from Anna’s solicitor demanding a massive slice of his fortune. Whatever had been going on in her head at the time, that demand had come from her. He should not allow fantastic sex and the old sparring easiness they’d shared to overturn the facts of the situation because in that respect nothing had changed.
His plan had worked perfectly. He’d seduced her. She’d even said she would marry him again. That should fill him with satisfaction, not make him feel as if he’d been punched a dozen times in the gut.
Never in his life had he felt such indecision. Since his imprisonment he’d learned to keep a cool head, analyse the facts and then make up his mind. Once it was made up, nothing deterred him from his chosen path.
He shouldn’t let the past week cloud his judgement or deter him from his path now.
But he’d learned more about his wife in the past week than he had in almost a year of marriage and all his instincts were telling him he couldn’t go through with it.
Where on earth was Miranda? Had she got his messages?
They’d planned the timings down to the minute. His statement was due to go online halfway through the awards ceremony.
He heard soft footsteps approaching and composed himself.
Anna entered the living room serenely, like a goddess emerging from an oyster shell.
All the breath left his body.
She wore a floor-length fitted red lace dress that pooled at her feet like a mermaid’s tail. The front plunged in a V showing the tiniest hint of creamy cleavage. Her bare arms glimmered. Her face was subtly made up except for the lips, which she’d painted the same shade as her dress, and her dark hair shone, blow-dried to fall thickly around her shoulders.
She spread her arms out and made a slow twirl. ‘Well?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I think I’m going to be the envy of every red-blooded male in attendance.’
Her eyes sparkled, joy resounding from them. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I found this dress in my dressing room. Did I buy it for tonight?’
‘I assume so. I’ve only been on one shopping trip with you.’
She grinned. ‘I remember that. Was it that bad for you?’
‘I’ve had better times watching envelopes being stuffed.’
‘I’d never been shopping with an unlimited credit card. Can you blame me for getting carried away?’
He shook his head, remembering the glee with which she’d attacked the shopping district he’d taken her to. He’d often given old girlfriends a credit card to buy themselves something for a night out and they’d always played a game; pretending to resist, pretending to want their independence and not wanting to take from him. Anna had made no such pretence. She’d snatched the card out of his hand—a card he’d given her to keep and not just for the one occasion—and raced to the shops like a roadrunner, virtually leaving a trail of dust in her wake. Her chutzpah had made him laugh.
And then he remembered a time before they’d married, when he’d caught her making calculations wi
th a pen and paper. She’d been trying to work out her finances to see if she could afford to pay for her and her sister to go on a five-star spa weekend in Dublin for Melissa’s birthday. He’d offered to pay and she’d dismissed it out of hand. She wouldn’t even discuss it. He’d noticed in the weeks leading up to that particular spa break that she had brought her own lunch into the office rather than eating in the subsidised staff restaurant, and he’d admired that she was prepared to economise when necessary and forego little treats if it meant having a bigger treat at the end of it.
She’d often spent her money on her sister, he remembered, and for the first time wondered if it was her way of making up for Melissa giving up her freedom to raise her. For all Anna’s current happiness, he knew Melissa wasn’t far from her thoughts. He knew Melissa being in Australia with their mother had wounded her in ways he couldn’t understand.
Anna had only been happy to spend his money after they’d married and that had only been to feed her addiction to clothes shopping. She’d cheekily described it as the perk of being his wife.
Miranda, check your damn messages.
‘Where did you say the awards were being held?’ Anna asked, rifling through her small red clutch bag.
‘At the Grand Palace Hotel.’
Her hand stilled and she looked at him. ‘The Grand Palace Hotel?’
‘Sì. It’s been held there for the past five years. What are you looking for?’
‘Double-checking I’ve put my lipstick in,’ she replied, but her eyes had glazed over, her words mechanical and said without any thought, her mind clearly somewhere else.
