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‘The whole purpose of this marriage was to stop any more unsavoury gossip about my private life,’ he added, in case she didn’t get it.
‘But you left me alone for a whole month.’ The pout became more pronounced. ‘I waited for you to come to Klosters but you didn’t. We haven’t slept together in even longer. What did you expect me to do?’
He hadn’t had time to go all the way to Klosters to visit her. The fact he hadn’t been particularly desperate to ease the sexual drought confirmed something else—this agreement had been ill-advised from the start. He’d grown bored of Mira even sooner than he’d expected, in bed as well as out of it.
‘I expected you to keep your mouth off other men. And your legs closed.’
‘Dominic, don’t say things like that.’ The shocked hurt in her eyes looked genuine. Almost. ‘It makes me feel cheap.’
He let his gaze coast down the designer dress he’d paid for.
‘Mira, the one thing you’re not is cheap,’ he said wryly.
She stiffened at the insult.
‘Find your own way out,’ he said. ‘We’re done here.’
‘You... You heartless bastard.’
Mira’s hand whipped out so fast, he heard the crack before the pain blazed across his cheekbone.
He leapt out of his chair, holding her wrist before she could strike him again. But the smarting pain where she’d struck him had a bitter memory spinning back of another slap, from the summer he’d finally been invited into his father’s world—only to be kicked out again a month later—and the voice of the girl who had defended him.
‘You mustn’t hit Dominic, you’ll hurt him, Papa.’
‘Some people deserve to be hurt, ma petite.’
‘You’re right, Mira, I am heartless. I’m also a bastard.’ He ground out the words, the hollow ache in his chest at the memory of that slap an emotion he’d thought he’d cauterised long ago. How infuriating to find he hadn’t...quite. ‘I consider that a strength,’ he added, releasing Mira’s wrist. ‘Now get out. Before I have you arrested for assault.’
Mira’s face collapsed, her lips trembling. ‘I hate you.’
So what? he thought dispassionately, as she swung round and rushed out of his study.
Hearing the front door slam, he walked to the drinks cabinet, swiped the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, then poured himself a glass of single malt Scotch.
He only had a week to find himself another wife to secure the deal he needed to take his business to the next level. The business he’d built from nothing after crawling off his father’s estate that summer, his ribs feeling as if they were being crushed in a vice, the welts on his back burning.
He’d flagged down a truck, and the driver had taken pity on him, giving him a ride all the way to Paris. As he’d sunk in and out of consciousness on that endless, agonising journey, he had promised himself he would never see or speak to his father again. And that he would build something to prove to his father, and everyone else who had rejected him, had belittled or dismissed him, that they were wrong.
He welcomed the sting as the liquor hit his split lip.
He would find another wife. Preferably one who did exactly what he told her and knew how to keep her legs closed. But tonight he planned to celebrate a lucky escape.
CHAPTER TWO
‘GET OUT OF my way, you filthy...’ The woman’s voice trailed off into a sneer as she shoved Ally and her bike out of the way.
Ally stumbled, rammed into the gatepost, the bike’s pedal scrapping against her calf as the woman marched past her and got into a sleek red sports car.
Ally hauled the bike up. She would have shouted after the woman, but she was too tired and too anxious to bother—and anyway the woman wouldn’t have heard her in the rain.
The car peeled away from the kerb in a squeal of rubber.
Ally watched the red tail lights disappear round the corner of the Georgian garden square.
Hadn’t that been Mira Whatshername? The woman the wedding ring she had in her pack was for?
The woman had looked furious. Maybe there was trouble in paradise? Ally pushed the thought to one side.
