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Maybe she wasn’t selling her body; that much was true. She believed he wouldn’t press her if she told him she didn’t want a sexual relationship with him, but they both knew the chances of that were precisely zilch now she’d experienced how wonderful he could make her feel.
She also knew he was right about the comparison to his father and her mother’s relationship. It wasn’t the same thing at all; she could see that now. In fact, it was exactly the opposite—Dominic was offering her marriage and security with no pretence of love, while his father had offered her mother nothing but the pretence of love.
And that was the real temptation, she realised. The offer not of marriage, but of security. She didn’t want his one-million-pound divorce settlement and she’d tell his PA as much when they ironed out the details of the contract. Whatever he said, she knew her time wasn’t worth that much money; it was absurd. But the chance to live in this beautiful house, to have her expenses paid for the next few months, not to have to worry about the rent or the bills or her college fees. To be able to devote her time and energies exclusively to her studies, to designing the collection she wanted to design, maybe even get some of her designs seen while she was playing his devoted wife at the high-profile events he’d talked about. And to travel to places like New York and Paris, places she’d never seen but always wanted to see. That was another major temptation.
And then there was the fairy tale of being with him at those events. That was a powerful temptation too. Because he fascinated her. He always had. She wanted to find out how he’d become so successful, what had driven him, what drove him still.
And let’s not forget the sex.
Six months of sex with Dominic LeGrand was not to be sniffed at. After waiting for twenty-five years to discover what all the fuss was about, last night she’d found out. Big time. She wanted to know more. To know everything. And she couldn’t think of a better tutor than a man who could make her spontaneously combust simply by crooking his finger at her and directing her to ‘come here’ in that demanding tone of voice.
Was it really so wrong to say yes to all of that?
As long as she kept her wits about her, and remembered that this was a temporary arrangement, which had a hard and fast sell-by date.
He was offering her a chance to change her life. Why shouldn’t she take it?
Didn’t she deserve this chance? After everything she’d been through? And she could help him too, to get his business to the next level.
She wanted to do that. If for no other reason than to say thank you to that rebellious boy who had made her feel special and important, once upon a time.
The buzz of the doorbell made her jump, jerking her out of her thoughts, and the frantic reasoning as she tried to make a decision.
‘That will be the car to take me to St Pancras International,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to rush you, but I need your answer, Allycat?’ The request sounded casual, indifferent even, but she could see the muscle in his jaw flexing and the hooded look in his eyes.
He wanted her to say yes as much as she wanted to say it, she realised. Even though he was trying hard not to show it.
That tiny glimpse of the boy she’d once known, who guarded his emotions, his needs and desires with the same ferocity she had learned to guard hers, was enough to release the dam forming in her throat.
‘Okay, I’m in. Let’s get married.’
Relief crossed his face first, almost as if he’d actually been in doubt about her answer.
‘Fantastique,’ he murmured.
A wide smile spread across his far too handsome features. And it occurred to her it was probably the first genuine smile she’d ever seen on his face.
The inappropriate joy exploded in her chest.
This isn’t a real marriage, Ally. It’s a fake one. For goodness’ sake, get a grip.
Tugging a pen out of his jacket pocket, he scribbled something down on the legal papers on the breakfast bar. ‘This is Selene’s number. She is my personal assistant. She can arrange to have your belongings moved into this house while I am away. I want you to resign immediately from your job as a courier.’
‘Resign?’ she asked dumbly.
The smile widened as he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressed a kiss to her mouth. ‘Yes, my little daredevil. I don’t want my wife’s life put at risk before I have a chance to consummate our marriage.’
My wife? Consummate? Goodness.
She didn’t have a chance to process the information—or the heat flooding through her system as his kiss became carnal—before he had torn his mouth away again.
‘Hold that thought,’ he said. ‘Selene will liaise with my legal team once you sign the pre-nup, and the publicist about a press release. We will be married as soon as you land in New York.’ His gaze raked over her figure, making her even more aware of her grubby, torn cycling gear. ‘Selene can also arrange someone to buy you the right clothes. As irresistible as I find your current attire, I’m afraid it’s not going to work at the sort of events you will have to attend as my wife.’
She didn’t need a stylist. She could design and make her own clothes—she wanted to be a fashion designer, after all. But before she could point any of that out, he pulled the jewellery box out of his trouser pocket and flipped it open, to reveal the exquisite ring she’d delivered the night before. Her breathing stopped.
The doorbell buzzed again.
‘Arrêtes!’ he shouted, loud enough to be heard by his driver, and make her jump.
