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Had he assumed he’d so thoroughly seduced her that she’d meekly go along with his wishes?
Or was she overreacting? What he’d done was no crime and showed he hoped for a positive outcome. Yet this felt too much like the way they’d lived before, Jack always deciding and making arrangements, or having his ultra-efficient staff make arrangements, and Bess acquiescing.
Theirs had been a one-sided marriage in too many ways. If she were to return it would have to be as Jack’s equal. Was that what he wanted? Or did he think that with a little time and effort he could persuade her back into their old arrangement?
Nausea stirred. Her head was whirling, her emotions all over the place. She didn’t know what to think. Yet beneath her uncertainty was a cold, hard kernel of disappointment and doubt.
The magic had gone out of the morning.
Bess opened the door to Jack’s luxurious bungalow and entered, automatically stepping out of her sandals and onto the cool tiled floor. It was time they talked properly.
But as she padded into the vast living space she faltered to a stop. There, dangling from the end of the long lounge, was a scrap of lace. Her bra. She’d worn it yesterday and after dinner Jack had stripped it and the rest of her clothes away and taken her on the lounge.
Her gaze caught a glimpse of turquoise. Her sundress was pooled on the floor half under another lounge. After they’d finished on the lounge Jack had scooped her into his arms and into his bed and she hadn’t been back in this room since.
Heat flushed her cheeks. In the bright light of a new day, and the knowledge that he’d planned her seduction, last night’s erotic adventures didn’t seem quite so wonderful.
She crossed the room, picking up her clothes. And froze when she heard Jack’s voice. He must have stepped into the bedroom from the private courtyard. He had his phone on speaker and she recognised the voice of his assistant, Leanne Musgrove.
Bess was trying to decide whether to tell him she was back or leave and return later, when she heard her name mentioned and automatically stilled.
‘Will Mrs Reilly need something new to wear to the gala?’
‘Good point. It’s an important event and it will be her first major appearance in public with me. She’ll need something new and spectacular. Make an appointment for the afternoon we return. With the couturier who designed that red velvet for the last Christmas ball. She looked perfect in that.’
A thunderous rush of blood in Bess’s ears obliterated the rest of the conversation.
She found herself slumped against the back of the sofa, looking down at the pretty but cheap cotton sundress in her hands. It was serviceable and perfectly appropriate for a woman teaching English as a second language in a hot climate. Or wearing on a relaxed seaside holiday.
It was nothing like the extravagantly expensive wardrobe Jack had insisted she wear. Would insist she wear if she went back to him.
She blinked, discovering her eyes felt scratchy and her pulse had taken up a strange, out-of-kilter beat. She drew a deep breath.
Jack was so sure of her that he wasn’t just making her travel plans. He’d decided what events she’d attend and what she’d wear.
As if she were a mannequin waiting to be dressed in whatever he deemed appropriate!
Hewasn’t waiting to discuss what she wanted in their relationship. He was forging ahead and deciding for her.
This was even worse than before. At least then he hadn’t taken charge of her wardrobe!
Her ears cleared and suddenly she was listening to the conversation in the next room. If only she could make her feet move she wouldn’t need to hear any more.
‘And I want to move forward the German negotiations now. Check that the presidential suite in Berlin is available from the thirtieth. That will give me time to wrap up everything in Paris.’
Pain shot through Bess’s jaw and she realised she’d clenched her molars so tight it felt like she’d crack the enamel.
He’d invited her to Paris but it seemed they wouldn’t be staying there. They’d move on to Berlin soon. Because that fitted his business schemes. It didn’t matter whether she wanted to live there, much less if she’d prefer a private apartment or house to living in another hotel.
It was the past all over again.
But worse now because she’d actually thought Jack had changed. That he’d missedher, not the obedient effigy of a wife he obviously preferred, but a woman with a mind and interests of her own. A woman who, to her regret, had fallen in love with him.
You always were too romantic for your own good.
What other woman, faced with a man who offered marriage in return for paying off her father’s debts, would fool herself into believing her convenient husband might one day discover himself in love with her?
It was preposterous. She’d known it for ages.
