"Invino Veritas,'" Zoe sighed, getting to her feet, her mind made up. Nigel had been right when he'd called Justin 'the Master'. Justin, except for one brief mistake three years ago, had masterminded her whole life for virtually the last seven years.
But no more. . . Her rose-coloured spectacles were smashed to smithereens, and she could see Justin for what he was—a ruthlessly ambitious, mature male who had taken one look at a shy fourteen-year-old girl and deliberately used her schoolgirl crush to bind her to him in matrimony and further his career in the process. She could not blame him for her uncle's heart attack, but he had certainly used it to his own advantage.
It had forced her back into his sphere of influence and it had been Justin who'd suggested that she give up her fledgling career in advertising immediately after he had made love to her on Valentine's night. She could not believe how stupid she had been. How corny can you get? she thought cynically. Justin had seduced her with red roses and soft words, the Ritz, romance and champagne, and she had swallowed the whole fantasy, believing in the omens of love. . .
Well, they said life went in seven-year cycles, she thought fatalistically. It was certainly true for her. At seven, boarding-school in Maine; at fourteen, England and Justin. Now, at twenty-one. . . back to America. . .
Who knew? she mused. Perhaps her subconscious mind had accepted the end of her marriage and had been working out the solution within minutes of Janet Ord opening her mouth, maybe even earlier—when Sara Blacket had planted the first seeds of doubt in her heart.
With stark clarity she saw her impulsive declaration to Wayne—that she would see him in the States in a matter of days—as the best and only solution.
Tightening the towel around her breasts, and flicking her wet hair from her eyes, she moved like an old woman to the door and into her room.
CHAPTER FOUR
Zoe clutched at the door-frame with one hand and her towel with the other. Her heart almost stopped beating, and her eyes widened in angry shock at the sight before her.
In the dim glow of the bedside light Justin was sprawled across her bed. The pillows bunched behind his back to keep him semi-upright, he had a glass of champagne in his hand, a wicked light in his deep brown eyes, his only concession to modesty a pair of black silk boxer shorts. 'Short' being the operative word. . .
'I thought the black dress was a turn-on,' he drawled throatily, 'but that towel takes some beating.' Playfully crooking a finger, a sensual smile curving his wide mouth, he added, 'Come to bed, birthday girl. Let's celebrate.'
A few hours ago she would have been overjoyed at such a blatant statement of intent from her restrained husband, but with Janet's revelation in the forefront of her mind all she felt was a furious rage.
Obviously she had not hidden her distress as well as she had thought. Justin had picked up on it, she told herself with a new cynical awareness that she had not realised she possessed. Or why else would he, for the first time ever, be lying in wait for her? Except to get her in his arms and mindless as usual.
Her gaze slid slowly over him. He lay there, a sophisticated male animal, all rippling muscle and confident virile charm, expecting her to fall gratefully into his arms.
Well, the manipulative swine was in for a rude awakening.
'Celebrate? I think not,' she bit out, her lashes flickering over wild blue eyes to hide her fury. She deliberately turned, proceeded across the room to the dressing-table, and sat down on the softly padded stool, her glance resting on the key she had thrown down earlier.
'How did you get in?' She had locked the door, she knew she had. . .
'I know you didn't intend to lock me out, darling, and I also know all the locks in the master suite are the same. Open with the same key. Et voild! Here I am.'
'I'm not in the mood for you or French, so please leave.'
'Zoe, what's wrong?' Justin swung his feet to the floor and in a couple of lithe strides was standing behind her.
'I'm tired. I want to sleep,' she said curtly, his towering presence at her back causing her stomach to knot with tension. If he touched her she'd scream. . .
'Funny—half an hour ago, you were almost begging Nigel and his friends to stay longer,' he reminded her silkily. 'A more suspicious husband might have cause for alarm.
His hands curved over her naked shoulders, and she stiffened. She looked up, her gaze colliding is the mirror with dark, piercing eyes.
She had thought that every ounce of feeling for Justin had been destroyed by the knowledge she had gained this evening, but she was horrified to discover that, despite knowing that he had never loved her, that he had married her for ambition and at her uncle's request, his closeness and the touch of his hand could still arouse an aching longing inside her. She despised her own weakness, and in a fury of hurt and humiliation she jumped to her feet and swung away from him.
'A more suspicious wife might wonder why a new husband would prefer his own bed to his wife's,' she shot back scathingly.
An unfathomable expression flickered in his eyes; as she watched his mouth tightened. 'I didn't prefer my own bed tonight, but it doesn't seem to have done me much good,' he opined drily, an odd grating in his usually deep, modulated tone.
'About as much good as it does me, knowing you married me at my uncle Bertie's request, and simply to further your overriding ambition in law.' Not bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice, she spun to face him, head high. Her blue eyes shooting flames, she instantly dismissed his shocked expression as simply more playacting.
'That is a ridiculous notion and patently untrue,' he denied harshly.
At one time Zoe might have believed him, but not any more. 'No?' One brow arched derisively. 'You mean Uncle Bertie never suggested to you that marrying me would please him?' If Zoe had any lingering doubts they vanished as Justin's glance seemed to waver, a dull flush streaking his high cheekbones.
'Zoe, I don't know what you have heard or who has been gossiping but it wasn't like that and you know it.'