“Then don’t.” She pushed up on her elbows and kissed him. “I love you, Alex. Whatever else you think, you have to know that I married you because I love you.”
He kissed her back, but he felt even less convinced of anything than ever. She was either an excellent liar, or she did indeed feel something for him. But love? Was this woman who had slept with two of her married employers truly capable of feeling love?
He made love to her with the desperate, aching need that was consuming him. He took her until she screamed with pleasure, and then he held her tight. Silently, while he held her to his chest, he begged whatever Gods were out there to work out a way to make his Siren truly belong to him.
And to absolve him of guilt for manipulating her into a marriage that, if she understood his true motivation, she wouldn’t have wanted a bar of.
“Seriously the best Scotch I’ve ever had.” Olivia cradled the glass in her hand, her legs curled beneath her. The man she’d come to meet had, over the previous two days, impressed her. She hadn’t wanted to be caught up in his web, but Alessandro Petrides was an impressive specimen. Funny, engaging, intelligent, gorgeous and generous, he had made her feel completely at ease, and had even insisted on his private jet taking her over to Vegas. “It is, forever, at your disposal. Any time you need it, simply call Sophie and she can arrange it.”
Sophie had been oddly touched by the gesture, for it provided some of the reassurance that she was desperately seeking. Beside their bed, which was practically burning up from the heat of their connection, he spoke to her with the same civil politeness he was employing with Olivia. In fact, perhaps even less!
She watched the two of them with a sense of exclusion.
“You should try some Soph.”
Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I’m still recovering from our champagne bonanza,” she said with a shrug.
“Bonanza.” Olivia shook her head with mock disappointment. “My sister just can’t handle her liquor, I’m afraid.”
“I have noticed,” he said with a laugh. “Where will you stay in Vegas?”
“I don’t know.” She grinned. “That’s part of the fun.”
“We have a home there. Of course you may …”
“No, no.” Olivia held up a finger. She’d had several wines with dinner and three different scotches with Alex afterwards, and yet she seemed completely in control. “You’re not going to deprive me of my fun.”
He arched a brow inquisitively.
Sophie smiled, despite the gnawing certainty that something was very badly wrong in her marriage. “Liv loves the thrill of destitution. She’s not a big believer in having money in the bank, nor a steady job.”
“I see.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sophie understood, too late, what she’d said wrong. It was not a joke to him. Alex had lived that life. He’d been destitute for real, and he knew, better than most, that it was not funny, nor was it fun. She searched for something to say – anything – to move the conversation forward before Olivia could add something else to the insensitive remark. “I’ve never been to Vegas.”
“I thought you went with Edwin,” Liv remarked, lifting a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Didn’t you go when he had that conference?”
Sophie’s eyes flew to Olivia’s with shock. She knew they couldn’t speak of her former employer!
Alex, still in his chair, was instantly alert. He saw the panic in Sophie’s face.
“Edwin?” He aimed his query towards Olivia, who was far more communicative than his secretive wife.
“Sophie’s boss back in Sydney. A real pig of a man, but you thought the world of him for a while.”
Sophie winced at the poor choice of words.
“I see,” Alex nodded, but Sophie could see that he didn’t.
“Liv,” Sophie’s voice held a warning, but Olivia ignored it. She might have seemed unaffected by the alcohol she’d imbibed, but of course she wasn’t.
“Oh, come on. It’s ancient history. Besides, you must have told Alex about him?” Before Sophie could reply, Liv turned back to Alex. “This guy was a real piece of work. He fell completely in love with Soph and got really creepy for a while there.”
Alex, who had seen the report for himself, knew Olivia’s version of events was incorrect, but he did a good job of pretending otherwise. “Creepy how?”
“Olivia.” Sophie stood, and her face was completely white beneath her tan. “You must stop.”
“Why?” She sat up straighter, as if realising for the first time that she’d said something wrong. “Oh, Sophie. What did I do? I’m sorry. I’m such a blabber mouth. I just presumed he knew.”
“No,” Sophie was bewildered.