When my father had said goodbye to me, he’d leaned in and placed a kiss to my cheek, and at the same time, his fingers had wrapped around my wrist. As he’d pulled back, he’d spoken low in my ear. “You’re doing this for family, Hallie. Don’t let me down.”
I sucked in a breath and faced Tam. I needed to be strong now. Men like Tam didn’t do well with weakness, and if I showed him even a hint of it, he’d use it against me.
“Right,” I said, lifting my chin, “are you going to show me to my room?”
A slow smile spread across Tam’s face. I had to admit, with his square jaw and full lips, he was annoyingly attractive. “You’re going to be my wife, sweetheart. Your room is my room.”
What? He expected me to share a bed with him? “Umm, I don’t think so.”
“I don’t care what you think. I’m not having the woman who’s going to be my wife sleeping in a separate bed to me. Who do you think I am?”
“I know who you are, and I want my own room. Look at the size of this place. It’s not as though you don’t have space.”
He smirked. “Maybe I don’t want space.”
“Maybe I do,” I shot back.
He raised a thick, dark eyebrow. “Is this where you ask to go home, little girl? Do I have to phone daddy before he’s barely made it to the end of the road? You’re actually fucking disappointing me at this point. I thought you’d last longer than ten minutes.”
I scowled at him. “No, you don’t have to phone anyone.” Damn it. He had me up against a wall. I didn’t have any choice—just like with everything else in my life.
“Fine. Show me toourroom.”
He glanced down at the bags at my feet. “I’ll take those for you.” He hauled them up as though they weighed nothing instead of the mountains of toiletries, books, and framed photographs I’d brought from my room. If I was going to have to stay in this place, I at least wanted it to feel like my home, too.
“Oh, look,” I said, lightly. “You can be a gentleman.” I was using sarcasm as a means of defence.
He snorted. “Don’t get fucking used to it.”
My stomach twisted as I followed his broad back to the staircase, and then upstairs. As I’d predicted, there were plenty of bedrooms, but Tam wanted me in with him. I knew what that meant. He’d want to have sex with me—no, he’d fuck me. It wouldn’t be sex or making love, or any of the other names for it. It would be fucking, purely so he could do whatever he could to ruin Marlon Wynter’s daughter.
Despite myself, a rush of tingles flooded between my thighs, and my nipples tightened under my t-shirt. I’d had a taste of Tam Cornell three years ago, but it was something I’d tried to block from my mind. Was he thinking about that night, too? I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the sight of Tam’s hard backside in his jeans and the way his shoulders filled his shirt. God, he was so much older than me and clearly had more experience. The thought terrified me.
He moved with a slight limp, favouring his left leg. I wondered what had happened there.
He led me into the bedroom. It was huge—bigger than my room back at the hotel. A four-poster bed took up prime position in the centre. He set the suitcase down on the side closest to the window.
“This is the side you’ll sleep on. Got it?”
“I assume I don’t have much choice.”
He turned to me with a cold smile. “Good, you’re learning.”
I inhaled and forced myself to tear my eyes from the space where I was going to be sleeping that night—or not sleeping, as the case may be. Even if Tam decided to leave me alone, I still doubted I’d get much rest. Sleep had been near impossible since the wedding. Every time I closed my eyes my mind filled in the blank space behind my eyelids with Harvey Cornell’s ruined face and the disbelief in his eyes as he’d dropped to his knees. I couldn’t eradicate the sensation of his blood dripping down my face, and the moment sleep tried to claim me, it would be back again, and I’d lurch upright, my heart pounding as I wiped away blood that was no longer there. I’d scrubbed my face over and over after I’d been bundled from the wedding and taken home. My skin had been tender and sore afterwards, but it hadn’t helped.
My troubles sleeping certainly weren’t going to be something I planned to discuss with Tam. I highly doubted he’d want to know that his potential future wife was lying in bed next to him reliving how his brother’s blood had dripped down her cheek.
Tam rounded the bed and trailed his fingers across the top of the covers. The room was tastefully decorated, white with silver filigree bedding, eggshell-blue cushions, a plush carpet in a light grey. I assumed it wasn’t Tam’s work, and that he’d brought in a designer to work their magic. Either way, I was pleased the place wasn’t overly macho—all black leather and chrome. If I ended up staying here for any length of time, maybe I’d be able to put some of my own stamp on the place as well.
You will be staying here. Where else do you think you’re going to go?
I couldn’t go back to my father’s, could I? He’d made his thoughts on that perfectly clear. I was marrying Tam Cornell, no matter what, even if he didn’t want me either and was also being forced into this.
“I know this isn’t exactly what either of us wants,” I said, trying to be consolatory, “but perhaps we just need to make the best of it. Even if we’re not lovers, we could at least be friends.”
He regarded me with amusement. “Do you actually think someone like you would be a friend? Believe me, when I think about my friends, there isn’t a single one who looks anything like you.”
“There’s always a first.” I kept my tone light.