Natalie Rivers – The Blackmail Baby (страница 2)

‘You know this is a purely practical arrangement,’ he bit out. ‘We discussed how you would be my perfect wife. How a sensible, businesslike arrangement was far superior to an overblown emotional minefield. You always knew my feelings on the subject.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Chloe stared at him in horrible confusion, aware that her heart had started to thump with sickening jerkiness beneath her breast.

She thought back to his proposal. It was true that he hadn’t gone down on one knee to ask her to marry him, but he had taken her to Paris—the most romantic city in the world. They’d been walking along the Seine, with golden-brown autumn leaves swirling around them, when he had taken both her hands in his and asked her to be his wife.

She tried to remember his exact words—to recall how the conversation had developed. But suddenly all she was aware of was Lorenzo’s angry expression as he stared down at her.

‘We first discussed the matter when your mother and sister were leaving for Australia,’ he said. ‘I asked about your father, and whether he was emigrating with them. You told me that you hadn’t seen him since your seventh birthday.’

‘But you and I weren’t involved back then,’ Chloe said, struggling to grasp the relevance of that past conversation. ‘That was before you’d even asked me out.’

She remembered how he’d been sympathetic, and how he’d made her feel better by confiding in her that his mother had walked out when he was just five years old. It was the first time their relationship had pushed the boundaries of boss and PA. He’d even poured them a drink at the bar and told her…told her how he believed life would be much simpler without the complications of unrealistic romantic ideals.

Chloe pressed her hand over her mouth as she remembered what he’d said. She’d never, ever guessed that he was serious—that his cynical remark was more than a passing statement driven by unhappy childhood memories.

She stared up at him in shock, trying to recall if they’d ever discussed the subject again, but she knew that they hadn’t. She would have remembered if he’d said anything to make her think his interest in her was driven by cold, practical matters.

He swore bitterly and raked rigid fingers through his short black hair. Two slashes of colour now burned on his high cheekbones and his blue eyes glittered with mounting fury.

‘I thought you were different from the rest,’ he said. ‘Not another of those women trying to trap me into marriage with false declarations of love, and promises you had no intention of keeping. But now I see you are just like all the rest—worse even, because you’ve waited until now, our wedding day, to do this.’

His words sank into the turmoil of Chloe’s mind and she struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. She realised she was shaking and folded her arms across her body, hugging herself tightly.

‘It sounds as if you are saying you don’t want to be loved.’ Chloe could hear the confusion and doubt in her own voice, but she pressed on, determined to comprehend what Lorenzo was telling her. ‘But I don’t understand. It’s natural to hope for love—and to look for it.’

‘People who look for love are fools,’ Lorenzo said with contempt, a vein pulsing on his temple.

‘But what if you find love—even if you aren’t looking for it?’ Chloe asked. She’d never expected to fall in love with her boss, but his magnetic charisma and dynamic assurance had made it impossible for her not to.

‘Love is an illusion—a false ideal that never holds true,’ he grated, staring down at her through narrowed eyes.

‘You are so harsh—so cynical,’ Chloe gasped. ‘Of course love exists—you can’t deny what your heart feels.’

‘And is your heart still telling you that you love me?’ Lorenzo said derisively. ‘Even now that we have revisited my feelings on the subject?’

‘It’s not something you can switch on or off,’ Chloe said, dismayed by his attitude. She’d known he could be arrogant and overbearing at times, but she’d never thought of him as a cruel man.

It seemed there was a lot she didn’t know about the man she had just married. Had she just made the worst mistake of her life?

‘So you are sticking to your story?’ Lorenzo asked. ‘Perhaps for the sake of consistency you think it best to maintain the pretence for now?’

‘What do you want from marriage—from your wife?’ Chloe demanded, refusing to let him bully her into saying something to humiliate herself.

‘I wanted someone honest and natural,’ he said. ‘Someone I could respect. Not another of those women whose grandiose pronouncements of love are as false as their manicured appearance.’

‘I have been honest with you,’ Chloe said, blinking furiously as she felt her eyes start to burn with tears. There was no way she was going to let herself cry in front of him, not after the way he was treating her. ‘And if you can’t respect that—can’t respect me—then that’s your problem.’

She lifted her chin defiantly, pressing her teeth into her lower lip to stop it quivering, and tried to push past him. But his fingers closed on her arm, biting into the flesh like a steel vice.

‘Go and compose yourself,’ he said, witheringly. ‘But don’t take too long. After all, you were the one anxious not to be rude to our wedding guests.’

Chloe drew in a startled breath, looking over her shoulder, down into the ballroom below. She had all but forgotten where she was and it was a shock to see the party still in full swing.

A wave of nausea washed through her as she wondered if anyone had seen her awful exchange with Lorenzo. But no one was looking up at them and a quick glance around assured her that they were alone on the balcony.

‘There were no witnesses—which is fortunate for you—’ his words were disdainful, but that did not mask the undercurrent of menace in his tone ‘—because I will not tolerate any further disrespect from you. Or permit you to shame me in any way.’

Chloe stared at him, suddenly unable to recognise the man she had fallen so deeply in love with. She opened her mouth to respond—to tell him that she wouldn’t tolerate any more of his vile behaviour. But before she had the chance to speak he turned sharply and strode away towards his study.

She stood stock-still, watching him go—aware of the crackling emotion storming through his tall, powerful body as his long, thrusting strides bore him swiftly along the corridor. She’d never been able to look away if Lorenzo was in the room. His presence drew her gaze like a magnet.

Even now, after everything that had just happened, she couldn’t look away until he was out of sight. But, as his study door closed, she knew what she must do. She had to get herself away from him—as fast and as far as possible.

Ten minutes later Chloe hesitated by the door of her bedroom, looking down at the beautiful silk wedding gown lying on the bed. She’d felt like a princess wearing that dress. Or maybe like Cinderella going to the ball. But she’d found out in the most brutal way that Lorenzo was not Prince Charming.

She shuddered, remembering his expression when she’d declared her love for him, and pressed her hands over her face, trying to blot out the memory of the caustic look in his eyes as he’d ground her hopes and dreams into dust. He’d broken her heart and callously humiliated her in one fell swoop.

For the first time she was grateful that none of her family had made it to the wedding. Her mother and sister were too involved in their new life in Australia, and since Chloe had decided not to go with them it was almost as if they’d forgotten she existed. And of course her father was not there. She didn’t even know where he was—or if he was still alive.

She drew in a deep breath and forced herself into action. She’d thought that this was the happiest day of her life, but Lorenzo had woken her up from that fairy tale with a merciless jolt. Now she’d have to hurry if she wanted to have any chance of making a clean getaway. And at that moment all she wanted was to be as far away from Lorenzo as possible.

She pulled her faux fur hat tight onto her head to completely cover her light blonde hair and obscure her face as much as she could. Then she turned up the collar of her long coat and slipped out into the corridor, heading towards the side staircase that led to the palazzo’s water gate.

She knew there’d be many boats at the Grand Canal entrance, waiting to ferry the wedding guests back to their hotels after the reception, and she needed transportation to get across the lagoon to the airport as quickly as possible. There wasn’t much time before the last plane left the city that night.

Disguised in bulky winter layers, she didn’t look anything like the petite blonde bride who had arrived that day, radiant with happiness and fresh from her wedding ceremony—and she desperately hoped that no one would recognise her. She couldn’t bear it if one of Lorenzo’s security staff dragged her back inside—back to Lorenzo.

She shivered as she climbed into a water taxi and gave directions for Marco Polo Airport. An icy wind that felt as if it had blown straight from the frozen spires of the Dolomites sliced right through her and started her shivering deep inside.