Marriage of Convenience

Chapter Twenty One

Her anger was burned out by the time she was out from the shower and wrapped herself with a towel. She might have expected his hateful suspicions. He was paranoid where she was concerned nothing would convince him that she and Leo weren't lovers. It was like a virus, eating into his soul, changing him into a man she didn't know.

She walked to her closet to find something to wear something restrained, because, over dinner, she was going to give her a warning. He must leave her alone, physically; allow her to use the guest-room or to move out until he was ready to listen to her explanation of her relationship with Leo Isaac.

And then, if necessary, if he still couldn't trust her word, he could check with Sam. Sam knew Leo had been trying to blackmail her.

as she tucked in behind Mary and the heated trolley. She would not now have to endure a pre-dinner drink with the man who thought to lie was a way of life for her.

'Something smells good,' Freya remarked politely. Mary gave her a warm, comfortable smile, 'Lamb casserole with chocolate fudge sponge to follow. You won't mind, madam, if I leave you to it?'

Freya noted was set with two covers, candles, all the right props for a romantic dinner for two. But there was no romance in this marriage, just mistrust and a whole load of agony, she mourned silently as Theo laid aside the papers he'd been concentrating on and stood up, a whiskey-glass in his hand, bleak tension in his eyes.

'I was beginning to think you'd decided to go out again.' he commented Bitingly.

Mary, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents that thickened the air, made the atmosphere volatile, carried on with what she'd been saying. 'Only there's a film on television I want to watch. But I'll be down later to clear away.'

'That's fine, Mary.' Freya had her mistress-of-the-house act and she smiled encouragingly as she took the hot plates and dishes from the trolley. 'Run along, Mary. I can see this. You don't want to miss the beginning.'

She heard Theo cross the room as she ladled the herby, aromatic casserole on to plates and tried to relax muscles that had instinctively stiffened. He sat opposite her, his face stony, and as he unfolded his napkin she handed him his plate and then sat in front of her, knowing she wouldn't be able to eat a thing.

'I've read through your conclusions,' he said coldly 'but I distinctly recall having asked you to consult me before putting anything in front of Sam.'

'Perhaps you did.' Those shares were the only thing he seemed interested in nowadays; she thought sourly the only thing of hers, at least. She pushed her food around her plate, still clinging to her air of poised control because she was going to need it when she told him she would not be sharing his bed, and perhaps not even his roof until things were resolved between them.

'You know damned well I did.' His voice was quiet, level, almost soft, and that was more nerve-racking than if he'd shouted. It was the dangerous tone he used when hauling some unfortunate Dylan Dexter employee over the hapless person has had the misfortune to annoy him. She shuddered slightly, and he must have noticed That because his eyes met hers, hard and cold. He poured her a glass of burgundy, which she ignored, and she choked back hot words and found a tone to equal his.

'I don't work for you anymore. You did the firing and suggested I move to Dexter if you remember.' She pushed her food around some more, just for something to do with her hands. 'I'm under no obligation to consult you at this stage. I prefer to handle this my way.'

'The idea was,' he laid his cutlery aside, eyeing her, 'that we should work together to get the company back on its feet. Or had you forgotten?'

The look he gave her made her want to run away and hide, but she resisted the cowardly impulse and draped one arm over the back of her chair, achieving a casual elegance she was proud of, and told him dismissively, 'It was your idea, not mine. In any case, I don't quite see how it could be managed without a certain degree of accord something which our relationship distinctly lacks. So I do this alone, or not at all. And talking of togetherness-' she ousted yet another cowardly surge of desire to remove herself from the room and studiedly re-applied herself to her cooling food, I'm going to have to Insist that we sleep separately from now on. I want nothing more to do with you physically until;

'Why not?' he cut in smoothly, giving her no time to finish what she had intended to say.

'When you enjoy it so much. We both know I only have to touch you to turn you on.'

And that left her struggling, her cheeks flaming. It was precise because he could so easily make her want him, need him, that she had to sleep alone! She could endure the feeling of degradation no longer!

'Or is it because you are seeing Leo again, getting all the satisfaction you can handle?' he added silkily. Blinking back the pain of her tears, fighting the racking ache in her chest, she pushed herself out of her chair. She didn't have to take this! She wouldn't take it!

'I want a divorce.'

'I've been waiting for this.' She could almost see the violent emotion that came from him, and his eyes were narrowed, taking in the flush of rage that burned along her cheekbones, the glitter of angry tears in wide grey eyes. 'I've wondered when you'd get around to asking.'

At his icy words, the rage left her, just like that, Did he mean he'd been waiting for the suggestion to come from her because he wanted out of a marriage that had become unbearable? And had she unknowingly hoped, against all common sense, that he would throw every objection in the book at her, say that, despite everything he still wanted her in his life, that he needed her?.

And then he did say that much, but the same words can mean different things, and her face turned paper- white as he said, 'Divorce you so that you can marry Leo, with the so-called Dexter Millions safely in your control? No way.'

'You used me to gain control of your inheritance, the money you needed to lavish on your lover to keep him. But it stops there. Right there. There's no way I'm going to hand you your freedom on a plate. You're my wife and that's something you're going to have to learn to live with. And I mean live with. While you're my wife you'll share my roof, share my bed.'

'There's nothing to stop me walking out on you and going to him,' she flashed recklessly, stung by his hateful words, saying anything at all she could think of that might hurt him as much as he had repeatedly hurt her.

And strangely, she felt back in control again. There was just a moment of complete silence, very still, heavy, just one moment when she felt she had the upper hand, though she knew she didn't want it. And then he warned, his voice like ice, 'Do that and I will drag you back, kicking and screaming. And that's a promise. Wherever you go, I'll find you, and make you pay, and go on paying.'