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“Of course not. As far as he’s concerned, this is a total fabrication.”
And she could see from Mitch’s demeanor that he intended to keep it that way. That would be tough when news of the baby broke. Lance was eventually going to find out.
The truth was, she cared little about her humiliation, and what people might think of her. For the baby’s sake, however, she would be a fool to turn down Mitch’s offer. A marriage to him would grant the kind of life that the baby deserved.
“My answer is yes,” she said. “I’ll marry you.”
He looked surprised that she would acquiesce so easily. “We should do it soon. I was thinking a small civil ceremony at the courthouse.”
The sooner—and the simpler—the better as far as she was concerned. So much for the extravagant and blissful white wedding she had always dreamed of. “Fine.”
“And we should plan a honeymoon. To make it look more authentic.”
She thought of the nonrefundable trip she had just booked. “I’m leaving for a seven-day trip to Greece the day after tomorrow. Would that be authentic enough for you?”
He nodded. “That would be perfect.”
“I’ll have my assistant book you a seat.”
“And I’ll have mine make the wedding arrangements.”
“All right.”
“While we’re away, I’ll arrange to have your things moved into my townhouse.”
She hadn’t given any thought to the fact that he would expect her to live with him. But of course he would. Married couples lived together. Although the idea of living under his roof made her feel vulnerable. Would he try to run her life, controlling her every move the way her father had? Would she be moving from one prison to another?
And if so, what choice did she have?
Mitch must have read her expression. “You’ll have your own room,” he assured her. “You’ll want for nothing.”
Unfortunately, that wasn’t true. She wanted something he wasn’t capable of giving. She wanted to be loved. She wanted someone to respect and appreciate her for who she was deep down inside. And while he did seem to appreciate what she was doing for him, the love and respect part seemed impossible. Maybe she wasn’t worthy. Maybe that was the price she paid for wealth and security. Or maybe the sad truth was, she just wasn’t all that lovable.
“You won’t regret this,” Mitch assured her, which she found terribly ironic, seeing as how she was beginning to regret it already.
“Are you ready for this?” Lance asked Mitch the following evening. They sat across from one another at a linen-draped table in the elaborately decorated dining room of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. It was the most public place they could think of for the desired result. If all went as planned, word of what was about to transpire would burn up the town like flaming tumbleweed in the dry season.
“I’m ready,” Mitch said.
It was a little hard to believe that this time tomorrow he would be married and on his way to Greece. Twenty-nine was too damned young to be a husband, to be tied down. Not that he or Lexi were thinking of this as a real marriage. It was a business arrangement. One that would no doubt cost him dearly. Both emotionally and financially. That was evident from the astronomically priced wedding ring she’d chosen. Her expensive taste apparently knew no bounds.
A grin kicked up one corner of Lance’s mouth. “I’ll go easy on you, little brother.”
“Don’t bother. Whatever you can dish out, I can take.” God knows that there were many times he’d gotten a lot worse from their old man. “We have to make this look real, Lance.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” he said, and just like that, the grin faded. Lance assumed a look of pure disgust, and said in a voice loud enough for the entire room to hear, “You son of a bitch.”
A hush fell over the room and all heads turned in their direction. No turning back now, Mitch thought.
He held up both hands in a defensive gesture and said in a pleading voice, “Let me explain.”
Lance stood so fast his chair flipped backward onto the floor, narrowly missing the table behind theirs. He grabbed his half-full highball glass, rose to his feet and with a flick of his wrist flung the contents into Mitch’s face. As the alcohol burned Mitch’s eyes and soaked through the front of his shirt, he couldn’t help but think, what a terrible waste of the club’s finest whiskey.
Gasps of surprise filled the silence as Lance stormed from the dining room. Mitch grabbed a linen napkin from the table and wiped his face. With all eyes on him now—most of them friends, neighbors or business associates—he jumped up from his chair and followed his brother to the crowded main lobby, calling, “Lance, wait! I can explain!”
He caught up with him just outside the dining room door. To anyone watching, Lance appeared enraged. “Explain? What sort of man seduces his brother’s fiancée?”
Mitch heard gasps from the crowd.
“We didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said, finding it ironic that if Lance had discovered the truth, Mitch probably would have been saying the same thing. Although it would have been a lie. Lexi had admitted to using him to rob her husband of her virginity. Seems the joke was on both of them.
“As far as I’m concerned, you and Lexi deserve each other,” Lance spat, and turned to leave. Just as they had choreographed, Mitch grabbed his arm.
The fist came at him so swiftly that, had he not expected it, he wouldn’t have had time to duck. As it was, Mitch could only stand there defenseless as Lance’s fist connected squarely with his jaw. The blow knocked him backward several feet. He lost his balance and ended up on his ass on the unforgiving marble floor.
Lance shot him one last seething look, then shouldered his way out the door. Mitch’s behind ached something special, his jaw stung like a mother and his pride had taken a hit, but the reaction from the patrons told him it had all been worth it. A steady buzz of voices hummed through the lobby and at least half a dozen people were jabbering excitedly into their cell phones. He gave it an hour before the entire population of Maverick County heard the news.
Mitch swiped a hand across the corner of his mouth and came back with a smear of blood. Two employees appeared at either side to help him to his feet, and the hostess handed him a napkin to stop the bleeding.
“I’m all right,” he mumbled, shrugging away from their help as though humiliated and distraught. From outside, he heard the squeal of tires and knew Lance was peeling out of the lot, putting the finishing touches on their little charade. And what a show it had been.
He just hoped it was worth it.
Chapter Four (#ulink_5ea290bb-dd22-5b7c-a56d-30633ea5ffb9)
With only Tara, Lance, and Mitch’s best friend Justin Dupree to serve as witnesses—her father had been called to D.C. on so-called urgent business—Lexi and Mitch said their “I do’s” before a county judge the following morning, then drove directly to the airport to catch the first leg of their flight to Greece.
Lexi sat beside her new husband in first class, eyes closed, willing her stomach to settle. Either her hormones were wreaking havoc on her nerves, or her morning sickness had taken a severe turn for the worse. If it was the latter, to hell with having three or four children. This kid could count on being an only child. Up until now, she’d suffered only occasional, mild nausea. Today, she had vomited three times. Once at home, right after she crawled out of bed, once in the ladies’ room of the courthouse, and again in the airport bathroom just before their flight boarded. She was beginning to think this trip was a bad idea.
Even worse than marrying Mitch Brody.
“Are you all right?” Mitch said softly.
Far from it. She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat and opened her eyes, grimacing once again when she saw the angry-looking bruise that spanned the left side of his jaw and the nasty gash at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
There was concern etched on his face. He folded the newspaper he’d been reading—the financial section, of course—and set it in his lap. “No offense, but you’re looking a little green.”
How nice of him to notice. “And you’re looking black and blue.”
He reached up and rubbed a palm across his jaw, wincing slightly.
“I can’t believe he hit you. Couldn’t he just have pretended to punch you?”
Mitch shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “I told you, it had to look convincing.”
Apparently it had. According to Tara, the entire town was buzzing with gossip, and every chance Tara got, she helped out by fanning the flames. In no time, everyone would be convinced that Mitch and Lexi had been having a secret affair. News of the baby would only cement the rumors.
Even though Lexi knew Mitch and Lance had ultimately done it for their business, she couldn’t help but feel honored that they had gone to such lengths in part to salvage her honor.
And she thought chivalry was dead.
Despite his casual attitude, it must have been humiliating for Mitch. Or maybe he was one of those men who honestly didn’t give a damn what anyone thought.
“I could ring the flight attendant for an ice pack,” she offered.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Do you need anything?”
She shook her head, which was a mistake because the movement made her stomach lurch. She wished she’d chosen a more casual outfit for the flight instead of the fitted silk suit she’d worn for the ceremony. Something loose and comfortable, like her pajamas.
“You don’t look well,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t an insult. I’m concerned.”
“I’m just a little airsick. It happens sometimes. And it’s kind of embarrassing, so if you don’t mind, can we just drop it?”
“Sorry.”
After that, they sat in awkward silence. During their week together in D.C. they had seemingly endless conversations. Most people viewed her as a spoiled and witless debutante, and her father didn’t help, perpetuating the rumors by pampering and coddling her. But Mitch had seen past that. He had listened to her, made her feel…special. Now she had no idea what to say to him.
How about something along the lines of, By the way, did I mention that I’m pregnant with your child?
She had planned to tell him in the limo on the way to the airport, but she’d been otherwise occupied, trying not to be sick all over the leather interior. She’d decided to wait until they settled into the villa in Greece. She didn’t doubt the news was going to come as a shock, but she was sure that when he grew used to the idea, he would be happy to be a father.
As if reading her thoughts, Mitch said, “Maybe we should have a talk about our expectations in regard to our relationship.”
She hoped he wasn’t talking about sex, because that hadn’t been part of the deal. This was supposed to be a business arrangement. She had no intention of being his concubine. “What kind of expectations?”
Her wariness seemed to amuse him. “Not the kind you’re obviously thinking of. Our relationship stops at the bedroom door.”
“Good,” she said, feeling relieved. And strangely enough, a little disappointed.
“What I meant, for example, is that as a part of my business, it’s required that I occasionally attend social functions. As my wife, I will expect you to accompany me, and of course I’ll do the same for you.”
That didn’t sound so terrible. “I can do that.”
“You’ll also be expected to host several parties.”
That was something that she was actually quite good at. “Of course.”
“And since I’m not particularly fond of seeing my name in the tabloids, or being the source of the latest gossip, I think it should appear to everyone that we’re happily married. If word gets out that this is part of a business deal, we’ll never hear the end of it. I personally value my privacy.”
Personally, she didn’t give a damn what people thought. But for the baby’s sake, it would be best if they kept up a ruse of wedded bliss, so the child wouldn’t feel unwanted.
“As soon as we get back to the states we can start house hunting. Or if you prefer, we could build.”
“What about your townhouse?”
“It’s too small for our needs.”
“If you think so,” she said. She had never actually been there, but she couldn’t imagine that someone as wealthy as Mitch would live anywhere that could be considered small. Although she couldn’t deny that the idea of having her own home was a little exciting. All of her life she had lived in her father’s Houston estate or D.C. townhouse. He hadn’t even allowed her to decorate her own room, preferring instead to let a professional choose the decor. She had never had a place that was truly hers.
“Of course, you’ll be in charge of the household,” Mitch continued. “You’ll be responsible for the hiring and dismissal of the staff.”
“Will I be allowed to decorate?” she asked.
The question seemed to puzzle him. “Of course.”
“I won’t need your approval for every little thing I do?”
He looked confused. “Is there a reason you should?”
She had just assumed that, like her father, Mitch would deem her untrustworthy or incapable. Or maybe he was just saying these things to lull her into a false sense of security. Maybe he would be an overbearing tyrant.
And maybe you’re paranoid.
“Other than the obvious financial requirements, is there anything specific that you expect from me?”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by financial requirements. Did he think she would expect him to pay her a salary? “What ‘financial requirements’ are we talking about?”
“Credit cards, cash. As I assured you, you won’t want for anything.”
Despite what most people believed, she wasn’t the spoiled, pampered heiress they described in the society pages of the paper. Her father had always provided her with a generous allowance for clothing and essentials, but otherwise kept her on a pretty short fiscal leash. He monitored her credit card statements to be sure that she wasn’t spending his money on anything inappropriate, and he limited the amount of cash she was allowed. She’d always wondered what it would feel like to be financially independent, to not have someone scrutinizing her every move.
If Mitch did give her financial freedom, maybe this marriage deal wouldn’t be quite as miserable as she’d expected.
“Come on,” he said. “There must be something you want.”
Though she was going to wait, he’d left the subject wide open, and she couldn’t resist dipping her toes in to test the waters. “What about children?”
“What about them?”
“Well, I know this is just a business arrangement, but I’ve always wanted kids.”
The dark expression that spread across his face chilled her to her core. He shook his head and said, “I think that would be a bad idea.”
Oh, this was not good.
Maybe it was the act of conceiving the baby that he had a problem with. Maybe he no longer found her attractive. Their kiss after the vows couldn’t have been colder or more formal. Maybe she had been so terrible in bed that first time, he had no interest in a repeat performance.
“If it’s the intimacy you’re concerned about,” she said, “there are other ways—”
“It has nothing to do with that. I feel it would be unfair to bring a child into a loveless marriage.”
Her stomach bottomed out. How would he feel if he didn’t have a choice in the matter? Would he insist on a divorce? Tell her father the truth about what happened in D.C.? Or even worse, would he disown his child? Then where would she be?
