Blackmailed Down The Aisle

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‘It’s a Pollock. One of his earlier works.’

Her pulse jolted forward like a startled deer. Engrossed by her new surroundings, she had completely forgotten that Rollo was there. But her shock was quickly supplanted as his words registered on her brain.

A Pollock! Rollo owned an actual Jackson Pollock.

The thought blew her mind.

Theoretically, she knew he was rich, but this was a real work of art—the sort that fetched millions at auction. And it was in his hallway.

Hoping she didn’t look as gauche as she felt, she nodded nonchalantly. ‘David loves his paintings.’

‘Personally I find them a little busy. But these...’ he gestured casually towards the walls ‘...weren’t my choice anyway. My curator picked them. He thinks they have the greatest potential to rise in value.’

Tearing her eyes away from the paintings, Daisy frowned. ‘And that’s what matters, is it? That they make you money? Not that they give you pleasure?’

His eyes roamed lazily over her face in a way that made her squirm inside. ‘I find they’re usually one and the same thing. Shall we go in?’

Staring past him stonily, she took a shallow breath and nodded slowly.

Moments later, she felt her jaw drop as she walked into the open-plan living area.

The room was enormous.

But it wasn’t just the size of it that made her eyes widen. It was the opulence oozing from every corner. Glancing sideways, she noticed a beautiful oil painting of a woman gazing dazedly upwards at a colonnaded ruin. She looked mythical, possibly Greek or Roman. Maybe she had just stumbled across the place where the gods lived. If so, Daisy knew exactly how she felt.

‘Welcome to your new home,’ Rollo said softly. ‘I won’t give you the guided tour now, but this is obviously the living room and the kitchen is over there. In case you get hungry in the night.’

She could feel him watching her, gauging her reaction, but she barely noticed. Eyes flitting nervously around the room, she was trying to remember exactly why she’d agreed to move in with him.

It had seemed to make sense earlier. Move in, spend some time getting to know one another and then announce their engagement.

But what the hell had she been thinking? She couldn’t imagine living in this apartment, let alone living in it with Rollo, pretending to be his wife.

As though reading her thoughts, he shrugged his jacket off and, throwing it carelessly onto a huge cream leather sofa, met her gaze.

‘You’ll get used to it.’

‘Will I?’

She glanced around nervously. Everything was so big and bright. As usual, after the end of a shift, she had changed into her own clothes. But her comfortable jeans and baggy sweatshirt made her feel as though she had shrunk. If she stayed, she might disappear altogether.

‘I should imagine so—’ he paused, his expression coolly assessing ‘—if you want to keep your brother out of prison.’

It was like a sudden icy shower.

Instantly her fear and doubt evaporated, replaced by a blinding flash of anger. ‘You really are a bastard,’ she said shakily. ‘Why would you even say that? I’ve said I’ll do this and I will. Just leave David out of it.’

Her muscles were quivering. He’d just blackmailed her into being his wife. That wasn’t normal and he knew it. Hell, he’d even admitted it back in his office. So why was he acting as though she was overreacting? As though she was making a big deal out of nothing?

She shook her head.

‘I don’t understand you. Doesn’t this bother you in any way? That we’re going to have to lie? And keep on lying to so many people? And not just tell lies but live a lie too?’

He raised his eyebrows in the way that she now knew preceded one of his hateful, mocking remarks.

‘You’ve spent all evening lying to me, Daisy. A few more months won’t make that much difference.’

Their eyes clashed. She swallowed hard, feeling trapped, hating him for the way he twisted everything to make her sound like the villain.

‘Don’t you have any compassion?’

‘Generally, yes. Specifically for you, no. You brought this upon yourself. You and your brother, that is. Besides, quite frankly, lies or no lies, I find it difficult to believe that living in a triplex apartment in Manhattan is going to be that much of a hardship for you.’

‘If you say so,’ she said stiffly.

It was clear she was wasting her time. She might be struggling with the decision they had made, but clearly Rollo was immune to the concept of guilt. And she couldn’t keep challenging him all night. Not without anger anyway, and her anger was fading, the adrenaline draining away like bathwater, so that she was suddenly too tired to argue.

‘Do you mind if I sit down?’ Without waiting for a reply she dropped onto the nearest sofa, stifling a yawn. ‘Is there anything else? If not, I’d like to have a hot shower and go to bed.’

Bed!

Rollo felt the word tug at his senses like a kite on a string. It was just three little letters...a place to sleep. But spoken by Daisy in that husky voice it seemed to hint at tangled sheets and bodies moving slowly in the half-light.

Glancing over to where she sat, leaning back against the cushions, he felt his body stiffen in immediate painful response. She was looking up at him with those dark espresso-coloured eyes—eyes that somehow managed to look sleepy yet seductive at the same time.

He gritted his teeth. In his office he’d thought she was beautiful, but now, dressed casually, her legs curling against the leather of the sofa, she looked sexier than any woman he’d ever seen.

Maybe it was the curve of her bottom beneath the tight denim, or the glimpse of bare skin where her oversized sweatshirt was slipping off her shoulder.

The bare skin she would soon be soaping upstairs in the shower.

The thought of her standing naked, water dribbling over her body, was so tantalising that he could suddenly hardly breathe and, swallowing hard, he turned to where a faint pinkish glow through the windows indicated that night was turning to day.

Daisy’s desirability was undeniable. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get what he wanted from James Dunmore. He must be careful not to get distracted by her beauty and her sexual allure.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head. ‘No. There’s nothing. Everything else can wait...’ he glanced round ‘...until morning,’ he finished slowly.

Daisy was asleep, lying on her side, one arm curled under her head like a cat. For a moment he watched her in silence, seeing her as though for the first time—a younger, more vulnerable Daisy. Someone who needed protecting.

The thought needled him, lodging beneath his ribs like a thorn. Why wasn’t anyone looking out for her? Her family, her brother, her parents? It made him feel angry all over again only in a different way—angry that she was there on his sofa. That somehow she was now his responsibility.

Responsibility. The word snagged in his throat like a fish bone. Feeling responsible hadn’t been part of the equation when he’d come up with the idea of marrying Daisy. It made him feel tense, with its implication of commitment, that somehow there was a bond between them.

Frowning, he ran a hand wearily over his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble against his fingertips. But was it really such a big deal? All business transactions needed a bond to function. And that was all this was. A transaction. All the rest was just tiredness making him paranoid.

Sighing, he leaned forward, picked up his jacket and gently draped it over her shoulder. She shifted in her sleep, murmuring, fingers splaying apart, and he held his breath. But she didn’t wake and finally, after one last look, he turned and walked slowly away.