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Other than the usual business talk, it seemed he had barely noticed her existence in months. He might not have cared that she had slept with someone else, but she had been a fool to hope he would give her a divorce without putting up a fight.
She should have known better. If there was one thing she knew about her husband it was that he did not like to lose. At anything.
She had known Butterfly Island would be a problem—after all, he seemed to spend the majority of their limited time together bitching about the latest unfortunate to be appointed the role of his PA—but she had put that down to his being miffed that she had refused the job. Her husband’s success and power had put him in the unfortunate position of seldom being denied anything he wanted. He had not taken her refusal to continue working for him well—had taken it as a personal slight. Which, of course, it had been—but not in the way he assumed.
By the time her contract with Baranski Mining had expired Rosa’s feelings towards him had become far too complicated for her even to consider staying on. She had fervently hoped some distance from him would settle the weird hormones unleashed by their working so closely together. It hadn’t worked. She had been left rattling round their huge home alone while he travelled the globe, rarely spending more than a couple of nights in London at any one time.
She had missed him. God help her, she had missed him.
She was wedging the vacuum back in the cupboard when Nico came out of the downstairs bathroom, where he had been washing shards of glass off his hand. Somehow the shattered glass hadn’t even nicked him. The man must be made of Teflon.
She had no idea what he had done to his hair, but even taking into account its usual messiness it was sticking up as if he’d rubbed a balloon on it.
For some reason this tugged at her.
The cool façade had definitely cracked.
His features were arranged in their usual indifference, but the pulse in his jaw was working double-time. This was the closest to angry she had ever seen him.
Closing the cupboard, she took a deep breath. ‘In answer to your question, I’m going to stay at a hotel until the lease on my flat expires.’ Thank God she’d had the foresight to grant her tenants only a short-term lease. She missed her cosy flat dreadfully. But at least in a hotel she wouldn’t be alone, and in the meantime she could start hunting for a new flatmate to share with.
If there was one thing she hated it was living alone. Marrying Nico had, at the time, been a godsend. With Stephen gone, she had been trying to find a flatmate—someone who was happy to share a home with her without wanting to spend every evening drinking wine and having girly chats.
Nico’s mad idea had been the answer to every prayer she’d had. He wouldn’t expect anything from her other than intellectual stimulation. In return she would have his name and a ring on her finger. Symbols that she belonged to someone. And he wore her ring. A metaphorical symbol that he belonged to her too.
‘I think not.’ His green eyes had darkened into an almost sinister gleam. ‘You see, Rosa, under no circumstances will I allow you to leave. I do not want a divorce. Go up to your room and unpack—you’re not going anywhere.’
Rosa reared back and stared at him. Surely he hadn’t just said what she thought he had? ‘You won’t allow me to leave?’
His mouth formed a thin, grim line. ‘You are my wife.’
‘Exactly. I am your wife—not your possession.’
‘In certain cultures that is one and the same thing.’
‘Well, luckily for me we’re in the UK, and not some backwards country where women have no voice.’
‘I will never agree to a divorce.’
She studied him carefully, half expecting him to crack a smile and say he was joking. Surely he could not be serious? However, she did have one more ace up her sleeve—no one could ever accuse her of being anything but thorough. ‘If you won’t agree to a divorce I will apply for an annulment. This marriage was never consummated. Therefore it is void.’
Not bothering to wait for a response, Rosa walked away. Determined to keep a cool head, she walked steadily up the stairs to her suite, placing a hand to her chest in a futile attempt to temper her thundering heart.
Thankfully she’d had the foresight to pack earlier—a job that had taken less than an hour.
Heavy footsteps neared her and mentally she braced herself.
Nico crossed the threshold into her bedroom, his features so taut he might have been carved from ice. His eyes, though…His eyes shimmered with fury.
‘You do realise you can’t stop me?’ she said coldly.
He folded his arms across his chest, accentuating the breadth of his physique. Nico really was a mountain of a man, filling the space around him, dwarfing everything in the vicinity. ‘I think you’ll find I can.’
‘By using force?’ She didn’t believe he would do that. Not for a second. He might be over a foot taller than her, and packed full of solid muscle, but she knew perfectly well he would never use that to his advantage.
His lips curved into a cold smile. ‘I don’t need to use physical force, Rosa. I have other advantages to stop you leaving.’
‘Why are you being like this?’ She forced her voice to remain calm. ‘Why can’t you just accept I want out?’
‘I’ll tell you why,’ he said, stalking towards her, his eyes glittering. ‘You see, daragaya, I have just learned that not only have I been cuckolded but, to add insult to injury, you want to humiliate me too.’
It was the casual, almost sneering way he called her his darling wife that did it. Something inside of her snapped. Gazing up at him, mere feet away, close enough for her to feel the heat emanating from his powerful body, she said, ‘Cuckolded? Humiliated? What planet are you on? How many women have you slept with since we married?’
Oh, he had been discreet. She would give him that. But there was no way a man as overtly masculine as Nico would go eleven months without sex.
‘Do not try to twist the subject. We are not talking about me. We are talking about you and the fact you want to advertise to the world that we never have consummated our marriage.’
‘You know damn well I won’t be doing anything of the sort.’
‘You think the press won’t leap on a nugget like that? You think I want to be the butt of everyone’s gossip? To know friends and business acquaintances will speculate over the reasons you and I never had sex?’
Rosa turned her face away, a slow burn crawling up her neck.
Lord, she did not want to think of them having sex. It was bad enough dreaming about his hard, naked body taking her passionately and then waking up in the morning with a burning need deep inside her, knowing there was nothing she could do about it other than take as cold a shower as she could bear and push it from her mind. At least she could control her conscious thoughts.
She took a step away from him—away from that citrusy, masculine scent that was starting to swirl around her senses. ‘I don’t relish that scenario any more than you, but if you refuse a divorce you will leave me no other option than to go down the annulment road.’
‘I will deny it,’ he said, staring at her unsmilingly. ‘I will tell the courts that you are a fantasist.’
‘You would lie under oath?’
The ring of shock in Rosa’s eyes was all too apparent.
In truth, Nico had shocked himself.
Would he really go that far? Under ordinary circumstances the answer would be a resounding no. But these were far from ordinary circumstances.
Her suitcases sat neatly by her bedroom door. A sign of her intent.
Of her defiance.
Without any pause for thought, he reached for the nearest, flicked the clips to spring it open and tipped the contents into a heap on the floor.
‘I will do whatever is necessary to uphold my reputation,’ he said, staring intently into her startled eyes. He clenched his hands into fists and held them tightly by his sides to prevent them doing the same to the other suitcase. He had made his point. ‘You are a Baranski and will remain a Baranski for as long as I deem necessary.’
Rosa backed away from him like a wary cat, tugging at her ponytail, loathing written all over her pretty face. ‘I’ll be a Carty again before you can blink,’ she said, her chest rising up and down with rapid motion. ‘I’ll change my name back by deed poll if necessary. And if you think upending my possessions is going to make me stay, then you are delusional.’
He would never have guessed his starchy wife was capable of anger. Irritation, yes. Mild annoyance on a bad day, maybe. But full-blown anger? No.
She had not even raised her voice but he could feel it—those tiny ripples of fury kept under the tightest of reins.
What would it be like to unleash that passion? A passion he had blithely ignored over the eleven months of their marriage, not even aware of its existence.
It had been there all along. And another man had been the recipient of it.
The knowledge lingered in his senses like a pungent smell.
And it made him react in ways he had never believed himself capable of.
‘I have a proposition for you,’ he said, breaking the taut silence.
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
‘I do not want a divorce or an annulment. I like our marriage—it suits me very well.’ And he was damned if he was going to let it end on her terms. If they were going to divorce it would be on his terms and his terms only.
‘It doesn’t suit me.’
Clamping down on the fresh flash of rage that followed this little declaration, he forced his voice to remain calm. ‘I realise that. However, as you have done so much research you must be aware that we cannot divorce until we have been married for a year—which in our case is a whole month away.’
‘That doesn’t mean we can’t start the ball rolling,’ she said, displaying the stubbornness he had always admired in her when she had worked for him, working regular twelve hour days in an effort to ensure everything was in perfect order.
It was the same stubbornness she had displayed when she’d refused his every overture to work with him permanently.
With a flash of insight he realised the more he tried to force her to comply the more she would dig her heels in. Her obstinancy was liable to take the form of an immovable object.
Why had he never noticed how sexy such stubbornness could be?
He squashed the thought away.
‘Give me a month—until the date of our first anniversary—to change your mind,’ he said, in the most reasonable voice he could muster. ‘Come to Butterfly Island with me as planned—you’re a first-class PA and linguist, and there is no one capable of doing the job as well as you. Do that and I will grant you a divorce. Refuse, and I will fight you every inch of the way.’
‘I won’t change my mind.’
‘That remains to be seen. But unless you give me the next month to try you will find yourself with one almighty fight on your hands.’ Deliberately he stepped towards her, over the puddle of clothes, encroaching on her personal space—a move he had never made in all the time he had known her. ‘I will contest it every step of the way. If I wanted, I could play dirty and drag it on for years. And guess what? I never lose.’
A small tick pounded under her left eye, so tiny it was barely perceptible. He had only seen that particular affliction once before. Smelling victory, he pressed on a little further, leaning close enough to smell her clean, feminine scent. He swallowed the moisture that formed in his mouth.
‘One month, Rosa. I don’t think that’s a very long time to wait for a lifetime of freedom.’
She gazed back at him, the tiny tick still pounding, before she visibly hardened. ‘I want it in writing.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ His lips curled. He had never been so insulted. ‘I am giving you my word.’
‘You gave me your word eleven months ago.’
‘And you gave me yours. I am not the one planning to break my vows.’
For an age they simply stared at each other, neither bending. The tension between them had become so thick a steak knife would have had trouble cutting through it. Yet through the seeping tension he could not help but admire her. There were not many people brave enough to face him off.
Rosa caved in first. Extending her hand, she said, ‘We will shake on it. One month, Nicolai. And if at the end you refuse to give me my divorce then I will show you just how dirty I can play.’
Her fiery declaration sent a frisson of excitement racing through his veins. As he reached for her hand he realised it was the first time their flesh had touched since they had exchanged their rings.
And as he walked back down the stairs, victory still ringing within him, Nico realised it had also been the first time he had set foot in her suite since she had moved in.
A black Jeep awaited them at the landing strip that constituted Butterfly Island’s airport.
It was roasting hot, the heat shimmering like waves off the ground. Even though Rosa had had the foresight to change into a light, cotton summer dress, her skin was dampening by the second.
It had been eighteen hours since they’d left London and she was shattered. The thirteen hour flight on Nico’s plush private jet hadn’t been too bad, but she had been far too wired to sleep. Unlike Nico, who had the amazing knack of being able to sleep on command.
Fortunately she’d had a pile of documents to read through to keep her occupied. She’d devoted all her spare time over the past fortnight in getting up to speed on the contracts. There had been little else for her to do. Nico had been as elusive over the past two weeks as an escaped hamster.
The one-hour connecting flight to Butterfly Island on a four-seat Cessna had been a more cramped affair. Nico had sat in front of her. They had been close enough to touch—close enough for her to smell him.
She had spent the flight breathing through her mouth.
A squat, elderly gentleman who looked dressed for a safari, in a cream pocketed shirt, cream shorts, a panama hat and long white socks, got out of the Jeep and strode over to them. For his part, Nico had relaxed his strict business attire by removing his jacket and tie and rolling up his sleeves.
‘Nicolai—as always, it’s a pleasure to have your company.’
‘Likewise.’ Nico shook the offered hand vigorously. ‘Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Rosa. Rosa, this is Robert King—owner of Butterfly Island and King Island.’
His wife? Nico had introduced her as his wife? In the eight months she had continued working for him after their quickie wedding he had never introduced her as anything other than his assistant. They had agreed that when it came to business it was best to keep things on a professional footing.
Before she could think about this in any depth she was pulled into the American’s arms. ‘Wonderful to meet you, Rosa. Your husband has told me all about you.’ He released her, but kept hold of her forearms so he could look at her. ‘Nicolai, you never told me what a beauty she was.’
Nico placed an arm around her waist in what could only be described as a possessive manner, forcing a reluctant Robert to release her. Rosa, already reeling at being called a beauty, was so shocked at this unexpected and blatant show of possessiveness that she froze.
‘Rosa’s beauty speaks for itself,’ said Nico in his gravelly tones. ‘Now, have all the arrangements been made?’
She was not sure if she’d imagined it, but she could have sworn Robert dropped him a quick wink. ‘Everything’s in hand.’
The minor stupor caused by Nico’s introduction and his unprecedented hold on her receded, and she extracted herself from his arm. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you too, Mr King, but—as I’m sure my husband has already informed you—I have accompanied him as his assistant and not his wife.’
‘His assistant, eh?’ Robert’s wink was a lot more obvious this time. ‘I get you, I get you. Say no more. Now, you folks must be exhausted after all that travelling. Let’s get you to your accommodation so you can freshen up. Oh—and, Rosa? It’s Robert.’
The air-conditioning in the Jeep had been turned to full blast. Rosa welcomed the freshness after the stifling heat of the airstrip. It was the only thing she did welcome as the men started to talk business. Robert didn’t exactly freeze her out of the conversation but all his attention was focused on Nico. She had a feeling if she offered an opinion he would ruffle her hair and tell her not to worry her pretty head about it. It was infuriating, but not half as infuriating as Nico’s obliviousness to it.
She comforted herself with the knowledge that once Robert had seen her work he would see for himself that she was there not out of the virtue of being Nico’s wife but out of the virtue of being good at her job.
Still, it made for an uncomfortable journey—at least for her.
Butterfly Island was small by anyone’s standards. According to her research, its circumference was only a touch over nine miles. They reached the complex where they were to stay for the next fortnight in less than ten minutes.
To Rosa’s eyes it certainly lived up to its high-class honeymoon resort billing. When over the past fortnight she’d allowed herself to think of being in a lovers’ paradise with the man who was her husband but not her lover, she had consoled herself that she would be too busy working to have time to witness any open signs of affection displayed by the other guests.
The driver pulled up outside a large, one-storey Tuscanstyle villa.
