Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Olympia found the knowledge that the affair between their parents remained in the past reassuring. Not only would it make the future tricky if Alex still had a problem with her mother—who had a tendency to pop up unexpectedly—but also she did not appreciate the thought of being manipulated and used for revenge.
Other elements of their conversation, however, gave her grave cause for concern. What gave him the right to bulldoze her perfectly valid observations about their relationship? she thought, as they monosyllabically munched their way through a lunch of prawns, olives, tomatoes and bread, which his housekeeper had laid out beneath the vine-heavy pergola that covered the terrace. Who’d made him the boss of this? Confidence was one thing, but arrogance and presumption were something else entirely.
She was developing the impression that he actively wanted to make their arrangement as difficult as possible, although for the life of her she couldn’t work out why that would be. It didn’t seem at all complicated to her. As they’d already established, they had seven months before the baby put in an appearance. There was plenty of time to indulge the attraction before having to switch their attention elsewhere.
So maybe everything was a battle for control. Maybe he got a kick out of catching her on the back foot. Or maybe he was simply a masochist. Who knew? One thing she did know was that having him eating out of her hand clearly wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d assumed, which was not only irritating but also alarming, because she liked being liked. It made her feel good about herself. When people did what she wanted, her self-esteem rocketed.
Conversely, rejection, which she’d always hated, invariably triggered a painful sense of unattractiveness and invalidation. In the past, this had brought about some pretty self-destructive behaviour. One night, after a few too many tequila shots as a result of being ghosted by a guy she’d briefly hooked up with, she’d danced naked in the fountain at Trafalgar Square, which had led to an embarrassing brush with the police, a one thousand pound fine and headlines the next morning that had not been kind.
It was obvious that Alex didn’t like her. He clearly found her aggravating and considered her manipulative. He didn’t trust her not to mess this parenting business up and he had no respect for the effort she was trying to make with regard to her career. In fact, his opinion of her could not be any lower and that was worrying. Despite his apparent commitment to their baby, her situation felt precarious. What if she did something that made him back out of their marriage of convenience? What if he decided she was too much to take on—or too little, for that matter—and realised he could provide just as well for their child without having to be involved with her?
She couldn’t allow that. She needed his protection, and therefore she had to mitigate the risk of him disappearing and bind him to her and the baby a little more tightly for both their sakes. Perhaps she should seduce him again. Bamboozle him with sex. That might raise her in his estimation. He was adamant that it wasn’t happening, yet their chemistry was still off the charts. It would strengthen their connection. The boost to her self-esteem would be just what she needed. So what if she took to floating about the place in nothing but a skimpy pair of bikini bottoms and asking him at intervals to rub sunscreen into her back? She reckoned he would last five minutes tops with her stretching and purring beneath his hands.
And what if she combined that plan with something else? Like, say, a party to celebrate their engagement with family and friends. Wouldn’t that double down on achieving the security she was after? Marriage would be harder to get out of once they’d announced it to the world, surely. And quite apart from that, it would have myriad other benefits, benefits that were crashing through her thoughts even now.
‘Alex?’ she said, so convinced by the rightness of her inspired idea that she couldn’t keep it to herself.
‘Mmm?’
‘I think we should throw an engagement party.’
In response to this bald announcement, which sounded oddly loud after such a long period of silence, Alex’s head shot up and his brow furrowed. ‘An engagement party?’ he echoed, evidently not as enamoured of the idea as she was, if his look of horror was anything to go by.
‘Yes,’ she said, her brain already beginning to ping with ideas. ‘Nothing big. Just a couple of hundred or thereabouts. Food. A DJ. That sort of thing. We could have it here. In the garden. Lights in the pool. In the trees. It would be quite the event.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Why not?’
He sat back and stared at her as if she’d sprouted horns. ‘What on earth makes you think an engagement party is necessary? I hope you haven’t forgotten already that nothing about our arrangement is real.’
Something twanged in her chest at that, but she ignored it. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said firmly, although she wasn’t entirely sure which of them she was trying to convince most. ‘I haven’t forgotten anything, and I am well aware that nothing about this is real.’ Which was fine, of course. Because that had been the plan all along and would continue to be. ‘However, there are a number of reasons why it’s an excellent idea.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, firstly, it would be a good opportunity for you to meet my family. Some of my siblings are around in the next couple of weeks. You could rekindle your relationship with Leo. Meet the others. It has to be done some time. My mother wouldn’t be in attendance if that’s what’s worrying you,’ she assured him when she saw that he’d gone a little pale. ‘She’s been in Argentina for the last month and, as far as I understand, is planning on staying there for the foreseeable future. On an estancia with a cattle billionaire. The best place for her, if you ask me. Nice and far away. Furthermore, it would be an opportunity to fix the mess you made by pre-empting our news. I could use the occasion to spin the idea that I’ve moved on from my past. From what Leo said, it doesn’t sound as though you provided much in the way of detail about what’s going on, so why couldn’t we have reached a deeper understanding in the interim? It’s a win-win on a number of levels, don’t you agree?’
Olympia sat back, rather pleased with the robustness of her argument, until Alex leaned forward and gave his head a sharp shake. ‘I couldn’t agree less,’ he said flatly. ‘It’s a no-win on every level. And none of it is happening.’
She blinked at the harshness of his tone. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t do parties.’
‘That’s not a problem. I do parties enough for the both of us. I excel at putting on a show. All you’d have to do is turn up.’
‘No.’
‘Don’t you think you owe me?’
‘I don’t owe you anything,’ he said, a muscle ticking in his jaw. ‘I’ve already apologised for speaking to Leo. We’re not throwing a party.’
Agh. Why was he such a control freak? ‘Well, I might.’
‘With the groom nowhere to be seen? Wouldn’t that negate the object of the exercise? I’d think twice if I were you.’
He was right, dammit. It would totally negate the object of the exercise. ‘Is there anything I can do to persuade you otherwise?’
‘Not a thing. Now, you’ll have to excuse me,’ he said, giving her a wintry smile as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. ‘I have work to do.’
* * *
Given that he’d spent pretty much the entire afternoon in his study sitting at his desk, Alex had achieved precious little. On a Saturday, the markets were closed but there was still a tonne of research and analysis to do before they reopened first thing on Monday morning. He had meetings to prepare for. Investment strategies to define.
However, he’d been so unsettled by the events of today that he hadn’t been able to concentrate. Reports lay untouched and files remained unread. In fact, it was a good thing he hadn’t been able to trade because, if he had, he might well have made a careless mistake and lost millions. He was that distracted.
As if the morning hadn’t been enough of an upheaval, he’d had to contend with lunch. He’d spent the first half of it dwelling on everything Olympia had flung at him in the kitchen. Quite apart from the irritating defiance she’d displayed and the fact that she was totally unintimidated by him, which, he was prepared to admit, piqued his vanity, he’d never met anyone so unafraid to voice the thoughts in their head. To so boldly and unashamedly state what they wanted and go for it. At least, not on a personal level, and he found it as confusing as hell. One minute she was seducing him in stairwells and planning to manipulate the truth for her own purposes—which indicated he shouldn’t trust her—and the next she was unguardedly and transparently detailing her vulnerabilities and her desires—which suggested he could.
Which was the real her?
What should he believe?
He couldn’t work it out.
Then she’d hit him with the engagement party. Where that idea had sprung from he had no clue, but he should have guessed she’d do something at some point to wreck his illusion of control because it happened all too often. Nothing big? Two hundred people? And to think he’d imagined she sometimes felt as lonely as he did. He must have lost his mind.
Quite honestly, there was nothing he’d rather do less than attend a party filled with Stanhopes. By managing his attendance at both corporate and social events, he’d succeeded in avoiding most of them these last twenty years. The thought of being confronted by a handful at once, and the memories he’d subsequently be battered with, made his brain bleed, which was why he’d put his foot down.
Besides, who would he invite to such a thing? Unlike her, he had no family and few friends. No doubt if he’d agreed she’d have pressed him for a guest list, which he wouldn’t have been able to provide, and that would have led to questions about his past and how he felt about it that he never wanted to answer.
Such discombobulation had been behind his decision to hole up here until he got it all straight, not that he’d had any success. His brain simply refused to function. He was too wound up.
And then, a couple of hours ago, Olympia had pitched up at the pool, and soon after that he’d given up all pretence of work. When she’d removed her robe to reveal the stunning body beneath he’d nearly swallowed his tongue. Her gold bikini was barely there. Just four small triangles held together with what looked like string. Her limbs were long and toned, her curves spectacular, her stomach still flat, and in the light of the afternoon sun she seemed to glow.
All thoughts of parties and meetings and clients and IPOs had flown from his head. Transfixed, he’d watched her dive neatly into the water and had been walloped by the urge to join her. When she’d finished her swim, she’d dried off and then had twisted herself into a series of poses that might have been yogic, but definitely made him think of other situations where such flexibility might be a benefit.
Before settling down to sunbathe, she’d applied sunscreen and his fingers had itched to do it for her. He already knew the shape of her breasts and the softness of her skin, but his memory was sketchy. He wanted to reacquaint himself with those parts of her he’d once touched, and explore the rest. At length and with great thoroughness. He wanted to taste her again so badly that his mouth actually watered.
And now, as she stirred from what had looked like a nap and rose from the sun lounger to take another dip, he was wondering, suddenly, why shouldn’t he? Why was he denying himself that pleasure when he didn’t have to? He was soon to marry a confusing woman who caused him all kinds of grief, but to whom he was also insanely attracted, and he’d committed himself to a lifetime of celibacy because there was no way in hell he would break his marriage vows, even if they were merely a technicality.
What on earth had he been thinking? Why had he done that? Because he feared the desire he felt for her getting out of hand and somehow destroying him? It wouldn’t. If anything, it would lessen. It always did. Most likely it would burn out within days and settle into something entirely manageable. So this relationship didn’t have to be a crazed, lust-filled nightmare. Nor did it have to be sexless. And God, it would be novel to engage with her in an activity that he did understand.
Olympia emerged from the pool, a fluid movement of undulating curves, the water sluicing over her like a caress, and barely before he was aware of what he was doing, Alex was throwing his glasses onto his desk, leaping out of his chair and striding out of the study, across the hall and into the sitting room. He pushed open the French doors and stepped out onto the terrace, every cell of his body rigid with tension, his pulse hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears.
All he could think about as he stalked towards her was hauling her into his arms, crushing his mouth to hers and losing himself in the dynamite heat they generated together. The scent and taste of her had kept him awake all that night in Switzerland. Back in his suite, he’d lost count of the number of times he’d nearly caved in and stormed to her room to find out exactly what they could do in a bed.
Well, now was his chance.
* * *
When Olympia saw Alex bearing down on her like a thunderstorm, her heart gave a great lurch and then began to race. She’d been poolside for two hours now, and she’d been bordering on desperate, but now it looked as though Plan B might be working.
With his intransigence over the party, the only option he’d left her with to secure his commitment was seduction. To that end, having recalled from the morning’s tour that his desk overlooked the pool, she’d decided on a swim. She’d been feeling hot and prickly anyway, but if he happened to spot her scantily clad body out of the study window, and found himself suddenly so helpless to resist the attraction he’d all but admitted he still felt that he ravished her on a sun lounger, wouldn’t that represent the win she was after? Wouldn’t she be strengthening his connection to their baby through her? And on a more personal level, wouldn’t the collapse of his resistance and his surrender to temptation be empowering and satisfying and brilliant? As she’d stripped off her sundress and donned her bikini, Olympia had rather thought it would.
She hadn’t expected it to take this long. His willpower was formidable indeed. But judging by the way his dark-as-night eyes were locked onto hers and the determination with which his jaw was set, it looked as though her bikini, yoga, sunscreen ruse might have worked. He was focusing on her so intently that she was rooted to the spot. He radiated such predatory intensity that she’d never felt so vindicated. Or so palpably excited. But she would be wise to exercise caution. He could be out here for any number of reasons, and he had a habit of behaving in ways she did not anticipate, so she wouldn’t be taking anything for granted. He came to an abrupt stop a couple of feet in front of her and it was all she could do to carry on squeezing the water from her hair and stay where she was.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked, trying to suppress the adrenaline that was flooding her system as hot thrills of anticipation shot down her spine. ‘Is something wrong?’
His laser-like gaze roamed over her so slowly and thoroughly that it left a trail of fire across her skin and a muscle began to hammer in his jaw. ‘Nothing’s happened and there’s nothing wrong,’ he said, his voice edged with a roughness that made him sound as though he’d swallowed a bucket of gravel.
‘You look a little unhinged,’ she said, her nerve-endings quivering madly in response.
‘I feel a little unhinged.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘It’s you.’
Her heart almost stopped. Could this plan have succeeded where the party suggestion had failed? ‘Me?’
His gaze landed on her mouth and darkened. ‘I want you,’ he practically growled while she thought, Oh, thank God for that. It’s worked. ‘I want to kiss you until neither of us can think straight. Then I intend to carry you up to my bed and keep you there for the next twenty-four hours. After that, we’ll see. But as I recall you have two weeks off. I’m sure we can think of interesting ways to fill them.’
Olympia was sure they could. She’d spent the entire afternoon imagining exactly how the immediate future would play out if she had her way. ‘What happened to sex complicating things?’ she asked, as breathless as if she’d just run the two hundred metres. ‘To what we did being a one-off? You were so resolute.’
‘I’ve had a rethink. Sex isn’t complicated. It’s simply the physical representation of chemistry. It occurred to me that this marriage of ours will likely last years, and in actual fact I’m not a fan of celibacy. We’re in it for the long haul, and as you pointed out only this morning, we need to make the best of it.’
‘I’m delighted we’re finally on the same page.’
‘Not half as delighted as I am.’
‘Then what are you waiting for?’
‘I have absolutely no idea.’
With one quick move, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. As his mouth crashed down on hers, Olympia threw her arms around his neck and sank into his powerful embrace. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to a sizzling kiss that lit a bonfire of desire inside her and instantly transported her to a plane where nothing existed but oblivion. His hands roamed over her back before settling, one between her shoulder blades, the other on her bottom, and he didn’t need to pull her in because she was already plastered up against him, as close as she could get.
He was big and hard everywhere, which made her feel unbelievably soft and delicate, and she must be soaking him through but that didn’t appear to bother him. All he seemed to care about as he lowered her to a sun lounger and eased her back—his body blotting out the sun so completely that all she could see was him—was getting her horizontal.
And why would she complain about that when the feel of his weight pressing down on her was so delicious? Why would she complain about anything when she was enveloped in such scorching heat and the rigidly controlled strength that she couldn’t wait to unleash? When she felt so blisteringly fabulous?
She knew that the euphoria would fade once they’d satisfied their desire. It always did and always too soon. But the great thing about this particular situation was that she could just have another hit whenever she needed one. She could have this every day of the week if she wanted, because she would do her best to ensure that he was going nowhere.
And anyway, why was she even thinking about what happened next? Why was she thinking at all? Shouldn’t her brain be in bits? Shouldn’t she be focusing on getting him as naked as he was trying to get her?
Why was she suddenly bothering about whether or not she might have coerced him into this, and what was that thing that had been niggling away at the back of her mind all afternoon and was now screeching through her thoughts like a claxon? Why couldn’t she shake it?
It was something else she’d learned in rehab, she realised with a jolt as he wrenched his mouth from hers, dragging it down her neck to rain kisses along the slope of her right breast while one hand caressed her left, the other making quick work of the knot that held her bikini top in place. Something she’d completely forgotten about because, up until the mad half an hour with him in Switzerland, she’d been too focused on work for it to come up, and afterwards she’d been too wrapped up in rejection and shame to see it.
Her use of sex as a coping mechanism.
As a way of getting attention and feeling valued.
Of temporarily blocking the constant turmoil with which she lived, replacing it with a few blissful hours of wild abandon—her standard operating procedure for years.
She’d done it that night back in May, provoking him into giving her what she’d wanted because she equated sexual acceptance to personal acceptance, and she was doing it again. Right now. Not only had she engineered him into this, to secure his commitment and to make herself feel good, and a little less lonely, but she was also trying to change the way he felt about her, to get him to like her. And if she let this reach its natural conclusion it could mean undoing all the hard work she’d put into trying to understand that her value wasn’t tied up in sex and other people. That it had to come from a solid sense of self and emotional independence, rather than an unreliable and unpredictable external source. Much of the progress she’d made would be gone, just like that.
So she had to put a stop to it, she thought dazedly, fighting for control even though she still shook with desire and her body screamed in protest. She had to reset the boundaries and continue to put the effort in now, for the sake of her future self. She didn’t want to go back to the person she’d been before. She wanted to look and move forward. And she could not afford to jeopardise the precious new life she was carrying by careering down that slippery slope. So thank God she’d had this epiphany before it was too late.
Digging deep to silence the voice in her head insisting it didn’t have to be this way—didn’t she need to lock him in? Didn’t she want to feel good?—Olympia opened her eyes and blinked away the fog. While she still had the ability to resist him, she summoned up every drop of physical and emotional strength she possessed.
She put her hands on his shoulders, gave him a little push, and panted, ‘Stop, Alex. Stop.’