Chapter Eight
ADAM COULDN’T BELIEVE what he saw. His vibrant, explosively arousing partner froze. Her beautifully flushed face, neck and shoulders turned parchment white above the deep red of her dress.
Her rounded eyes fixed on something beyond him, with the unblinking stare of someone mesmerised by fright.
Swift as thought, he swung his head around, expecting an intruder. His heart pounded and his muscles bunched ready to protect her as he rose above her.
There was no one there, nothing had changed.
‘Gisèle? What is it?’
At the sound of his voice she blinked and shook her head but her lips were a crooked line that spoke of pain or distress. At a loss, he turned again. Nothing had altered. The only difference from before was his phone. He reached for it and felt her flinch beneath him.
‘I just...’ Her voice was a broken whisper unlike her usual confident tone. Or the throaty, seductive voice that had undone him tonight.
Something was badly wrong. Clutching the phone, Adam pushed off the sofa, watching Gisèle watch him. No, not him, the phone. Her expression turned his veins to ice as his brain raced to make sense of her reaction.
Beneath the chill, a kernel of furious heat ignited.
He strode across the room, opened the door to his adjoining suite, and without looking tossed the phone inside then closed the door. By the time he’d returned to her, Gisèle was sitting upright, arms crossed around her waist, bare shoulders hunched. But there were streaks of colour high on her cheeks as she tilted her head to look at him.
Oh, Gisèle.
His chest squeezed hard as he watched her fight for control. As suspicion grew.
Adrenaline surged in Adam’s blood, pumping it fast and hard, demanding action. But first he needed to know for sure.
Instead of sitting beside her he hunkered before her, carefully not touching, though every instinct howled the need to take her in his arms.
‘Was it the phone?’
Her nod was jerky. ‘I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t...’
His suspicion clicked over into certainty and he fought nausea at the realisation.
‘But someone did.’ His voice wasn’t his own.
It wasn’t a question. He knew from her body language that they had, even before she nodded again. His hands clenched so hard he couldn’t feel his fingers. He swallowed hard, tasting bile.
‘It was—’
‘Would you like—’
They both stopped. Just as well. Adam had no idea what he could offer that would make her feel better. ‘You don’t need to explain.’
‘But I want to.’ Her gaze lifted to his, clear and blue. ‘I owe you that after...’
‘You owe me nothing.’
But he rose to take a seat beside her. Her smile was crooked and so endearingly courageous he felt a little of his turmoil ease. In its place rose pride and the respect for her that had been building day by day.
Silence lengthened between them but Adam was in no rush to end it.
‘It was years ago,’ she said eventually. ‘I was young and still remarkably na?ve.’
‘It wasn’t your fault!’ Nothing could be plainer.
Gisèle reached out and touched his hand on the sofa between them. He wrapped his fingers around hers, relieved and grateful that she didn’t shy from his touch. It was clear that tonight had taken her back to a traumatic incident.
Blue-grey eyes surveyed him curiously. ‘You’re not the man I thought you were, Adam. Or at least not completely.’
Because he’d guessed what had happened to her and was outraged? What sort of man had she thought him?
Don’t go there, mate. You don’t want to know.
But he had a good idea. Heat singed his skin.
‘I reserve the right to some surprises.’
His tongue-in-cheek tone turned the twist of her lips into a gentle smile that squeezed his chest. ‘Oh, you definitely do that.’
She drew a deep breath and looked at their linked hands. ‘It’s not an uncommon story. There was a guy. He was so charming, so caring, so understanding. I was falling in love with him and thought he felt the same.’
She shook her head. ‘You’d think I’d have known better given my background.’
‘Your background?’ Adam didn’t want to interrupt but felt he’d missed something vital.
Gisèle shrugged and met his stare. ‘You know about my family. Successful and in the spotlight. But it was far more than that. In their time, my parents were the European glamour couple. The press couldn’t get enough of them. The public loved stories about the Fontaines.’ Her voice dropped. ‘Especially after my father died and my mother left us with our grandfather.’
She paused. ‘Julien and I learned there was no such thing as a secret shared among friends. Our comments were passed on, sometimes innocently, then twisted and misreported in the press. Everyone wanted the inside scoop on our family. Who we were, what we did, whether we’d measure up to our charismatic parents. It got so that we learned not to trust people outside the family or Fontaine’s.’
Adam felt his frown become a scowl, great trenches of anger furrowing his brow at the thought of children being pestered like that.
Absently he rubbed his fingertip over the crooked line of his nose. He’d fought his share of bullies. Even as a kid he’d made sure no one put his family down because of their straightened circumstances.
‘Julien and I weren’t particularly remarkable, but the media interest continued for years. As a result I tended to...’ She looked across the room as if seeing into the past. ‘I withdrew. I didn’t trust easily. As I said, I should have known better.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Seventeen. He was in his twenties.’
‘Bastard!’
An older man hitting on and hurting a vulnerable girl. Adam wanted to find him and damage him very, very badly. It would be one occasion in which he’d thoroughly enjoy living up to his reputation for being dangerous and too rough to have real class.
Gisèle’s head shot up, gaze meshing with his. The painful mix of emotions in her face made him wish he’d been around to deal with the guy.
‘As you say.’ Her mouth firmed then she continued quickly. ‘Anyway, we went to his place. We were on the sofa kissing.’
Adam winced at the similarity to this evening.
‘Then...’
She swallowed convulsively and pain tore at his belly, watching her suffer at the memory. He ground out through gritted teeth, ‘The jerk used his phone to film you making love.’
‘It wasn’t love.’ Her voice was razor-sharp. ‘I only mattered to him as the girl whose private life everyone wanted to know about. He wanted to cash in on my notoriety.’
The look in her eyes was enough to make steam rise from snow. Adam was glad to see that anger. He found it hard to witness her pain.
‘I’m sorry, Gisèle.’
He felt ashamed to belong to the same sex as the man who’d abused her.
She shook her head. ‘Not your fault.’
‘That doesn’t matter. I hate that it happened to you.’
Understatement, much?
He stroked the back of her hand. ‘Give me his name, Gisèle. I’ll make him sorry. You can be sure he’ll never make any more secret sex tapes.’
Had he shared them with friends? Posted them online? Adam’s flesh crawled and it was all he could do to sit there, pretending to be a civilised man when he wanted to find the perpetrator and—
She turned her hand against his, squeezing, drawing him from his violent fantasy. ‘There’s no need. I took care of it.’
Adam’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You did?’ She’d been seventeen, abused by an older man.
‘And it wasn’t really a sex tape. Well, it was but we didn’t actually get as far as...’
A rosy blush swept from her red dress all the way to her cheekbones. It made her seem younger and more vulnerable.
Hell! Had the guy been her first lover? The possibility made Adam want to gag.
‘It wasn’t consummated,’ he bit out, needing to cut short the details.
‘No, it wasn’t. It was...’
Again that pause, and it took all his control not to wrap his arms around her and gather her close.
‘It was heavy petting. We weren’t even fully naked.’
Yet Adam’s fingers twitched with the need to wrap themselves around the filthy beggar’s throat.
‘For some reason, I don’t remember how, I noticed the phone propped on the mantlepiece, trained on us. When I mentioned it his response was...off. He pretended it meant nothing but he wasn’t convincing. I’d had too many paparazzi snapping unwanted photos all my life so I suppose I guessed something wasn’t right.’
She looked at his hand holding hers. ‘I reached the phone before him and saw it was filming us.’ Fire flashed in her gorgeous eyes as she raised her chin. It struck Adam that he’d never seen her look more magnificent. ‘He tried to grab it but in the scuffle I managed to knee him in the groin, hard. Then I pitched the phone over the terrace and into the sea.’ Gisèle’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. ‘He had a cliffside house.’
Despite the dire story, Adam felt a grin spread across his face. She was some woman! He’d assumed her assailant had kept the recording. He’d probably been bigger and stronger than the seventeen-year-old girl he’d targeted. Nor would it have been surprising if shock had kept her from acting quickly.
‘Did you get away safely?’
He could imagine her assailant turning vicious.
Gisèle nodded.
‘I’m glad.’ The words barely conveyed his relief. He remembered Angela at seventeen. His sister had been a budding beauty but too ready to take people at face value. If something like that had happened to her... ‘Give me his name, Gisèle. I know you dealt with the situation. But scum like that need teaching a permanent lesson.’
Adam’s voice was gentle, like his hand on hers. But there was no mistaking his fury.
His nostrils flared, his mouth flattened and that marauder’s jaw clenched aggressively. With his dark stubble and hair long enough now to be tousled after she’d run her fingers through it, he’d never looked more like a pirate. And his eyes, they glittered wickedly as if envisaging terrible retribution.
The glimpse of his temper was spellbinding. She hadn’t told Julien about the event until years later, when Paul was well and truly out of her life. Her brother had been furious, taking what steps he could to ensure Paul never returned to her orbit. But she hadn’t felt the deep-seated thrill she experienced now, seeing Adam’s elemental protectiveness on her behalf.
Here was a man who’d be ruthless in defending those he cared for. Even those, like her, who weren’t dear to him, but who’d been wronged.
She couldn’t help but be warmed by his response.
‘There’s no need.’
Adam raised his eyebrows in query.
‘The next morning I visited his aunt. She’s a friend of my parents from the old days, someone I’ve known all my life, and a wealthy, powerful woman. Her nephew was, and I suspect still is, dependent on her for his job, home and prospects.’
Gisèle remembered the lines deepening on the older woman’s face as she told her what had happened.
Long fingers smoothed over hers in a slow, reassuring rhythm. ‘That took a lot of guts.’
Adam was right. She remembered with horrible clarity her lingering shock and nausea. The shame, even though she’d done nothing wrong. It had taken every bit of strength she had. Would she have dared to if Paul’s aunt hadn’t been a dear family friend?
‘It had to be done. If he did that to someone else later...’ It didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I never saw him again. She said he’d be punished and learn to treat women with respect. I believe if anyone could do that she could. As far as I know, and Julien has checked, he’s a better man than he was.’
Adam looked ready to argue.
‘I believe he’s been punished. I don’t want it opened up again. I want to put what happened behind me.’
She thought she had, until she’d seen Adam’s phone on the table and the past had rushed back in nauseating clarity.
His hard-hewn jaw flexed, but finally he nodded.
Another first. Adam Wilde pulling back from something he wanted out of respect for her wishes.
If nothing else, tonight was giving her a new perspective on the man she both desired and demonised.
Not much of the demon now, with him stroking your hand as if he believes you still need saving.
How would Adam react if he knew his attempt to comfort her was beginning to affect her in other ways?
Heat trickled through Gisèle, making her shiver. A shiver that had nothing to do with past distress. But Adam didn’t know that. She saw concern etched deep around his eyes.
‘Would you like to be alone? Should I leave?’ He lifted his hand and she was startled at how much she disliked the idea of him going.
‘No!’ She moistened dry lips. ‘That is, I don’t mean...’ She shook her head, infuriated to find herself having trouble expressing herself. She wasn’t a distressed teenager any longer. ‘If you—’
‘It’s okay, Gisèle. I know we won’t finish what we started tonight.’
The look he gave her bordered on brotherly.
She respected him for that. It was reassuring. And yet...
‘But if you’d like company?’
She nodded, feeling some tension ease from her rigid muscles and relaxing back into the cushions. ‘If you wouldn’t mind. For a little while.’
Now wasn’t the time to consider how the man she’d classed as her enemy was the one person whose company she craved after her emotional upset.
Adam rose and picked up the TV remote control. ‘You choose a channel while I call the butler for room service.’
Gisèle wasn’t hungry but didn’t argue. The idea of curling up on the lounge and watching something to distract her sounded perfect. Strangely, the idea of doing it with Adam at her side was even better.
Something had shifted between them tonight. It had begun when he’d looked at her with such naked hunger and had accelerated with his response to her trauma.
Her feelings had altered.
She trusted him, she realised. In fact, looking back, she had for some time. Adam Wilde was a tough negotiator, and utterly outrageous in his demands, but he’d never once led her to believe he was anything less than honest.
Now, experiencing the heat of his anger over Paul, and his protectiveness, she saw him in a new light.
He was still larger than life, more potently disturbing than any man had a right to be. But that didn’t seem as daunting as it once had. In fact, she found it invigorating.
‘Haven’t found anything yet?’
A soft blanket settled over her knees, plush and comforting. Where had he found that?
Without waiting for a response he took the remote from her to search the channels. He sank onto the sofa beside her, but not touching. She remembered his expression as she’d told her story and knew that was deliberate. He was respecting her space.
Suddenly, Gisèle had a burning curiosity to know all about Adam’s mother and sister. He gave every indication of being a man who respected and, to a degree at least, understood women. They’d done a good job with him.
Except he’s blackmailing you into a convenient business arrangement of a marriage!
What an impossible conundrum he was.
‘What is it about men and remote controls? Julien’s the same. He always has to take charge of it.’
Bright, moss green eyes met hers and she felt his gaze like the brush of velvet on skin. Yet there was laughter lurking there. ‘Don’t you know it’s in our DNA? Mastering the remote is a core masculine competence.’
Gisèle stifled a snicker, surprised at how easily he lightened the atmosphere. ‘I’m pretty sure DNA predates remote controls.’
Adam shrugged, drawing her attention to the fact he’d shed his jacket. Her gaze diverted to his white dress shirt, the top couple of buttons undone.
What was it about a dangling bowtie that turned a bare, masculine throat into an erotic masterpiece?
There was a rush of something effervescent in her blood as her gaze skated his big shoulders. She’d thought they looked perfect in his tailored, formal jacket. But the thin shirt accentuated the impressive lines of his strong shoulders, arms and torso. Without the extra layer of clothing he looked bigger and broader than before. And from the way he’d felt, lying above her, she guessed he was all hard-packed muscle and sinew.
Adam held out the remote. ‘Do you want to choose?’
She shook her head and pulled the blanket higher, more for something to do than because she was chilled. Safer too, to have something to occupy her hands.
‘Far be it from me to deny you the pleasure. Just no schlock horror.’
He sent her a sideways glance that she knew wasn’t sexual, yet which she felt all the way to her soles.
‘Non-stop action? Maybe not.’
By the time the butler arrived with a large tray, Adam had settled on a recent adaptation of a Jane Austen classic.
Taking in her raised eyebrows, he said, ‘Is this okay? My sister raved about it.’
So he discussed films with his sister. It sounded like they were close, maybe like her and Julien. The idea intrigued.
‘Perfect. Engaging but not too taxing.’
The hero was easy on the eye, but nowhere near as compelling as Adam. She watched him take the laden tray and put it on the coffee table. He had a grace of movement that made her wonder if he’d been an athlete before he focused on world domination.
‘Here.’
He passed her a steaming mug that smelt of honey and cinnamon. Gisèle cupped her hands around it and inhaled. The smell took her back to childhood, to cuddles and bedtime stories. ‘Hot milk and honey?’ She’d expected a nightcap.
‘Guaranteed to help you relax ready to sleep. My mum swears by it.’
‘Yet you’re having a beer.’
His eyes danced in a way that made her feel at the same time breathless and reassured.
Gisèle told herself her reactions would make more sense tomorrow, without emotions pumping adrenaline through her bloodstream.
‘A man has to fortify himself if he’s going to watch historical romance.’ He offered her a large bowl from the tray. ‘Here, have a chip. You French do them very well.’
‘We should. We invented them. And they’re called pommes frites.’
She bit into crunchy, hot potato, dusted in rosemary salt, and only just managed not to moan in pleasure. She grabbed a few more.
‘You like them, then?’
Adam was watching the screen but clearly his focus was on her. For once that seemed neither intimidating nor sexual, but...caring. Amazing how lovely that felt.
‘I adore them but rarely eat them.’
The press had been ruthless in her early teens, comparing photos of her rounded features and tummy with her svelte mother, pushing her into a downward spiral of self-criticism and body negativity it had taken years to climb out of.
Now, instead of worrying about calories, she simply preferred eating healthy options. Most of the time.
She sipped her milk and snuggled deeper into the cushions, looking at the screen. ‘I expected multi-billionaires to snack on champagne and caviar.’
‘Ah, but I’m a working-class guy through and through. As people are very ready to remind me.’ Something in his voice caught her attention. Nothing she could identify, yet it made her blink and sit up from her slumped position. ‘Relax, Gisèle, or you’ll miss the movie.’
He held out the pommes frites and she found herself taking a handful.
Strange how relaxed she felt with Adam beside her, recipient now of one of her secrets. She’d spent her life ferociously guarding her private life.
Yet she trusted Adam with that knowledge. Amazing!
Gisèle stifled a yawn and snuggled under the blanket. It was surprising how comfortable it was, having him here.
She woke to find herself snuggled into the warmest bed she’d ever slept on. Cosy but not too soft. Her fingers splayed against the mattress and slowly her sleep-fuddled brain registered it wasn’t a mattress. It was a ribcage, gently rising and falling.
Gisèle opened her eyes, trying to decide where she was. Not in a bedroom but a luxurious sitting room, lit by the glow of shaded lamps.
With Adam.
He was asleep, sprawled diagonally along the sofa, long legs stretched out before him, his head on a corner cushion. One limp hand held a remote control and his other arm was wrapped loosely around her back while her cheek rested on his chest.
Experimentally she shifted, feeling the slide of her long skirt against her legs. She, like he, was fully dressed.
The evening before came back in a rush. The excitement. The kiss. The spike of hunger between them. And that dreadful moment of panic when she’d feared the past was repeating itself.
Adam’s kindness.
Who knew he could be that way? Each time she thought she knew what to expect he confounded her.
Looking at him now, sprawling and relaxed, he looked even more imposing than usual.
Imposing or attractive?
Both. And more than attractive. Gisèle’s gaze traced him greedily. This was the only time she’d had the luxury of surveying him at leisure.
Her pulse quickened as she drew in that familiar, indefinable scent that intrigued her. Then there was his big, hard body, even more imposing up close. Even the sharp angle of his chin and the dark smudge of his unshaven jaw beckoned her interest.
How would it feel to be intimate with him? It wasn’t part of their on-paper marriage deal but that was where last night had been heading.
Adam sighed in his sleep and she jerked back guiltily, putting her hands out to lever herself up. One hand planted on the sofa cushion and her other palm landed on his solid thigh, her fingers discovering something equally solid.