Chapter 7
Juliet brought the glasses of beer over and slid across from her in the corner booth.
“Nuts. Your favorite kind.”
“Yay!”
Juliet grinned at her friend’s lack of enthusiasm. “He still hasn’t called?”
Indigo selected a few pistachios and popped them into her mouth. She had left straight from the store to drop by the bar, thinking that it was too depressing to be going home to an empty house, no matter how luxurious the setting.
“Nope.” Picking up the ice-cold glass of beer, she took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I can drink this. How about a glass of white wine instead?”
Juliet simply gave her a stare. “You’ve been living the high life too long. You used to enjoy an occasional glass of Lite.”
“You might be right. I’ve been raiding the wine racks. Brant does stock the best.”
“Why don’t you call him?”
“Absolutely not. I do have my pride. In the meantime…” She picked out some more nuts. “His mother is now tolerating me. I went to dinner with her yesterday.”
Her friend lifted tapered brows. “How did that go?”
“Not as bad as I thought it would. I wanted to blow her off, but I wasn’t brave enough. So, I went with my heart in my mouth, expecting the worst. She was pleasant. It turns out that Brant warned her against saying anything offensive.”
“See?” Jules pointed at her. “The guy’s into you.”
“That might be the case, or it’s a matter of two people living in the same space and feeling something.” She shrugged. “And he’s probably gone to scratch that itch with one of the hundreds of women available to him.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I don’t want to believe it, but I’ve been torturing myself with images of him wrapped in some white bitch’s arms, and it’s lodged in deep.”
“You’re in love with him.”
The quite damning words from her best friend had denial popping to the forefront of her brain, but it could not quite reach her mouth. She just stared. “I can’t be.”
“It’s hard not to fall for a man like him, and as you pointed out, you’re living with him.”
Gulping beer and ignoring the awful taste of it, she sat back and shook her head.
“That would be an utter disaster. We have an arrangement. He did me a favor, and I’m grateful.
That’s what I feel: complete and absolute gratitude.
I have no right to anything else. It would be stupid on my part…
” She huffed out a breath and closed her eyes briefly.
“I’m in love with him. I’ve fallen in love with a man who’s way out of my league.
” She gulped some more beer. “Is this enough to get me drunk?”
Juliet raised a brow in amusement. “Is that the plan? Get drunk and forget your troubles?”
“Yes. No.” She sighed and pushed away the glass. “What am I going to do?”
“First things first. If you don’t already have some sexy lingerie, get some. You have the money now, so spend it.”
“Why would I do that?”
“If you need me to spell it out, then honey, you’re in serious trouble. Did I tell you the time when I wanted to get my husband to sign off on the bar deal?”
“I remember you saying something about a sexy red teddy and some body oil.”
“Exactly,” her friend recollected with a laugh. “I planned it to the most minute detail. The wine, a long, leisurely bath, and the sexy teddy. He was a goner.”
“There’s no way on earth I’m doing anything like that. I would be taking advantage of the situation, and I… I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I cannot humiliate myself that way. What if I misread the situation? What if all he wants is the arrangement? Then I would be putting us both in a very uncomfortable situation, one that we would not be able to come back from.”
“What if that barstool behind you jumps up and knocks you on your ass?”
“What?”
“Honey…” Her friend waved a hand in dismissal.
“You’re living with the guy, a very gorgeous guy, I might add, one who you said yourself displayed an acute feeling of jealousy, so much so that he dragged you from that ballroom and almost pulverized the guy who was touching you inappropriately.
It shows that he feels something for you. ”
“And the next morning, he wrote me a very stiff, apologetic note and has not called since.”
“So, call him.”
“And say what?”
“That you’re checking on him. That the apartment is on fire, that you’re sick or horny and…”
“What?” Indigo held up a hand, a laugh escaping her. “I would never say that.”
“But you are horny. Right?” her friend prodded with a grin.
“That might be the case, but I’m not desperate.
Oh, who am I kidding?” she asked in despair.
“I’m desperately afraid that he’s with someone else.
I was visiting my brother yesterday, and he asked when he’s going to meet the man responsible for him being in that fancy rehab, and I couldn’t tell him that I’m ashamed.
Caleb is a recovering drug addict, and Brant O’Keefe is from a very old and very wealthy family.
There was an interruption before I could say anything to him, and I was so grateful.
” She sighed sadly. “I love my brother, and he’s the only family I have left, but I would not want Brant meeting him. God, that sounds awful.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself,” Juliet said firmly.
“Your husband knew of your circumstances before he married you. And yes, Caleb did some pretty awful things, but he was under the influence. Nobody is perfect, honey. I’m pretty sure Brant O’Keefe did some pretty awful things himself.
He’s not a monk. His reputation…” Her voice petered off as she realized what she had been about to say.
“Anyway, he’s not perfect,” she amended lamely.
“You’re right,” Indigo responded quietly.
“And that’s why I know without a doubt that he would not be interested in me.
I know about his reputation with women. I’ve seen the photos and read what the reporters said about him.
” She shook her head. “I would be deluding myself if I think he has changed his ways and is suddenly interested in a relationship with me. It’s best if I try and keep things easy and normal between us so that when the time comes for the marriage to be annulled, it would be less painful.
A year is not too long, and afterwards, I will be able to go back to my old life. ”
Her friend’s steady gaze had her lowering hers to the glass of beer that had now become flat.
“If you believe that, then you’re not only an idiot, but you’re also deluding yourself, and also lying to both of us. The Indigo I know is always a straight shooter.”
*****
The Indigo I know is always a straight shooter.
The words reverberated inside her head until she swore she was going crazy.
She had left the bar and come to the apartment, the very silent and quiet apartment, and was now seated around the immaculate counter, eating her solitary meal of roast chicken and wild rice with some vegetables on the side.
She had tried telling Mrs. Holt that she did not have to come in for the week since it would be only her at home, but the woman had stared at her as if she was taking away her livelihood.
“I have work to do.”
“I’m just saying that since Mr. Brant is gone for the week, there’s no need for you to be here.”
“Mr. Brant did not say that I should not come, and I have work to do,” the woman had insisted stubbornly.
Indigo had given up. It occurred to her belatedly that the housekeeper did not think she should be taking orders from Mr. Brant’s fake wife.
She was not an idiot and had the run of the house.
Because she did, she would notice that the couple did not share a room.
So, the housekeeper had presented herself and cooked the meal as usual, a meal Indigo was not taking full advantage of.
She was listless and depressed. The conversation with Juliet had stirred up some troubling issues. She was married, but in name only. She was in love with a man who was as unattainable as the stars.
And she would have to stay for the year.
That was the deal: twelve months, during which time they would quietly annul the marriage and go their separate ways.
At first, she had not thought about it. The arrangement had seemed suitable, and she had been desperate at the time.
Now that she was not faced with bankruptcy and sure homelessness, she had time to think about her life.
She wanted children, which was another problem as well.
She had been told by her gynecologist that there was a distinct possibility that with her particular problem, she might not be able to conceive.
That was one of the reasons it had not bothered her too much that she wasn’t in a relationship.
But now she had fallen in love, she could not help but have hopes and dare to dream, and to despair.
Because even if by some impossibly slim chance, Brant was into her, and if by some stroke of luck, he wanted to start something with her, and make the marriage into a real one, he would want an heir, and she might not be able to give him one.
Pushing away the plate, she reached for the glass of wine.
But that was beside the point. Brant O’Keefe would never be interested in her, not by a long shot, and it was time she put that nonsense out of her head before she went slowly mad.
Finishing the wine, she got rid of the half-eaten meal and tidied the kitchen.
*****
The meeting was interminably long. Or perhaps it was the fact that his attention span was at an all-time low. He could not seem to concentrate on what his associate was saying. The conference room of the elegant Hotel de Russie was the location of the meeting.
He had left the club to fly straight here and would be spending three days, during which he hoped to negotiate a very lucrative deal with a major import and export company.
His Italian was fluent, and so was his French, which made it easy for him to negotiate without the aid of an interpreter.