Cunning

  “I do,” Alton said, squeezing my hand.

  It made me smile to know that the gold band I slid over Alton’s fourth finger was the first ring he’d ever worn. Of course, I wasn’t his first love nor was he mine. This wasn’t like it was with Russell, yet it was liberating. We held no pretense about feelings or the future. It was set, and we were but pawns in the grand scheme.

  I’d sold myself for Montague and for my father. Alton sold himself for the Montague name, control of Montague Corporation, and assuring all of that for Bryce. The thought of my daughter’s arranged future still turned my stomach, but Alexandria and Bryce’s friendship gave me hope. They were only five and seven years old. At least they had a foundation.

  It took me some time to come to terms with Suzy and the past she shared with my new husband. I wanted to hate her, as she said she wanted to hate me. But we were both sacrificing. Regardless, I found myself watching my fiancé and best friend for covert looks or clandestine touches. I searched for any sign that their relationship continued. If anything was present, I never saw it, or they did a good job of hiding it.

  I was hopeful but not naive. Life had been too hard, even being to the manor born, to wear rose-colored glasses. Fairytales didn’t exist.

  Alton was my future, and as much as I detested that he and Suzy shared a child, she was still my best friend. I didn’t want to, nor did I think I was strong enough to, continue without her in my life. More than that, we needed to stay close for our children and grandchildren. The Montagues and Carmichaels would come together. It would be easier for that to happen if we remained close.

  “With this ring…” Alton’s deep voice reverberated in my ears.

  The diamond-studded band slipped over my knuckle, the stones glittering in the remaining Italian sunshine. The engagement ring I wore from Russell was a Montague stone, one passed down from my father’s mother. For my new marriage, it was simply redesigned to a new, stunning setting, allowing the six-carat diamond to remain on my finger and in our family.

  Even with our travel, I’d avoided sex, but the clock was ticking. After the ceremony and celebratory dinner, my time was up. I appreciated Alton’s patience and knew I’d stretched it to its limit.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant said, smiling at my husband. “Alton, you may kiss your bride.”

  Your bride. My husband. It was official.

  I stared, mesmerized by my husband’s lips. I couldn’t tell Suzy, but I admitted to Dr. Sams how much I enjoyed his kiss. Strong and firm, his smile morphed to a pucker as my eyes closed, and our mouths joined. Sweet yet possessive, he claimed me as his.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald, you are beautiful.”

  It wasn’t a declaration of feelings neither one of us was ready to proclaim. Still, his compliment and the use of my new name made me grin.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald.” Gwendolyn, my matron of honor and Alton’s sister, said. Hugging me, she placed my bouquet of fresh lilies into my hand. “Welcome to the family. I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  I smiled at her words. Our ceremony was supposed to be private. Though some might later question my choice, for obvious reasons I couldn’t ask Suzy to stand with me. Therefore, Alton’s sister seemed the natural choice. I’d known her for most of my life. We ran in similar circles; however, until news of Alton’s and my engagement, we were never close.

  The Fitzgeralds were content with their standing—until Alton. Gwen was an attractive woman and never seemed overly impressed with the Montague name. Though that wouldn’t endear her to my father, it did to me.

  Without understanding the truth behind my marriage to her brother or the urgency for us to wed, she welcomed me into her life. I especially liked how well Alexandria got along with her and Preston’s son, Patrick. He was a year older than Bryce. When the three of them were at Montague Manor, I got the impression that Patrick favored Alexandria to Bryce. Briefly, I wondered if Gwen and Preston knew Bryce was their nephew. I didn’t see any indication they did. Asking Alton wasn’t an option. The subject was closed.

  Only the eight of us, my parents, Alton and Gwen’s parents, Gwen and Preston, and Alton and I were present at the wedding and the dinner celebration. As if relieved that the deal was complete, my father was uncharacteristically cordial, even jovial during the dinner. Toasts were made, and the alcohol flowed as everyone rejoiced at the blending of our families.

  I would’ve liked to share the event with Alexandria. Even though she was young, this union affected her, but when I asked about bringing her, my suggestion was given as much credence as any other suggestions I’d made: quickly dismissed as if I’d never mentioned it.

  Alton made plans following the wedding for a two-week honeymoon. He made no secret that he didn’t intend to share me with Alexandria or anyone else during our trip. Our plans were to enjoy all the Mediterranean had to offer while our nuptials and romance were strategically leaked to the press. We were a couple in love, brought together after my tragic loss. I was the young widow who found love where there’d been friendship.

  I’d read all the articles. Our pictures were shared on social pages beyond Georgia. Alton’s place within Montague Corporation was the topic of speculation by many financial prognosticators. Concern for the company’s future after Russell’s death was lessening. Stock prices were on the rise.

  The time finally came when we excused ourselves from the rest of the party. As we made our way to our suite, I thought about the flowing white negligee I’d found at an exclusive boutique in Savannah. Its sheer robe did nothing more than build anticipation of what was beneath, simply another layer to unwrap.

  The champagne during our dinner did wonders to calm my nerves. Once we were alone, I excused myself to go to the honeymoon suite’s bathroom.

  “No, Laide.”

  I stopped. “No what?”

  Alton stood in front of me, blocking my way. “I have no intentions of your leaving my sight, not tonight, not until I say.”

  I smiled, playing his words off as the jest I hoped they were. I kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, husband. I’ll only be a few minutes. I have a surprise for you.”

  He didn’t budge. “I’ve waited for this.” He spun me around and busied himself with the back of my dress. In lieu of a zipper, there was a long row of pearl buttons. His large fingers patiently plied each button, slowly exposing my skin to his warm breath as the sound of his breathing hastened. “Don’t you agree?” he asked between kisses to my neck. “I’ve been patient.” His lips dipped lower, sending chills over my skin. “I’ve taken relief between your lips.” He turned me back around, his gray eyes darkened with desire. “Now I want more.”

  His phrases were breathy and heated. They stirred a part of me deep inside, a part I hadn’t felt in years. My head wobbled, falling backward as he pushed the material from my shoulders, allowing my wedding dress to pool around my pearl-accented heels. Only a silk slip, lace bra, and underwear protected me from his searing gaze.

  “Alton…”

  “Shhh, Laide, listen to me. Don’t think. Don’t speak. Give in to me.”

  I wanted to. I wanted to feel what I hadn’t felt since before Alexandria. I wanted from him what I’d only experienced with my own touch.

  “You’re now mine. Tell me that you’ll submit to me.”

  I already had. Admitting it wasn’t difficult.

  The next two weeks passed, days sightseeing and nights learning more about my husband. I was finally able to show him my negligee, and he was able to bring me to orgasm more often than not. It was more than I’d ever accomplished before. Even when I didn’t, he did. I took comfort in that.

  The part of marriage that concerned me was Alton’s obsession with Montague. Even on our honeymoon, he was in constant contact with the office and my father. It was new to be together twenty-four hours a day. With so much time, I saw a side of him that I’d never fully recognized. The snippets I’d seen, I’d been able to rationalize. Now it was harder.


  Whether it was business related, poor service in a restaurant, or a comment from me, Alton’s speed to anger unnerved me.

  It was different than my father, more than words. I was used to domination—a fact of my existence as my father’s daughter—but being on the receiving end of a slap was new. The first time it happened was in our suite, less than a week into our marriage. He’d just finished a conversation with someone on the telephone. I knew he was upset, but we had reservations and a tour guide waiting. I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I’ll never forget the sting of his palm as it connected with my cheek.

  With my eyes filled with tears, I stared, unsure what to do or say. I was fearful of more, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he simply looked annoyed and asked, “What, Adelaide?”

  “I-I can’t believe—”

  “Don’t.”

  My lips pressed into a straight line.

  “Don’t push me,” he warned. “Your job is to support me. Do you intend to quit that job—to fail another husband?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “If you think you can tell Daddy what I did and our agreement will be null and void, you’re mistaken. Moreover, I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint him—again. You and I—we’re in this for the long haul. I suggest you fix your makeup, plaster a smile on your face, and hurry. We have a tour to enjoy, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

  Alton knew exactly what to say, which of my buttons to push. His venomous words stung, their poison exacting my obedience. Later I’d reflect and wonder how much Suzy told him about me and my insecurities, but at the time my mind couldn’t process that far. My hands shook as I did as he said and reasoned that he was right about the agreement as well as my job or role, depending on who was describing it. My duty was to support him, not irritate him. By the time I stepped back into the bedroom of our suite, I had my smile securely in place.

  It was a good thing. More than once our photo was captured as we toured the ancient ruins.

  WAKING EXHAUSTED YET content, I lay in the darkness of the hotel suite, listening to the beat of Nox’s heart. My head rested against his chest while his arm surrounded my shoulder. His body warmed me and his hold reassured me. I’d never imagined the overwhelming joy that came with giving myself completely to another person.

  Cathartic and liberating, the words seemed wrong for the actions of the night, yet from my soul I couldn’t form others. The tension I’d caused was gone—cleansed away. Mindful of my tolerance, Nox ensured my punishment didn’t last long, and the reward afterward made it worth every lash. With my behind on fire, he filled me, taking my attention away from the intensity of my outside to the sheer ecstasy happening within me. He was barely inside of me when I came with a release I’d never known. With no buildup or climb, a bomb exploded, the detonation shattering me. Starting from the tips of my curled toes, wave after wave crashed through me until forming words was beyond my capabilities. My nails bit crescent moons deep into my palms as my fists balled. The screaming of his name gave way to moans and whimpers. I was completely wrung out as my body convulsed around his, and the night had only begun.

  At some point we drank wine and ate food. If I hadn’t been the one to order it, I wouldn’t have been able to say what it was we ate. Most of the meal came to my lips via Nox’s fingers as my hands were useless, bound behind me in an elaborate weave of satin. The dependence made each bite of food or drink of wine more fulfilling, more intoxicating. It was as if the fine French wine’s alcohol content far exceeded the legal limit. Each morsel or sip brought to my lips at his discretion was a hit from a drug, the lack of control stimulating my bloodstream like cocaine.

  As we were about to fall asleep, I remembered things I wanted to say, information from Chelsea he’d want to know, yet settling into the cloud of musk, the lingering scent of sex, wax, and desire, I let them all slip away. I wasn’t hiding any of it from him. I wanted to relish the aftermath of our reunion. Make-up sex was all my mind could comprehend.

  Now, awakened by nothing in particular, those thoughts again weren’t at the forefront of my mind. Another one was. Stirring, Nox turned toward me as my head slipped to his bicep, and I curled into him. Skin to skin, my fingers splayed upon his chest.

  “Are you awake?” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  His gravelly voice rippled through the night. “Are you ready for round two?”

  “Two?” I laughed. “I think you lost count. How about five or six?”

  His lips brushed my forehead. “Then round seven?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.” I didn’t want to admit how sore I was—in a good way. “I like this.”

  His arm tightened around me. “Me too, princess.”

  An unexpected tear leaked from my eye as the weight of our agreement settled over me. Quickly, I brushed it away, not wanting to ruin what we’d accomplished. Of course, I wasn’t successful. Mr. Intuitive hovered over me, his handsome features shadowed by the darkness.

  “What happened?” He stiffened, lifting his torso higher as if to see me clearer. “Did I go too far? I know what I said, but I was wrong. You may always express your limits. I never want to harm you.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not… no.” I reached up, caressing his cheek, loving the stubble below the tips of my fingers. “Nox, you absolutely overwhelm me. I feel things with you I never knew existed.” I wasn’t sure how to verbalize what I felt. “It’s not just sex, though as you may have noticed, I’m not complaining.

  “It’s you, being with you, sleeping with you, talking with you… I just wish…”

  I let my voice and words trail away, swallowing the emotion I didn’t want to share.

  “You wish what?”

  When I didn’t answer, he lifted my chin. “Charli? Don’t make me ask again. You’re the one who brought it up.”

  “I was stupid and impulsive.”

  “I know you’re too smart to bring up a recent topic. What are you talking about?”

  I pulled away from his grasp and threw back the covers. In the dark room, I found my robe lying on a nearby chair and wrapped it around myself, securing the tie. Before he could ask his question again, I said, “You know what I did. You just don’t know why I did it.”

  Nox was out of bed, his nakedness coming closer. His height dwarfed me as we both stood barefooted, staring in the darkness.

  “All right. Tell me. Tell me why you did it, and then I’ll know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Apprehension flooded my nervous system, fear that my honesty would sabotage our progress, yet equally fearful of leaving secrets unspoken. I noticed the clock near the bed. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning. We should be sleeping. Then again, that was six o’clock in New York, where we would spend the majority of our day.

  “Nox, I’m sorry. We should be sleeping.”

  He quickly slipped into a pair of gym shorts, turned, and cupped my cheek. “If something is bothering you enough to interrupt your sleep, it should interrupt mine too. Give it to me, Charli. Let me help you.”

  I took a step back. “You can’t help me.” I shrugged, my arms slapping my sides. “Actually you did, but it’s too late for more.”

  With my eyes now adjusted to the darkness, I watched as he ran his hand through his hair.

  “You’re infuriating.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because,” he explained, reaching for my hand and pulling me to a nearby sofa, “I hear you respond, but I have no fucking idea what you’re saying or talking about.”

  “Infidelity.” The word hung in the air, a reminder of my stupidity.

  When Nox didn’t respond, I went on, unsuccessful at keeping my words devoid of emotion. “I-I want to be here with you. After we left Del Mar, I cried… mourned… what we shared was more than I could’ve ever imagined. At first I wanted only one week. Chelsea told me I deserved it. She said men do it all the time. But, Nox, I couldn’t. I couldn’t separate sex with you from emoti
on.”

  I stood, needing to move. “Maybe it’s because I’m female… but you got inside me…” My cheeks flushed. “…in more ways than one.” Okay, that wasn’t what I meant. “I hope you know what I’m trying to say.”

  He reached for my hand and pulled me closer. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  I collapsed on his lap, the warmth of his embrace surrounding me.

  “I just wish that now…”

  “Go on.”

  “I wish that it wasn’t different. I don’t want to be owned. I don’t want to be obligated to a defined time period. I want real.

  “I’m worried that the only reason you came back to the suite last night was because you had to—because of the agreement. I’m afraid that if you could’ve left me, gotten on the airplane and gone back to New York, you would have.”

  His words slowed, heavy with emotion. “You thought I’d leave you here?”

  “No,” I corrected. “I was afraid you wanted to. I didn’t think you would.”

  “I didn’t want to. I don’t want to.” His chest heaved as he smoothed my hair over my shoulder and tucked a piece behind my ear. “I was upset. I know there are things we need to share. It’s difficult for me to explain. What made me… what made Del Mar special was that you didn’t know me.”

  I looked up at his beautiful features—his chiseled jawline and the way his brow protruded—as he carefully chose his words. I considered telling him to stop. I didn’t need to know any more if it brought him pain. But I couldn’t.

  “You didn’t see me the way I’ve been portrayed. It was refreshing and invigorating. You even mentioned my boss or bosses. You weren’t infatuated with money or standing. You were just you.” He played with my hair again. “The most beautiful woman to catch my eye in years. I didn’t enter our week wanting more, but I sure as hell left it wanting that.