“Like a baby,” he answered. “And you, Sweetpie, you slept well?”
A strange silence came over the room as Mrs. Quinn, Markus’s housekeeper, stopped mid-step to look at them open-mouthed, the freshly baked cake forgotten in her hands.
“Morning, Mrs. Quinn.” Hannah smiled at the plump, middle-aged woman and took the cake off her hands, putting it on the table.
“Good morning, miss. Would you like some eggs?” Mrs. Quinn asked.
Eggs? Hannah looked at the console laden with breads, cheeses, fruits, and various yogurts. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Mr. Blackthorn? Anything else?”
“Thank you, no.” As soon as Mrs. Quinn had closed the door, Markus turned to her. “It’s your choice if you want to resist me in private, but I expect you to kiss me and behave as a passionate fiancée in front of my employees.”
She was thinking about what to say when the pleasure of the first sip of coffee erased all thought. “Mmm.”
Markus rolled his eyes when his body reacted to Hannah moaning over coffee and sent his mind spiraling with thoughts of creative sexual positions he would have her in, starting right there on the breakfast table.
“Donovan will drive you around today,” he said, when she sat by his side. “Tomorrow, we’ll buy a new car for you and—”
“There’s no need to get me a car. Much less a new one,” she said, feeling more like herself after drinking the freshly brewed coffee. She opened the yogurt and mixed the berries in. “The subway works much better than driving around in Manhattan.”
Subway? “Hannah. Women of your…new status don’t use the subway.”
“No, I guess they prefer to stay put in their limos in an unending traffic jam while they drink champagne.” She spooned the yogurt into her mouth and swallowed with a satisfied sigh. “I’d rather use the subway.”
One, two, three— “Quit being stubborn,” he snapped, all thoughts of continuing to tease her leaving him when she contradicted him once more. “And since I’m paying for it, it’ll be new.”
She was fascinated by how his jaw twitched when he was annoyed. She almost reached out to run her fingers along his scruffy bearded jaw. “You’re the boss, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, I am,” he mumbled, not quite sure of what he was right now as he watched her licking a drop of yogurt from her bottom lip. “You’d better remember that.”
She almost laughed but just nodded. Focus on your job. “And Victoria? When is she coming home?”
“Victoria…” His chest tightened. “My lawyer has petitioned to instate shared custody and do away with the supervision bullshit, but a hearing date hasn’t been set yet.”
She noticed the shadow that came over his face at her mentioning Victoria. “You miss her.”
“More than I can say. She makes everything…worth it,” he rasped.
Raw pain flashed across his features, and she saw such naked loneliness in his eyes that she put her hand over his. “I am sorry about that, Markus.”
Me, too. He looked down, transfixed by how her soft, gentle touch seemed right, comforting, but the moment was broken when she pulled her hand away. He cleared his throat and said, “I will ask Tom, my assistant, to email you my schedule for the week, and he’ll do it every Monday morning. You’ll accompany me to social events but not to business meetings. When I am at home, you’ll do whatever I do: work out, have meals…” shower with me, share my bed. He shook his head. Stop, Markus. “If I am working at home, I expect you to be available, and preferably stay in my office.”
What for? “OK. And what do I do in the spare time?” she asked. “Should I do something specific as your fiancée? I mean, are there any foundations you support that you wish me to visit? Any volunteer work?”
What? He had never given a thought to charity foundations or volunteer work. Sure, he gave away quite a lot of money to charitable institutions. It was good for Blackthorn Corporation’s image and it lessened his tax burden. But he had never visited them. It struck him that maybe he should know more about them.
“I’ll ask Tom about them.” He shrugged, for the first time too conscious—and a bit ashamed—of his own lack of interest or empathy with the causes he donated to. The feelings didn’t sit well on his shoulders, so he did what he usually did when something unnerved him: he shoved it down under the rubble of business problems. “Until then, you’ll have your own driver and car to take you wherever you need. I am sure you will have lots of things to decide for our wedding.”
It all seemed pretty simple but she was not feeling very comfortable in her new role as a pampered socialite, or rather, a very expensive escort for a billionaire. It’s just like any other job. In a few days, you’ll be used to His Majesty’s daily routine. “Am I supposed to oversee the household, grocery lists, or…something?”
“Mrs. Quinn has been with me since I moved out of my parents. She, Donovan, and Tom coordinate shopping and…whatever else they do. Don’t worry your pretty head over that.”
“So, let me see if I get this straight. Every Monday, I will receive your schedule for the week by email. Until Victoria arrives, I will be doing…whatever I have to do for the wedding to be perfect.”
“Yup. If there is any sudden modification, Tom, my assistant, will inform you.” He stood and adjusted his tie. “For today, between Dr. Hanssen, the hairdresser, and Bergdorf you will have plenty to do.”
“Markus, we haven’t discussed…”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“our history.”
He glanced at his watch. I don’t have time for this right now. “We can discuss this later.”
“Hairdressers are nosy,” she said. “He will ask about us.”
“Tell him anything you see fit,” he said, buttoning his waistcoat and putting on his jacket.
“Anything, Muffin?” she asked with a hint of challenge in her voice.
“Within reason.” Her lips pursed at that and his eyes darted to them. He forced himself not to linger, cutting to her gaze again instead—to those beautiful, haunting eyes. What the hell are you doing, Markus? “I really don’t care. As long as it’s appropriate and plausible.”
“Appropriate and plausible.” She grimaced. And we are supposedly madly in love. “How romantic.”
“Hannah.” He took a deep breath and sighed, not understanding her sudden change of moods. “I have a full day of meetings and I can’t be late. I am sure you will be able to think of something.”
Don’t be stupid, Hannah, this is a job. She rose from the table. “Don’t worry. I’ll take a book with me.”
Good. “Accompany me?”
“About my sleeping accommodations, Markus,” she started, as they walked through the apartment.
His shoulders stiffened but he said in what he hoped was a detached voice, “There is a guest room to the right of my bedroom, on the other side of the corridor. You can move in there.”
She didn’t know why his answer made her kind of sad since she had been the one to demand they sleep in separate rooms. “Perfect.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued between them as they waited for the elevator to arrive. When the doors opened, he stepped in without waiting to see if she was going to kiss him good-day or what.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Hannah said softly.
Markus didn’t answer, keeping his back to her.
But his frown in the mirror told her he was not so happy with their first morning. As the doors closed, she let out a suffering sigh. Playing the loving fiancée won’t be as easy as I thought.
New Jersey
Blackthorn Medical
1:00 p.m.
Markus stopped for a minute outside Haskell & Sons building to watch a crew replacing the old sign with Blackthorn’s. Each time he saw that happening, his chest swelled with pride.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Aleksander asked him.
Markus grinned at his partner. “You know it does.”
“Yeah, I know. What doesn’t f
eel good is dismissing half of the employees,” Aleksander said somberly. “They’re just trying to make a living.”
Markus snorted. “Alek, some are just too comfortable for their own good.”
The employees turned and whispered behind their hands as they walked into the auditorium building followed by their best team members and a large number of security guards making an impressive and intimidating sight, and that was the goal.
Markus and Aleksander took the stage, where Jacob Muller was already waiting.
Markus looked down at fifteen hundred apprehensive faces that packed the auditorium to its maximum, a third of them standing up against the walls. He grabbed the microphone before Jacob could. “Good morning, everyone. I am Markus Blackthorn, CEO of Blackthorn Corporation, and this is my partner, Aleksander Maximilian, who is going to work alongside Mr. Muller to lead Blackthorn Medical into a new future.”
A smattering of applause interrupted him for a moment.
“There will be some changes made, of course. During this week, Mr. Maximilian and his team will be going over personnel files and, if needed, calling a few of you for interviews. And next Monday, we will—”
A buzz of whispers swallowed his last words and questions were shouted here and there. Markus held out his hand and waited for silence. “There is no need to worry, if you have done your job well. Mr. Aleksander Maximilian, my partner, will give you further explanations.”
He passed the microphone to Aleksander and stepped back to speak with José Riviera, the head of Blackthorn security. “These are going to be unpleasant days.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Blackthorn. As we talk, I have personnel already implementing new security protocols and we’ll be distributing new access badges.”
“Good. Double security around the perimeter and I want two men with Maximilian at all times, including inside the meeting rooms.” He surveyed the auditorium once more before he asked, “Have you discovered who Ms. Kristensen visited yesterday?”
“She was in The Eagle Nest for barely five minutes.”
“The Eagle Nest?”
“It’s kind of like the Sanctum club, but even more exclusive and low-key. I still haven’t discovered who she saw there,” José answered. “I’m finishing the report and will email it to you later today, sir.”
What the fuck was she doing there? “No. I want an oral report.” He pushed his worries about Hannah possibly being involved with a dangerously abusive ex-boyfriend—or current boyfriend—to the back of his mind and concentrated on the speech Aleksander was delivering.
Pieces were already falling into place and soon he would have Victoria in his home, where she belonged.
The rest was just that—the rest.
CHAPTER 11
Markus Blackthorn’s penthouse
8:30 p.m.
When Hannah stepped into the hall of Markus’s penthouse, all she wanted was a Tylenol, a basin filled with hot water and salt to soak her abused feet, then a sandwich, and a full night of sleep, in that order. She hoped she wouldn’t have to be ready to deflect Markus’s sexual advances while guarding herself against falling prey to temptation.
But her tiredness evaporated and a smile opened on her lips as her eyes caught sight of Markus seated at the grand piano playing Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody nº 2.
The sound of clapping caused Markus to turn on the bench and look up when he finished the piece. For a full minute, he let his eyes wander over Hannah in blatant appreciation. The simple black dress she wore hugged her slender frame in an elegant, subtle seductive way and left her long legs bare and appearing even longer with the high-heels. “Hey, you.”
The greeting seemed all wrong for the way he was looking at her as she walked the suddenly too-lengthy hall. Like he wanted to eat her whole. It’s just your imagination mixed with wishful thinking. “I knew you played well, but not that you were a virtuoso.”
“Nothing of the sort.” He turned back to the piano to close the lid. “I’m just practicing. Victoria, she likes it.”
“How is it a four-year-old child likes dark and dramatic Liszt?”
“She saw a Tom & Jerry cartoon,” he explained with a shrug, rising from the bench. “If Tom could play it as he chased Jerry, she demanded I do it, too. I’ve been training to surprise her.”
She laughed. “You make it sound easy.”
“Everything is easy when you want it very badly.” He bent over to greet her with a kiss on the mouth when she stopped by his side.
She turned her head just in time and his mouth only brushed her cheek. Not so fast, Muffin. “How was your day?”
He pretended not to notice her evasive move. Slowly, Markus. “Good. Yours?”
“Tiring.” Never in her whole life could Hannah have imagined that going to an exclusive beauty parlor and shopping at Bergdorf would be so exhausting—granted, she had never done a full makeover on her face, hands, and body, or bought a whole wardrobe in just one day—but watching her words and evading the curious questions from the beauty parlor attendants and Bergdorf’s salesclerks had given her a huge headache.
A questioning brow rose on his forehead. “Really?”
“Yep.” But she did not elaborate, and instead showed him her left arm free of the cast. “Dr. Hanssen proclaimed my arm healed.”
“That’s good.” He took her hand in his, and ran his thumb slowly over the palm while imagining taking off her clothes and making love to her right there on the piano.
The caress was not overly sensuous, nonetheless it sent a shiver of heat through her. She tugged it free. “Have you eaten?”
“No. I was waiting for you,” he answered, and motioned with his hand. “Shall we?”
“Why all the red and black?” she asked as they crossed the apartment in the direction of the dining room.
“My architect was fond of Bergman’s Cries and Whispers—”
She stopped mid-step and looked at him wide-eyed. “What?”
“I haven’t seen the film, but when she proposed the idea and showed me some samples, I thought it would be a good background for my art collection.”
“Lord, Markus, it is a striking, intense film, but it is so…it’s almost a nightmare in its depiction of human behavior,” she said, baffled. “Isn’t it a bit too much? I mean, does it not…saturate your mind in drama?”
“Not really.” He looked around as if seeing it through her eyes. “I…I don’t really see it that way. Does it bother you?”
“No, in fact I like it,” she answered as they entered the kitchen. Her heels echoed in the empty space. Before she caught herself, she asked, “Don’t you feel lonely here, Markus?”
His dark eyes searched hers and she could see a slight hesitation before he nodded.
“I do.” He didn’t know what had made him confess such a thing, but he did feel better having said it aloud. Perhaps it was the way she stared at him—not judging, not assuming, but actually interested in what he was thinking, feeling. In her eyes, he didn’t see the reflection of the billionaire owner of Blackthorn Corporation, nor the son of a United States Senator, but just Markus Blackthorn, a man. It was rare anyone looked at him anymore in such a way. He shook his head at the strange stir in his heart and gestured to the counter. “I told Mrs. Quinn it was all right to leave a cold dinner for us. Wine?”
“Please. Do you want some help?” she asked.
“Nope.”
She sat on one of the bar stools by the large island and with a sigh rested her chin on her palm, distracting herself with the view of New York.
“Château Haut-Brion Blanc.”
Hannah’s eyes were almost closing in slumber when Markus whispered in her ear and leaned over her shoulder to pour the wine in her glass. She started as she felt his heat surrounding her. Every nerve in her body lurched to attention and she stiffened on the stool, turning her head sideways to glare at him.
An innocent smile lit up his features. “Something wrong?”
Yes. “No,” sh
e whispered, trying hard to control her wayward imagination.
Markus grinned at her back. It was a wicked and dangerous game he was playing, but he found he enjoyed seeing her battling her own desire.
“A toast,” he proposed, raising his glass.
With her glass in hand, she turned sideways, feeling almost caged in the space between the island and his body. She raised an eyebrow. “A toast?”
“To a year of marital bliss.”
Yeah, right! She rolled her eyes heavenward to avoid his gaze. It had a glint of hunger. As though he was a lion sizing up his prey, and she was the prey. Clinking her glass with his, she proposed, “To mutually beneficial fraud.”
He let out a chuckle and lightly clinked his glass on hers. “Cheers!”
Sitting in front of her, he pointed to the serving bowls between them. “There is lobster salad with tomatoes and avocado, and this is the best sea bass ceviche you have ever tasted.”
She tried not to look at the patch of tanned bare skin and chest hair visible in the V neckline of his long-sleeve T-shirt as he told her about the preparations for their wedding and she answered his questions about her day.
“I…I had a few problems dodging questions. Perhaps, it would be wise if we learned more about each other and agreed on one storyline.”
He wiped his mouth with the napkin and dropped it back in his lap. “All right. You first.”
He asked about her studies, where she’d visited—but that was a short subject—and where she wanted to go. She asked him about his favorite movies, books, and music.
The night was going well until he asked, “What was your childhood and adolescence like? In three sentences.”
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, then set it back down on the plate. “In three sentences?”
“Well, we still have a lot of topics to cover.” He shrugged. “Best to be concise.”
Hannah smiled, amused. How do I sum up all those years in three sentences? Those had been the best years of her life, when her Irish immigrant mother had made everything that could’ve gone wrong—and having no father was just one of the things—seem right. Hannah was aware of how much her mother had given up to raise her all alone in a country that was new and strange to her. And now more than ever, she was thankful for having forgone all social outings to stay home with her mother. In spite of all the loneliness that had surrounded her, it had been a good life.