Mistress to the Magnate: Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation. Michelle CelmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
be true. He never would have guessed that Melody would do something like this to him.
“How long was I gone?”
“A few weeks,” he lied. “I began to worry when you stopped answering your phone. I tried to find you myself, but that went nowhere fast. I was beside myself with worry, Mel. I thought something terrible had happened. I thought … I thought that you were dead. That I would never see you again.” The fabricated emotion in his voice sounded genuine, even to his own ears, and Melody was eating it up. “The police were no help, so I hired a private detective.”
“And here you are.”
He nodded. “Here I am. And I would really like to hold my fiancée. If she would let me.”
Melody bit her lip, and with gratitude in her eyes, held her arms out. She bought his bull—hook, line and sinker. This was almost too easy.
Ash rose from his chair and sat on the edge of her bed, and when he took her in his arms and she melted against him, soft and warm and a little fragile, he had a flash of something that felt like relief, or maybe satisfaction, then he reminded himself exactly what it was that brought them to this place. How deeply she had betrayed him. His first instinct was to push her away, but he had to play the role of the loving fiancé.
She let her head rest on his shoulder and her arms slipped around his back. The contour of her body felt so familiar to him, and he couldn’t help wondering what it must have been like for her, holding a stranger. Some deep place inside him wanted to feel sympathy, but she had brought this on herself. If she hadn’t cheated on him, hadn’t stolen away like a criminal, she never would have been in the accident and everything would be normal.
As her arms tightened around him, he did notice that she felt frailer than before, as though not only had she lost pounds, but muscle mass. Their building had an exercise room and as long as Ash had known her, Melody had been almost fanatical about staying in shape. He wondered if this would be a blow to her ego.
But how could it be if she didn’t even remember she had an ego? Or maybe that was something that was inborn.
Under the circumstances Ash didn’t expect the embrace to last long, and he kept waiting for her to pull away. Instead she moved closer, held him tighter, and after a moment he realized that she was trembling.
“Are you okay?” he asked, lifting a hand to stroke her hair.
“I’m scared,” she said, her voice small and soft. Melody wasn’t a crier—in three years together he could recall only two times he’d even seen the sheen of moisture in her eyes—but he could swear that now he heard tears in her voice.
“What are you scared of?” he asked, stroking her hair and her back, pretending to comfort her, when in reality he felt that she was getting exactly what she deserved.
“Everything,” she said. “I’m afraid of all I don’t know, and everything I need to learn. What if I’m never.” She shook her head against his chest.
He held her away from him, so he could see her face. Melody was a fighter. Much like himself, when she wanted something, she went after it with all pistons firing. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. But right now, he couldn’t recall ever seeing her look more pale and distraught, and he actually had to harden his heart to keep from feeling sorry for her.
She had brought this on herself.
“If you never what?” he asked.
Her eyes were full of uncertainty. “What if I can’t be the person I was before? What if the accident changed me? What will I do with my life? Who will I be?”
Not the heartless betrayer she had been before the accident. Not if he had anything to do with it. He would break her spirit, so no other man would have to suffer the same humiliation he had.
A tear spilled over onto her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb, cradling her cheek in his palm. “Why don’t you concentrate on getting better? Everything will work out. I promise.”
Looking as though she desperately wanted to believe him, she leaned her head back down and sighed against his shoulder. And maybe she did believe him, because she was no longer shaking.
“I’m getting sleepy,” she said.
“I’m not surprised. You’ve had an eventful morning. Why don’t you lie down?”
He helped her lie back against the pillows. She did look exhausted. Mentally and physically.
He pulled the covers up and tucked them around her, much the way his mother had for him when he was a boy. When he’d been sick, and weakened by the radiation, she’d somehow managed to be there every evening to kiss him goodnight, despite working two, and sometimes three jobs at a time to keep their heads above water. Until she’d literally worked herself to death.
Though Ash was declared cancer free by his thirteenth birthday, the medical bills had mounted. His father had been too lazy and most times too drunk to hold down a job, so the responsibility of taking care of them had fallen solely on his mother. And due to their debt, annual trips to the doctor for preventative care that wasn’t covered by their insurance had been a luxury she couldn’t afford. By the time she’d begun getting symptoms and the cancer was discovered, it had already metastasized and spread to most of her major organs. The news had sent his father into a downward spiral, and it was left up to Ash to take care of her.
Eight months later, and barely a week after Ash graduated from high school, she was gone. For years, he felt partially responsible for her death. Had it not been for his own cancer, they might have caught hers sooner, when it was still treatable.
The day of his mother’s funeral was the day Ash had written his father out of his life for good. His aunt had contacted him several years later to let him know that his father had passed away. Advanced liver cirrhosis. Ash didn’t go to the funeral.
By then Ash was living in California, and going to school. Like his mother, he worked two and three jobs to make ends meet. Despite that, he’d somehow managed to maintain a near-perfect GPA. After graduation he’d married his college sweetheart and landed a job with Maddox Communications, convinced he was living the American dream. Unfortunately things had not been what they seemed.
The day he was offered the position of CFO, what should have been one of the best days of his life, he’d learned that his wife was having an affair. She’d claimed she did it because she was lonely. He’d worked such long hours he was never there for her. She sure hadn’t minded spending the money he earned working those long hours, though. Not to mention, when he had been home, the “I have a headache” excuse was a regular. The irony of it would have been laughable had he not been so completely devastated.
Granted, theirs had never been a particularly passionate marriage, but he’d thought they were relatively happy. Apparently not. And the worst part had been that he hadn’t suspected a thing.
Ash had thought he was through with women for good, but only a few months after the divorce was final he met Melody. She was young and beautiful and bright, and he was fascinated by her spunk and enthusiasm. Probably because he saw much of himself mirrored back in her eyes.
They had come from similar humble beginnings, and, like him, she was determined to succeed. They’d started dating in early April. The last week of May when the sublet on her apartment expired, he’d suggested she stay with him until she found another place, and she just never left.
Since then they seemed to have an unwritten understanding. She made herself accessible to him in any capacity necessary with no strings attached. There were no sentiments of love or talk of marriage, no questions or accusations when he worked late or cancelled a date. In return he provided financial security.
At times, he couldn’t help thinking he was getting the better end of the deal. Not only did he have a willing mistress at his disposal 24/7, he also had the satisfaction of knowing that he was helping her make something of her life. If his mother had someone like that, someone to take