Love Islands…The Collection. Jane PorterЧитать онлайн книгу.
away, he reached into the wardrobe and she stared at his back uncertainly. Was that it? Last night he had seemed so desperate, so tormented. But it was clear that as far as he was concerned the conversation was over.
‘Which one?’ He held out two ties for inspection. ‘Or do you not like either of them?’
Pushing aside her thoughts, she looked up at him and frowned. ‘What’s it for again?’
He held her gaze. ‘It’s a meeting with the mayor and the council members.’
‘The blue one, then.’
‘I like the red one.’
‘Then wear the red one.’ Stretching out her legs on top of the sheet, she smiled up at him innocently, her eyes dancing. ‘If you don’t mind looking like a gigolo.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘A gigolo?’
She bit her lip. ‘Maybe you could wear some of those nice stacked shoes we saw in that shop.
His eyes had narrowed and he was moving slowly towards the bed like a predatory animal. ‘Anything else?’
‘A manbag?’ She gave a shriek of laughter as he grabbed hold of her leg and pulled her down the bed towards him, pinning her arms above her head.
‘A manbag...’ he repeated slowly, his eyes roving over her naked body. ‘I’m not sure if I really see myself with one of those. But you might be right about the tie. In fact, I think you might look better wearing it.’
Too late, she read the intent in his eyes. ‘No, Malachi—you can’t!’
‘Oh, but I can,’ he said softly, and the heat in his gaze would have stripped the clothes from her skin if she hadn’t already been naked.
With deliberate slowness he twisted the tie around her wrists and pulled it over the elaborate gilded bedstead, knotting it with one practised hand. Twisting, Addie tried to pull her hands free, but she simply managed to tighten her bonds.
‘There,’ he said softly, letting go of her wrists. ‘I knew it would look better on you.’
He stared down at her, eyes dark with passion and unwavering, and she felt a hot ache spread out over her skin.
‘You can’t leave me tied up here, Malachi,’ she said quickly, trying to push aside the thought that in all probability he could. ‘What about when the maids come to clean the suite?’
He smiled, a long, slow smile. ‘I’ll tell them to leave it until tomorrow.’
‘Malachi! Untie me.’
‘What will you give me if I do?’
‘You need to worry about what I’ll give if you don’t! Now, untie me!’ She stared up at him, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to give him a black eye.
He grinned. ‘Is that right? I’m not sure you’re in any position to be issuing threats here, sweetheart.’ He sighed. ‘However, fortunately for you, life has taught me that there is one absolute unbreakable rule when it comes to staying in hotels.’
He tugged at the knot and she slipped her wrists free.
‘And that is, don’t do anything to upset the housekeeping staff.’
She punched him gently. ‘So letting me go has nothing to do with my persuasive charms, then?’
His eyes were still tinged with passion, but softer now. ‘Believe me, you’re very persuasive, sweetheart, but—’ Grimacing, he sat up and twitched the sheet over her naked body. ‘I have got to go to this meeting.’ Seeing her expression, he shook his head. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’d love to get out of this but I can’t.’
His hand moved over the sheet, following the contours of her breasts and belly, and she felt her skin grow warm and tingling.
‘You can find out what that feels like later.’ Eyes glittering, he stood up. ‘I’ll even let you choose the tie.’
After he’d left, Addie spent a relaxing two hours in the hotel spa, having a facial and full-body massage. Malachi had left a message telling her that he had arranged for Lupita, a personal stylist, to come to their suite, and she arrived promptly, with several rails of beautiful clothes, an array of shoes and a box of jewellery that came with an armed bodyguard.
It was exhausting, but enormous fun. Lupita not only seemed to have met everyone who was anyone in Caracas, she was also talented at her job, knowing exactly which outfits would make Addie look and feel good.
Finally having made her choice, all that remained was to get ready.
Smoothing foundation over her skin, she stared at her reflection critically.
It was lucky that people could only see what was on the outside. And she was a lot less nervous about meeting Malachi’s guests than she had been about finally coming face-to-face with his parents.
She applied mascara, blinked and reapplied it.
But being nervous had some advantages. At least it meant she could hardly think straight. Certainly not about what everyone would be saying about her tonight. It had been different at the masked party. Everyone there had been hiding who they were. But tonight there would be reporters and photographers, and Malachi would be looking to generate as much publicity as possible for the opening of his first casino in South America.
Her heart gave a jolt of hope. But what did that mean for her? She knew what she wanted it to mean. She wanted to forget the past—forget this stupid deal and be his wife again.
But it was so much more complicated than that.
Thankfully her hairdresser chose that moment to arrive, and she was able to push aside her troubling thoughts.
An hour later Addie breathed out in relief as the young woman styling her hair stepped back and smiled.
‘You look very beautiful, Ms Farrell.’
Turning her head from side to side, Addie stared into the mirror with pleasure. She had decided, on Lupita’s advice, to put her hair up in a French pleat. It was not something she had ever done before, preferring the simplicity of a ponytail for work or a low chignon for more dressy occasions. But now she was glad she had followed the stylist’s advice.
‘Thank you!’ She smiled up at the hairdresser.
The girl looked pleased. ‘I think Mr King will be very happy,’ she said shyly.
Addie took another quick glance at herself. Hopefully he would. She would soon find out.
Staring round the casino floor, Malachi felt a rush of satisfaction. The building had been derelict when he’d first seen it. Originally an opera house, it had been abandoned after a fire had damaged most of the stage, and then it had simply been left to decay. Only he had seen its potential. Not as an opera house. The capital city of Venezuela already had one of those. But as a casino.
It had taken six months just to clear the site and make it safe to work in. Another year to rebuild the interior and bring it up to modern health and safety standards. Then another five months painstakingly recreating the original gilded domed ceiling and setting up the casino floor.
His vision had been clear. No cool, contemporary chic. He had wanted old-style glamour. Gilt and glass and glitter. And it had been worth it, he thought triumphantly. It looked incredible: a gilded, show-stopping interior that mixed fin-de-siècle opulence with an unmistakable whiff of the forbidden and decadent.
And yet there was something that didn’t feel quite right. Some detail he had overlooked. Something was missing, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it...
The next moment his uncertainty was forgotten as yet another swathe of local VIPs stepped