Ruthless Husband, Convenient Wife Read online

  ‘How can you talk like that when we’ve just made such beautiful love?’ he demanded.

  ‘Because I need time, Ryan!’

  ‘You’ve had a whole year,’ he pointed out. ‘If you haven’t worked out your own mind in that time, you never will.’

  ‘I certainly never will while you are near me.’

  ‘Don’t ask me to leave you again,’ he repeated. He was obviously taking her threat seriously. His eyes were intent. ‘But I’m prepared to compromise.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘I’ll give you space. Time. I’ll learn about you, about who you are and what you need. And I won’t crowd you while I’m learning.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘If you stay here, I’ll agree to only see you when you want me. On your terms.’

  ‘No unannounced visits?’

  ‘Only by appointment,’ he smiled.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said mistrustfully.

  ‘If you want, I’ll ask permission before each and every meeting. And if you say no, I’ll stay away. But you have to promise me three things.’

  ‘What are they?’ she asked.

  ‘Firstly, that you will help me decorate this house. Help me choose furnishings, furniture, décor, art. I need your sense of style, your taste. Your knowledge of art history. And that also means doing my parties. At least one a week.’

  ‘I’m not stupid. If I agree to that,’ she pointed out briskly, ‘then we’ll be thrown together all the time.’

  ‘Not necessarily. I have my work, as always. I’ll give you a free hand. We need only meet on a professional basis. Unless you say otherwise. I’ll pay you whatever you ask.’

  Penny studied his face. ‘Whatever I ask?’

  ‘I’m very generous, you know that. And I’m sure you need the business.’

  ‘What if you don’t approve of my taste?’

  Ryan smiled, stroking her cheek. ‘You have the most exquisite taste I know of. You can do everything exactly as you wish. I won’t interfere. Effectively, you’ll be mistress of this house.’

  ‘With a budget?’

  ‘We’ll put it on a business footing,’ he assured her. ‘You can have a company cheque-book of your own.’

  ‘What are the other things I have to promise?’

  ‘Another is that you have to go back to St Cyprian’s for that check-up. And do it soon.’

  ‘And the third?’

  ‘The third is this,’ he said simply, kissing the triangle of curls at her loins. ‘That you’ll be faithful to me. That when you need love, you will come to me.’

  ‘Can I have a company cheque-book for that, too?’

  He grinned. ‘Absolutely. An unlimited cheque-book. Each cheque redeemable against the Ryan Wolfe Bank.’

  She stroked his crisp hair, considering. ‘So I get money and sex—but you’ll let me have my freedom?’

  ‘If that’s what you want. If that’s what it takes. And I will listen to you and learn, if you’re still willing to talk to me.’

  ‘And I get the money and the sex on my own terms?’

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’s a good offer. Take it.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I need to consider.’

  She needed to think.

  She needed to remember.

  To remember how it had been.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HOW it had been.

  Though so many things had happened in the year since she had been with Ryan, she could remember exactly how it had been.

  It was all engraved on her heart, like scenes from a story book.

  Like the first time she had set eyes on him.

  The old house in Hampstead was still beautiful, but in a poor state of repair. The movie was low-budget. The producers were hoping to sell it for television, their hopes bolstered by the fact that the novel the script was based on, Ayala’s Angel, was a classic novel by Anthony Trollope, and was going to be a set text for schools and universities the following year.

  The house was supposed to be the home of a fabulously wealthy mid-Victorian family. That wealth often had to be represented by extravagant flower displays, to eke out the somewhat sparse furnishings. A big chunk of the budget had gone on superb period costumes for the principal cast members, who were all very young—three of them, including the star, Annie Drummond, who played Ayala, were still drama students.

  The four main actresses, in full costume, were about to do a scene in the parlour of the house. They looked delicious in flouncy Victorian dresses, seated around a gleaming silver tea-service on a low table.

  A problem that had immediately been picked up was a large and obviously modern radiator, fixed to the wall immediately behind the actresses. The director, Angus Robertson, had called for Penny to work some magic, and she had been arranging a large vase of flowers in front of the offending twentieth-century appliance, while the cameras and the actresses waited.

  Just as she was putting the finishing touches to the display, she’d heard the bustle of excitement and the words, ‘Ryan Wolfe is here.’

  She’d felt a flicker of interest at the name. Of course, even after no more than three months in the movie world, she knew who Mr Wolfe was—the legendary entrepreneur, the man who could breathe life into a movie that was failing for lack of funds. The man everyone had been hoping would come to the set of Ayala’s Angel, love what he saw, and conjure mountains of money out of thin air.

  So Penny straightened, looking over her shoulder to see the great man. She’d been expecting someone who looked like a banker, in a suit, with gold-rimmed spectacles and grey hair. Nobody had told her what Ryan Wolfe looked like.

  Nobody had told her that he was the most beautiful man in the whole wide world.

  Her heart seemed to jump in her breast, like a salmon leaping up a waterfall.

  Ryan was standing with Angus Robertson at the edge of the set. He was wearing jeans and a denim jacket, a dark-haired man in his thirties, with a face that some pagan sculptor had carved out of bronze to break women’s hearts.

  His eyes were a dark grey, framed by thick black lashes, and full of a powerful character. The brows that were set over them were also dark, their heaviness promising passion, or perhaps a fiery temper. His nose was long and straight, a Norman nose with arched and flaring nostrils.

  His hair was shorter and neater in those days; he was altogether more groomed, more professional-looking than the Ryan Wolfe who was to walk into her florist’s shop a year later.

  But it was his mouth that made Penny go weak at the knees—the most beautiful male mouth she had ever seen, full and sensual, yet filled with authority and command. Her gaze was drawn inexorably to that mouth, and by some black magic she could feel it on her own, feel the deep, dark kiss that it seemed she had been waiting for all her life.

  She saw Ryan Wolfe look her way, and felt the impact of his gaze meeting her own as an almost physical force—an earthquake shaking the floor under her feet, a strong wind rocking her body.

  Movie sets were such busy places—people, cameras, lights, cables snaking across the floor, voices shouting commands of all kinds—that she had always welcomed their anonymity, the feeling that she was just a small cog in a big machine.

  But that day in Hampstead she felt as though there was a klieg light poised right above her, illuminating her, making her brilliant.

  She felt her skin go hot, then cold. She had trouble catching her breath. Her stomach had tied itself in a hard knot.

  That was how powerful, how electric it was.

  Their locked gaze only broke when Angus Robertson took Ryan by the arm and began introducing him to the actresses.

  ‘This is Annie Drummond, who plays Ayala, Yvette Simon, who plays Lucy, Jennifer Bridges, who’s doing Augusta, and Lisa Bonnie, who’s playing Emmeline.’

  Ryan greeted all the actresses with grave courtesy and listened to Angus explaining a little about the scene t
hey were going to shoot. Then he nodded, and turned to Penny, who was standing there like a statue. He said nothing, but the direction of his gaze was so intent and so apparent that Angus Robertson was compelled to fill the pause.

  ‘And this is Penny Wellcome, our brilliant set decorator,’ he said. ‘She’s responsible for the lovely flowers you see all around.’

  Ryan took her hand in his. His grip was warm and firm. His eyes looked deep into hers. ‘They are truly lovely,’ he said in a quiet voice.

  Penny didn’t know what she murmured in reply—some platitude—but she did know that she had coloured to the roots of her hair.

  The star, Annie Drummond, was a spectacular beauty. Every man in the world stared at her unashamedly, fascinated by her golden hair, cornflower eyes and perfect smile. Every man, with the exception of Ryan Wolfe. He seemed to have eyes only for Penny.

  With the offending radiator covered, shooting the scene commenced. There were two cameras covering the action. The actresses were well-rehearsed and full of vivacity, so the long scene evolved without interruptions.

  Ryan stood with folded arms behind one of the cameras. Penny was close by him, her heart still thudding in her breast. Why couldn’t she seem to catch her breath? She felt Ryan’s presence in an almost physical way—his proximity was the most sexual feeling she had experienced in months.

  So that, when he turned to glance at her again over his broad shoulder, the shock of his eyes meeting hers made her feel faint, yet so alive, so aroused. She could not tear her eyes away from his. And so she read the message that was so clear in that brilliant grey gaze—that he found her as fascinating as she found him.

  When the scene was over, Angus bustled over to Ryan, his eagerness apparent in every line of his face. Indeed, the whole company was intent on hearing Ryan’s reaction, and there was a silent yet deafening cheer when he replied, ‘I think it’s utterly charming, and I’m very interested in seeing the rushes.’

  It was much later, as he was leaving, that Ryan walked across the set to where Penny was helping prepare for the next scene.

  ‘I’m having a dinner party for some friends at my flat this weekend. I think your flowers are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. I want you to do the arrangements for my party. Can you help me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation. ‘I can help you.’

  That was how it began.

  After that, things moved very fast. So fast, her feet barely seemed to touch the ground.

  That dinner party, as it turned out, included an Oscar-winning actress and a Hollywood director who was a household name.

  She made the table exquisite, preparing everything with as much style and grace as she could muster. She had always had a gift for flowers and décor, ever since she was a child. When her university career had collapsed so tragically, it had been natural for Penny to try to make a living out of that talent.

  London had shown her just how highly others valued that talent. Even though working on movie sets was at best intermittent employment, Penny was so good at what she did that people who saw her work were always asking her to do parties or receptions for them.

  Though she was disbelieving at first—what she did came so naturally to her that she was surprised others couldn’t do it just as easily—she soon realised that what had at first seemed a stopgap could quickly become a full-time career.

  Finding a part-time or full-time job would be no problem. Florists, restaurants, agencies were all crying out for work as good as hers.

  So she made Ryan Wolfe’s dinner table look stunning. And then, at the last moment, Ryan invited her to stay for the meal and meet his friends.

  A fairytale.

  She was dazzled by the company Ryan kept—who wouldn’t be? She was dazzled by the enormous apartment in Knightsbridge, by the way Ryan spoke so effortlessly about millions of dollars, famous people, big movie projects.

  But that was nothing to how dazzled she was by him. Once you got past the sheer physical beauty of Ryan Wolfe, there was so much more—his crackling energy and sense of purpose, his formidable intelligence, his extraordinary way of looking at the world, so different from anyone she had met before.

  He was a kind of magician, who put people and things together to produce wonderful new alloys. She heard someone refer to him as an alchemist, and that was how she often thought of him—a wizard who could transmute base metals into pure gold.

  He made her feel very young and inexperienced. She was off-balance from the start, a sailboat caught in a hurricane, hurtling along with no control over where she was bound.

  The first time she really felt how far she was getting from land was when Ryan took her to the première of Andersen, a film about the famous Danish children’s author, which he had financed. He took her to the opening night. The première was a triumph, foreshadowing the box-office success the film was to have that summer.

  They emerged from the crowded movie theatre into a perfect July evening in London, the sky still light and clear, birds singing in the trees around the square. They were on their way to the first-night party with the cast and crew. Penny felt she was in a dream, a dream that was moving very fast, almost too fast to be enjoyed.

  Ryan bundled her into a cab.

  ‘I want to tell you something,’ she said as they settled into the spacious back seat.

  He took her in his arms. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispered, kissing her cheeks and throat. ‘I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you, my precious Penny.’

  Her head was swimming. ‘Wait,’ she begged, ‘I have to tell you something important!’

  ‘So do I,’ he said, his lips warm and erotic as they hungrily caressed the delicate base of her throat. ‘You are the most perfect woman I ever dreamed of.’

  ‘Please listen to me,’ she begged.

  ‘All right. Give me your news first, then I’ll give you mine.’

  ‘I have to go back to Devon tomorrow,’ she told him.

  ‘What?’ He drew back and looked at her in surprise. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s Aubrey’s birthday tomorrow. He’s my stepfather. I always go down to see him on his birthday.’

  ‘You can’t,’ Ryan said with a smile. ‘We’re going to Mexico. That was my news.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘We’re booked on a flight to Guadalajara at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. I have to talk to some people there. I decided to give us a little holiday at the same time. First class all the way, of course.’

  ‘But Ryan,’ Penny gasped, ‘I can’t just go to Mexico at the drop of a hat!’

  ‘Why not? I know you’re not working this next week. And you’ll love Mexico, it’s a fabulous country.’

  ‘That’s not the point! Aubrey will be so hurt if I don’t go and see him!’

  ‘I’m sure your stepfather would hate the idea of you cancelling a trip to Mexico on his account, sweet Penny.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘For one thing, I only decided yesterday. And for another—’ he kissed her firmly on her full lips ‘—I wanted it to be a surprise.’

  ‘But I haven’t even got any clothes ready!’

  ‘Go with an empty suitcase. I’m going to buy you a new wardrobe when we get there.’

  She felt dizzy. ‘But Aubrey—’

  ‘We’ll send your stepfather a hamper from Fortnum & Mason. I’ll have one of my people drive it down personally tomorrow, with a gift. Gold cuff-links, perhaps?’

  ‘Aubrey’s retired,’ she said, dazed. ‘He doesn’t wear cuff-links any longer.’

  ‘A set of golf clubs, then?’

  ‘Ryan, you’re a crazy man! I’ve never bought such expensive presents for anyone in my life!’

  He looked at her with a strange, wry smile. ‘Haven’t you realised yet, darling? Your life has changed forever.’

  And, of course, it had.

  And, of course, she went to Mexico with Ryan the next morning. She refused to let
Ryan send Aubrey expensive gifts or hampers—that gentle man would have been embarrassed by such largesse, in any case—instead, she phoned him early the next morning to wish him happy birthday and explain as best she could.

  He and her mother were delighted for her. After the catastrophe that Tom had caused in her life, they were desperately hoping for someone stable to ‘help Penny settle down’.

  It didn’t seem to occur to them that the kind of man who swept her off to Mexico at a moment’s notice was not exactly going to bring stability.

  Nor that a powerful, dominant male who took control of her life was exactly what Tom had been.

  It was in Mexico that they became lovers.

  Something else she would never forget.

  The hacienda belonged to wealthy Mexican friends of Ryan’s, and was set among the hills overlooking the Rio Lerma, some thirty kilometres from Guadalajara. The scenery was majestic. Penny, who had travelled little, was entranced by the rugged, arid landscape, with its mystery and grandeur.

  Their hosts, the Mirandas, were overwhelmingly hospitable. There were mariachi musicians playing at their meals, tours of the Arabian stud farm, rides through the canyons and arroyos on horseback, parties and laughter.

  Looking back, it was remarkable that she and Ryan had not already become lovers. They had only known one another for a matter of a couple of weeks, but in fact, though they had kissed passionately, Ryan had been what her mother would have called ‘strictly the gentleman’ with her.

  That all changed, one starlit night, under a golden Mexican moon.

  Her bedroom had a terrace that looked out over the garden. They found themselves there in the early hours of the morning, after a party where she had been introduced to tequila, drunk, as they did in Guadalajara, the home of tequila, in a cocktail with freshly squeezed orange juice. She did not know whether it was the margaritas or the moonlight that made her feel so bewitched.

  Or perhaps it was just Ryan Wolfe.