Claiming His Wedding Night

It was the people. Despite the room’s size, it was packed. Women dressed in sequins and lace and men in dark suits were lounging on sofas or leaning against the walls; others were sprawled over chairs or one another. But all of them were wearing masks. Masks!

She glanced up nervously at Malachi but he was already leading her by the hand, weaving through the laughing, dancing crowd to the other side of the room to a table where two huge gold bowls sat side by side, each one filled with a selection of masks.

‘I don’t know which one to choose,’ Addie said slowly. For some reason she couldn’t bring herself to touch them.

‘Then don’t.’

His eyes were glittering and she could feel his body pulsing with that same nervous energy she had felt in the car, but his voice was surprisingly gentle.

‘We don’t have anything to hide.’

As they pushed their way through the mass of people, Malachi reached out and grabbed two glasses from a passing waiter. Holding the glasses up to the fountain, he let them fill with the bubbling liquid.

Tentatively, Addie took a sip from hers. ‘It’s champagne!’

Malachi nodded and stared away, across the room, his face twisting. To a casual observer the party might seem to be in full flow, but given the ratio of alcohol to people he knew it was just getting started. His skin was crawling. What was he doing here? And why had he brought Addie with him? Glancing over at her huge, shell-shocked blue eyes, he felt his stomach tighten painfully.

‘Sometimes it’s champagne and absinthe,’ he said flatly. ‘Then things get really out of hand.’

Nodding, Addie glanced round the room, sipping her drink nervously. ‘Who are all these people?’

Malachi shrugged. ‘Serena probably invited them. She hates small parties and she likes new people. And anything outrageous or forbidden.’

‘And where are your parents?’

His face didn’t alter but his eyes seemed suddenly to glitter more brightly.

‘They’ll be in one of the private rooms, having a party of their own.’

There was a crash behind her and a man wearing some kind of feathered headdress toppled over, hands flailing, his glass smashing to the floor.

Malachi reacted immediately. In one swift movement he had pulled her behind him and yanked the man to his feet. ‘Get some air,’ he said coldly, giving the man a little push, and then turning back to Addie, he said quietly, ‘Come on. Let’s go find Henry and Serena.’

They found them easily enough. At the end of a corridor four huge men wearing dark suits stood barring a door marked Private. And whatever was happening behind them, it was a lot quieter and more civilised than at the main party, Addie thought with relief. But as the door opened she felt her heart lurch. The room was dimly lit, and there were far fewer people. But most of them appeared to be in a state of undress and some of them appeared to be...intimately joined.

She barely had time to take in what she was seeing when a beautiful blonde woman, wearing a shimmering dress that rippled over her body like molten silver, let out a scream and sashayed across the room towards them. Beside her, stumbling slightly, was a very handsome man with lipstick on his face and on his dress shirt. The woman gave a little wriggle, sending rainbows of light into the dark corners of the room, and kissed Malachi on both cheeks.

‘Look, Henry! I’d said he’d come. I know you said we weren’t to contact you, darling, but I don’t deal with rude little men telling me what to do.’

‘He’s the hotel manager, Serena.’ Malachi frowned. ‘There’s nearly two hundred people here. And the other guests are complaining.’

‘How boring of them. And mean. Trying to spoil our fun.’ Leaning forward, Serena ran her hand slowly over the lapel of Malachi’s jacket. ‘Not like you, darling. You can never resist a party, can you? And besides, you’re so much better at managing those sort of people than Henry and I.’

Suddenly noticing Addie, she stopped.

‘What exquisite hair! I had a red setter once, with fur that exact colour. It was my favourite dog. Mal, aren’t you going to introduce us?’

Addie swallowed. These were Malachi’s parents. Her heart began to pound. They were gorgeous. He had clearly inherited his high cheekbones from his mother and from his father his dark hair and those gleaming grey eyes.

‘This is Addie.’ She felt his hand on her back. ‘Addie Farrell. Addie—this is Henry and Serena King.’

‘What a sweet name,’ Serena purred, and then, clapping her hands excitedly, she waved at one of the waiters. ‘Four Brandy Alexanders. Make them doubles!’

Sipping her cocktail, Addie tried to look as though she was enjoying herself. Inside, though, she was in shock. All around her she was aware of the other guests, of bodies merging and soft moans, and of Malachi’s taut profile and his hand gripping hers so tightly that she could feel her fingers going numb.

There was no love or tenderness in this room, just greed and narcissism and lust, and her heart contracted as she tried to imagine what it must have been like to grow up surrounded by these people. If this was his version of intimacy, it was no wonder he struggled so much to understand hers.

Watching Addie’s hand tighten around her glass, Malachi tried to relax. He barely registered the other guests, or what they were doing; he’d seen it too many times before. Usually at his parents’ parties he could find a place inside himself, somewhere to retreat. But with Addie