Claiming My Bride of Convenience

‘Of course not.’

She gave a small smile, which heartened and even moved me—perhaps more than it should.

‘One thing I like about you, Matteo. You’re honest.’

The last was said on a sigh, but still... At least she liked something.

‘That’s enough to build a marriage on, don’t you think?’ I returned lightly.

I glanced around the room, taking in a few throw cushions in vivid turquoise, but otherwise the place seemed unchanged. So she hadn’t redecorated ten times, or even once. What had she spent my money on, then?

‘Why don’t you give me a tour?’ I suggested.

‘Of your own house?’

‘You’ve been living here and I never have. I’d like to see what you’ve done with it.’

‘Nothing, really.’

But her gaze slid away from mine. She almost looked guilty, and a new wariness stole through me. What was she hiding? She’d said she could pay me back, but her bank account was nearly empty, no matter what she’d said about investments.

Before I outlined the terms of my new proposal, perhaps I should discover just how my possibly errant wife had been spending so much money.

‘Still,’ I said, a bit more firmly, ‘I’d like a tour.’

She shrugged and moved towards the kitchen. ‘You know the place as well as I do.’

‘Not really. I only visited it once, for a day.’

I glanced into the kitchen, which looked homelier than I remembered, with some colourful pottery scattered around and pots of herbs and flowers on the windowsill.

Daisy glanced at me uncertainly before moving on, through the other rooms downstairs—the dining room, the media room, the library. Everything looked more or less as I remembered.

‘And upstairs?’ she said, moving towards the stairs.

I followed her, wondering if I’d find dozens of haute couture gowns in her closet. It seemed unlikely, but I’d seen nothing else on the property that she could have spent her money on, and I’d already checked with my sources to see if any investment accounts had been opened in her name. There hadn’t been.

I glanced into five pristine and bland bedrooms, uninterested, before Daisy hesitated in front of the master bedroom. My interest was piqued and my blood heated. I could picture us both on that king-sized bed, sprawled and tangled. I could picture it perfectly. And judging from the flush on Daisy’s face, she could, as well.

‘Shall we...?’ I murmured, and wordlessly she nodded and stepped inside.

The room was vast, with a huge picture window overlooking the beach, and the sea sparkling in the distance like a jewel. But the bed was the true centrepiece, canopied and on its own dais, made for romance. For sex. We both stared at it for a long, prickling moment and images danced through my mind. My palms itched to reach for her and draw her towards that soft expanse piled high with pillows in vivid shades of blue.

Abruptly Daisy turned away. ‘And the bathroom,’ she muttered, nodding towards an en suite bathroom decorated in black-and-white marble, its sunken whirlpool tub and double shower causing me to envisage other, just as delectable scenarios.

The bed, the bath, even on the floor... I could picture us everywhere.

‘Very nice,’ I murmured, and when I glanced at Daisy I saw she was nibbling at her lip, her cheeks as bright as roses. Was she thinking the same as me, or was she nervous for another reason? I still hadn’t figured out where the money had gone, or if she still had it as she claimed, and now I was more than curious. I needed to know.

‘There. That’s the tour.’

She started walking down the hallway, looking and sounding unaccountably nervous. I walked slowly after her, processing all I’d seen...and hadn’t seen.

What has she done with that money?

Then, as we came downstairs, I noticed a room off the front hall that she had not chosen to go into. The study, if I remembered correctly.

‘What about that room?’