Claiming My Bride of Convenience

The bored drawl, nearing a sneer, had me freezing in my four-inch gold stilettos. It was the night of the hotel’s opening ball, and I’d just left Matteo to go and powder my nose in the ladies’.

Slowly I turned around to face my accuser—a louche-looking man in his forties, with one hand stuck in his trouser pocket as he surveyed me with thorough insolence.

‘Excuse me?’ I said, my voice as icy as I could make it. I lifted my chin to face him down, even though the lewd look on his face made my insides shrivel.

‘You’re Dias’s latest. His whore.’

I jerked back as if I’d been slapped. I felt as if I’d been assaulted. Who was this man, and why was he treating me this way?

‘I’m his wife,’ I said, with as much cold disdain as I could muster. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me...’

I started to shoulder past him, but he grabbed my arm. Everything in me froze.

‘Do you know who he is?’ the man asked in a low, vicious voice. ‘Do you know where he’s come from?’

I stared at him in confusion, drawn despite myself and in spite of all I knew this man had to be. ‘Where he’s come from?’

‘The gutter, darling. The absolute gutter. His mother was a Portuguese prostitute who dropped him on a doorstep. His poor grandfather had no choice but to take him in—although I’m sure he’s regretted it every day since.’

‘What?’ I goggled at him, forgetting for a second that he was holding my arm, his body pressed alarmingly close to mine. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Has he not told you?’ the man mocked. ‘He does like to keep his secrets. Likes to lord it over everyone, acting as if he’s the crème de la crème, but everyone knows the truth. It’s just that he’s so wealthy...no one is willing to say it to his face.’

‘But you are, obviously,’ I said coldly, trying to jerk my arm out of his grasp.

The man held on, his nails starting to dig in. ‘I am, and I’m doing you a favour by telling you. Get out while you can. Take him for all he’s worth while you’re at it.’

‘You’re despicable.’

Again I tried to pull away, but the man just held on to me more tightly. True fear began to lick cold flames right through me. The crowded ballroom was only a few metres away, but we were alone in a narrow, darkened corridor. Anything could happen. Anything might.

For a few torturous seconds I was back in New York, struggling on that sofa, feeling hands and a mouth on me... My vision blurred and my stomach heaved as the man moved closer. I just stood there—waiting, frozen.

‘Get your hands off her.’

Matteo’s voice was low and deadly, and after an endless, awful pause the man finally released me.

I stumbled away from him with a gasp. ‘Matteo...’

‘She was begging for it, Dias,’ the man drawled. ‘Can’t you tell? She wanted someone with real class.’

‘Get out.’ Seemingly from nowhere, two burly security guards materialised, each one grabbing the man by an arm and hustling him away.

I drew a shuddering breath, one hand pressed to my heart. Matteo looked at me—a hard, unyielding look, his eyes as cold and dark as gunmetal.

‘Is it true?’ he asked, in a low voice that throbbed with fury.

‘What?’ I gaped at him, his words piercing me like the sharpest dagger. ‘You mean, what he said...? Are you serious?’

Matteo stared at me for another long moment, his jaw tight and bunched. ‘Just answer the question. Did you welcome his attentions?’

I shook my head, my stomach roiling at his words. ‘I can’t believe you’d even ask me a question like that.’

‘You’re not answering it—’

‘Because I won’t stoop to such a horrible level!’ I stared at him in disbelief and hurt. ‘Matteo, why are you like this? After everything I told you yesterday, how can you ask me that?’

He stared at me for another hard moment. ‘I’m sorry.’ The words were gritted out. ‘Let’s just leave it.’