His dark-lashed eyes glittered brilliantly on hers, and he lifted his hand to brush a stray tendril of hair gently back behind her ear. Lisa believed he meant what he said, but sadly she recognised it was not from love, but from his inbuilt male possessiveness. She was his wife, ergo, his property.

‘You are my wife,’ Alex continued huskily, ‘and I can safely say from the minute I met you there has been no one els

e.’

Her blonde head flew back and she shook off his hand. ‘Are you sure about that, Alex?’

‘Of course. I do not lie.’ If she hadn’t known better, Lisa might almost have believed he was offended. He lifted his hand towards her again, and she stepped back a pace. His black eyes flared with some indefinable emotion which he then quickly masked, and his hand fell to his side. ‘But perhaps now is not the time for this conversation. We are both tired and may say things we will regret. ‘Suddenly he had gone all formal on her, his anger held in check. Only the tight line of his mouth betrayed his strict control.

‘The only thing I regret is marrying you,’ Lisa said bluntly. ‘And by the way, Alex, I recognised your girlfriend. She was appearing at the theatre in Stratford on the evening we met. You must have spent that night with her and then called for me the next day.’ She watched as a swift tide of colour swept up his face, turning his complexion a dark red. ‘I’m not a fool, Alex, even if I have let you almost make one out of me. But not any more. Next you’ll be telling me you forgot to ask for the key back,’ she continued scathingly. ‘You are certainly your father’s son. Five times married, isn’t it? Well, you can mark me down as your first. And start looking for the second. It is over. Finished.’

Alex stared at her in bitter, hostile silence for long moments. Then he stepped back. ‘It is finished when I say so,’ he informed her arrogantly ‘I am not prepared to argue with you any longer. You can stay in here for what is left of the night. We will continue this discussion in the morning, when you have got over your sulk and are prepared to act like an adult.’ Turning on his heel, he crossed to the door and opened it.

‘As far as I am concerned, the discussion is over. I will be leaving in the morning,’ she flung at his departing back.

Alex paused, then turned round and glanced at her, something dark leaping to life in his eyes. Lisa involuntarily stepped back, although he was nowhere near her. ‘You are not leaving tomorrow, or any other day. Understood?’ And before she could retaliate he walked out, banging the door behind him.

Shock and anger had kept her upright, but with Alex’s departure she sank down on the bed and buried her head in the pillow. She wanted to scream and yell out her pain, but the lesson she had learned as a teenager, when her height had made her an outcast from her peer group, gave her the strength to control her emotions. She would not allow herself to show her pain or humiliation to Alex. But anyone glancing at her lying on the bed would have seen her slender body shaking as she wept silently.

All cried out, Lisa turned over on to her back, her throat dry and sore. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe, breathed deeply and tried to tell herself she would get over it. But she knew she would never recover from the hurt Alex had inflicted on her. She would never trust another man as long as she lived.

Sighing, she rolled off the bed and stood up. There was no point in trying to sleep; the scent of Alex lingered on her skin from their earlier lovemaking—no, not love, sex, she amended. Glancing out of the window, she saw it was dawn. She headed for the bathroom, and, slipping the robe off her shoulders, she stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water.

She shivered as the first drops hit her flesh. It was cold. Adjusting the temperature, she flung her head back and let the warm water flow over her. How long she stood like that she had no idea, but slowly a sense of purpose seeped into her tired mind. She shampooed and conditioned her long hair and then, picking up the shower gel, she scrubbed every single inch of her body in frenzied effort to remove every trace of Alex from her. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, collecting a large towel from the pile provided and rubbing herself dry.

Dropping the towel, she picked up the hairdryer and, standing in front of the vanity mirror, began blow-drying her hair. She studied her reflection, a grim travesty of a smile twisting her mouth; her skin was red from her efforts in the shower. It was a pity she could not wash Alex out of her mind as easily. But, given time, she would, Lisa vowed.

Grabbing another towel she wrapped it around herself. Her mind was made up: she was going back to Stratford and she was not waiting for another confrontation with Alex. She knew her own weakness too well. Alex was clever; he would talk her into staying and use sex to convince her. She had little faith in her power to resist him and she wasn’t hanging around long enough to find out.

All her clothes were in the dressing room of the master suite, but luckily the dressing room could be entered via the hall as well as the master bedroom. Slipping into the dressing room, she stopped and listened, but everywhere was silent. It took her no more than a minute to withdraw blue briefs and matching lace bra from a drawer and slip them on. Another minute, and she had silently opened the closet where she had hung her clothes and quickly stepped into light blue linen pants. Her head was lost in the folds of a navy cotton knit sweater when disaster struck.

‘Lisa, your’re not usually an early riser; that is my prerogative.’ A deep, husky voice broke the silence, and two arms curved around her waist.

With her arms up in the air, stuck halfway into her sweater, Lisa was in a hopeless position. She felt his hands slide up over her midriff to cup her breasts over the flimsy lace of her bra. She drew in a shuddering breath and managed to wriggle her arms and head free of the restraining garment. ‘Let go of me,’ she snapped.

A throaty chuckle simmered along her throat as he nuzzled her neck, ‘You don’t mean that, Lisa. You smell so sweet, so delicious,’ he husked, holding her firmly back against his hard thighs.

‘And you are an oversexed jerk,’ She spat, suddenly aware the beast was aroused, and, twisting around to face him, she splayed her hands over his broad chest and pushed with all her might. But it was like trying to fell an oak tree with her bare hands. Alex simply folded his arms around her taut body and held her pressed tightly to him.

‘Now, is that any way to greet your husband?’ he drawled mockingly.

‘Soon to be ex-husband,’ She replied pithily, her eyes skimming over him. He was wearing a white silk shirt, unbuttoned to the waist, and pleated beige pants. Obviously he had not been lying in bed, as Lisa had hoped. She was uncomfortably aware he was fresh from the shower, his black hair damp, the clean, masculine scent of him filling her nostrils and, to her chagrin, she could feel her breasts swelling against the soft lace of her bra.

He studied her tousled appearance, her long blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, her hands curled into fists on his broad chest. He took his time looking her over, a glint of devilment in his dark eyes. He knew perfectly well how he affected her. A broad grin curved his mouth, making her vitally aware of the sensuality lurking within his hard body. ‘Come on, Lisa, where is your sense of humour? You don’t want to leave,’ he contradicted softly. His dark head lowered, his lips feathering across hers, and she shivered as the pressure of his kiss deepened, the hard heat of his mouth burning on her own.

Lisa groaned, caught in the trap of sensation much stronger than she was. How could it be? she thought helplessly, while every part of her burned in a fever of need.

‘That is better.’ Alex eased her away from him with a husky laugh. ‘You look more like the girl I married. No more sulks, hmm?’ He stepped back, his smile tinged with a glint of triumph.

It was his satisfaction that really got Lisa. Still reeling from the power of his kiss, she was jerked back to reality with a thump. ‘I do not sulk, and I meant what I said, Alex. I want a divorce,’

He absorbed her flushed and angry face with arrogant detachment. ‘No, you don’t. You simply want to punish me for that unfortunate occurrence last night.’

‘Unfortunate? I don’t think so! Quite the reverse. It was fortunate for me.’ Lisa flared. ‘It showed me what a lowlife I had married. And I want out.’

‘Lowlife. Out,’ Alex repeated, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. ‘No one talks to me like that. Not even you, my beautiful wife.’ He told her icily.

‘I mean i

Tags: Jacqueline Baird Billionaire Romance
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