A Game of Vows

“That’s the sum of it,” he ground out.

It made sense now. All fine and good for him to sweep in like a marauder and demand her cooperation. But all that sweeping was hiding very real problems.

And those problems meant she had a lot more power than she’d thought she’d possessed thirty seconds earlier.

Her lips curved into a smile, the heated adrenaline she always felt when presented with a battle spreading through her chest, her limbs. “You need me. Say it.”

“Hannah …”

“No. If I’m going to even consider doing this, you admit it. To me, and to yourself. You never would back then, but now … now I’m not a scared college student trying to hold on to my position at school.” She met his eyes without flinching. “Admit that you need me.”

“You were never a scared college student,” he bit out. “You were an angry one. Angry you’d been caught out and desperate to do anything to keep it secret.”

“Well, now you’re sounding a little desperate.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and cocked her hip to the side. “So, at least say please.”

His lip curled into a sneer, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He was weighing his options. “Please.”

She tilted her chin up and smiled, the sort of smile she knew would make his blood boil. “Good boy.”

The feral light in his eyes let her know that she’d just about gone too far. She didn’t care. He couldn’t screw up her day any more than he already had.

He didn’t move for a beat. She could see him, calculating, making decisions. For a moment she thought he might reach out and grab her. Take her in his arms and … strike her? Certainly not. No matter what Eduardo was, he wasn’t a monster. Kiss her?

That he might do. The thought made her stomach tighten, made her heart beat faster.

She saw him visibly relax. “A lot of confidence and attitude coming from a woman who could face criminal charges if the right words were spoken into the wrong ears.”

She put her hands on her hips. “But you showed your hand, darling,” she said, turning his use of endearments back at him. “I may be over a barrel, but you’re tied to me. If I go over the cliff, you’re coming, too. I might be stuck, but you’re just as stuck. So, let’s be civil, you and I, huh?”

“Let’s not forget who stands to lose the most,” he said, his voice hard.

She examined his face, the hard lines etched into it. Brackets around his mouth, creases in his forehead. Lines that had appeared sometime in the past five years, for they hadn’t been there back when she’d first met him. “I have a feeling you might have a bit more to lose than you’re letting on.”

“What about you? At the least you stand to lose clients, your reputation. At the most?”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. It was possible she could lose … so much. Everything. That she could face criminal charges. That she could find herself with her degree revoked. That she could find herself back in Arkansas in a single-wide mobile home that had a lawn with more pink plastic flamingos than it had grass.

She couldn’t go back to that. To that endless, blank hell that had no end. No beginning. No defining moments. Just an eternity of uncomfortable monotony that most people she’d lived around had tried to dull with the haze of alcohol or the high of drugs.

No. She wasn’t taking any chances on returning to that life. Not ever.

“Your point is taken,” she said. “Anyway … I can’t go and marry Zack now, no matter what, can I?”

“Not unless you want to extend your list of criminal activity.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone, Eduardo,” she said stiffly.

Eduardo surveyed the slim, cool blonde standing in front of him, arms crossed over the ornate bodice of her wedding dress. His wife. Hannah. One of the images in his mind that had remained bright and clear, no matter how thick the fog was surrounding other details, other memories.

His vision of her as a skinny college student with a sharp mind and more guts than any person he’d ever met, had stayed with him. And when he’d realized just how much of a struggle things were becoming with Vega Communications, it had been her image he’d seen in his mind. And he’d known that he had to get his wife back.

His wife. The wife who had never truly been his wife beyond her signature on the marriage certificate. But she was a link. To his past. To the man he’d been. To those images that were splintered now, like gazing into a shattered mirror. He had wondered if seeing her could magically put him back there. If she could make the mirror whole. Reverse things, somehow.

Foolish, perhaps. But he couldn’t get her out of his mind, and there had to be a reason. Had to be a reason she was so clear, when other things simply weren’t.

Thankfully, he’d managed to get his timing just right. And in his new world, one of migraines and half-remembered conversations, good timing was a rarity he savored.

“Does that make falsifying school records all right, then?” he said, watching her gray-blue eyes turn a bit more gray. A bit more stormy, as she narrowed them in his direction.

He personally didn’t care what she’d done to get into university. Back then, he’d selected her to be his intern based on her impeccable performance in college, and not on anything else. Clearly she’d been up to the task, and in his mind, that was all that mattered.

But he’d use every bit of leverage he had now, and he wouldn’t let his conscience prick him over it. Hannah knew all about doing what had to be done. And that’s what he was doing now.

“I don’t suppose it does,” she said tightly. “But I don’t dwell on that. I gave myself a do-over in life, and I’ve never once regretted it. I’ve never once looked back. I messed up when I was too young to understand what that might mean to my future, and when I did realize it … when it was too late …”

“You acted. Disregarding the traditional ideas of right and wrong, disregarding who it might hurt. And that’s what I’m doing now. So I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said, aware that no sincerity was evident in his voice. He felt none.

She was testing him, needling him, trying to make him angry. It had worked, but it wouldn’t divert his focus. She was his focus.

“So you think that makes it okay?” Her full lips turned down.

“I’m not overly concerned with questions of morality at the moment. I need to drag Vega back up to where it belongs.”

“How is it you’ve managed to let it get so bad?” she said, again, not hesitating to throw her own barbs out.

There was no way in hell he was talking about his shortcomings. Not now. Maybe not ever. It wasn’t her concern.

“We all have strengths,” he said tightly. “It’s the budget I’m having an issue with. Investments. Taxes. I am not an expert.”

“Hire someone.”

“I did. He didn’t do his job.”

“Basically, you didn’t notice that he was screwing up?”

The thought of it, of trying to keep track of that, plus the day-to-day running of Vega, made his head swim, made his temples pound. His breath shortened, became harder to take in. Panic was a metallic taste on his tongue.

Would he ever feel normal? Or was this normal now? Such a disturbing thought. One he didn’t have time to dwell on.

“I didn’t have time,” he gritted.

“Too busy sleeping around?” she asked.

“Different heiress every night,” he said, almost laughing out loud at his own lie.

“Better than toying with the domestic staff, I suppose. Or blackmailing interns into marriage.”

“Ours was a special case,” he said.

“Oh, yes, indeed. I suppose that’s why I feel suffused with a warm glow of specialness.”

He chuckled, gratified when Hannah looked stymied by the reaction. She wanted to make him angry. He wouldn’t allow it. One of the gifts of his head injury, one of the few. It had cooled his passions, and while that had been inconvenient in some ways, in others, it had proven valuable. He was no longer hotheaded. Usually. No longer impulsive. According to some, he was no longer fun. But he didn’t know how to fix that. He found he didn’t care anymore. Another gift.

“Well, it is your big day. Shouldn’t a bride feel special?”

She uttered a truly foul word and sat on the edge of the bed, the white skirt of her dress billowing out around her. Like an angry, fallen, snow angel. “Low.”

“Do you love this man? The one you were meant to marry today?” He found that did trouble his conscience, even if it was only a bit of trouble.

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

He shook his head. “Using someone else?”

“Hardly using him. Zack doesn’t love me, either. Neither of us have time for some all-consuming passionate affair. But we like each other. I like him. I don’t like the idea of him being stood up. I don’t like the idea of humiliating him.”

“More humiliating, I think, if he finds out his almost-wife has been lying to him. About so many things.”

She looked down at her fingernails. “Zack has his secrets. He doesn’t think anyone realizes it … but he has them. I can tell. And I know better than to ask about them.”

“And that means …”

“He would have accepted that I had mine. We didn’t share everything.”

“I doubt he intended to share you with another husband.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen now.” A brief expression of vulnerability, sadness, crossed Hannah’s features. And as quickly as he’d glimpsed it, it disappeared. Clearly, she had some amount of feeling for her lover, no matter what she said.

“Plans change.” As he knew all too well.

“I have to call … someone,” she said, her heart twisting.

“It’s too late to salvage the day.”

“I’m aware,” she snapped. “Just … give me a minute.”

She pulled her phone from her purse.

“Who are you calling?”

“My assistant. She’s in the office minding things since I’m away. Shelby?” Her tone turned authoritative.

She paused for a moment, her cheeks turning a dull pink. “I know. I can’t … I can’t go through with it. It’s complicated. And I can’t get to the hotel.” She gave him a pointed look. “Can you drive over and … and tell Zack?”

“Tell him what?” Eduardo heard her assistant’s shriek from where he was standing.

“That I’m sorry. That I wish I had been brave enough to do it differently but I can’t. I know it’s rush hour and it’s going to take forever, but please?” Hannah paused again.

“Thank you. I … I have to go.” She hit the end call button and rounded on him. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.” He wasn’t, not then. But this wasn’t about how he felt. This was about what had to be done. This was about trying to fix Vega. Trying to fix himself.

“Not really. But I promise you in the end you will be.”

“I doubt that.”

“Once everything is resolved I will give you permission to speak of your part in the resurrection of my family’s company.”

He hadn’t intended on giving her that much. The offer shocked him. He wasn’t usually spontaneous anymore.

“Really?” she asked, her expression guarded, but the interest in her eyes too keen for her to conceal entirely.

“Really. I promise, in the end, I’ll divorce you and you can crow your achievements. What I don’t want is anyone undercutting the business while it’s vulnerable. But afterward, say whatever you like, drag me through the mud, talk about my inadequacies. It’s only pride,” he said. Pride he’d had to give up a long time ago. He clung to what he could, but it was limited.

“You’ll really divorce me this time? Forgive me for not trusting you.”

“If you don’t move around like a gypsy, then you should get papers letting you know when everything is final.” The first aborted divorce hadn’t been intentional. Another side effect of the accident that had changed everything. But, this side effect happened to be a very fortunate one indeed.

“Fine. We have a deal.” Hannah extended her slender hand and he grasped it in his. She was so petite, so fine-boned. It gave the illusion of delicacy when he knew full well she possessed none. She was steel beneath that pale skin.

A smile curved his lips, satisfaction burning in his chest. “Good girl.”

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU made me buy my own ticket.” Hannah stood in the doorway of Eduardo’s penthouse, exhausted and wrinkled from travel, still angry at the way everything had transpired. She’d had short notice, and limited options. She’d had to fly economy.

An infuriating smile curved Eduardo’s lips. “I did. But I knew you could afford it.”

“Doesn’t chivalry dictate you buy your blackmailed wife’s plane ticket?” Hannah dropped her suitcase next to her feet and crossed her arms. The most shocking thing about Eduardo’s appearance had been his departure, with a demand that she meet him in Barcelona in twenty-four hours. And she could get there herself.

It had been a blow to her pride, and he knew it. Because she’d been forced to get herself to Spain. She’d been the one to board the plane. If he’d tied her up and thrown her into cargo she could have pretended he’d truly forced her. That she was a slave to him, rather than to the mistakes of her past and her intense need to keep them secret.

But there was nothing more important than her image. Than the success she’d earned. Than never, ever going back to that dark place she’d come from.

Because of that, she was a slave to Eduardo, and a coward where Zack was concerned. More than a day since their almost-wedding and she hadn’t called him. Of course, he hadn’t called her, which spoke volumes about the quality and nature of their relationship.

“I checked and there was no specific entry in the handbook about the most chivalrous way to force one’s estranged bride to come and do their bidding.”

“What’s the point of even having a handbook, then?” She let out a long breath and looked pointedly at the doorway Eduardo was blocking with his broad frame. “Aren’t you going to invite me into our home?”

“Of course,” he said.

They’d shared the penthouse for six months five years ago. They’d been the most bizarre six months of her life. Sharing a home with a man who hardly acknowledged her presence, unless he needed her for a gala or to make a show of togetherness at a family dinner.

It was a six months she’d done a very good job of scrubbing from her mind. Like every other inconvenient detail in her past, it had been chucked into her mental closet, the door locked tight. It was where every juicy secret belonged. Behind closed, difficult-to-access doors.

But now it was all coming back. Her fourth year in Spain, when she’d been accepted into a coveted internship at Vega Communications. Everything had been going so well. She’d started making connections, learning how things worked at a massive corporation.

Then one day, the boss’s son had called her into his office and closed the door.

Then he’d told her he’d done a little digging and found out her real name. That she wasn’t Hannah Weston from Manhattan, but that she was Hannah Hackett from Arkansas. That she hadn’t graduated top of her class, but that she had no diploma at all.

And then, with supreme, enraging arrogance he had leaned back in his chair; hands behind his head; humor, mocking, glittering in his eyes, and he’d told her that her secret would be safe.

If she would marry him.

That sickening, surreal moment when she’d agreed, because there was nothing in the world that could compel her to lose the ground she’d gained.

Eduardo stepped aside and she breezed past him, leaving her suitcase for him to handle. Things were rearranged. His furniture new, but still black and sleek. The appliances in his kitchen were new, too, as was the dining set.

But the view was the same. Cathedral spires rising above gray brick buildings, touching the clear sky. She’d always loved the city.

She’d hated Eduardo for forcing her into marriage. Had hated herself nearly as much for being vulnerable to him, for needing to keep her secrets so badly.

And then she’d moved into his home, and she’d started to think the forced marriage wasn’t so bad after all. It was so expansive, plush, and refined. Like nothing she’d ever experienced.

Secretly, shamefully, she’d loved it. As long as she could ignore the big Spaniard that lived there, too, everything was wonderful. Comfortable.

She’d made it into school, but she was still living on a meager budget. And Eduardo had shown her luxury she’d never seen before. She’d thought she’d known. She hadn’t. Her imagination hadn’t even scratched the surface of what true wealth meant. Not until she’d met the Vega family.

It had given her something to aspire to.

“Everything looks … great.” Surreal. She’d never gone back to a place before. When she left, she left. Her childhood home, Spain, her place in New York.

“Updated a bit. But your room is still available.”

“Haven’t had any other temporary wives in my absence?”

“No, unlike some people I think having more than one spouse at a time is a bit too ambitious.”

“Yes, well, you know it wasn’t my intention to have more than one,” she bit out, a sour feeling settling in her stomach. “Zack was decent, you know.” She eyed the open door, and her suitcase, still occupying their position in the hall. “He was one of the few truly good people I’ve ever met. I hate that I did this to him.”

“Have you been in contact?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you should …?”

She clenched her teeth. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Anyway, he hasn’t called me, and he didn’t come by my house, so, maybe he doesn’t care.” That actually hurt a little.

“If he thinks you’re missing, he may send out a search party. I didn’t think you wanted to publicize our marriage. Or rather, why you ran out on your wedding. It doesn’t matter either way to me.”

She swore and took her phone from her purse. “Fine. But Shelby did go and speak to him.” She bit her lip and looked down at the screen. Still no calls from him, and she’d been sort of hoping there would have at least been one. There was a text from Shelby.

“And have you heard from him?”

“No.” Strange. But she couldn’t really imagine Zack playing the part of desperate, jilted groom. Decent he was, but the man had pride. She opened the text from Shelby and her heart plummeted. “Zack wasn’t at the hotel when she arrived.”

“So he still hasn’t heard from you at all.”

She clutched the phone tightly against her chest. Eduardo was watching her far too closely. She needed a moment. Just a moment.

“Why don’t you bring my bags in?” she asked.

Dark eyes narrowed, but he walked over to the entry and pulled her bags just inside the door, shutting it behind him.

She bit her lip and looked back down at her phone.

“Scared?” he asked.

“No,” she muttered. She opened up the message screen and typed in Zack’s name, her fingers hovering over the letters on the touch screen as she watched the cursor blink. She really didn’t know what to say to him. “Nothing about this in the chivalry handbook?” she asked.

Eduardo crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the back of the couch. “I think we both have to accept that we’re on the wrong side of honor at this point in time.”

“Good thing I never gave honor much thought,” she said.

Except she was now. Or at least giving thought to what a mess she’d made out of Zack’s life. She growled low in her chest and shot Eduardo one last evil glare.

I’m so sorry about the wedding, Zack.

She let her thumb hover over the send button and then hit it on a groan.

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing really yet.” She pulled up another text window.

I met someone else. I—She paused for a moment and looked at Eduardo. If she’d been speaking, she would have gagged on the next word.—love him.

She closed her eyes and hit Send. Let him think that emotion had been in charge. She and Zack were both so cynical about love … he might even find it funny. That had been the foundation of their relationship really. Zack had wanted a wife, the stability marriage would bring. But he wanted a wife who wouldn’t bother him about his long working hours, and who didn’t want children. Or love.

They’d been so well suited.

“There. I hope you’re happy. I just ruined things with my best bet for a happy ending.”

“You said you didn’t love him,” Eduardo said.

“I know. But I like him. I respect him. How often do you get that in a marriage?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only ever had separate bedrooms and blackmail in my marriage. What excuse did you give him?”

“I told him how much I loved you, dearest,” she bit out.

He chuckled. “You always were an accomplished little liar.”

“Well, I don’t feel good about this one.”

“You felt good about the others?”

She truly didn’t know the answer. “I … I never thought about how I felt about it. Just about whether or not it was necessary. Anyway, I don’t lie as a matter of course.”

“You just lie about really big things infrequently?”

“Every job application has started with questions about college. Didn’t I get near-perfect grades at university? Didn’t I have a prestigious internship at Vega Communications? No lies. No one wants to know about high school, not once you’ve been through university.”

“And your fiancé?”

“Never asked many questions. He liked what he knew about me.” And neither of them knew all that much. Something she was realizing now that she was being haunted by her past. She and Zack had never even slept together. Not for lack of attraction. She’d been quite attracted to him, impossible not to be, but until things were legal and permanent between them she’d felt the need to hang on to that bit of control.

It was so much easier to deny her sex drive than to end up back where she’d been nine years ago. Being that girl, that was unacceptable. She never would be again.

“Lies by omission are still lies, querida.”

“Then we’re all liars.”

“Now, that’s true enough.”

“Show me to my room,” she said, affecting her commanding, imperious tone. The one she had gotten so good at over the years. “I’m tired.”

A slow smile curved his lips and she fought the urge to punch him.

“Of course, darling.”

This time, he picked up her bags without incident and she followed him into her room. Her room. Her throat tightened. Her first experience with homecoming. Why should it mean anything? He had replaced the bedding. A new dark-colored comforter, new sable throw pillows, new satin curtains on the windows to match. The solid desk she’d loved to work at was still in its corner. Unmoved. There was no dust on it, but then, Eduardo had always had a great housekeeper.

“This is … perfect,” she said.

“I’m glad you still like it. I remember you being … giddy over it back when we were first married.”

“It was the nicest room I’d ever been in,” she said, opting to give him some honesty, a rare thing from her. “The sheets were … heaven.”

“The sheets?”

She cleared her throat. “I have a thing for high-quality sheets. And you definitely have them here.”

“Well, now you get to live here again. And reap the benefits of the sheets.”

She arched a brow. “My fiancé was a billionaire, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I would expect you to find nothing less,” he said.

“I’m not sure how I feel about your assessment of my character, Eduardo. You express no shock over Zack’s financial status, or over the fact that we weren’t in love.”

“You’re mercenary. I know it … you know it. It’s not shocking.”

She was mercenary. If being mercenary meant she did what she had to to ensure her own success. Her own survival. She’d needed to be. To move up from the life she’d been born into. To overcome the devastating consequences of her youthful actions. And she’d never lost a wink of sleep over it. But for some reason, the fact that it was so obvious to Eduardo was a little bit unsettling.