“I arrived early.” She put her head on his chest and wound an arm around his waist. She could feel his chest muscles tightening under the shirt. “I missed you.”
He looked down at her head, surprised at how he liked the idea of someone missing him, but shoved the feeling away.
After Nicola, Markus found that having a business arrangement with a woman, making sure she knew the score, was far smarter than trying to have a relationship—or worse, falling in love. He wanted his women to do what he said, when he said it, and not feign love to get what they wanted from him or to fight him each and every step of the way. No emotional involvements or complications. It was easier—and safer.
“Come on in.” He smiled down at her and led her inside his office, nodding to Benedict, who was curiously watching their interaction, before closing the door. “You’re good at this.”
“Then I suppose you’re happy with my skills.”
More than happy. Markus forced his features to betray nothing of his feelings as he motioned for her to sit.
Hannah hated the position she found herself in. She felt like she was being slowly railroaded into a solution that could end up compounding the problem she’d set out to solve. But all her options were taken away from her by the circumstances.
“Water?” he asked. As she nodded, he poured water for them both and walked back to her.
It was tricky keeping her hair falling over the left side of her face, but the last thing Hannah needed was for Markus to see the bruises on her face. “Mr. Jones told me you wanted to talk about our…arrangement.”
“My main priority is my daughter: ensuring she is happy at my home and getting a good education. Getting her back from where she should never have left.”
“You mean…I won’t have to make it…real?”
“No, I meant you won’t need to have sex with me.” He smirked as he sat by her. “If you don’t want to.”
“But I will have to make it real,” she stated. “Kiss you and let you kiss me. Feign love…and all that.”
“One of the prerequisites of the position,” he confirmed. “It has to be convincing beyond any question. Do you want it?”
“I have no choice,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
“You always have a choice,” he growled, exasperated by her reticence and the way she acted like she had no interest in him physically. “You can walk away. But just be aware of what you’re walking away from: a lot of money.”
She raised her chin. “Not everything is about money.”
“Good.” He leaned back and crossed an ankle over a knee, trying to get a better view of Hannah’s averted face. “So—”
“Mr. Black—”
“Markus.”
“Markus,” she grudgingly conceded. “I have another request.”
“And what is it that you need?”
“An advance. I need five thousand dollars, and from tonight on, I’m yours.” She expected him to ask her what she needed that ungodly amount for, but he didn’t.
Markus smirked and sarcastically said, “And here I thought not everything was about money.”
“I have past due bills to pay and I have no job, not for lack of trying.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not everyone is as rich as you.”
His lips curled up at her outburst. Put me in my place. “Right. Let’s discuss your needs…and mine.”
Her nerves jangled and she brushed her hand over her face where the skin scraped away when Luciano had thrown her down.
It was then that Markus noticed the torn flesh on her temple.
His hands found her face before the act even registered on him. He tipped it up to the light and swept back the hair from the other side of her face.
Hannah saw his thin nostrils flare when he noticed the reddish and purplish swelling below her right eye that not even her heavy make-up could conceal.
“Who did this?” Even to his own ears the words hummed with barely suppressed fury. “Who put their fucking hands on you?”
He saw the fear in her eyes, the tremor in her chin before she pushed it behind a shaky smile.
“I fell,” she said. “I tripped—”
Rage vibrated up his spine. There was no telling just how bad the injury was under all that makeup. He pulled her up and guided her into his private bathroom.
“Markus—”
“Quiet!” He picked up a soft washcloth, dampened it, and cupped the base of her skull with one hand while the other swiped gingerly at her face.
Every time she winced, every time he saw pain in her eyes, every new mark that appeared, filled him more and more with rage to the point it was becoming impossible to breathe. Complicating his anger was his dismay at how suddenly he felt possessive about her. They hadn’t even signed the pre-nup yet, and yet here he was, acting like she was his to care for, protect, and avenge.
He cleaned her face until every last bit of makeup was removed and he could see that her left eye was a maze of red and purple and her mouth was split on the corner.
“Who did this?” It took all his strength to keep his touch gentle when he made her face him once more. “Tell me.”
“I told you. I fell.”
“Bullshit!” His snarl made her jump. “I know a man’s hands, Hannah.”
“Markus, please, don’t.” She shook her head. “I came here to accept the job, not to discuss my private life.”
“From this moment on, your private life is mine.”
Life. Life is for others to live and for me to survive. “Fine. But from this moment on doesn’t include my past.”
His touch remained gentle, but Hannah could sense a building frustration that smoldered in him.
He intended to be severe. Yet, her skin was as smooth as warm silk and he couldn’t entirely suppress the desire to lean close enough to smell her flowery scent.
His fingers ran down her jaw, brushing against the scarf around her neck where Luciano’s digits were imprinted on her throat. A hiss left his mouth when he undid the scarf. Cold fire burned through his veins, a vicious and curious response to the bruises of a woman he barely knew and who would unofficially be his employee. “For God’s sake! What happened?”
She wanted to tell him all, but she didn’t know how he would react. She had always prided herself on being a sensible and level-headed woman. A stupid decision—just one—and it had all gone to hell. “From this moment on doesn’t include my past,” she repeated, almost as a request.
His hand fell away from her face. Goddamned stubborn woman. “So be it.”
Without another word, he went back to his office and brought back her bag. Putting it with a dry thud on the marble sink, he said, “You’d better pancake yourself up again.”
Hannah watched him leave the room, sighed, and shook her head at her reflection in the mirror. She washed her face, carefully applied the make-up again, and adjusted the scarf around her neck, making sure it concealed the bruises. With another deep sigh, she walked back to his office on leaden feet.
CHAPTER 6
“So, Hannah, what will it be?”
She eyed Markus, leaning against his desk. While he appeared to be relaxed, his muscles were taut. She approached him and stared into those dark eyes. “Do I take it or leave it?”
“Yes.”
Markus smiled a slow, sultry smile she had seen so many times before. She wasn’t fooled. This man wanted her. He was trying to stake claim to her with his animal magnetism. Even as she resented his confident expression, she was stirred by it. She stretched out her hand. “I take it.”
“A handshake?” He looked at her hand and his lips curled up. He put his hand on her waist and pulled her to him. Lowering his head, he whispered, “A kiss is more appropriate, don’t you think?”
And then he brushed his mouth over hers. A jolt of unwelcome awareness stiffened his body. Their lips were barely touching, but her heat seemed to burn a brand of need through him. He wanted to take her. To close that small spa
ce and wrap her so tightly in his arms that she couldn’t possibly escape.
The light caress was bittersweet and before he could deepen the kiss, Hannah broke it. “Thank you.” Why am I thanking him?
“We have a few things to set up.” Despite wanting to ravish her mouth, Markus stretched out his hand and picked up the phone receiver. “Thomas. Get Alicia here. I also need Michel from Goldman Sachs. To open an account. Yes, here. Now. Put Jones on the line. And also Janet, from Boucheron. Make an appointment for Ms. Kristensen with Dr. Hanssen. At my apartment. If he can see her today, good. If not, first thing tomorrow morning. Put my mother’s Bergdorf saleswoman on the line. Yes. And please schedule an appointment with my mother’s hairdresser for tomorrow morning.”
“What is this army for?”
“Alicia is my PR. She will help you deal with the meddling press about us fortuitously meeting again, falling in love, and all this stuff.” He raised his hand and began ticking his fingers. “You will need a bank account and a credit card for your small expenses. An engagement ring.” He eyed her old battered Swatch and ticked another finger. “And a watch, earrings, some accessories. Jones will do the pre-nup and get a notary for us to sign it. Dr. Hanssen will fix your face and neck. My mother’s saleswoman will select clothes, shoes, bags, all the stuff a woman needs, and take them to my home later for you to choose. And, of course, a proper haircut, manicure, pedicure, et cetera, won’t hurt.”
Hannah looked down at herself and for the first time she felt the oppression of feminine doubt. “Is my appearance so…disgusting?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “My fiancée would never be dressed as you are.”
Hannah winced inside but raised her chin. “I am sorry if I don’t please you, Your Majesty.”
“No.” His eyes softened and he picked up her hand in his. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. But we must make this more than believable. We must make this a fairy tale, without the ashes and rats part.”
“So, you are my fairy godfather?” She raised her eyebrow at him. “You don’t quite fit the role.”
“More like your fairy husband…”
Hannah giggled.
That didn’t come out the way I intended. “I meant—”
“I know,” she said, smiling.
He smiled back at her, dazzling Hannah with his sensual grin. He took his iPhone from his suit pocket and tapping on its screen, said, “We can wed at my beach house, this way we make it small and avoid the press.”
Hannah swallowed. “Small? I thought it would be something…with just us. And a Justice of the Peace.”
“A fairy tale love story wedding should not take place in a registrar’s office,” he said. “We have to set a date. How about the…eighteenth of October?”
“That’s barely fifteen days away!”
He raised a black eyebrow at her. “We are so madly in love after finding each other again after all those years apart and we can’t bear to wait.”
I see. She shrugged. “Any day is good, then.”
“Excellent.” His eyes fixed on her for a moment before he looked down at his phone. “Any friends you want to invite?”
Friends? “No.”
“Any preferences for our short honeymoon?”
Venice. “We can spend the weekend at your beach house…or…” She shrugged. “Anywhere will do.”
Markus’s face closed and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Look, Hannah, I know it is not the dream wedding you probably imagined, but you don’t have to look as if you’re going to the guillotine.”
Almost. “Sorry.” Don’t antagonize the one who is offering you a way out of hell. She put her hand on her forehead. “I’m tired, Mr. Bla— Markus. Can we discuss this tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “But the sooner we are wed and set in a steady, happy married life, the sooner I can get custody of Victoria.”
“I understand.” She sighed. “It’s just…it has been a trying week.”
And you are being a selfish jerk, Markus. “Let’s set a few things in motion, then we’ll discuss the details.”
“Thanks.” And here you are thanking him again. She took a deep breath and settled back on the sofa. “Markus, I need to go home, pack, talk to my landlady, and…settle my debts.”
“Of course.” He took out his checkbook and pen from his pocket, but before he wrote the amount, he asked her, “Or should I transfer it to your account?”
“Cash.”
He closed the checkbook with a snap. “Hannah.”
“Markus, please.” She tried to cross her arms but the cast made it impossible. “I promise you that after this is settled, I am not going to bother you anymore.”
“You have a broken arm and a black-and-blue face and neck.” He grabbed the cast in his hand. “And you need five thousand dollars cash. What the fuck is going on?”
She raised her chin and stared stubbornly at him.
“This is the last time I am letting you keep a secret from me.” He picked up the phone again and ordered someone to bring the amount to his office in an hour.
“Thank you.”
His fingers ran over the cast covering her arm from her elbow to her fingers and he toyed with them for a moment. “I have a small daughter who is precious to me beyond life. I will not be putting her—or myself, for that matter—at risk because of you.” His voice was icy cold. “Are we clear?”
She pulled her arm back and almost told him to go to hell. It hurt that his demand to know what had happened to her wasn’t actually based on a concern for her well-being. Then she remembered Luciano’s hands on her. The lesser of two evils. “Crystal clear.”
“Good.” He looked at his watch. “Pack only the basics. I will arrange for a transportation company to transfer the rest. My driver will take you—”
A knock on the door interrupted him. “Enter.”
A thirtyish woman dressed elegantly in a red-and-black suit that screamed designer-made, which made Hannah even more conscious of her wrinkled suit, walked in. “Mr. Blackthorn, you called?”
“Alicia.” Markus took Hannah’s hand in his. “My fiancée, Hannah, and I, need your help with our wedding.”
“Congratulations!” Alicia smiled at them and sat in the armchair, opening her notebook and pulling a pencil from it, ready to take notes. “What can I do to help?”
“Hannah and I want to get married on the eighteenth of October.” He smiled at Hannah and put their joined hands on his thigh. “We can’t wait, can we, Hannah?”
Feeling his muscles tensing beneath her hand, Hannah smiled up at him. “You know we can’t, Markus.”
Satisfied with her answer, he looked back at Alicia. “It will be something very small in my house at Sagaponack. Around…a hundred guests.”
Alicia didn’t even blink at the very close date or the hundred guests, she just took notes which led Hannah to think she was accustomed to meeting impossible demands. “Will it be on the garden?”
“Good idea—”
“No.”
Both Markus and Alicia looked at Hannah.
I have always dreamed of marrying in a garden. “Er…on the beach?” she suggested, when she noticed his slight frown. “At sunset. Something informal and intimate…and romantic.”
“Excellent idea,” approved Alicia.
“Make a list of the best wedding services,” he said. “Hannah will discuss her ideas with you on Monday.”
“I’ll have everything ready. Anything else?” Alicia rose when Markus shook his head, and she smiled at them. “Congratulations, again.”
Hannah almost sighed in relief as Alicia left the room, ending the wedding talk for the day but she caught herself just in time. Come on. You will be working with—and marrying—the most handsome, sexy, rich, and coveted bachelor in New York. All you have to do is enjoy it.
Suddenly her future looked brighter than it ever had. She turned to Markus with a smile—a real smile this time. “Thank you, Markus! You won’t regre
t choosing me. I promise.”
I hope not. But he was already having his doubts.
“I’ll see you at six,” Hannah said, already calculating what she had to do and the time it would take to get the money to Luciano.
“Until then.” Markus bent and kissed her, gently pushing her into his Mercedes. He closed the door and said to his driver, “Donovan, Ms. Kristensen needs to settle a few things. Drive her wherever she needs and accompany her as if you were her bodyguard. She’s carrying a lot of cash. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
The driver nodded without questioning the strange order.
Markus stayed on the sidewalk until the car disappeared into Manhattan’s chaotic traffic, a pensive look on his face. You are crazy to marry that red-headed vixen to get Victoria back.
Yes, it was a crazy plan. A stupid plan.
It was his plan.
He pivoted on his heels and marched back inside Blackthorn Corporation headquarters, mentally listing what he had to do, because he would succeed, one way or the other.
He always did.
CHAPTER 7
1:30 p.m.
“Miss?”
Hannah blinked and raised her eyes to Markus’s driver, who was back in the room again after having carried her luggage to the car. “Yes?”
“Will that be all?” Donovan asked, his face impassive.
She looked around her rented room seeing it from the driver’s eyes. The small amount of furniture she had was shabby to say the least. The towels and bed linens were not worth keeping. Neither was the tiny refrigerator, microwave, coffee machine, nor the few kitchen utensils that were neatly stacked by the sink.
All her clothes and personal things fit in three pieces of luggage, which were already in the car trunk.
She put her mother’s photo in her bag and closed it with a snap. “Yes, that will be all.”
She wouldn’t miss the years she had spent there, and with the money Markus was paying her, she would be building a new life where those pieces would have no place. And she would be able to buy good new things after the year was up and her life was her own again.