LITMIR.BIZ

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EIGHT

      ‘I CAN’T HELP being curious to know what you know about my father,’ Grace admitted stiffly to her uncle on the drive to the register office.

      Declan Donovan studied his niece in surprise. ‘Virtually nothing, I’m afraid. Your mother refused to talk about him. Initially she said she was getting married but when that failed to transpire Keira had a huge row with our parents and cut us all off. I think she felt she’d lost face with everybody and it hurt her pride.’

      ‘So, you never met him?’

      ‘No, they had a bad break-up and after that we lost track of your mother for years.’ The older man shook his head with unhidden regret. ‘Keira was a troubled woman, Grace. I never understood her. Luckily she still had my address in her personal effects when she died, so the social worker was able to get in touch with me to tell me about you.’

      Grace flushed and looked away, wishing she had asked that same question years sooner. But she had been too proud to ask about the father who had deserted her and her mother. ‘It’s not important,’ she said with forced casualness.

      ‘It’s only natural that you would be thinking of your parents on your wedding day,’ her uncle completed gruffly and patted her hand.

      Leo stared as Grace entered the room and he wasn’t the only one. Their few guests copied him, their expressions ranging from admiration to awe and disbelief. Anatole, however, dealt his son an appreciative nod as if the stunning appearance of his son’s bride had set the seal on his approval. But then Anatole, Leo acknowledged wryly, had never wanted his son to marry Marina and had instead talked a lot of nonsense about Leo needing to seek a soul mate rather than a practical life partner.

      Her wedding dress was the colour of bronze with a metallic gleam, a long simple column that flattered Grace’s curves and small stature. In her vibrant hair, which was swept up to show off her slim white throat, she wore only a tawny-coloured exotic hothouse bloom. The pulse beating at Leo’s groin flared into disturbing activity, lust flaring when he least welcomed it. A primal surge of desire assailed him as her pale sea-glass eyes collided anxiously with his. She looked incredibly sexy and disturbingly vulnerable.

      ‘Money definitely talks, doesn’t it?’ Grace’s cousin, Jenna, remarked sourly. ‘That dress transforms you. It’s not very bridal though.’

      Grace pasted a smile to her tense lips, determined not to react. It had not escaped her attention that her aunt and her cousin resented the reality that Grace was becoming the wife of a very wealthy man. In any case, Grace’s attention had already strayed to Leo, tall and dark and devastatingly handsome in a dark designer suit. Her heart hammered, her tummy flipped. She sucked in her breath, striving to stay calm as he strode across the room, his irresistible smile slashing his beautiful shapely mouth.

      ‘You look stunning,’ Leo told her with a dark deep husky edge to his resonant drawl that sent a responsive shiver travelling down her spinal cord. ‘Let me introduce you to my father, Anatole.’

      ‘And your brother, Bastien,’ the older man slotted in hurriedly as a tall dark male with coldly amused dark eyes strolled up and disconcerted Grace by leaning down to kiss her on both cheeks Continental fashion.

      ‘Enough, Bastien!’ Leo grated, startling Grace with that eruption even more.

      ‘Was I trespassing?’ Bastien quipped, devilment dancing in his mocking gaze. ‘Leo never did like to share his toys.’

      Leo planted an impatient hand to Grace’s spine and spun her away from the other man. ‘Some day soon I’ll knock his teeth down his throat!’ he swore in a raw undertone.

      Upset that Bastien had described her as one of Leo’s ‘toys’, Grace flushed and murmured with quiet good sense, ‘Shaking hands would have been a little formal when I’m about to join the family.’

      ‘I only count my father as family.’ Angry colour scored Leo’s high cheekbones.

      In answer to his hostility towards his half-brother, Grace simply said nothing and instead turned back to politely address Leo’s father, who had been left hovering in discomfiture while his two sons squared up to each other.

      Matt approached her almost shyly. ‘I hardly recognised you,’ he admitted, and they talked about her decision to take a year out until it was time to go into the room next door for the ceremony.

      During the ceremony, Grace focused on the handsome flower arrangement on the table while listening carefully to the words. She would have preferred a church service but would not have dreamt of telling Leo that. He slid a ring onto her finger but he had not given her one to return the favour with and there was a small embarrassing pause as the registrar allowed them time to complete what was usually an exchange of rings. Clearly, Leo wouldn’t be wearing a ring, announcing to the world that he was ‘taken’, Grace reflected ruefully, wondering why that small detail should make her feel so insecure. Many men didn’t like wearing rings, she reminded herself.

      A light meal was served to the wedding party at an exclusive hotel. Grace glimpsed her reflection in one of the many gilded wall mirrors in the private function room and barely recognised the refined image of the woman clad in the sleek bronze sheath. At the beauty salon the previous day every part of her had been primped and polished and waxed and trimmed, all her rough edges smoothed away. She had seen Della and Jenna’s frowning surprise at her new image and she knew she no longer looked incongruous by Leo’s side. The cringeworthy fear that her lack of grooming could embarrass Leo had made Grace tolerate the various treatments and she accepted the need to at least try to fit into Leo’s world as best she could. Grace had always believed that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing well and that was the outlook she intended to embrace in her role as Leo’s wife.

      ‘If we’re leaving soon I should get changed,’ Grace whispered after she had drifted once round the small dance floor in the circle of Leo’s arms, every inch of her treacherous body humming at the hard stirring contact with his.

      ‘There’s no need for you to change. We should head to the airport now,’ Leo told her calmly. ‘I’m determined to be the one to take that dress off you, meli mou.’

      Ready colour warmed Grace’s cheeks and within minutes they were walking out to a waiting limousine, having thanked their guests for sharing their day. Travelling with Leo was, she discovered, very different from going on a package holiday trip. There were no queues to slow them down. They were rushed through the airport and waited for the flight call in a private lounge where they were served with refreshments.

      ‘You still haven’t told me where we’re going,’ Grace reminded him.

      ‘Italy...I have a house there. It’s very private,’ Leo murmured huskily, running a finger across the tender skin of her inner wrist where a blue vein pulsed below her fine white skin, sending a current of awareness snaking through her veins. ‘Perfect for a honeymoon.’

      They boarded Leo’s private jet. The cabin crew greeted her. Grace studied the opulent leather seating and stylish fixtures with wide eyes before she took a seat. She glanced down at the ring gleaming on her wedding finger and breathed in deep and slow. She was Leo’s wife now but only because she was pregnant, she reminded herself staunchly as the jet took off. It didn’t do to forget that salient fact.

      A moment later, she was very much taken by surprise when Leo settled the file about her background down on the table in front of her. ‘I’m sorry my investigation into your background distressed you but you should know what’s in it and I’d like to get it out of the way now.’

      Grace paled, tense as a bowstring. She had planned to work up the courage to ask him for the file and she was relieved he had not pushed her to that point. Flipping it open, she began to read. It very quickly became clear that when she was a child she had only been told one side of her parents’ story—her mother’s. And her father’s side of the story was strikingly different.

      ‘Were you aware that your mother was an addict?’

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