LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘No, dear,’ her mother assured her. ‘Vinn brought some fruit and a couple of novels for your father to read by that author he enjoys so much. I must say Vinn’s grown into a perfect gentleman. Your father is right. You could do a lot worse—especially as you’re a widow. Not many men want a woman someone else has had, so to speak.’

      Gabby silently ground her teeth. If only her mother knew the truth about her ill-fated first marriage. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, and with another unnatural smile left.

      The St Clair mansion was situated on the waterfront in the premier harbourside suburb of Point Piper, flanked on either side by equally luxurious homes for the super-rich and famous. The views across Sydney Harbour were spectacular, and the house and grounds offered a lifestyle that was decadent to say the least.

      Gabby had moved back home two years ago, after Tristan’s death in a car accident, and although now and again she had toyed with the idea of finding a place of her own, so far she had done nothing about doing so. The mansion was big enough for her to have the privacy she needed, and with her finances still on the shaky side, after the trail of debts her late husband had left behind, she had decided to leave things as they were for the time being.

      The doorbell sounded right on the stroke of eight-thirty and Gabby was still not ready. Her straight ash-blonde hair was in heated rollers, to give it some much needed body, and she was still in her bathrobe after a shower.

      She wriggled into a black sheath of a designer dress she’d had for years, and shoved her feet into three inch heels, all the time trying not to panic as another minute passed. She slashed some lipstick across her mouth and dusted her cheeks with translucent powder, giving her lashes a quick brush with a mascara wand before tugging at the rollers. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in springy waves, and with a quick brush she was ready—or at least as ready as she could be under the circumstances. Which wasn’t saying much…

      Vinn checked his watch and wondered if he should use the key Henry had insisted he keep on him at all times. But just as he was searching for it on his keyring the door opened and Gabriella was standing there, looking as if she had just stepped off the catwalk. Her perfume drifted towards him, an exotic blend of summer blooms. Her normally straight hair was bouncing freely around her bare shoulders, the black halter neck dress showing off her slim figure to maximum advantage.

      It had always amazed him how someone so slim could have such generous breasts without having to resort to any sort of enhancement. The tempting shadow of her cleavage drew his eyes like a magnet, and he had to fight to keep his eyes on her toffee-brown ones. She had made them all the more noticeable with the clever use of smoky eyeshadow and eyeliner, and her full and sensual lips were a glossy pink which was the same shade as that on her fingernails.

      ‘I’ll just get my wrap and purse,’ she said, leaving the door open.

      Vinn watched her walk over the marbled floor of the expansive foyer on killer heels, one of her hands adjusting her earrings before she scooped up a purse and silky wrap. She turned and came back towards him, her chin at the haughty angle he had always associated with her—even when she was a sulky fourteen-year-old, with braces on her teeth and puppy fat on her body.

      ‘Shall we get this over with?’ she said, as if they were about to face a hangman.

      Vinn had to suppress his desire to make her eat her carelessly slung words. She meant to insult him, and would no doubt do so at every opportunity, but he had the upper hand now and she would have to toe the line. It would bring him immense pleasure to tame her—especially after what her fiancé had done to him on the day of their wedding on her behalf. The scar over his left eyebrow was a permanent reminder of what lengths she would go to in order to have her way. But things were going to be done his way this time around, and the sooner she got used to it the better.

      He led the way to his car and opened the passenger door for her, closing it once she was inside with the seatbelt in place. He waited until they were heading towards the city before he spoke.

      ‘Your parents were surprisingly positive about our decision to marry—your mother in particular. I was expecting her to drop into a faint at the thought of her daughter hooking up with a fatherless foreigner, but she practically gushed in gratefulness that someone had put up their hand to scoop you off the shelf, so to speak.’

      Gabby sent him a brittle look. ‘Must you be so insulting?’ she asked. ‘And by the way—not that I’m splitting hairs or anything—but it wasn’t exactly our plan to get married, it was yours.’

      He gave an indifferent lift of one shoulder. ‘There is no point arguing about the terms now the margin call has been dealt with,’ he said. ‘I have always had a lot of time for your father, but your mother has always been an out-and-out snob who thinks the measure of a man is what’s in his wallet.’

      ‘Yes, well, it’s practically the only thing you’ve got going for you,’ she shot back with a scowl.

      He laughed as he changed gears. ‘What’s in my wallet has just got you and your family out of a trainload of trouble, cara, so don’t go insulting me, hmm? I might take it upon myself to withdraw my support— and then where will you be?’

      Gabby turned her head away, looking almost sightlessly at the silvery skyscrapers of the city as they flashed past. He was right of course. She would have to curb her tongue, otherwise he might renege on the deal. It would be just the kind of thing he would do, and relish every moment of doing it. Although it went against everything she believed in to pander to a man she loathed with every gram of her being, she really didn’t see she had any choice in the matter. Vinn had the power to make or break her; she had to remember that.

      She had never thought it was possible to hate someone so much. Her blood was thundering through her veins with the sheer force of it. He was so arrogant, so very self-assured. Against all the odds he had risen above his impoverished background and was using his new-found power to control her. But she was not going to give in without a fight. He might make her his wife, but it would be in name only.

      Not that she would tell him just yet, of course. That would be the card up her sleeve she would reveal only once the ceremony was over. Vinn would be in for a surprise to find his new wife was not prepared to sleep with him. She would be a trophy wife—a gracious hostess, who would say the right things in the right places, and smile and act the role of the devoted partner in public if needed—but in private she would be the same Gabby who had left the score of her nails on the back of his hand the night before her wedding.

      The restaurant he had booked was on the waterfront, and the night-time view over the harbour was even more stunning, with the twinkling of lights from the various tour ferries and floating restaurants. The evening air was sultry and warm, heavy with humidity, as if there was a storm brewing in the atmosphere.

      Gabby walked stiffly by Vinn’s side, suffering the light touch of his hand beneath her elbow as he escorted her inside the award-winning restaurant. The head waiter greeted Vinn with deference, before leading the way to a table in a prime position overlooking the fabulous views.

      ‘Have you ever dined here before?’ Vinn asked, once they were seated and their starched napkins were expertly draped over their laps.

      Gabby shook her head and glanced at the drinks menu. ‘No, I haven’t been out all that much lately.’

      ‘Have you dated anyone since your husband died?’ he asked, with what appeared to be only casual interest.

      She still looked at the menu rather than face his gaze. ‘It’s only been two years,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m in no hurry.’

      ‘Do you miss him?’

      Gabby put the menu down and looked at Vinn in irritation. ‘What sort of a question is that?’ she asked. ‘We were married for five years.’ Five miserably unhappy years. But she could hardly tell him that. She hadn’t even told her parents.

      She hadn’t told anyone. Who was there to tell? She had never

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