Marrying the Enemy Read online

  Not just any guy: her husband.

  Who would be doing this to her on a regular basis if she let him.

  Marriage to the enemy wasn’t looking so bad after all.

  * * *

  Jax didn’t cuddle.

  He didn’t snuggle or linger after sex.

  He headed for the shower, dressed in record time and left.

  Not today. Today, he had his sexy, sated wife curled into his side, her arm draped across his torso, as if she intended never to let go of him.

  Worse, he kinda liked it.

  ‘Is it always that good for you?’

  He heard a hint of vulnerability in her curious tone and his first instinct was to lie. He didn’t want to label what they’d shared as special, didn’t want to acknowledge it had moved beyond good to freaking spectacular.

  Admissions like that bred a closeness he couldn’t afford.

  Then he made the mistake of glancing down, to see her staring at him with guileless green eyes still tinged with passion and his intention to lie faded.

  ‘No. What we just did? That was something else.’

  ‘Good.’ She nodded, her smile smug.

  He didn’t want to question why it was good because that implied possessiveness and a depth of feeling he didn’t dare question.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. This was what came of lingering after sex: questions he had no wish to answer.

  ‘You can ask, but don’t expect me to answer. I’m not the deep and meaningful kind.’

  ‘Bull.’ She raised herself and propped on an elbow, her probing stare focused on his face. ‘You hide behind that austere mask when inside you’re a big softie.’

  ‘What gives you that idea?’

  ‘Last night.’

  She pointed to her clothes strewn across the floor where he’d tossed them. ‘You carry me to bed, you take off my shoes, you tuck me in and let me sleep.’

  She touched his cheek with a fingertip. ‘The actions of a thoughtful guy. A guy who understood how drained I was yesterday and didn’t push me. A guy who let me sleep ahead of his own needs.’

  She blushed as the sheet tented.

  Personally he couldn’t be more relieved he was ready to go again, for sex would put an end to talking and the infernal questions he’d do anything to avoid.

  ‘So what I wanted to ask was why you do it?’

  ‘Well, it’s quite easy, actually. I have this thing called a libido and—’

  She didn’t laugh. ‘Why do you present a tough-guy front to the world when there’s obviously more to you?’

  Hell.

  What could he say?

  That tough guys didn’t get hurt when their dads ripped off friends and couldn’t care less about their sons who idolised them?

  That tough guys didn’t break down alongside their mothers when their fathers were sentenced to prison?

  That tough guys emotionally closed off deliberately to prevent the inevitable pain of trusting when the mums they adored absconded without saying goodbye and didn’t contact them for ten freaking years?

  No, he couldn’t say any of those things, so he settled for flippant.

  ‘Because tough guys always get the girl,’ he said, kissing her to prove it.

  And he kept kissing her, through another round of tantric, sensational sex, until they both forgot talking and questions and everything but the unslakable thirst for more.

  CHAPTER TEN

  RUBY set down her pliers, pushed her loupe up and inspected the completed bracelet with a critical eye.

  Twisted white gold with ruby and diamond inlays, the bracelet caught the light as she hooked it on her finger and turned it around slowly.

  Flawless. Classic. Elegant. Her signature, and she sighed with contentment, rolling her neck from side to side to unkink the knots.

  ‘Want a massage?’

  She jumped as Jax snuck up on her and placed his hands on her shoulders, kneading gently.

  ‘No, thanks, I’ve got too much work.’ He pressed into her sore spots and she moaned, making a mockery of her refusal. ‘Yeah, right there.’

  Her head fell forward as he worked his thumbs into the tight pressure points, relieving her tension.

  ‘I thought I was a workaholic.’

  ‘Why, what’s the time?’

  ‘Midnight.’

  She bit back the urge to beg as he stopped and swivelled to face him. ‘When I’m in the zone I lose track of time.’

  He nodded at the bracelet. ‘That’s what you were working on?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  He picked it up gently, the bracelet looking ridiculously tiny in the palm of his hand. ‘You’re very talented.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Modest too.’ He smiled, something he’d done a lot more of since they’d arrived back in Melbourne two days ago. The momentous day she’d given him a key on the proviso he only dropped by when invited.

  So far, she’d resisted picking up the phone for a whole thirty-six hours, capitulating a few hours ago when she’d been pacing the showroom, unable to concentrate on work, unable to concentrate on anything bar trying to forget how addictive the sex was with her new husband.

  Their wedding night—technically morning after—had been stupendous and she’d deliberately kept him at arm’s length since. No point getting hooked on something when it wasn’t long term.

  ‘What’s next?’

  ‘My favourite.’ She slid out a black velvet pouch and tipped the contents into her palm. ‘Pink diamonds.’

  ‘Rarest diamond in the world.’

  She nodded, her breath hitching as he reached out a fingertip to touch them, grazing her palm in the process. The little zap of electricity shouldn’t surprise her, not after what they’d done in and out of the bedroom that morning at the B&B, but it did, the newness of their sexual compatibility a source of delight.

  ‘I’ve got a series of rings planned. Engagement and eternity.’

  His eyes clouded. ‘Speaking of which, you really need to wear one—’

  ‘I don’t.’ She curled her fingers over the diamonds and funnelled them back into the velvet pouch. ‘If people ask I’ll say you’re having one commissioned.’

  His lips thinned with disappointment she didn’t understand. Why would he want to brand her his so possessively when this marriage wouldn’t last?

  Rings were for gooey-eyed, blushing brides, not realistic, practical ones. Last thing she wanted to do was wear a fancy engagement ring when she’d be taking it off soon. It was hard enough just wearing the plain gold band for appearances.

  ‘Why won’t you wear one?’

  How could she explain without sounding like a romantic fool?

  She’d always envisaged designing her own engagement ring, something spectacular, an exquisitely cut pink diamond flawless in its perfection.

  She’d wanted it to be incredibly romantic, wanted the man of her dreams to go to any lengths to make her happy.

  Despite their sexual compatibility and mutual business deal, Jax Maroney wasn’t that man.

  ‘Because when a guy slides an engagement ring onto this finger I want it to mean something.’

  She wiggled the ring finger on her left hand and he recoiled as if she’d slapped him.

  Ignoring the hurt at inflicting unnecessary pain, she shrugged. ‘Don’t ask if you don’t want the truth.’

  ‘I always prefer the truth,’ he said, his tone low and ominous. ‘So here’s a healthy dose of it. I need people to believe this marriage is real and if you think for one second they’d think the best jeweller in town wouldn’t wear an engagement ring, you’re dreaming.’

  He picked up her left hand and rubbed his thumb over the shiny new gold band. ‘I’ve kept my part of the deal and stopped undercutting Seaborn Mine prices. Now it’s your turn to keep yours.’

  She ignored the sliver of heat working its way from her finger and up her arm. This wasn’t the
time to get turned on. This was the time to make a stand against a man used to getting his own way. Though she wouldn’t mind if he bossed her around in the bedroom...

  She eased her hand out of his, relieved yet disappointed when he let her go.

  ‘You’ll have your grand entrance into society at the end of this week with our reception. What more do you want?’

  For a long, insane moment, she wished he’d say ‘you’.

  He had that effect on her. In a short space of time, and though she barely knew him, he’d wormed his way under her skin.

  Like a prickly burr.

  His hand twitched, as if he were reaching for her again, before it remained by his side.

  ‘I want to take my business places it has never been and your cronies can give me that. So go ahead, set up your social shindigs, but you better make our marriage look convincing because if there’s one thing I do know it’s those parasites watch every step you take.’

  His bitterness chilled her. She should leave it alone, his obvious distaste against people who’d shunned him because of his dad. But the bleakness in his eyes cut through her curiosity and called to her on some deeper level.

  ‘How bad was it? When your dad went to prison?’

  He stiffened, his face a practised mask of impassivity. Nothing moved, bar the pulse at the base of his throat, the sensitive spot she’d discovered during their marathon session at the B&B.

  ‘Bad enough.’

  Two words devoid of emotion but fraught with unspoken need for approval.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  Her fingertips brushed his and he jerked back, sending her short-lived hopes for some kind of connection beyond the physical plummeting.

  ‘No.’

  He spun on his heel and headed for the door, where he paused to fix her with a frigid glare.

  ‘Don’t try to get too close to me. I’ve already told you I’m not that kind of guy.’

  As she watched his fast-retreating back, for some inexplicable reason, she wished he were.

  * * *

  When the elite of Melbourne threw a function, they headed to the Palladium at Crown Casino. Ruby had been to many balls there so it seemed fitting for a grand wedding reception.

  People would be shocked by her secret wedding so she wanted to go the whole way and stun the blinkers off them. A hard task but one she was willing to try.

  Jax hadn’t bugged her for details. In fact, he’d barely spoken to her all week since she’d made the mistake of trying to bond with him on a deeper level.

  He’d pulled all-nighters at work, refusing her one-off offer for supper, and to her annoyance she’d missed him.

  Impossible, when she barely knew him. Though he’d only used the key she’d given him once, the night he’d backtracked, a small part of her kept hoping he’d ignore her stipulation and drop by unannounced.

  How could one infuriating, obnoxious hotshot inveigle his way into her life in such a short space of time?

  She’d kept busy, designing settings for her precious pink diamonds and organising the party of the year. Due to the lateness, every invitation had been delivered express post with strict RSVP instructions of one day.

  Opal had been a trooper handling those while Ruby perpetuated the mystique, ignoring phone calls from curious acquaintances, deliberately hiding away in the workshop or apartment if they dropped by.

  Thankfully, her circle didn’t need an excuse to party and they’d lapped up the mystery, attending in droves tonight.

  She had a feeling that the moment she unveiled the reason for the party—or walked in on his arm, more to the point—they’d be abuzz for weeks.

  In a way, Jax got the easy end of this deal, a behind-the-scenes move easily made. She had the monumentally tough job of publicly convincing people he was the love of her life.

  What had she been thinking?

  Her gaze fell on the delicate pearl and white gold bracelet clasping her wrist and she knew.

  She’d been thinking about Sapphie, about Seaborn’s, about her mum and about herself being able to create many more gorgeous pieces like this one.

  She could do this.

  She had to.

  If she failed and Jax walked away, taking his precious deal with him... No, didn’t bear contemplating.

  ‘Ready to head down?’

  Jax stepped from the penthouse villa’s bathroom and her heart skittered, slid and landed with an embarrassing thud against her chest wall.

  One word sprung to mind as she stared at her husband. Divine.

  He’d slicked back his hair, bringing those mesmerising dark eyes into focus, the crisp whiteness of the dress shirt beneath his tux accentuating his tan.

  When he strutted into that ballroom in a few minutes, he’d have half the room convinced of his pedigree: the female half.

  ‘Sure, let’s do this,’ she said, smoothing down her indigo satin floor-length Grecian dress, hoping her palms wouldn’t leave streaks.

  Yeah, she was sweating that much.

  He stalked across the room towards her, the Melbourne skyline glittering in the background through the floor-to-ceiling windows. But the sparkle of city lights and the sky-high view couldn’t detract from the beauty of her husband pausing to snap a rose from a bunch in a vase and hand it to her with a flourish.

  ‘Nice move.’

  She raised it to her nose and inhaled, the sweet smell reminiscent of the damask rose perfume her mum had favoured.

  That was when the enormity of what she was doing hit. She’d be lying to her mum’s friends, people who’d respected and revered her, people who trusted her to live up to her mum’s memory.

  Oh, hell.

  ‘Hey.’ He tipped her chin up with a fingertip and she blinked before the tears burning the backs of her eyes could fall. ‘I saw that in a movie once, and thought you’d go for that sort of thing, not cry over it.’

  ‘Why would I go for it? Because I have ovaries?’

  He winced like a typical guy at the mention of women’s bits. ‘Because I think you’re a closet romantic.’

  The great thing about his sweeping assumptions, they’d distracted her from the urge to bawl.

  ‘Why’d you think that?’

  He released her chin and stepped back, waving at her gown. ‘You like fancy clothes and fancy jewellery.’

  He tapped the side of his nose, the first time she’d seen mischief in his eyes. ‘And I’ve seen your stash.’

  ‘Of?’

  ‘Chick-flick DVDs.’ He held his hand over his head. ‘This high.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘That first night you invited me up to your apartment? You were too busy flaying me alive to notice I was doing reconnaissance.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘James Bond, eat your heart out.’

  He chuckled. ‘Hey, I’m not the one who can sit through that lot of sappy nonsense. You must be a romantic.’

  She laughed and it relieved the tension, the sadness draining out of her.

  Sapphie had promised Mum to keep the company alive.

  Mum was gone.

  She would’ve understood Ruby perpetuating a marriage myth for the greater good.

  She snapped her fingers. ‘Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing at the office every night.’

  Confused, he raised an eyebrow.

  She jabbed a finger at his chest. ‘You’ve been working your way through my collection via Netflix. Let me guess, your favourite’s the one where they meet online and hook up—’

  ‘Marriage hasn’t changed my opinion.’ He snagged her hand and yanked her flush against him. ‘You still talk too much.’

  He stifled any further protests she might have been contemplating by crushing his mouth to hers and kissing her until she forgot where she was, who she was or why she was here.

  Several minutes later, with his bow tie askew and the satin bow on one of her shoulders under serious threat of unravelling, they broke apart. Chests heaving, breathing ragged,
bodies straining.

  She touched a hand to her mouth and her ruined lipstick. ‘People are waiting downstairs.’

  ‘Screw them.’

  He backed her up against the door, slid a hand under her skirt and proceeded to do the same to her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JAX froze on the threshold of the Palladium.

  Clammy fingers of foreboding strummed the back of his neck.

  Ice trickled through his veins.

  Indecision, potent and savage, strangled his resolve to stride into the ballroom and make people stand up and notice Jax Maroney was back and there wasn’t one damn thing they could do about it.

  Well and good to have resolve, but acting on it with hundreds of curious, judgemental eyes locked on him? Tougher than he’d expected.

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ Ruby squeezed his hand, sensing his wavering, her intuition scaring him as much as the crowd.

  No matter how many times he pushed her away, no matter how hard he tried to keep his distance, he kept coming back for more, drawn to her in a way that defied explanation.

  He didn’t want to get close to her. Didn’t want to see the admiration in her eyes when he’d walked out of the bathroom earlier, didn’t want to see the tears when he’d given her the rose on an impulse, didn’t want her asking probing questions or being sensitive or trying to understand him.

  He didn’t want to feel.

  Anything.

  Why couldn’t she leave him alone? Why did she have to keep digging, chipping away at his defences like a fanatical miner intent on finding gold?

  When he didn’t speak, the corners of her mouth pinched with worry.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Everything, he wanted to yell.

  You, these people, my lousy dad, my sneaky mum, marrying you.

  Everything was wrong but he’d suck it up, as he’d done before during the tough times in his life, and get on with it.

  ‘Nothing.’ He squared his shoulders, gripped her hand tighter. ‘Let’s give the performance of our lives.’

  And they did. For the next few hours, he forced polite smiles, shook hands and waxed lyrical about everything from garden parties to the Melbourne Spring Racing Carnival.

  People who’d shunned him years earlier and who’d avoided him at the Seaborn launch put on their game face and pretended to like him.