feeling like an inmate at the world’s most exclusive prison.
I AM SO not ready for this, Daisy thought as just over an hour later she followed Rollo into the hallway of his penthouse on Park Avenue.
Everything was moving so fast.
Waiting in the lift, she’d half thought that the whole crazy plan might just dissolve in the face of reality. But Rollo had overseen all the arrangements with a quiet, indisputable authority. David had been escorted home and told to take a few days’ leave. Daisy’s absence had been explained by a hastily concocted plan involving a last-minute callback for a part at a theatre in Philadelphia.
Within minutes of agreeing to become his wife it felt as though time had sped up exponentially, so that one moment she’d been standing in his office and the next she’d been sitting in a sleek black limousine, moving smoothly through traffic towards the Upper East Side.
She might have started to panic sooner, only she had been so distracted by how it had felt when he’d kissed her that she had barely registered the journey. Instead she had simply sat in silence, replaying the moment when his lips had touched hers.
Gazing up, she felt her heartbeat slow. In his office she had just been grateful that Rollo had not called the police. But now that her panic had gone and she was standing in a hallway roughly the same size as David’s entire apartment she felt the same mixture of shock and doubt as an astronaut crash-landing on a strange alien planet.
It didn’t feel real. It certainly didn’t feel like her life anymore.
In front of her a huge chandelier made of crystal droplets cascaded down like a waterfall into the centre of the marble floor, while on the far side of the hallway a staircase wide enough for a car rose gracefully up to a galleried landing. But what drew her attention most were the three vast contemporary canvases on the walls.
Gazing at the one nearest, she frowned. It looked familiar...
‘It’s a Pollock. One of his earlier works.’
Her pulse jolted forward like a startled deer. Engrossed by her new surroundings, she had completely forgotten that Rollo was there. But her shock was quickly supplanted as his words registered on her brain.
A Pollock! Rollo owned an actual Jackson Pollock.
The thought blew her mind.
Theoretically, she knew he was rich, but this was a real work of art—the sort that fetched millions at auction. And it was in his hallway.
Hoping she didn’t look as gauche as she felt, she nodded nonchalantly. ‘David loves his paintings.’
‘Personally I find them a little busy. But these...’ he gestured casually towards the walls ‘...weren’t my choice anyway. My curator picked them. He thinks they have the greatest potential to rise in value.’
Tearing her eyes away from the paintings, Daisy frowned. ‘And that’s what matters, is it? That they make you money? Not that they give you pleasure?’
His eyes roamed lazily over her face in a way that made her squirm inside. ‘I find they’re usually one and the same thing. Shall we go in?’
Staring past him stonily, she took a shallow breath and nodded slowly.
Moments later, she felt her jaw drop as she walked into the open-plan living area.
The room was enormous.
But it wasn’t just the size of it that made her eyes widen. It was the opulence oozing from every corner. Glancing sideways, she noticed a beautiful oil painting of a woman gazing dazedly upwards at a colonnaded ruin. She looked mythical, possibly Greek or Roman. Maybe she had just stumbled across the place where the gods lived. If so, Daisy knew exactly how she felt.
‘Welcome to your new home,’ Rollo said softly. ‘I won’t give you the guided tour now, but this is obviously the living room and the kitchen is over there. In case you get hungry in the night.’
She could feel him watching her, gauging her reaction, but she barely noticed. Eyes flitting nervously around the room, she was trying to remember exactly why she’d agreed to move in with him.
It had seemed to make sense earlier. Move in, spend some time getting to know one another and then announce their engagement.
But what the hell had she been thinking? She couldn’t imagine living in this apartment, let alone living in it with Rollo, pretending to be his wife.
As though reading her thoughts, he shrugged his jacket off and, throwing it carelessly onto a huge cream leather sofa, met her gaze.
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘Will I?’
She glanced around nervously. Everything was so big and bright. As usual, after the end of a shift, she had changed into her own clothes. But her comfortable jeans and baggy sweatshirt made her feel as though she had shrunk. If she stayed, she might disappear altogether.
‘I should imagine so—’ he paused, his expression coolly assessing ‘—if you want to keep your brother out of prison.’
It was like a sudden icy shower.
Instantly her fear and doubt evaporated, replaced by a blinding flash of anger. ‘You really are a bastard,’ she said shakily. ‘Why would you even say that? I’ve said I’ll do this and I will. Just leave David out of it.’
Her muscles were quivering. He’d just blackmailed her into being his wife. That wasn’t normal and he knew it. Hell, he’d even admitted it back in his office. So why was he acting as though she was overreacting? As though she was making a big deal out of nothing?
She shook her head.
‘I don’t understand you. Doesn’t this bother you in any way? That we’re going to have to lie? And keep on lying to so many people? And not just tell lies but live a lie too?’
He raised his eyebrows in the way that she now knew preceded one of his hateful, mocking remarks.
‘You’ve spent all evening lying to me, Daisy. A few more months won’t make that much difference.’
Their eyes clashed. She swallowed hard, feeling trapped, hating him for the way he twisted everything to make her sound like the villain.
‘Don’t you have any compassion?’
‘Generally, yes. Specifically for you, no. You brought this upon yourself. You and your brother, that is. Besides, quite frankly, lies or no lies, I find it difficult to believe that living in a triplex apartment in Manhattan is going to be that much of a hardship for you.’
‘If you say so,’ she said stiffly.
It was clear she was wasting her time. She might be struggling with the decision they had made, but clearly Rollo was immune to the concept of guilt. And she couldn’t keep challenging him all night. Not without anger anyway, and her anger was fading, the adrenaline
