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 been particularly good at friendships; her few girlfriends had found Tristan boorish and overbearing, and each of them had gradually moved on, with barely an e-mail or a text to see how she was doing. Gabby knew it was mostly her fault for constantly covering for her husband’s inadequacies. She had become what the experts called an enabler, a co-dependant. Tristan had been allowed to get away with his unspeakable behaviour because she had not been able to face the shame of facing up to the mistake she had made in marrying him. As a result she had become an adept liar, and, although it was painful to face it, she knew she had only herself to blame.
‘You didn’t have children,’ Vinn inserted into the silence. ‘Was that your choice or his?’
‘It wasn’t something we got around to discussing,’ she said, as she inspected the food menu with fierce concentration.
The waiter came and took their order for drinks. Gabby chose a very rich cocktail—more for Dutch courage than anything. It was what she felt she needed just now: a thick fog of alcohol to survive an evening in Vinn’s company.
Vinn, on the other hand, ordered a tall glass of iced mineral water—a well-known Italian brand, she noticed.
‘You’d better go easy on that drink of yours, Gabriella,’ he cautioned as she took a generous mouthful. ‘Drinking on an empty stomach is not wise. Alcohol has a well-known disinhibitory effect on behaviour. You might find yourself doing things you wouldn’t normally do.’
She gave him a haughty look. ‘You mean like enjoying your company instead of loathing every minute of it?’
His grey-blue eyes gave a flame-like flash. ‘You will enjoy a whole lot more than just my company before the ink on our marriage certificate is dry,’ he said.
Gabby took another gulping swallow of her drink to disguise her discomfiture. Her stomach felt quivery all of a sudden. The thought of his hands and mouth on her body was making her feel as if she had taken on much more than she had bargained for. She had held Tristan off for years—except for that one horrible night when he had… She swallowed another mouthful of her drink, determined not to think of the degradation she had suffered at her late husband’s hands.
‘You have gone rather pale,’ Vinn observed. ‘Is the thought of sharing my bed distasteful to you?’
Gabby was glad she had her glass to hide behind, although the amount of alcohol she had consumed had gone alarmingly to her head. Or perhaps
