Page 27 of Brant
“You’re Indigo,” the woman murmured, blue eyes taking in the dress and calculating the cost, her gaze lingering on the necklace, particularly the large diamond pendant.
“I am, yes. How may I assist you?”
“You were at the party last week with Brant.”
“I was there with my husband.” She turned toward a shelf that held some water-colored glass vases and rearranged the display, just to give her hands something to do. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Could I speak to you privately?”
Indigo felt her heart lurching but managed to fix a smile on her face.
“Why? If you’re interested in purchasing…”
“I don’t want to buy your little trinkets,” she interrupted scornfully. “And if you’d rather I say what I have to say in front of all these curious people, then it’s up to you.”
“I don’t want you disturbing my paying customers. This way, please.” She led the way to the back of the store and into her tiny office. The woman dominated the space, with her expensive perfume and vibrant coloring. She was wearing a pink Chanel pantsuit that looked great against her vivid reddish-brown hair and soft white skin. The sheer white fur jacket was draped over one arm. “What is it?”
“He’s not interested in you.” Her eyes flashed fire. “I know you realize that I’m Bianca Sterling and that your husband and I were involved as little as six months ago.” Her eyes slid over Indigo scornfully. “He’s never going to stay with you. And if you believe otherwise, then you’re the biggest fool. I don’t know why he chose you, but whatever the reason is, he won’t stay.”
Every word the woman spoke was like a thorn tearing through her skin, because they were all true. Only the actress did not realize it. But she did. Oh God! She did. And it hurt like hell.
“If you have a problem with my marriage, then I suggest you take it up with my husband.” She managed to give a smooth response, even though she was burning up inside with despair and jealousy. “I have nothing whatsoever to say to you. And I have a business to run. It’s not my fault that he left you…” She paused for dramatic effect. “And I’m assuming that he did? Leave you,I mean.” From the bitter expression on the other woman’s face, she knew she was correct and took small comfort in that. “Like I said, I don’t owe you a damn thing, and if that’s all…”
“You’re not his type!” she hissed, teeth bared in a snarl. “He’ll come to his senses and see that he has made a mistake, and then he will come running back to me.”
Even though her heart was breaking into tiny pieces, Indigo managed a smile. “I can’t quite see Brant O’Keefe crawling after a woman, can you? Now, if you would excuse me, these bills on my desk aren’t going to pay themselves. You know your way out. Get the hell out of my office and my store, and don’t come back unless you have your credit card in hand to make a purchase.” She braced as the woman started forward, and issued a warning. “Honey, I’m sure you see my size and realize that I can break you like a twig if you lay a hand on me.”
Seeing the wisdom of retreating, Bianca lifted her chin in defiant scorn before turning on her heels and walking out.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Indigo leaned on the desk to relieve the weakness in her knees.
Chapter 8
He concluded his business in three days and decided to leave immediately instead of spending the week. He spent the nights tossing and turning on the very comfortable and firm hotel bed, unable to fall asleep. And when he did manage to close his eyes, dreams chased him. Dreams of the woman he was married to, dreams of her lying in his bed, naked and draped around him.
It was foolhardy to stay away when he was pining for home. The once familiar sights of Naples and Venice that had heretofore appealed to him brought him no joy. So, he concluded his business with the Italians and landed a significant contract with the successful dealership of some of the most luxurious vehicles in the world, including Lamborghini, Maserati, Fiat, and Alfa Romeo, among others. The contract was a multi-million-dollar one and would serve to cement his place as CEO of the company. His father had previously been in dialogue with the company before his death, but negotiations had stalled due to his untimely demise.
He had a binding contract in hand that he was taking home with him. Declining the invitation to celebrate at a party at one of the associates' homes, he decided it was time to return.
He had not fully decided what he was going to do yet. He had some half-formed plan inside his head as to how to approach the matter.
He had married her out of a sense of duty or pity for her situation. He had told her it would be mutually beneficial, and that had not been a lie. But now, things were different.
He had left with the intention of trying to get clarity and to put some distance between them so he could forget her. That had not happened, he thought wryly as he packed haphazardly. What his leaving had done was to highlight how much he missed her.
He was contemplating taking their arrangement to another level, a more intimate one, and that would complicate things. He saw no reason for them to be living like strangers, when they could be lovers. By all indications, she was attracted to him as well. Another important aspect was that they actually liked each other. He loved having a conversation with her. She made him laugh, and she was quite witty.
If the marriage did not work out… his thoughts ceased abruptly at that. If it did not work out? He sat on the edge of the bed in sudden confusion. What the hell was he thinking? That they should give it a chance?
Rising, he started to pace the length of the room as he wondered what this would mean. They would be married for real, which would include starting a family at some point. He hardly knew her. He knew her well enough. She was warm, giving, and lovely. She wasn't his type. What the hell was his type, and what did that have to do with anything?
He had been with dozens of women, not hundreds as the gossip rags had reported. And none of them had ever made him feel so alive. Certainly, none of them had made him want to have an actual conversation or to sit on a stool in the kitchen watching her make him breakfast. Before he met her, he had never been a part of that domestic scene.
He cared for her. She wasn't from his social circle. So bloody what? Most of the women he knew and had been involved with cared more about what he could do for them and how being with him could advance their careers. Indigo was the exact opposite.
Turning back to the bed, he resumed his packing and tried to figure out a way to convince her that the best course for them was to consummate the union. He had left abruptly after a shocking display of childish anger and compounded the problem by leaving a note, a very terse one. On top of that, he hadn't called her.
He would try and salvage the situation by bringing her a gift from the exclusive and highly expensive hotel gift shop. Then he would go from there. But it was time to put all this uncertainty and sexual frustration behind him by making love to her. With that in mind, he finished packing.
