Книга - A Contract, A Wedding, A Wife?

A Contract, A Wedding, A Wife?
Christy McKellen


What I need most right now is a wife… Solitaire Saunders will do anything to save her family’s café – even marry enigmatic billionaire, Xavier McQueen! It’s only meant to be temporary, until the pretence of being married starts to feel passionately real!







“What I need most right now is a wife.”

But can their convenient marriage turn into forever?

Solitaire Saunders will do anything to save her family’s café—even marry enigmatic billionaire Xavier McQueen! As his contracted bride, she’s there to secure Xavier’s inheritance—not to enjoy his delicious kisses... It’s only meant to be temporary, until the pretense of being married starts to feel passionately real!


Formerly a video and radio producer, CHRISTY MCKELLEN now spends her time writing fun, impassioned and emotive romance with an undercurrent of sensual tension. When she’s not writing she can be found enjoying life with her husband and three children, walking for pleasure, and researching other people’s deepest secrets and desires. Christy loves to hear from readers. You can get hold of her at christymckellen.com (http://www.christymckellen.com).


Also by Christy McKellen (#u60a464a9-05e9-5d18-bf7e-6dc857106109)

Unlocking Her Boss’s Heart

One Week with the French Tycoon

A Countess for Christmas

The Unforgettable Spanish Tycoon

His Mistletoe Proposal

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


A Contract, A Wedding, A Wife?

Christy McKellen






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07748-4

A CONTRACT, A WEDDING, A WIFE?

© 2018 Christy McKellen

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This one is for you, lovely romance reader, for choosing to spend your precious time reading my words.

I am truly grateful.

May you always have romance in your heart.


Contents

Cover (#u02191968-98d8-5d80-b091-73abe90c4856)

Back Cover Text (#u0dd950e3-939b-5003-a3a9-2fd81f6b15db)

About the Author (#u0d9d1596-52af-5132-96e7-241bf01a5a08)

Booklist (#u71f80da8-82ca-5afd-9df6-4f18b8eb1a90)

Title Page (#u85504163-b027-5bb9-b475-eedb25b9826e)

Copyright (#uda948bab-e960-588e-8831-ad7983036952)

Dedication (#u68a4c57f-5a86-5d13-bfda-0837e5f7744a)

CHAPTER ONE (#uede9c393-8016-59c6-953e-fce62df8bcca)

CHAPTER TWO (#u88e9846b-ecc4-5747-a190-f8aec932581d)

CHAPTER THREE (#uaaa47cd8-b1d0-5402-a48a-7ef6a43d2966)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u60a464a9-05e9-5d18-bf7e-6dc857106109)

Risk—a game of strategy, conflict and diplomacy.

HE WAS NEVER going to find someone suitable to marry at this rate.

Xavier McQueen let out an exasperated sigh as the woman who had seemed like his best hope—on paper at least—gave a firm and very final no to his admittedly completely barmy-sounding proposal before putting the phone down on him.

Apparently only being married for a year before divorcing wouldn’t look good on her dating CV. She was under the impression it could put off real prospects in the future because they’d be worried about her coming with baggage from such a short previous marriage.

Closing his eyes, he slumped back in his chair.

Three months he’d been wasting his time with this ridiculous endeavour and now he only had six weeks left before the Hampstead mansion where he’d lived for the last four years—the home that had been in his family for the last hundred and fifty years—would pass to his money-grubbing clown of a cousin.

Damn his great-aunt and her jeopardous eccentricity.

He thought she’d loved him—certainly more than his parents ever had—but this bizarre stunt she’d pulled with her will had made him wonder about that.

Shoving a hand through his hair and trying not to pull it out in his frustration, he stared out of the floor-to-ceiling window of his office, barely registering his view of the majestic Tower Bridge stretching out across the fast-moving River Thames.

He’d not wanted to widely advertise exactly what he was looking for in case it brought out the crooks and the crazies but that meant he’d quickly run out of people to ask to help him out. The problem was, the chosen candidate needed to be someone he could trust, as well as someone he’d be able to get along with, but all his good female friends were already married and he didn’t fancy taking his chances with any of his exes. A year was a long time to live with someone who detested the very sight of you.

The other two women, who had also been put forward as possible candidates by his friend Russell—the only friend he’d trusted with his problem—hadn’t worked out either. Not being able to have sex for a year hadn’t appealed to either of them. They’d both been looking for the real deal. Soul mates. An ideal he had no faith in whatsoever any more, not after being left humiliated at the altar five years ago by the woman he’d thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. His disaster of a non-wedding, which he now liked to think of as a near miss, had put paid to that ridiculous notion.

Nope, it was short-term, uncomplicated relationships for him from here on in. Or a purely business one like this needed to be, thanks to the bizarre demands stipulated in Great-Aunt Faith’s will.

Just as he was reaching for the glass of water on his desk to relieve his parched throat, there was a loud knock on the door and a petite woman with bright blue eyes and a riot of blonde curls walked purposefully into his office and placed a small basket of assorted cakes on his desk with a flourish.

He frowned down at them, then up at her. ‘I didn’t order any cakes.’

‘I know. They’re an excuse to get some face-to-face time with you,’ she said, folding her arms and looking down at him with a determined expression that made his stomach sink.

‘I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you for weeks but your PA keeps fobbing me off,’ she went on before he had a chance to say anything. ‘So I’ve been forced to take drastic action. On the other hand, I’ve brought you some really fantastic cakes. I made them myself. So it’s actually a win for you.’ She flashed him a half-smile that didn’t entirely convince him she was as self-assured as her spirited speech had made her seem.

He leant back in his chair again and studied her in bemusement.

She looked young, maybe early-to-mid-twenties, with a sweetly pretty face. Her abundance of curly blonde hair, which she’d tried to tame with an Alice band, stuck out around her head, probably due to the windy day. She surveyed him back with intelligent eyes, her button nose, which was scattered with freckles, wrinkling a little under his gaze. She seemed to him to have the air of someone who could cause a great deal of mischief if she put her mind to it.

As he scrutinised her she shifted on the spot and visibly swallowed as if rapidly losing her nerve in the face of his silence. It seemed her blustery, confident entrance had all been an act to get past the temporary PA sitting outside his office. Soon to be his ex-temporary PA.

‘And you are?’ he said with a sigh. He really didn’t need this extra hassle today; his nerves were already strung as tightly as they’d go and he had an important meeting in ten minutes which he needed to have his head in the game for.

‘Solitaire Saunders. Soli for short. That’s what everyone ends up calling me, anyway. It’s a bit of a mouthful otherwise.’

His eyebrow twitched involuntarily upwards.

‘Solitaire? Like the diamond?’

She gave a self-conscious grin. ‘No, like the card game. My dad was a huge fan of games. He set up our board game café on Hampstead High Street—in the unit we rent from your company.’

Board game café?

He was surprised anyone could make a living from a business like that, though, judging by the increasingly irate letters he now remembered receiving from the woman running the place—presumably this woman—after they’d notified her of the upcoming rent raise, perhaps she didn’t.

Despite his reluctance to get into this with her right now, he knew he ought to nip the issue in the bud while she was here in front of him. His executive assistant was fed up with having to field her constant phone calls asking to speak to him directly and he’d never been one to shy away from a legitimate business conflict when it reared its head. Its pretty, curly blonde head in this instance.

‘The trouble is, Soli,’ he said, splaying his hands on the desktop, ‘the market’s moved on a lot since you last signed the rental agreement a couple of years ago—’

‘Four years ago,’ she butted in. ‘And it was my father who signed it. I’ve been running it without him for the last three of them.’

‘Okay, I don’t have the exact details to hand right now,’ he said, trying to remain patient, ‘but I do know that the market’s moved even more since then.’ He lifted his hands, palms towards her. ‘We’re not monsters here, we’ve actually held back on increasing the rent on a lot of our property because we know how hard it can be for small independent businesses to survive in London, but we have to move with the times.’

‘You know how hard it is to run a struggling business, do you?’ she shot back. ‘How utterly heartbreaking it is when a once thriving business starts to fail? How demoralising that can be?’ Her voice rose on each question. She glanced pointedly around his plush office with its high-end furniture and enviable London view then fixed him with a challenging look, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink but the expression in her eyes unwavering.

He experienced a shiver of guilt, but knew he couldn’t let it get to him. Everyone he came across these days seemed to have a sob story to tell him so that he’d agree to charge them less money for the property they rented from his company. He couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way. This was business.

‘We live above the café,’ she said before he could form his careful reply. ‘If we can’t afford to keep the business going we’ll lose our home as well, but then I don’t expect you’d know how a threat like that feels either!’

If only that were the case.

He began to shake his head, but she took a step closer to his desk and put her hands over her heart, her cute little nose wrinkling again in a way that made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.

‘Is there any way I can persuade you to hold off for a little while longer?’ she asked in a voice wobbly with emotion. ‘Please. Just give me a chance to get a bit more business in.’

‘How do you intend to do that?’ he asked, genuinely interested. ‘Aren’t there a lot of other café options on Hampstead High Street?’

Her bold stance deflated a little. ‘Yes. Unfortunately there are. But they’re all chains owned by big corporations.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘We offer a more local, family-run atmosphere. And board games! Who doesn’t love playing board games?’

He shuffled a little in his chair. ‘Can’t say I’m a huge fan of them.’

‘You just haven’t played the right ones yet,’ she persisted. ‘If you come in you’ll see how much fun they can be. We have four hundred games to choose from. Something for everyone. We’ll even teach you how to play them.’

He shook his head, holding back the smile that was pushing at the corners of his mouth. Learning to play board games was the last thing he could imagine wanting to do with his precious time off. ‘As appealing as that sounds,’ he said, trying to keep the irony out of his voice, ‘that doesn’t tell me how you’re going to start making enough profit to pay your rent.’

‘I’m working on it,’ she stated, but her gaze wasn’t meeting his now; instead she was staring out towards the river, her hands clenched at her sides as if she was fighting to keep her composure. ‘I just need to find some time to do a bit of local advertising, update the website and post to the social media sites we’re on,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘Trouble is, I work long hours. I have a cleaning job at a gastro pub from seven thirty till ten, then I have to make the cakes and prepare the sandwiches we sell at the café, then we’re open from eleven till three. When we close I have to go shopping for supplies for both the café and the family and take care of anything my mum needs and then the café’s open again from five till ten pm. So there’s not been a lot of time for developing a high-concept business strategy.’

More guilt tried to shoulder its way in as she looked back at him with tired eyes.

He shook it off. This wasn’t his problem. He couldn’t allow it to become his problem either. He had enough of his own troubles to deal with right now.

‘Look, Soli, things are complicated for me at the moment and I’m afraid I don’t have time to deal with this today. I have an important meeting in a few minutes, so if you leave your contact details with my PA—’

She flinched at the hard edge he’d given his voice now, but didn’t move from where she stood.

‘Complicated? You think your life’s complicated? Beat this, buster.’ She pointed her finger at him. ‘I’m desperately trying to save the business my late father built from scratch, our family’s legacy, so I can afford to get my mother, who’s suffering with Parkinson’s disease, the care she needs whilst also trying to scrape together enough money to support my younger sister, who’s a brilliant mathematician with an offer from Oxford University, but who can’t afford to take the place there. And you’re making it even harder for me to do all that by raising our already extortionate rent. That’s complicated!’

The ensuing silence rang out loudly in the still air of his office.

‘Okay. Fine,’ he said resignedly when he saw a glint of tears in her eyes. ‘You win the “complicated” competition.’ He made a placating gesture. ‘But only just—believe me. My life isn’t exactly easy right now either.’

‘Look, is there some sort of arrangement we could come to here?’ she asked desperately, blinking back her tears and looking a little embarrassed about losing her cool. ‘Any sort of deal we could make which would give me a bit more time to try and turn the fortunes of the café around and make the money we need to afford the rent hike? I can’t lose the place. Not after all the love and hard graft my father put into it. It’s all we have left of him now.’ Despite her efforts, a single tear ran down her cheek.

He looked hurriedly away, frowning down at his desk. ‘I’ve already held back on rolling out the new rent and if I do it for you I’ll have to—’

‘Please. Have a heart,’ she broke in hoarsely, clearly aware she was losing the battle but seemingly not prepared to accept it. ‘I’ll do anything. I’ll come and work here for you when I’m not working at the café. I can type and make coffee, file things. Documents. Tidy up! I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our café running.’

The ring of hope in her voice clawed at his chest. He had to give her credit, she was certainly determined.

Or maybe just desperate.

His heart gave a hard thump. He knew what desperate felt like and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

‘Whatever it takes?’ he asked slowly, meeting her eyes again now. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but he had the strangest feeling there could be a solution here that he hadn’t quite hit upon yet.

‘Anything. Just name it,’ she said, her eyes wide with anticipation.

He sighed and shook his head. ‘The thing is, I have a PA already. There wouldn’t be anything for you to do here at the office.’

‘At your house, then? I’m a great cleaner. Fast and totally reliable.’

‘Got a whole team of those.’

‘Then what do you need? There has to be something.’

And there it was.

The idea.

But he couldn’t suggest that.

Could he?

No.

He shouldn’t.

‘Please,’ she whispered in a broken voice, tears brimming in her eyes again.

‘What I need most right now is a wife,’ he said roughly, losing the grip on his restraint as the idea pushed harder at his brain and compassion loosened his tongue. ‘At least, I need to find a woman that’s prepared to get married in the next few weeks and stay married to me for a year.’ Catching the expression of shock on her face, he silently cursed himself for letting that slip out.

She must think he was a total loony.

‘Are you serious?’ she asked in a faltering voice.

He sighed, feeling tiredness wash through him. ‘Unfortunately, I am.’

‘Why do you need a wife so fast?’

‘Like I said, it’s complicated.’

She surprised him by perching on the edge of his desk and fixing him with an intent stare. ‘Well, you listened to my problems; let me hear yours.’

His pulse stuttered. ‘I don’t think it’s appropriate—’

She held up her hands in a halting motion. ‘Just tell me. Perhaps I can help.’

He frowned at her, taken aback by her unexpected forcefulness. ‘I very much doubt it.’

‘Look, I won’t say anything to anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m good with secrets. Maybe it would help to say it all out loud. That’s what my dad used to do. He used me as a sounding board and often I didn’t need to say a word: he already had the answer; he was just having trouble accessing it.’

He took a moment to study her, trying to judge whether he could trust her not to blab to all and sundry once she’d left his office. The last thing he needed right now was for this to be circulated around social media or the Press. He was already taking enough risks talking to the women he’d approached so far and it could only be a matter of time before his luck ran out.

‘Go on. What harm can it do?’ she murmured, giving him a reassuring smile. There was something about her that encouraged confidences, he realised, and for some reason he felt, deep down, that he could trust her.

He sighed, deciding that he may as well tell her the whole sorry tale since she knew most of it already anyway. Plus, he didn’t really have anything more to lose at this point. And who knew, perhaps she could help in some way?

Stranger things had happened.

Getting up from his chair, he paced over to the window and stared out at the pleasure boats transporting tourists up and down the wide river. ‘My late great-aunt owned the house I live in at the moment.’ He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. ‘It’s the place I’ve considered to be my home for my entire life. It was meant to go to my father next, but he passed away a few years ago, so I’m next in line to inherit it,’ he said, glancing back to check she was listening.

She was. She gazed back at him with an open, interested expression, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

‘It’s been in my family since 1875, ever since it was built for my great-great-grandfather,’ he continued, turning back to look at the river again. ‘It’s the house where I spent all my holidays from boarding school and the home I intend to live in until I die.’ He paused for a moment, feeling his throat tighten as he remembered how he used to say it was the place where he and Harriet would always live, before—well, before his whole life was turned upside down.

Shaking off the tension this memory produced, he moved away from the window and sat back down on his chair.

‘In order to inherit the place, though, a covenant in the will states I have to be married within the next month.’ He tried not to grimace as he said it.

She nodded slowly. ‘Okay.’ Frowning now as if a little puzzled, she said, ‘Could I just ask—why the rush? Haven’t you known about this for a while?’

‘No. Apparently my great-aunt wrote it into her will a couple of years ago, but she was in a coma for eighteen months after suffering a massive stroke. I only found out about it three months ago when she passed away.’

He paused and swallowed, shaking his head as a wave of sadness at losing the woman he thought of as more of a mother figure than a great-aunt flooded through him. ‘I only inherit it if I’m married by my thirtieth birthday and remain married for at least a year, otherwise it gets passed on to my cousin, who is already married,’ he grimaced, ‘and the most immoral, wasteful, tasteless man I’ve ever met. He’d sell the place to the highest bidder in the blink of an eye.’

There was a heavy pause where he watched her eyes widen and her mouth twitch at the corner.

‘And before you ask, no, he wouldn’t sell it to me. We don’t exactly get on.’

‘I kind of gathered that from your description of him,’ she said with a smile.

He tried to smile back but he couldn’t quite muster the energy needed. Mirth was a hard response to summon when you were about to lose the only place in the world that really meant something to you. The place that held all your childhood memories and felt like an integral part of your history.

Your home.

He’d feel baseless without it, adrift, disenfranchised.

‘Well,’ she said, her eyes alive with what looked suspiciously like amusement, ‘that’s quite a conundrum you have there. It’s like something from a soap opera.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘And not a very good one.’

Rubbing his hand over his brow, he felt the tension this predicament had caused under his fingertips. ‘I’d have to agree with you.’

‘Your great-aunt sounds like a real character.’ Her eyes still sparkled with amusement but her smile was warm.

‘She was a little eccentric, yes.’

Crossing her arms, she peered down at him. ‘And I’m guessing no one you’ve asked so far has said yes to this rather unusual proposal?’

‘Correct. Not that there have been many suitable candidates.’ He leant back in his chair and mirrored her by crossing his own arms. ‘The fact we’d have to live together to make it look like we’re a real couple—apparently a solicitor will be deployed at random times to check on this,’ he added by way of explanation, ‘but not have a real relationship hasn’t exactly caught the attention of the women I’ve approached so far. I’m really only interested in getting married as a business arrangement; I’m not looking for true love.’

Her brow furrowed at this. ‘You don’t want to fall in love?’

‘No.’

There was a small pause before she asked, ‘Why not?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s just not for me, that’s all. Despite my great-aunt’s insistence that it was the best thing that ever happened to her, I don’t believe falling in love with someone can really make you happy.’ He sat up in his chair. ‘In fact, I think it does the opposite. It didn’t work out for my parents, or for a large population of the country, and I intend to learn from their mistakes.’

Not to mention his own near miss—though he wasn’t about to tell her about that humiliating experience.

‘Just out of interest, what does your temporary bride get out of this arrangement?’ she asked in a faltering voice, jerking him out of his scrambled thoughts.

There was a tense pause where they looked at each other and he weighed up what he’d be prepared to offer her if she meant what he thought she meant by that.

‘The candidate would be able to keep the rental cost on their property the same for the next five years,’ he replied slowly.

‘And would there be some sort of pay-out as soon as she’d signed the marriage register?’ she asked, her gaze intent on his now.

‘There could be, if it was a reasonable request.’

‘But she’d have to live with you,’ she appeared to swallow, ‘in your house?’

Noting the renewed flush of her skin, he could guess what she actually meant by that.

‘It would be a purely business arrangement,’ he reassured her, ‘which would mean she’d sleep in her own bedroom. There wouldn’t be any conjugal expectations. In fact, it would be a totally platonic relationship, to avoid any complications.’

‘I see,’ she said, her shoulders seeming to relax a little.

Despite his wish to keep sex out of the deal, he couldn’t help but feel a little miffed by her apparent horror at the idea of sleeping with him. Was it really that off-putting an idea? He shook off his irritation, telling himself not to be an idiot. The woman didn’t know him from the next man, so of course she’d be nervous about the idea of any expected intimacy between them.

‘We’d also both have to agree not to have any sexual relationships outside the marriage, again, to avoid complications.’

‘Okay,’ she said without expression, not giving him any clues about her feelings on that one. Would that be a deal-breaker for her? She was an attractive, sparky woman and he guessed she must get plenty of male attention. There was something really appealing about her, especially when she smiled.

‘One of the other stipulations would be that she’d need to take my surname for the duration of the marriage,’ he said, pulling his attention back to the matter at hand. ‘It would just be for appearances and she could change it back again afterwards, of course.’

‘Afterwards?’

‘After the divorce. There’ll be a pre-nuptial agreement to sign so she won’t be able to petition for money or property during the legal severance of the marriage.’

There was a pause in which the air seemed to vibrate between them.

‘Oka-a-ay,’ she said slowly, her voice sounding a little breathy now.

He frowned, panicking for moment that she might be stringing him along for a laugh.

Before he could start to backpedal, though, she fixed him with a steady gaze, her lips quirking into a wide smile—triggering a warm, lifting sensation of hope in his chest—then took an audible breath and said, ‘I’ll do it. I’ll be your wife.’


CHAPTER TWO (#u60a464a9-05e9-5d18-bf7e-6dc857106109)

Monopoly—move around the board for the chance to collect money and new property.

SOLITAIRE SAUNDERS HEARD her father’s voice in her head as she gazed anxiously back at the man who had the power to turn the course of her and her family’s lives around with a mere nod.

‘Your tendency to run headlong into things without thinking is going to get you in serious trouble some day, Soli,’ her father’s voice warned her.

He wasn’t wrong.

She knew that.

But you’re not here any more, Dad, and I’m doing the best I can.

There was a chance, of course, that she was actually dreaming all this and would wake up at any moment in bed with her heart racing and her palms as sweaty as they felt right now.

But she really hoped that wasn’t the case.

In fact, she knew it wasn’t possible because when she’d actually rolled out of bed this morning, and been unable to eat her breakfast because her stomach was jumping around so badly with nerves and worry, she’d never felt so awake—and afraid. The pressure of her mum and sister relying on her to stop both their home and livelihoods from being swept out from under them weighed heavily on her.

So she was hyper-aware, sitting there now in her smartest clothes with her wild hair as neat as she’d been able to get it, that how well she performed in this meeting could change all their lives for ever, one way or another. What she hadn’t expected when she turned up here was to be confronted with such an unusual and nerve-racking way to do it.

This—this incredible stroke of luck—could be the answer to all her problems.

If she could handle it, that was.

As far as she could see, the most challenging thing about it would be having to see Xavier McQueen, property baron and high-society mover and shaker every day for the next year.

And be his wife.

The thought of living with this powerful, domineering stranger made her heart thump harder in her chest.

The guy was seriously attractive, with a lean but muscular physique which she imagined he kept looking that fit with regular trips to the gym. His face was angular, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, and he had light green, almond-shaped eyes, framed with dark lashes, which gave him a nerve-jangling look of stark intensity. And he had really good hair. Thick and shiny and the colour of melted chocolate. It sat neatly against his scalp as if it had been styled deliberately to do that by a master hairdresser at a top salon. Which, she mused, it probably had. Her fingers twitched at her sides as she fought a powerful urge to reach out and touch the soft waves, to see if it was as soft and smooth as it looked.

‘I have some non-negotiable demands if I’m going to do this,’ she said, a little more loudly than she’d meant to out of nerves.

‘I thought you might have,’ Xavier replied, with an ironic tinge to his voice. He had to be the most sardonic person she’d ever met. Throughout all their exchanges it had seemed as though he’d been having trouble taking anything she’d said seriously.

Still, he wasn’t exactly laughing now. In fact, despite his sarcasm, he was actually looking at her as if she might be the answer to all his problems.

‘Okay. If I’m going to be your wife for a year I need to know that my mother is being taken care of properly, so I’ll need to have a live-in carer provided for her while I’m away. She’ll be mostly okay during the day, but she’ll definitely need someone there overnight to help her get ready for bed and to get up when my sister’s not there. Which leads me on to the next stipulation. I also want you to pay for my sister’s tuition fees at university. She’ll get a job to cover her living expenses, but it won’t go any way towards the fees.’ Her heart was racing as she laid all this out, wondering whether he’d just tell her to get up and get out because she was being too greedy.

But he needs you, a voice in the back of her head told her, so front it out.

There was a long pause while he looked at her with such an intense gaze she felt it right down to her toes.

‘Okay, so let me get this straight,’ he said eventually; ‘you want a full-time carer for your mother, tuition fees paid for your sister, a stay on the rent on the café for the next five years and an as yet undisclosed sum of money as soon as we’re married?’

She swallowed hard, but held her nerve. ‘Yes.’

‘And how much were you thinking of for your lump sum?’

Shakily, she said an amount that she thought would cover the wages at the café for the next year as well as giving her some spending money which she could use for marketing or renovations to the café once they were divorced.

He surveyed her for a moment, his right eyebrow twitching upwards by a couple of degrees.

Soli held her breath, aware of her pulse throbbing in her head.

Had she blown it by asking for too much?

‘Okay. It’s a deal,’ he said finally. ‘But, considering you’ll be losing your wage from the cleaning job and you’ll have to employ someone to cover your position in the café, I’m prepared to give you an additional twenty per cent on top of that.’

Soli swallowed hard, his unexpected generosity bringing tears to her eyes.

‘As long as you agree to marry to me within the next month and spend the majority of your time in my home,’ he added quickly. ‘I don’t mind you visiting your mother and working part-time at the café, perhaps one or two days a week so you can keep an eye on it, but it needs to look as though the majority of your time is spent living there with me. Particularly in the evenings.’

‘So I can only work during the day?’

‘Yes. I’d like it if you were able to attend any work or social events at the drop of a hat. For that, I need you focused on your life with me as much as possible.’

She suspected that what he wasn’t saying out loud was that he wasn’t the sort of man to have the owner of a board game café for a wife and he didn’t want to have to explain himself to anyone.

‘So what will I do for the rest of the time?’ she asked as indignation rippled through her. What was wrong with working in a board game café? She really enjoyed it. It was sociable and kept her fit because she was on her feet all day.

He frowned, momentarily stumped by her question. ‘Perhaps you could work on that “high-concept business strategy” you haven’t had time for?’ He waved a hand. ‘I’m sure you’ll find plenty of things to do with your day.’

‘And what do you want me to tell people when they ask what I do for a living?’ she asked, still riled by her suspicion that he didn’t value her choice of livelihood. ‘What do the kind of women you normally date do for a job?’ she added, perhaps a little tetchily.

He rubbed a hand over his forehead, looking taken aback by the directness of her question. ‘Most of the women I’ve dated have either had a media job or been a doctor or solicitor.’

‘Well, I don’t think I’m going to convince anyone I’m a doctor or lawyer,’ Soli said, raising a wry eyebrow. ‘My sister got all the brains in the family.’

He frowned, apparently a little bemused by her now. ‘Okay, well, if you want to choose a different career for yourself, go right ahead. What would you have done if you hadn’t taken over the café? Do you have any burning ambitions?’

His question stumped her for a second. It had been a long time since she’d thought about doing anything but running the café. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly focused at school so I never expected to have a high-flying career. I liked designing clothes, but I did that in my spare time. My dad pressganged me into taking academic subjects to “give me a better chance in life”.’ She put this in air quotes, remembering with a sting of shame how she’d rallied against this notion, thinking it would bore her to tears to have a professional job in the future. All she’d wanted when she was in her mid-teens was to have a family of her own and perhaps make a living in some sort of arty career.

How naïve she’d been.

‘Well, why don’t you have a think about what you’d feel comfortable telling people you do? You’re a business owner; why don’t you go with that?’

She nodded slowly, her earlier irritation at his imagined snobbery subsiding. ‘Okay. Business owner it is.’

He nodded. ‘And what do you intend to tell your family about our arrangement?’ he asked in a careful tone.

‘I’m going to say I’ve taken a job as your live-in housekeeper, for which you’re going to pay me an exorbitant wage.’

He nodded, then pulled out his phone and began to type onto the touch screen, presumably making a note of her demands, and his, so they’d have something to refer back to should there be any issues in the future.

‘They’d buy that much more readily than the truth—that I’m marrying a total stranger,’ she added with a strange tingling feeling in her throat.

It felt so odd to say those words. Whenever she’d imagined getting married, which hadn’t been very often recently, owing to her life being too complicated for her to think that far into the future, she’d imagined herself meeting a guy, their mutual love of board games bringing them together, and dating him for a couple of years before moving in together, then him proposing to her out of the blue in some far-flung romantic destination, like Hawaii or Morocco, or maybe on a Mediterranean island whilst sailing through the clear blue water in a yacht.

They’d get married in a quaint little church with all their friends and family watching and throw a huge party afterwards, where they’d dance the night away together. Then, a year or two later, after they’d had some time together as a couple, they’d have kids, maybe three or four of them.

She’d always wanted a big family.

When she was younger, sitting bored and frustrated at school during subjects she couldn’t get a handle on no matter how hard she tried, she’d fantasised about what it would be like to be a mother. How she’d make her kids big bowls of hearty food, which they’d gobble down gratefully before going off to play happily with their toys, or do finger-painting with her at the kitchen table, laughing about the mess they were making together. Or she’d imagine ruffling their hair at the school gates and receiving rib-crushing hugs in return before they ran in, with her shouting that she loved them, which they’d pretend to find embarrassing but would secretly adore. Then later in the evening she’d tuck her sleepy, happy kids up into bed before spending the rest of the evening with her gorgeous husband, chatting about the day they’d had before retiring to bed together hand in hand.

That all seemed a million miles away now though.

It had been ages since she’d been on a proper date with anyone and even then they’d barely got to the kissing stage before her lifestyle and responsibilities had got in the way of things developing any further. She’d made it clear that her family came first and that had destroyed the chances of a relationship.

Not that she blamed her mother and sister. Not a bit. In fact, despite their difficult circumstances, she quite liked being the head of the family. The one that everyone relied on. It gave her a sense of purpose that had previously been lacking in her life.

Yes, anyway, it was a good thing that Xavier had insisted on a purely platonic relationship. It wasn’t like she had any time for romance.

‘How old are you, Soli?’ Xavier asked brusquely, jolting her back to the present.

A shiver of disquiet tickled down her spine. Was he worried she wasn’t mature enough to deal with this?

‘I’m twenty-one,’ she said, setting back her shoulders and fixing him with a determined stare. ‘Old enough to know my own mind,’ she added firmly.

His eyes assessed her for a couple of beats more before he nodded. ‘Okay, then. I guess that’s everything we need to discuss today.’ He put his phone down on his desk, arranging it so it sat parallel with his keyboard, before looking up and giving her his full attention again. ‘Look, I appreciate this is a lot to take in right now, so why don’t you go away and have a think about it, to make sure you’re comfortable with everything we’ve discussed? It’s a big decision to make and I don’t expect you to sign up for it until you’ve had a chance to check me out first.’

She nodded jerkily. Despite her bravado, she was actually glad of the chance to go and think about this away from his discombobulating presence, just to make sure she hadn’t overlooked something important. ‘Okay. I’ll do that. It really wouldn’t do to marry an axe murderer by mistake,’ she said, flashing him a jokey grin.

Ignoring her attempt at levity, he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a business card which he handed to her. ‘This has my personal mobile number and address on it. Give me a call when you’re ready to talk again.’ He paused and frowned. ‘But don’t leave it too long or I might find someone else to marry in the meantime.’

For a second she wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not. He didn’t seem to do smiling, at least not the kind that made him look as though he was genuinely happy. Cynical. That was what he came across as. And reserved.

She wondered fleetingly what had happened to him to make him like that, but pushed the thought away. It wasn’t important right now and she really shouldn’t allow herself to get emotionally attached to him anyway, not if this was going to work as a purely business arrangement.

‘Okay, thanks. I’ll get in touch very soon,’ she replied, taking the card from his fingers.

She shot him a tense smile, then got up from the desk on shaky legs and turned to go.

‘And Solitaire.’

She turned back.

‘If I find out the details of this proposition have been leaked to the Press I’ll know where to find you.’ There was a heavy pause before he added, ‘And you’ll find your business and your family swiftly evicted from my property.’

‘Understood,’ she said, then left the office of her potential future husband, wondering what in the heck she’d just got herself into.

* * *

Back at the café, she relieved Callie, who waitressed for them a lot and had kindly agreed to work an extra shift that morning so Soli could go to the McQueen Property office. Once she’d caught up with the daily tasks and served a sudden rush of customers, she sat behind the serving counter with her laptop and typed Xavier’s name into the search engine with trembling fingers.

She’d already looked him up before the meeting, of course, scouring the web pages for something she could use in her defence against him, but to her frustration had found him to be squeaky clean. At least at first glance. She needed to put in more thorough due diligence here though if she was going to commit to live with the man for a year. The last thing she needed was to find herself sucked into something she’d not anticipated and then couldn’t escape from without causing more harm to her situation.

But as hard as she looked, she couldn’t find anything that threw even the meanest of shadows over his reputation.

The only things that came up about him were on gossip sites, where they mentioned him in relation to the high-society women he’d had flings with over the last few years. The man appeared to be some kind of international playboy, always showing up at high-profile fundraisers and gallery openings with a different, instantly recognisable woman on his arm. He was like a character from one of the romantic novels she liked to gobble up like sweets for escapism from her busy, stressful existence. She’d never really believed such a person could exist in real life, but here he was, a living, breathing, alpha male business tycoon.

So he checked out okay online.

Picking up her phone, she called a friend who was a police officer in the Met and asked him if there was any way he could have a check around about Xavier, pretending she was doing it for business reasons concerning the café. Mercifully, her friend seemed to buy that and asked her to leave it with him.

She spent the rest of the day in a jumpy, nerve-filled state and was mightily relieved when her friend called her back in the early evening to let her know that nothing negative at all had come back to him with regard to Xavier, either personally or with his business. It seemed he was an upstanding citizen of the realm.

The only thing left to do now was to check out exactly where his house was using an online map app—just to make sure he wasn’t expecting her to live in some kind of broken-down hovel. Not that she expected to encounter that. Judging by the high-end furniture and breathtaking elegance of his office, she couldn’t imagine his house being a place she wouldn’t like to spend time in. She could have happily lived right there in his office if he’d asked her to, with that wonderful view over the water. It certainly beat the one she had from their living room window over the busy, vehicle-choked high street, or the one of the bins in their small back yard from the bedroom she shared with her sister.

Not that she was complaining about her lot. Home was where her family was and she’d been happy living here above the café with them. Staying in this flat had made her feel closer to her father somehow. She could still picture him sitting in the battered old leather armchair by the window after long shifts in the café, with a paperback resting on his knee and his requisite triple-shot black coffee on the small table beside him. He’d hated working at the bank and after twenty years he’d finally given up corporate life and they’d all downsized so he could run the board game café, a dream he’d had for years.

Sadly, he’d only worked there for five years before he died. Still, Soli was glad he’d had the opportunity to realise his dream. Ever since she’d lost him the café had become a symbol of hope for her, as well as a reminder that hard work and dedication paid off—something she’d been slow to learn in her younger years, to her everlasting shame.

Shaking off the guilt that always gave her a painful jab when she remembered how selfishly she’d acted in her teens, she got up from behind the counter to close up after the last stragglers made their way out onto the street, waving cheerily to her and calling their thanks. If only they had more regulars like them, the type that bought food and drink every hour as they played, the café would have some hope of survival.

She just needed to find a way to entice those types of people to walk through the door.

After locking up behind them and giving the floor a sweep and the tables one last wipe, Soli walked into the middle of the room and tried to survey it with objective eyes. Why weren’t people coming in as much as they’d used to? Sure, it was a bit shabby-looking now after years of wear and tear and it could probably do with a bit of sprucing up, but it had a friendly, comfortable aura to it, and didn’t people love shabby chic these days?

She hated the idea of messing with what her father had done to the café. He’d sanded and varnished the wooden tables himself, painted the walls, chosen the now slightly chipped crockery, and she couldn’t imagine any of it changing. It would be like wiping her father’s soul from the place.

She shuddered, hating the very thought of that.

No, she’d try advertising first, then think about any alterations they might have to make once the money was flowing in again.

Assuming they didn’t lose the tenancy in the meantime.

Taking a breath, she focused on calming her suddenly raging pulse. All she needed to do was marry Xavier McQueen and everything would be okay.

The utter bizarreness of that thought made her laugh out loud.

Shaking her head at the surreal turn her life had taken, she went to the till to make sure it had been cashed up properly, grimacing at the sight of the meagre takings for the day. Yes, something definitely needed to change.

Picking up her phone, she tapped in the number he’d given her. He picked up after two rings.

‘Xavier McQueen.’

‘It’s Soli.’

‘Hi,’ was all he said in reply.

There was a pause in which the weight of expectation hung heavily in the air.

‘So I checked up on you and it turns out you’re not an axe murderer,’ she quipped nervously.

There was a uncomfortable pause when he didn’t respond.

Okay, then. Jokes weren’t deemed appropriate right now. Wow, this guy was so businesslike.

Probably best just to get down to business, then.

‘So I’ve thought about it and I still want to go ahead with our deal.’

‘Great, that’s great.’ She could hear the relief in his voice. ‘I’ll arrange for a solicitor to draw up a pre-nuptial contract and another one that states the terms of our deal, which we’ll both need to sign.’ His tone was professional again now.

‘I’ll give notice at the register office that we want to get married but we’ll have to wait twenty-eight days before we can legally perform the ceremony. The closest one is near St Pancras Station, but I’m assuming you won’t have an issue with where the formality of it takes place.’ It wasn’t a question, she realised. ‘It’s not like we’ll be having a big celebration with friends and family,’ he added when she didn’t reply right away.

‘Er, no, that’s fine.’ The words came out sounding confident, but something deep in her chest did a strange, sickening sort of flip. This really wasn’t the way she’d imagined it happening. Getting married. But, as he’d rightly pointed out, this wasn’t meant to be a romantic event, it was a business transaction and should be treated as such. There was no room for any kind of emotional attachment. She’d make sure her real wedding, to the guy who loved and cherished her, was a big, exciting affair, with all her friends and family present. That one would be a cause for a true celebration. She just needed to keep that in mind when she signed the register. True love would come later in her life, when she finally had the time and energy to consider it a possibility.

‘Okay, good. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I’ve set it up. I’ll need some personal documents from you which I’ll swing by and pick up tomorrow, if that works for you?’

‘N-no problem,’ she stuttered, feeling suddenly as though her life was running away from her a little.

It’s not surprising; you’re getting married in a month.

A shiver of nerves tickled down her spine.

There was a lot to sort out before then, not least accepting the university place for Domino and finding a full-time carer for her mum, as well as giving notice at the gastro pub and hiring someone to cover her shifts at the café.

The mere thought of all the work and organisation ahead of her was exhausting.

This is for the family, she reminded herself as panic threatened to engulf her. And it’s only temporary.

In a year’s time her life would have taken on a whole new shape. She was doing this for all the right reasons and once she and Xavier were divorced she’d be free to fall in love and get married for real.

With that thought in mind, she told Xavier goodbye and hung up.

Trying to ignore the now almost overwhelming wave of nerves, she turned off all the lights in the café, hid a yawn behind her hand and trudged up the narrow staircase to the flat, first to check that her mother didn’t need anything, then to spend the next hour or so planning how best to kick-start the beginning of her brand-new life.


CHAPTER THREE (#u60a464a9-05e9-5d18-bf7e-6dc857106109)

Scrabble—choose your words carefully.

THEIR WEDDING DAY was glorious. At least the weather was, with the sun pouring in on them through the large picture widows of the register office as they stood at the desk reciting the lines they were asked to say.

The huge room, with its rows of chairs facing the desk, was eerily empty except for Xavier and Soli, the registrar, Xavier’s friend Russell—the only friend he’d confided in and who had drawn up the contracts in his other role as a solicitor—and one other witness, who was a complete stranger to them all. Xavier had approached him outside on the street, pretending that their second witness had been delayed in traffic, and offered him a wad of cash for half an hour of his time.

Glancing around the room, he remembered all too well the last time he’d been in a place like this as echoes of a clawing sense of shame and dread pricked at his skin. He’d promised himself he’d never set foot in a register office again and hadn’t attended a wedding since his own disastrous debacle. He’d actually intended to avoid them for the rest of his life, if at all possible.

But he hadn’t counted on his Aunt Faith’s iron-like will.

So here he was again.

At least this time the bride had turned up and actually married him.

Well, you got what you wanted, Aunty. I hope you’re happy now.

Soli, to her credit, didn’t say a thing about the lack of guests or the stranger signing the marriage register beneath her name. In fact, she’d seemed more than happy to let him deal with all the arrangements and go along with whatever he’d asked her to do. She’d told him it had meant she’d been able to focus fully on making the necessary arrangements for her family and the café before she came to live with him. Apparently her sister was off to live in Oxford over the summer to earn rent money at a job she’d found there before her first year began and her mother now had a full-time carer living in the flat with her. All thanks to his money.

Not that he resented it. It meant he was able to achieve exactly what he wanted after all.

In his experience, money always smoothed the way. It was the only thing he could ever really rely on.

‘Congratulations,’ the registrar said to the two of them once the ceremony had come to a close. She didn’t seem at all fazed by the lack of guests or the sombreness of the occasion, but Xavier guessed she must have seen it all in the course of her duties.

‘Thank you,’ he said, giving her a nod of gratitude.

‘Yes, it was a lovely service,’ Soli added with a barely discernible quaver in her voice.

He glanced at her, wondering whether she was having a moment of regret, but she just smiled back at him as if nothing in the world was wrong. He appreciated her professionalism.

He’d not really looked at what she was wearing when they’d met in the lobby only minutes before their slot because the registrar had come straight over to introduce herself then whisked them straight in, but as he surveyed Soli now he realised she’d made a real effort with her appearance today.

Her wild curls had been tamed into an elegant up do and she’d put on more make-up than he’d previously seen her wear, which accentuated her big bright eyes and full, rosebud mouth.

The simple cream-coloured sheath dress she wore exposed her slim, toned arms and flowed over her curves, drawing his gaze to the tantalising swell of her breasts under the thin fabric.

Hoping she’d assume he was looking at the small posy of flowers she clutched in front of her, he cleared his throat and raised his eyes to give her a tight smile.

Yes, she definitely looked the part. She was a very attractive woman and no one would find it strange that he’d chosen to marry her. At least on the surface. As long as she kept her mouth shut about the terms of the deal they’d worked out, his secret would be safe.

Hopefully there wouldn’t be many opportunities for their charade to be discovered anyway. He’d asked her to be ready to attend functions with him but he wasn’t actually intending to take her along to many. Just one or two, so it didn’t look odd if anyone checked up on them.

He’d already alerted his great-aunt’s solicitor to the fact he was getting married and had been told to expect spot checks in the next few months, just to satisfy her conditions. After a year the title deeds to the house would pass into his name.

Then he’d be free to live his life as he chose again.

One year wasn’t too long a time to maintain this farce. He could manage it.

‘Well, Mrs McQueen, now that’s over, shall we get out of here?’ he suggested once the registrar had departed, more than ready to leave the place now.

To his surprise Soli pressed her lips together and pulled a mock horrified face. ‘You know, I thought Solitaire Saunders was bad, but Solitaire McQueen?’ She raised both eyebrows. ‘My father will be dancing with glee in his grave.’

The sad edge to her voice gave him pause. ‘How did your father die? If you don’t mind me asking?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. I guess you should know now that we’re husband and wife.’ Taking a breath, she pushed her shoulders back a little, as if using the action to give her courage. ‘He was knocked off his bike by a guy who was texting whilst driving. He died instantly.’

A prickle of horror rushed up Xavier’s spine. ‘Ah, hell, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.’

There was an awkward pause while she blinked back the tears that had pooled in her eyes.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, smiling bravely. ‘I still miss him every day, but he’d want to know we were all getting on with our lives without him.’ She glanced down at the slim white gold ring he’d placed on her finger only minutes ago with an expression of incredulity on her face, then flashed him a wry smile. ‘I’m not sure what he’d think about me marrying a stranger though.’

‘I’m sure he’d approve if he knew you were doing it for the right reasons,’ Xavier pointed out.

Nodding, she let out a small chuckle. ‘Yeah, I’d like to think so. He always said I’d get myself in a knotty situation one day with my impulsiveness, but I don’t think this was quite the scenario he had in mind.’

Her cheeks had flushed an attractive shade of pink and he had the strangest urge to stroke his fingers across her skin and feel the heat he knew must be there.

Don’t be a fool, McQueen.

Instead he nodded jerkily in response to her joke, then gestured towards the exit. ‘Well, anyway, we should leave the room before the next wedding party arrives,’ he said stiffly, wishing he didn’t sound like such an uptight prig.

Giving her body a small jiggle, as if shaking off her melancholy, Soli nodded in agreement.

He marched ahead of her, trying to blank his mind of the way her voluptuous body had shimmied in his vision as he held the door open for her.

A hubbub of noise surrounded them as they entered the lobby and walked through a large group of people that had gathered there, presumably to attend the next marriage that was taking place in the room they’d just vacated.

Russell and the other witness appeared beside them as they made their way towards the exit. Xavier hadn’t noticed them slipping out while they were talking to the registrar, but he suspected Russell had suggested they made themselves scarce so he wouldn’t find himself having to answer any awkward questions.

‘Let’s go out to the front of the building and I’ll take a couple of photos of you both in your wedding gear, then we’ll see if we can grab a passer-by to take one with the four of us in it,’ Russell murmured into his ear.

‘Good idea,’ Xavier agreed, heading towards the large doors at the other side of the vestibule.

Once outside, they posed next to the register office sign while Russell fiddled with his XLR camera, which he stood on a tripod. Once it was set up, he directed them to stand closer together, with Xavier’s arm around Soli’s waist and her body pressed close to his. They shuffled awkwardly into the pose and Russell had just taken the first photo when a loud and uncomfortably familiar voice boomed out behind them.

‘McQueen? Is that you, old boy?’

Turning reluctantly, with his heart in his mouth, Xavier came face to face with the one person he really could have done without bumping into today.

‘Hugo. Good to see you. What brings you here today?’ he said, letting go of Soli and taking a deliberate step in front of her so she was obscured from Hugo’s line of sight as he shook the man’s hand.

‘A colleague’s getting married and I promised to attend.’ He leaned towards Xavier conspiratorially and cocked an eyebrow. ‘He’s on track to become my boss one day soon so I thought I’d do the smart thing and turn up today. Show willing, you know?’

‘Sure. I hear you,’ Xavier said. He knew exactly how these old boy networks worked. It wasn’t wise to snub someone who had the potential to either help your career or ruin it for you in the future.

‘Is Veronica with you?’ Xavier asked, a little panicked at the thought of having to save face in front of Hugo’s scarily perceptive wife as well.

‘No, she’s off on some girls’ retreat, lucky mare!’ he said loudly, adding in a jovial guffaw for good measure. It seemed Xavier’s attempt to hide Soli hadn’t been successful, though, because Hugo leaned to one side to peer past him. ‘And who is this, may I ask?’

Xavier swallowed down his exasperation. ‘This is Soli.’

She took a step forwards and held out her hand, giving Hugo a warm smile. ‘Solitaire McQueen,’ she said, as if happy to have the opportunity to test out her new name for the first time.

Bad timing, Soli. Very bad.

Not that she could have known that.

‘McQueen, you say?’ Hugo boomed, giving Xavier a confused glance, then looking towards where Russell stood with the camera. ‘Have the two of you—’ he waggled a finger between them ‘—just got married?’

‘Yes, just a few minutes ago,’ Soli confirmed, to Xavier’s chagrin.

‘Well. You are a dark horse, McQueen. We had no idea marriage was on the cards for you.’ Hugo’s confused frown deepened as he looked between the two of them.

‘No, well, it all happened very quickly,’ Xavier said, his heart sinking through his chest. ‘We’ve dated on and off for years but only recently decided we should make a proper go of it,’ he lied, silently begging his friend to take him at his word.

‘Really?’ Hugo said with a tinge of disbelief in his voice. ‘It happened so quickly you couldn’t even wait to invite your friends to the wedding?’

Damn. He was well and truly busted. He’d never hear the end of it from his old friends now.

‘Neither of us wanted a big do,’ Xavier said gruffly, feeling heat rise up his throat. The last thing he needed was Hugo and his old social group to find out he’d had to pay Soli to marry him in order to keep his family home. He hated the idea of that getting back to Harriet. His humiliation really would be complete then.

‘We thought we’d have a party for close friends and family some time in the near future,’ he said, deciding the only thing to do was to bluster his way through this.





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