Everything She Wants, Page 3

  "Thank you," he said once more, after having milked the experience of her caring for him to the limit.

  "You're welcome." He couldn't see her face when she said it because she'd already turned away. "I'll just be over here if you need me."

  Orion watched as she settled onto the extra bed and picked up the pen in her right hand. She no longer chose to recline on her side in a casual pose. Amy sat bolt upright as she worked through the puzzle, her right hand scribbling the answers into the little white squares. Feeling forlorn, he closed his eyes to shut out her rejection.

  From all appearances, he'd waited too long to let himself love Amy as a husband should. He'd thought he had time to get everything done so they could start over together.

  Chapter 6

  One week had passed since he'd been released from the hospital. Some foolish part of him had thought that once they were alone, he'd be able to talk to Amy and they'd work things out. He hadn't quite lost hope, but Amy wasn't making things easy on him.

  People were always stopping by the house. He'd never realized how many organizations Amy was involved with, or how many people she knew. Probably because he'd never spent much time with her to begin with since their marriage; therefore, he'd never had an opportunity to wait around for her company. But though he was spending all day in the same house as his wife, Orion was finding out just how much he could miss someone who was in fact right there.

  He could tolerate the homeless and abused animals charity people, the cancer foundations, and the scholarship funds people. He could even tolerate the lawyers, the journalists, and the publicity agents. The people he could least tolerate were the ones he couldn't just kick out of the house.

  Amy's parents, especially her father, rubbed him all sides of wrong. Her mother, Lucille Stewart-Brackenridge, acted as if Orion was unable to provide for his wife in the style and luxury that they had brought her up in. And her father, Richard Brackenridge, never failed to remind him through veils of civility that he was nothing but the offspring of a mid-rate investor who had bitten off more than he could chew when he'd embezzled too much and left a trail.

  As bad as his in-laws were, Orion's father was the worst. Brazen and unapologetic to the end, Joseph Ashley seemed to think that his son's wealth was a bottomless retirement fund for him. Not once had he asked why his son would go into business with the man who had threatened to lose the elder Ashley in prison. But, Orion had told him.

  Forty-five million dollars had disappeared somewhere between his father's real name and his Swiss alias. Unemployed, and - Orion guessed - unable to tap into the laundered funds because of the eyes of the law upon him, Joseph visited his son about as often as a man-about-town visited the gas station. Three or four times a week wasn't unusual, but Orion usually kept his visits limited to the office.

  However, with Orion's recent infirmity, Joseph had seen an opportunity to visit his son and daughter-in-law at home. He'd passed all sorts of comments to find out if he was the benefactor in his son's will. Orion had been simmering on a very short fuse the day he'd set his father straight on that issue. However, he'd still permitted his sole parent to visit him at the house. It wasn't until he'd caught Joseph pressing Amy for cash that he'd almost blown a gasket. Careful of the condition of his heart, Orion had informed Jacob and his security team that all three parents were banned from entering the premises. They were all stress factors, and as per his doctors' instructions, he needed to minimize his exposure to triggers.

  The next morning, he was in his study when he received a call from Richard.

  "I bought that house for Amy. You can't stop me from visiting my daughter."

  "Amy is fully supportive of the doctors' orders. And since the house is in her name, and the security team are employed by me, if you so much as set foot on the three feet of property between the fence and the main road, I will have you arrested as a trespasser." Then he hung up.

  By noon, Amy's mother was calling.

  "You can't stop me from seeing my daughter, you brute! See if I don't come through those gates this afternoon."

  "With all due respect, Lucille. If you ever visit this house again without an express invitation, I will not have you escorted off the premises. I will have you thrown off."

  Gasp! "My lawyers will hear about this. You are attempting to control my daughter by isolating her from her loved ones."

  "If you'd like to contact my wife to complain, may I suggest you schedule an appointment with her assistant?" And he hung up.

  About as slyly as a fox in a chicken coop, Joseph called not long after.

  "Son, I don't appreciate how you had those thugs of yours drop me off on the curb like an unwanted sofa."

  "That's interesting."

  "I wasn't trying to squeeze Amy, I swear. I needed gas to drive home."

  "Should have pressed your mouth to the tank of your car."

  "Rion! I taught you better than that. I am your father-"

  "You're right. You taught me to spend lavishly on women. But you forgot to teach me how to suck somebody dry. I was doing some research today. Do you know how to get rid of leeches?"

  "What? I don't see what -"

  "You cut them off. You've done your job well, dad. Now, consider us estranged."

  "Rion! Rion!"

  Click.

  "My mom just called."

  Orion turned his head to look over his shoulder at his wife. Dressed for dinner in green silk trousers, and a loose, painted silk blouse, she was the epitome of refinement. "Did she?" he asked mildly. All that big talk he had was a lie. He didn't know if Amy supported his decision to block their parents from visiting them at home. He wasn't certain about anything when it came to his wife; except that he wanted a chance to be a real husband to her. She deserved that much.

  "She said she spoke to you today," Amy announced, her hands idly juggling the cell phone back and forth.

  "She did."

  "She said you threatened to set the dogs on them."

  His brow quirked. "Did I?"

  "Mom also said you suggested she make an appointment if she wants to spend time with me."

  "I did."

  The phone kept dancing back and forth between her hands as she stared thoughtfully at the floor-tile three feet ahead of her. "Lyon would like to know if you'll be having dinner at home this evening, or if you'll be going out." Lyon was the housekeeper whom they had hired to replace the chatty Ms. Gloria.

  "Why?" he asked.

  She shuffled and turned to leave the room. "You haven't gone out in two weeks. I thought your friends might be missing you."

  "Amy," Orion murmured. When she refused to face him once more, he told her, "I am where I need to be."

  "So, you'll be having dinner at home this evening?"

  "I will."

  "I'll relay the message."

  When she reached the door, he stopped her. "What did you tell your mother?"

  "That I've got a half-hour opening for lunch next Friday."

  He smiled, and she must have sensed it because just then Amy looked over her shoulder and caught him red-handed.

  "Orion?"

  "Yes, sweetheart?"

  "Do we have dogs to set on unwanted guests?"

  "We will," he promised.

  Chapter 7

  Not once during three weeks of recuperation did Orion leave the house, unless it was to visit the doctor for checkups. He usually stopped by his office afterwards only long enough to make his presence known, and to pick up a few files. Then he was out again. On six occasions, he'd stopped for unavoidable meetings and executive conferencing. The deal that would net him nine million more in assets went through, and for the first time in a long time, he could breathe easy. But, there were another eighteen million that he would need to make before his devil's bargain with Richard Brackenridge was ended. From home, he worked reasonable twelve-hour days, but his wife seemed oblivious to the sacrifice he was making to spend more time with her.

&nb
sp; That night, seemingly an eternity ago, when Amy had come into his study to ask if he would be staying for dinner had been the start of many nights spent waiting for her to come home. If he didn't know her better, Orion might have been tempted to believe Amy was out with some better choice for a husband. She'd started staying out later, and later, sometimes arriving home at three in the morning. And, since he hadn't left their bed since he'd arrived from the hospital, he was never quite certain where she slept. It was an embarrassment to him that the only time he'd ever slept in the same room as his wife was that one night in the hospital room.

  He hadn't left their bedroom suite again after coming home. He'd slept on his side of the bed every night since, leaving her place undisturbed, and woken to find it remained the same way. Worried that she might start taking the pills again if she wasn't sleeping comfortably, Orion had soon begun prowling the house at night in search for her. The trouble was, Amy had countless rooms she could sleep in. He didn't always find her, but had discovered that it was easier just to check the security recordings to see if she'd returned to the house.

  It was the night of their one-year anniversary. Orion had made big plans to celebrate. He'd hired the chef from Café Lalique, a restaurant Amy had once sworn was her favorite, to prepare whatever her heart desired. He'd arranged for them to be served in the small conservatory, with slow jazz being piped through the concealed sound system. The tablecloths were chiffon and lace, because Amy's style was Old Hollywood glamour. He'd even bought her a tiara and written her a speech about how she was a beautiful princess in his eyes.

  He waited in the main living room, sharply dressed in a classic black tuxedo, for Amy to finish getting dressed. She'd be wearing something spectacular, because tonight was a special night for them. It was the start of their future.

  The bedroom door closed, and he looked up the short flight of stairs that divided the private rooms of this wing from the receiving areas on the first floor. This living room, where they sometimes crashed and burned miserably, was a part of their most private abode. Whenever she stood on the landing, ready to descend, he would always have that first unshared glimpse of her. With bated breath, Orion waited for his bride to cross the balcony, the click of her heels against tile muffled by the plush aisle runner.

  Then she was standing there - a vision in pale pink and silver tulle. Her being a model, he'd seen her wear some brow-raising dresses, but he thanked Heaven that she was not going out in this particular garment. Her body was encased in a sheer sheath dress, her tanned flesh peeking through beads that had been artfully applied to conceal what every man longed to glimpse. One shoulder was encased down to her elbow, as if someone had painstakingly attached each bead to her body, so sheer was the fabric. Below her knees, the dress flared wide like a ball gown in layers and layers of fabric that was lightly speckled with the occasional glittery bead.

  Her flaming red hair, a unique and natural color, was brushed and curled and braided into a complex style that draped over her bare shoulder. An ornate comb and her platinum and gold wedding rings were her only jewelry. Beneath smoky lids, she darted a glance in his direction, and Orion was reminded by her pale green gaze just why she never needed gems.

  "You look beautiful." His voice came out much hoarser than he'd anticipated. He caught her puzzled frown as she descended the stairs, but by the time he met her at the bottom of the steps she'd concealed it. "Is something wrong?" he asked anyway.

  Unthinkingly, she licked her ruby lips then swallowed. "Are you going somewhere?"

  He laughed. "Of course I'm going somewhere. It's our anniversary."

  Genuine shock passed over her face. "Our anniversary? Oh, yes. It's been a year already, hasn't it?"

  Orion swallowed. One eye ticked as he studied her suspiciously. "Are you trying to tell me you forgot our anniversary?"

  "Orion, I can barely remember we're married. We lead two separate lives. How am I supposed to remember an anniversary?"

  "It's our first one!" he snapped. "It's an important date."

  Amy's expression cooled. "I'm sorry, but if you remembered we were supposed to be celebrating together tonight, you should probably have reminded me of that fact months ago. Maybe made an appointment with my assistant," she snidely commented.

  His lips tightened at the barb. "Were you planning on going out dressed like that?"

  "As a matter of fact," she replied, turning away from him, "yes. I am going to the Rancher's Club Gala."

  "In that dress?"

  "In this dress. I'm already running late, so don't wait up. I might just stay at a hotel tonight."

  She was halfway down to the main floor when he said, "I'll go with you then. It wouldn't look right if we spent the night apart."

  Amy's gaze swept upward. For the first time in forever, she was looking directly at him: not hiding her feelings, but not giving anything away either. It was as if she didn't care how he spent the night. "I would advise against that. My table is already full, and you're not a rancher."

  "I need a ticket to the Rancher's Club affair."

  "Sorry, Orion. I think that gala's tonight. Besides… it's a closed event. You're not a rancher. It would be impossible to get you in."

  "I'm not paying you to tell me what is impossible," Orion snapped into the telephone. "I'm paying you to make the impossible happen."

  "And I'm telling you, it will take nothing short of divine intervention to get you into that event. You should-"

  "You should start praying then, either for a new client or a ticket for a seat at my wife's table. Got it?"

  "You should have just asked your wife. I heard she's one of the organizers of this event."

  "I'm not asking my wife, am I? Let me know now, Mario. Do I need a miracle-working publicist?"

  "I'll make it happen," Mario replied tightly. "But it's going to cost you."

  "Put it on my tab."

  Chapter 8

  "I've gotten you a ticket. It's not for a seat at your wife's table, but it's the next best thing. You paid three thousand dollars for it, and promised a sizeable donation to Above the Line Foundation."

  "Great!" Orion had been pacing the floor like an overused mop, back and forth, back and forth, while he waited for Mario to arrive. "I'll write a check. Who are they?"

  "Some group that helps to bring families above the poverty line. The gala's being held at the Club this year." Mario followed his client out the door and to the Bentley and driver that awaited him. "Don't get mad at me when you realize that you're dining with the devil tonight."

  "I don't care," Orion swore as he climbed into the car.

  An hour later, he did care. He now knew what Mario had meant when he warned that Orion would be dining with the devil. A better hint would have been to pluralize his hosts because his in-laws were nothing if not evil.

  In the forty minutes or so since Orion's arrival at the gala, he'd caught glimpses of his wife here and there. And not once had her parents missed an opportunity to point out that Amy was sitting, dancing, sharing a glass of champagne with Robert Callaghan. He knew that Bobby was Lucille's first choice as a husband for her daughter. Bobby was an oilman who just happened to own a ranch. He was wealthier, and better connected to the right people, but they had known each other all their lives. Bobby was also Orion's top rival. When they were children, he had been the one who used to snicker behind his hand at the Beast. The feud between the two men had started the day Orion had shown the tabloid to Amy and realized how much it hurt her to realize she wasn't a pretty princess in the eyes of the world. And it had continued all through the years afterward, especially during her teens, when Bobby had had a field day about the fact that Amy had yet to come into her own.

  Why Richard Brackenridge had literally forced him to wed his daughter, Orion couldn't say. The man doted on Amy, but he had always hated everything about Orion. But when Orion's father had proven himself to be exactly what they suspected he was, instead of letting the axe fall, Richard had give
n Orion an offer that might save his family's name and reputation.

  "Whatever falls from the father, falls onto the son," he'd told Orion on that fateful day. "If his name gets muddied, you'll never be able to redeem your own, no matter what you do, you'll always be his son."

  It had been ridiculously easy for Orion to get Amy to the altar after that.

  But keeping her was turning out to be the hardest work he'd ever had to do. Oh, she wouldn't divorce him lawfully, but Amy was acting as if they hadn't exchanged vows a year and six hours and twelve minutes ago.

  From the moment he'd walked into the room, Amy had been occupied. Either she was dining with Bobby, laughing with Bobby, or eating with Bobby. They made such a perfect couple; while he was left to sit and play nice with the two people on the planet who hated the very sight of him.

  "It's surprising that you're not sitting at Amy's table, Orion," Lucille purred with a little too much sugar in her voice for it to come across well. "This being your anniversary and all."

  Orion drew his gaze away from where his nemesis waltzed with his wife. "Perhaps I'm just so grateful to you for her that I decided to spend the night with you. Would you like to dance, Lucille?"

  Her head straightened like an alert peacock's. "I'm sorry, I was just about to go powder my nose."

  He should probably have responded with something like, 'What? Nonsense. You're beautiful as you are.' Orion let the moment pass. "Then, if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to go collect my wife from another man's arms."

  The other guests at the table tittered and chuckled at his very serious statement, but Orion didn't stop to explain that nothing he said tonight was meant jokingly. He was even more annoyed by that than anything else. Mario had thought he wasn't serious in his demand for a ticket. His in-laws had taken potshots at him for nearly an hour. His wife had pretended she didn't know he was at the gala. Bobby's hand was a little too low on her waist. He was holding her a little too closely. And drawing her a little too closely to the patio doors. The only person who'd take his wife to smell the roses was him!