To Love, Honour and Betray Page 7

  “I know you too well,” she said. “I know the life you love. Traveling around the world, beating your competitors, buying expensive toys you barely take time to enjoy, any more than the women whose names you can’t remember. Keeping score with your billions in the bank.” She lifted her chin. “Am I leaving anything out?”

  His dark eyes were cold. “My priorities have changed.”

  “For how long? A few days? A week? How long will you last before you abandon us?”

  “Abandon?” he ground out. “You mean, how long until I let you rush into another man’s arms?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sick of your stupid jealousy!”

  “And I’m sick of constantly being told it’s impossible for me to be a decent husband, oh, no, not like some unemployed farmer who hangs on your every word. Too bad for you he’s not Marisol’s father!”

  It was the last straw.

  “Yes, it is!” Callie cried, blinking back tears. Grabbing her plate of quesadillas and rice—which indeed looked very poorly cooked—she yanked violently through the cupboards until she found a fork, then stomped across the kitchen. Stopping at the swinging door, she turned and yelled, “Three months can’t come soon enough!”

  Then with a sob, she ran upstairs, where she could eat and cry in peace with the one person in this world who still loved her—her baby.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Three months later

  IT HAD been a horrible three months of watching Eduardo be a perfect, loving, devoted father to their baby, who’d gone from tiny newborn to chubby baby who slept better through the night. Three months of being treated with distant courtesy as his wife. Three months of being tortured with memories, of silent hurt and anger and repressed longing by day—and haunted dreams at night. Three months.

  Over.

  Looking at herself in the bedroom mirror, Callie zipped up her silver dress, a slinky, strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline that emphasized her bustline. She put on the three-carat diamond stud earrings that matched the ten-carat diamond ring on her hand. Leaning forward, she applied mascara and red lipstick. Stepping back into crystal-studded high heels, she straightened. She stared at her own unsmiling image.

  It was like looking at a stranger.

  Callie thought of herself as plain and plump but the mirror now plainly told her otherwise. Her light brown hair was long and lustrous, blown-dry straight twice a week at the best salon on the Upper West Side. Her arms and legs had become toned and sleek from carrying Marisol and taking her on long autumn walks. She went to the park almost every day, rain or shine, eager to escape the penthouse, where she felt useless, trapped in the same house as a husband who did not care for her.

  But her transformation into his trophy wife was complete. She no longer looked the part of the farm girl, or even the secretary. She was Mrs. Eduardo Cruz. The oil tycoon’s unloved wife.

  But tomorrow morning, her three-month marriage sentence would be over. She and her baby would be free.

  Callie’s green eyes were pools of misery.

  Every night, she’d slept alone in his big bed as he slept in the guest room down the hall. Every day when Eduardo came home from work—earlier than he ever had, before dinner—his face lit up with joy as he scooped Marisol up in his arms. At night, when the baby couldn’t sleep, she heard him walking the halls, cuddling her against his chest, singing her to sleep in his low baritone. Callie had a million new memories that would always twist her heart, because after they divorced, she’d never see them again.

  Eduardo had been unfailingly courteous. He’d never brought up Brandon, her family, or any other subject that might cause an argument. Instead, every night as she sat beside him at the dinner table, he read the paper over dinner and kept the discussion to small talk. And her gaze unwillingly traced the sensual curve of his lips and shape of his hands, her body electrified with awareness as she breathed in his masculine scent and felt his warmth.

  He never touched her. All he expected of Callie was for her to take care of their child and occasionally accompany him to charitable events. As they were doing tonight.

  In the intimate world of New York society, the official Christmas season was kicked off in early December by the annual Winter Ball, which raised money for children’s charities across the five boroughs. Tonight was the last night Callie would wear an elegant gown and accompany Eduardo in his dashing tuxedo. The last night she’d have to look up at her husband and pretend her heart wasn’t breaking.

  Tonight was the end.

  Fitting that their marriage would end at a Christmas party, she thought dully. Just as it had begun with one. Tomorrow, as outlined by the prenuptial agreement, she would move out and Eduardo would begin divorce proceedings.

  Standing in front of her bedroom mirror, Callie exhaled. She didn’t believe for a single second that he’d been faithful to her. She knew him too well. He wasn’t the type of man who could go without physical release for a month, much less three. He must have had lovers since their marriage—but where? How? It tortured her.

  She put a trembling hand to her forehead. What did she care? Tomorrow, she’d be packing for North Dakota. For home. She missed her family. Sami. Her mother. Brandon. Even her father. She’d missed so much. Harvest. Autumn. Apple dunking and hot mulled cider. Thanksgiving with her father carving the turkey and her mother’s prize-winning pumpkin pie. But she’d been resentful and angry. She’d wanted them to call and apologize. They had the number. But they hadn’t called, and neither had she.

  But tomorrow, she’d go home. She’d noted the date in her planner and circled it with a black pen. This sham marriage would be over.

  No doubt Eduardo, too, had been watching the calendar. He’d done a wonderful job as a father but he must be exhausted, hiding his love affairs, working only nine hours a day instead of his usual sixteen, eating dinner at home every night. Honestly, she’d never expected him to last this long.

  Callie shivered as if she felt the cold December wind blowing through the canyons of the city.

  He’d never tried to touch her during their marriage, not once. They’d only had that single night together, the night they’d conceived Marisol. One perfect night, the fulfillment of all her innocent dreams. One night. And so much she would never forget. The sudden hot hunger of his gaze across the hotel ballroom. The warmth of his sensual lips as they kissed in the back of a taxi heading south on Fifth at a breakneck pace. The woodsy, clean scent of his black hair as he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom and how silky it had felt clutched in her fingers as he covered her naked body with his own. The low rasp of his breath as he cupped her breasts. His hard gasp as he pushed inside her. The sound of her own scream ringing in her ears as her world exploded like fireworks, like a million dreams coming true at once.

  Tomorrow, she’d go home and try to find a regular job. She’d face her family. She’d forget Eduardo. She had to; otherwise the rest of her life would be bleak …

  “Querida.”

  She whirled around. Eduardo was standing in the open doorway of the master bedroom, wearing a well-cut black tuxedo. He looked so devastatingly handsome that her heart lifted to her throat.

  His eyes were as black as his jacket. His dark, short, wavy hair set off his handsome, chiseled face to perfection. As he came into the bedroom, the muscles of his powerful body seemed barely constrained by the civilized, sophisticated tuxedo.

  He slowly looked her up and down, and his eyes seemed to devour her in the floor-length silver dress. “You look ridiculously beautiful,” he said huskily. “Every man will envy me tonight.”

  “Oh,” she said in shock, and blushed. She had no idea how to react. He’d never said such a thing to her before. On this, the last night of their marriage, she suddenly felt as awkward and self-conscious as if they were on a first date. “Thank you. Um. You, too.”

  He smiled. “I brought you a gift.”

  Pulling a black velvet box from his tuxedo pocket, he opened it in fro
nt of her. Her jaw dropped when she saw the priceless emerald and diamond necklace sparkling inside.

  She looked up with a gasp. “That’s—that’s for me? Why?”

  He gave a low laugh. “Do you really need to ask?”

  She bit her lip. “Is it like—a going-away present?”

  “No.” He shook his head then gave her a charming, crooked grin. “Think of it as an early Christmas present.” Setting down the box on the bed, he pulled the necklace from the black velvet setting. “May I?”

  Nervously she held up her long brown hair and allowed him to place the necklace’s heavy weight around her neck and latch it in the back, shivering as she felt his strong, warm hands brush against her nape. It was the first time he’d touched her in months, and it caused a tremble to rise from deep inside her. Moving away, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She put her hand over the green jewels sparkling in the light from the black wrought-iron chandelier.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said over the lump in her throat.

  Their eyes met in the mirror. The smile left his face.

  “Not half as beautiful as you,” he said in a low voice. “No other woman can compare.”

  He was standing behind her, so close their bodies could almost touch. Sensual need suddenly poured through her, so intense and deep that it made her knees weak. She closed her eyes.

  “Why are you being nice to me?” she choked out. “Why now? When it’s the end?”

  Coming behind her, he put his hands on her bare shoulders. “Who says it’s the end?”

  She felt the weight of his hands on her skin and breathed, “The prenuptial agreement.”

  Eduardo turned her around, and she opened her eyes. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. Feel its answering, unwilling fire in her own.

  Nervously she licked her lips. His gaze fell hungrily to her mouth. “You have to know what I want,” he said softly.

  His freedom, she thought unhappily. While as for her … The time of their marriage had only taught her to crave him again. To yearn. To want.

  “Of course I know,” she said, and tried to laugh. “It must have felt like the longest three months of your life.”

  He stroked her cheek. “It has.”

  She swallowed. “Three months of waiting, and waiting …”

  “Three months of hell,” he agreed.

  She exhaled, blinking back tears as all her worst fears were proven true. “Well, tonight it will end.”

  His dark eyes tracing her face, her cheeks, her lips. “Yes,” he said softly. “It will.”

  Shaking, she turned away, picking up her satin clutch off the bed. “I’m ready.”

  “Good.” His sensual mouth curved as he held out his arm. “Mrs. Cruz.”

  Breathlessly she took his arm. He led her downstairs to the penthouse foyer, where they bid farewell to Mrs. McAuliffe, who would watch their sleeping baby. Eduardo pulled Callie’s white fur wrap from the closet and placed it gently around her. She felt the weight of his hands against her shoulders and shivered, remembering last night’s dream that had felt so real, when she’d imagined his naked body over hers. With a tremble, she glanced down at his thick fingers spread across the white faux fur. Heat flashed across her body as she remembered the sensation of his fingertips against her skin. Shuddering, she pulled away as they took the elevator downstairs and went outside.

  “Good evening, Mr. Cruz, Mrs. Cruz,” the smiling doorman said, tipping his cap. “Have a wonderful night.”

  “Thank you, Bernard.” Eduardo put his hand on the small of Callie’s back, guiding her to the black limo waiting at the curb. Sanchez held open the door as she climbed into the backseat, exhaling as she pulled away. And yet, as they drove through the sparkling, snowy city, every inch of her body was aware of her husband beside her. She didn’t relax until the car stopped, and she could escape the tight space beside him.

  The Winter Ball was being held at a glamorous old hotel on the edge of Central Park. As Callie walked through the lobby on her husband’s arm, her fingers barely touching his sleeve, she looked up at the soaring, frescoed ceilings in awe. Cruz Oil’s Christmas party last year had been huge, but it was nothing compared to this, the most lavish social event of the season. As they entered the enormous ballroom, she saw a winter wonderland. White twinkling lights sparkled from black bare trees, in front of a white background illuminated with pale lavender light. Winter was Callie’s favorite season, December her favorite month, and she gasped with wonder at the fairy forest of white.

  Then the fantasy came crashing down as she saw the guests milling around them: gorgeous, skinny socialites and powerful men, the type who’d all gone to prep schools and Ivy League colleges, who’d come from the best families and summered together in Kennebunkport and Martha’s Vineyard. And who was she? Nobody.

  Back at the penthouse, Callie had felt pretty; but here, she felt chubby and awkward. Scrawny, tall models seemed to circle them like sharks, looking hungrily at Eduardo.

  “Do you know them?” she whispered, clutching his arm as he led her past them through the crowd.

  “Who?”

  “Those women who are staring at you.”

  He glanced over at the gorgeous supermodels. “No.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed. Was he telling the truth? Or just trying to spare her feelings? She felt an ache in her throat, wondering if he’d had affairs with any of them. If he hadn’t, he was probably counting down the moments until their divorce, marking out his future sexual conquests. And who could blame him? Three months without sex would be was a long time for a man like Eduardo.

  But not for her. Callie had only had one sexual experience in her whole life. And with the only man she’d ever wanted. She’d tried not to care, told herself their marriage was just a sham. But just the thought of him jumping into bed with any one of those gorgeous, hard-eyed women made her want to throw up.

  But Eduardo wasn’t looking at the models. He was looking at Callie. “Can I get you a drink?”

  Nervously she nodded, and when Eduardo brought her a cup of punch in a crystal glass, she gulped it down.

  “Be careful with that,” he said, sounding amused as he sipped his own Hendrick’s martini, garnished with a slice of cucumber. “It’s stronger than you think.”

  But Callie was tired of being careful. The punch tasted fruity and tart and sweet, with a little bit of bite. It tasted like temptation. Finishing it off, she held out her glass. “Please get me another.”

  He shook his head, looking down at her with dark eyes. “Take care, querida.”

  “I’m tired of taking care,” she whispered. “Just for this one night, I want to be reckless.”

  Eduardo gave her a slow grin. “As you wish.”

  Turning, he went toward the bar. When he returned, the intensity of his gaze flooded her with heat.

  “Here,” he said in a low voice, holding out her drink. Their fingers brushed as she took the glass, and she shivered.

  For weeks, he’d treated her with distant civility. She might as well have been one of his staff, the nanny who cared for his child. But tonight … Tonight he was looking at her. Really looking at her. As if he wanted to rip off her dress, kiss every inch of her skin, and make her lose her mind with pleasure.

  He left me, she reminded herself fiercely. I mean nothing to him. He only slept with me in the first place because I was convenient.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, taking the glass. “What’s this drink called, anyway?”

  His lips quirked. “It’s called a Rudolph.”

  “A Rudolph? Why?”

  “It’ll make your nose red and you fly all night.”

  “Oh,” she muttered. Ask a silly question. Knocking back her head, she drank deeply, aware of his gaze upon her face, her neck, her breasts. She kept drinking until the cup was empty, and she had no choice but to meet his eyes. His dark eyes caressed her face.

  “Have you ever had a hangover before?”

  �
�No.”

  “Want one?”

  She’d never experienced a hangover, but the idea of waking up with one tomorrow sounded appealing. It would be a welcome distraction from their impending divorce. “Maybe.”

  Music from the orchestra swelled across the ballroom and he held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

  Shaking her head, she looked toward the gorgeous cluster of supermodel-types on the edge of the dance floor, who were still watching Eduardo with voracious eyes. “Why don’t you ask one of them?”

  He frowned at her then glanced over before setting his jaw. “Why would I?”

  “They seem to know you.”

  “Lots of people know me.”

  A lump rose in her throat. “Why don’t we just end the charade? You don’t need to be so discreet. I know perfectly well that you’ve had lovers during our marriage.”

  His eyes turned sharp. “Who told you that?”

  “No one had to tell me. We haven’t been having sex, so I assumed …”

  “You assumed wrong.”

  For a long moment, they stared at each other.

  “Are you really telling me the truth?” she whispered, her heart in her throat. “But it’s impossible. There must have been someone else!”

  His dark eyes burned like fire. “So that is what you think of me.” His voice was low and terse beneath the rising music. “That while insisting on your absolute fidelity, I would cheat on you and betray our marriage vows?”

  “What else do you expect me to believe? I know you, Eduardo. There’s no way you’ve been celibate for the last three months, especially when women throw themselves at you! No man could resist that. Especially not—”

  “Especially not me?” he said with dangerous quietness.

  She shook her head tearfully. “You got what you wanted. Our baby has your name. Now all your friends have seen me, they’ll know you did the right thing by our baby, and they’ll know why our marriage didn’t last.”

  “Which is?”

  “Just look at me!” Starting to feel dizzy from the alcohol and the heat of the ballroom, she looked down at her overflowing curves in the tight dress then gestured toward him. “And look at you!”