The Bride Who Wouldn't (2 page)

His questions were rapid, his impatience mounting at the vague answers she gave. “So you didn’t know when you were going to get the second million?”

“No.”

“But you knew it was coming.”

“Yes.”

“And the third million would come when you divorced…” His fingers jabbed at a clause on the contract. “I am aware of marriages of convenience but even I am taken aback by the cold details of this contract—you agree to share his bed for four nights during your honeymoon in Paris? You agree to be affectionate towards him but only in public? The list goes on and on, so please don’t attempt to tell me this was about anything other than money.”

It had been, though.

She and Ivor had hatched this plan on their trip to Russia, when Kate had confided to Ivor the shocking state of her family’s business. Their trip had been about unearthing secrets and Ivor had told her one of his own. His playboy reputation now exhausted him.

Late one night, after an arduous day spent searching museums, Ivor had told her he had once known the love of his life and that the other women he had been linked with over the years had meant little.

“I doubt I’ll ever know the love of my life,” Kate had admitted and she had told him her dark truth.

Yes, in most parts of her life she had it together. She adored her career and had stepped away from the family business when she did not approve of their dealings, she had a close circle of friends, and was paying off her home. Yet she was frigid, a twenty-six-year-old virgin with serious issues, but she was determined to work on that.

The old man had merely smiled.

From there the plan had hatched for a sexless marriage.

She would be his wife for a year with no hint of scandal from either party. Ivor had laughed and said that if he slipped up then it would be a very expensive mistake.

Kate looked over to Isaak. There was no way she could explain how the contract had transpired for she would not be discussing her sex life, or lack of it, with him.

“You need to repay the money,” Isaak said. “The contract states that if the marriage does not go ahead, for
whatever
reason, then all monies are to be returned.”

“Surely it’s not my fault…” Kate’s breathing was starting to trip up her words. “Surely there’s a clause that covers this.”

“You signed the contract.” Isaak pointed out, although he too was surprised that something so basic had not been more adequately covered. “It states you are to pay back the money or a suitable arrangement can be made at my discretion…”

“Then we need to come to a suitable arrangement because I can’t give it to you.” Kate said. “It’s already gone.”

“That’s a considerable amount to have spent in…” he glanced at the date on the contract, “just over a week.”

“It went to my family’s business.”

“They know about this contract?”

Kate nodded and Isaak cussed in Russian under his breath at a family that would sell their daughter to an old man.

“Were all the payments going to them?”

“They were.” She closed her eyes for a moment in shame, not for herself but for her mother and brothers’ greed—their only reaction to Ivor’s death had been questions about money and how they were going to cope without the next instalment.

She looked at his nephew, here to recoup a million.

Did anybody care about the man?

“Why would you do this for your family?” Isaak asked.

“Duty.” Kate gave a tight shrug. “Obligation, guilt…”

Isaak shifted a touch uncomfortably, for the first time her words reached him in a place he knew well.

Isaak had every reason to loathe his father. He had made his mother’s and children’s lives a living hell and yet, now an old, very sick man, still living in Russia, the brothers paid for him to have the very best care in his final years, and when Kate spoke again this time it was Isaak who looked away.

“This arrangement gave me a chance to finally turn my back on them guilt free. I had decided that this was the last thing I’d ever do for them.”

Isaak swallowed; yes, he understood her language. “It doesn’t end that easily though.” He gave her a very tight smile. “I’m not talking about the contract.”

“I know!” Kate rolled her eyes. “You’re right of course, it won’t it end it but I thought it might buy me some time.”

Green, Isaak decided. Her eyes were more green than hazel and yes, he would like to see her smile.

“Where is the ring?” Isaak asked, dragging his mind back to business. “It states it is to be returned on termination of the marriage.” That part of the contract had confused Isaak too, for it had described the ring as a family heirloom. There were no heirlooms; the Zaretskys had been dirt poor.

Kate stood and went to the safe. “Here.”

It was stunning.

A white gold setting, there was a diamond that had even Isaak’s expensive eyes widen and it was encrusted with rubies and emeralds. It truly was a work of art.

“That must cover some of it,” Kate said hopefully.

“It was always to be returned.”

“I could have said that I lost it.”

“Then you would have seen me in court.” His voice gave her no room to manoeuvre; it told her that he very much had the upper hand in this.

“There are earrings too,” Kate said. “Your uncle gave them to me as a gift. They’re worth a considerable amount, perhaps fifty thousand.” She took them from the safe and placed them on the desk.

“Which leaves you nine hundred and fifty thousand pounds short,” Isaak pointed out. “You will repay it.”

“I
can’t
.”

Isaak closed his eyes for a moment and reminded himself how angry he was with Kate and told her a part of why. “You realise he was giving you the last of his fortune.”

Kate’s eyes widened in shock and she shook her head. “No, I thought he was a billionaire.”

“He was once.” Isaak said. “But he was a philanthropist and had given most of his wealth to charity. Had he lived, you would have left him broke.”

Yes, he was angry.

He pocketed the ring but not the earrings, stood, and shot her a warning. “This does not end here and, this time, I
am
referring to the contract.” He picked it up from the desk. “Are you going to attend the funeral?” His eyes told her that he would prefer that she did not but, defiant, she met his stern gaze.

“Of course,” Kate said, but then she watched his jaw clamp together and those blood shot eyes screw closed, and Kate realised he wasn’t just upset about the money, Isaak really did seem to care about Ivor. Watching this arrogant man briefly struggle for composure, she reconsidered. “If it would make it easier for Ivor’s family I’ll stay away and pay my respects later.”

Isaak opened his eyes to the soft of her voice and her compassion had him falter. “Whatever you feel is the right thing to do,” he said. “You live with your conscience, not I.”

He turned to go but Kate halted him.

“Be careful.”

“Careful?”

“With the ring,” Kate said. “It’s not a replica, it would be awful if something were to happen to it.”

He said nothing and Kate let out a breath as he closed the door to her office.

She needed to be careful too, Kate realised.

Her fate had been left to Isaak Zaretsky’s discretion.

It didn’t feel a very safe place to be.

I
saak walked out
onto the street to where his driver was waiting. He would have preferred a walk to clear his head but with Roman still absent from work and his uncle’s funeral tomorrow, he didn’t have the luxury of time.

Not a replica?

He went over her words as he took out the ring. A replica of what?

He tried to make out the hallmarks but would need a magnifying glass. Certainly the ring was exquisite, the diamond was huge, the rubies and emeralds that surrounded were more than generous, but Isaak could not fathom why his uncle would call it a family heirloom.

He thought of his mother’s thin gold band that had chained the devoutly religious woman to his father until her death, and it had been the same with his grandparents.

There was nothing worth passing on, not even their DNA. The Zaretsky lineage was not one Isaak was proud of.

His driver returned him to his plush office and Isaak took a call from Roman to say he would meet him at the church in the morning.

“Why don’t I collect you and we arrive together?” Isaak suggested because he was worried how another funeral so closely to his wife’s might affect Roman.

“The church will be fine.”

“Roman?” Isaak pushed.

“I’ve moved out of the house.”

“Where to?”

“A hotel,” Roman said. “And one that we don’t own. I’m using a different name. I just can’t stand to be at home…” he let out a mirthless laugh. “Not that it ever felt like one. Hopefully, going undercover will buy me a bit of time away from the press. With Ivor’s death, they’re saying we are cursed, they’re looking into Ava…” his voice cracked and Isaak’s free hand tightened into a fist at the mention of her name. “I don’t want her parents to find out that it was all lies.”

“The press will back off soon,” Isaak said.

“When?” Roman demanded. “They will be there at the funeral tomorrow, their cameras aimed, asking questions.”

“And what do you care if that bitch is exposed?” Isaak demanded. “So what if her secret gets out. After all she did to you, it should be the least of your concerns.”

“Whatever she did wrong,” Roman answered, “Ava was my wife. It is still my duty to protect her.”

Duty.

There was that word again.

Isaak sat at his desk and took out the ring and tried to fathom why his uncle had entered into this scam with Kate.

Perhaps he had loved her, Isaak conceded, and if money was the only way he could keep her…

Why a year though?

Isaak ran a tongue over suddenly dry lips.

Perhaps Ivor had known that he was dying. He had always said that you could not take money with you.

Maybe Kate had been his final indulgence.

So why hadn’t Ivor told him about his bride to be?

For a fleeting second, Isaak considered calling Ivor to ask him just what the hell had been going on, but then he rubbed his hand across his forehead, loathing the small window of madness that had descended a few times since his uncle’s death.

He missed Ivor already.

Apart from the grief, apart from the ache of sadness, he missed their regular conversations. It was starting to properly dawn that he would never be able to call him for sage advice, never again would they share a meal at the private club where Ivor was more than a member—he had been one of the chairmen and had donated millions to charities the club quietly supported.

Had he properly thanked him, Isaak pondered? Had he ever actually sat his uncle down and told him just how grateful he and Roman were to Ivor for giving him their start?

Yes, Isaak thought, he had.

At least there was
that
solace.

How much better it would be to be attending his wedding tomorrow rather than his funeral.

And another Zaretsky wedding would have diverted the press’s attention from Roman.

Isaak frowned and picked up the contract, reading through it again but with a different thought pattern now.

The Zaretsky brothers, as well as their uncle, were known for their playboy ways and all three had grown tired of it.

Isaak was perhaps starting to understand Ivor’s thinking, but for his own gain now.

If he were to marry not only would a wedding move the spotlight from Roman, certainly some of Isaak’s investors would breathe a sigh of relief that his bad-boy ways had settled down. Isaak too was a little tired of being known more for his partying excesses and sexual prowess than his fiscal skills.

And yes, Isaak thought, looking at Kate’s neat signature, certainly his uncle had recognised beauty.

Isaak rang a detective he used and soon had a background check run. Kate had not lied. Her family ran an antiques dealership and were in dire straits financially. Kate held a history degree and had worked in the family business till two years ago and had since worked at the library. She had travelled to Russia recently and—Isaak quickly checked—yes, it had been with his uncle.

No, she had not lied but the lovely Kate had chosen not to tell him that part.

Perhaps he had found a solution?

One that would benefit them all.

*

Kate was, as
usual, one of the last to leave the library but she worked particularly late tonight knowing she might be taking tomorrow off to attend Ivor’s funeral. She still hadn’t decided whether or not to go. Her mind was still swirling from the meeting with Isaak and, having missed lunch by talking to him, she was starving and was considering picking up some noodles on her way home as she said goodnight to the guard.

The heavy library door closed behind her and Kate stepped out into the dark London night.

It was spring and soon the clocks would change but for now it felt as if they were locked in winter.

“Kate.”

She jumped at the sound of her name for even with one syllable she recognised his voice.