Page 33 of On His Bride's Terms

He slipped sunglasses over his eyes. He couldn’t deny that he was finding the chase aspect of their relationship...entertaining. And he really didn’t think she was doing it for the thrill. His instinct all along about her had been that she didn’t play games. But that unsettling realisation that he’d been acting without thinking lingered, making him feel a sense of exposure.

Asking her to come to Paris... Deviating from the schedule...Enjoying her companyin a way that he hadn’t expected.

She might turn to fire in his arms at night, but she was keeping him at arm’s length by day—exactly as she’d laid out in their agreement. He told himself that that was what he wanted too. It wasn’t as if he hoped for a more emotionally intimate relationship. Butsomeemotional intimacy was unavoidable and necessary in order to cultivate a long-term union.

Clearly, she didn’t fully trust him, and for them to have a successful marriage that would have to change. So he was just doing what he could to foster that trust.

Ultimately, what remained most important to Primo was protecting his family legacy and name. Consolidating the success and wealth he’d already achieved. Faye was just the next step in that process—taking him and Holt Industries to the next level.

At that moment, the tiny hairs went up on the back of his neck and he turned to see Faye walking towards him as if conjured out of his thoughts. She was dressed casually, in loose trousers and a short-sleeved fitted jumper that drew the eye to her small waist and perfectly shaped breasts. Flat shoes. Perfect for the Paris streets. Hair loose around her shoulders. A crossbody bag with an iconic designer logo on the clasp.

She oozed class and elegance. But after getting to know her—as much as she would allow—he knew of the passion beneath the surface. And the spikiness that he suspected she hid from most people.

He liked it. Like the way her nipples felt against his tongue. Sharp...

She stopped before him. ‘What are you smiling at?’

He took her elbow to guide her out of the hotel. ‘Nothing...nothing at all.’

He was doing the right thing—investing time in his wife. After all, now she was as much a part of the future of Holt Industries as he was, and any sense of exposure he’d been feeling dissolved as they walked into the early-morning beauty of Paris.

When the six months was up she would have forgotten all about reviewing their marriage. She would trust him enough to jettison thosetermsand they would be a solid, successful unit.

They’d finished their tour with the gallery director and Faye was lingering in front of a painting that had transfixed her. People were trickling in now—the first visitors of the day.

‘You like that painting,’ Primo commented from beside her.

Faye tore her gaze away from the swirling abstract in vivid reds and pinks. ‘Lara Lopez. She’s a Portuguese artist. Up and coming. She’s becoming a name, and some clients have started collecting her work.’

Primo looked at the description plate. ‘It’s calledLife, and donated by the artist.’

‘It’s a big coup to have your work displayed among some of the century’s greatest modern artists.’

Faye felt a little exposed at the way something about the painting called to her so viscerally.

Primo said, ‘That doesn’t explain why you like it so much.’

Now Faye felt really exposed. ‘I’m not sure...maybe the colours.’

‘I think it’s because it’s like you.’

Faye looked at Primo sharply. ‘What does that mean?’

‘On the surface you’re all cool and refined, but under the surface you burn—and you have a passion for life that I think you are afraid to show people.’

Faye’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly shut it again and said, a little testily, ‘Didyoudo a degree in psychology?’

Primo smiled easily. ‘Nope, completely self-taught.’

Faye made a sound likeharrumph. The truth was that Primo’s assessment was scarily accurate. Therewassomething about the painting that called to her because she felt its passion. Its hunger for life. All the things she was afraid of since failing at her first marriage and then becoming infertile.

She moved away and looked at her watch.

‘Somewhere else to be?’ he asked.

She glanced at Primo. He was too distracting. Dressed in casual trousers and a dark navy polo shirt that seemed to make his eyes pop even more. She’d been ultra-aware of him as the director had led them around the museum on a whistlestop tour.

She felt a little churlishly like asking,Don’t you?Because he seemed all too happy to wander around and take in the sights. It unnerved her, because she hadn’t factored in spending time with him like this.

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