Page 6 of A Nine-Month Deal With Her Husband

He’snotyour husband, Millie, he’s the man you made a deal with. Stop being naive...

The silence between them turned awkward and Millie cast about for something else to speak about. ‘I was also wondering if you knew about a safety deposit box. I’ve had a letter to say it’s come up for renewal, but I don’t know anything about it,’ Millie gabbled, trying to fill the silence between them.

Millie named the bank and Benedikt shook his head. ‘I wasn’t aware you had one.’

‘Me neither, but it was opened around the time we married,’ Millie explained.

His expression didn’t change—he was so hard to read—but his eyes narrowed, just a fraction, and his left eyebrow raised a millimetre, maybe two. ‘Not by me,’ he stated.

Millie wrinkled her nose. ‘I suppose Magnús must’ve opened it on my behalf. But I wonder what’s in it?’

‘It could be anything,’ Benedikt said ‘The only way to find out what’s in it is to open it yourself. They won’t allow anyone else to. So, you came back to Iceland to check a safety deposit box?’ he asked, sounding sceptical.

Millie wished she’d made the trip for something so simple, but...no.

I need to start a new chapter of my life. I need to move on. I need to ask you for a divorce.

‘Partly.’

‘Isn’t this a busy time for you with people buying jewellery for Christmas gifts?’

He wasn’t wrong—a Millie Piper ring or pendant or bracelet made a perfect, but very pricey, Christmas gift. But her clients understood quality and artistry couldn’t be rushed and they’d put in their orders months in advance to avoid disappointment.

‘No, I’m done until the new year. Then I’ll have to start working on an emerald and diamond choker for the wife of an American internet billionaire. He bought some emeralds when he was in Colombia—’ She was rambling, dammit. Benedikt still made her feel off balance and gauche. Millie gave herself a mental slap. She wasn’t eighteen any more, she was a grown woman with a successful business!

It didn’t help that he was treating her as though they’d spoken yesterday, as though her out-of-the-ether call wasn’t in any way a surprise. Millie wanted to punch through his impenetrable façade and shake him.

I’m your wife, she wanted to scream, but that urge quickly faded.

She wasn’t, not really. Not in any way it counted. She was just a woman he’d married so that they could both get Magnús out of their lives. She’d been lucky Benedikt agreed to marry her because she’d been on a fast track to self-destruction. While she’d thought up the scheme for them to marry, Benedikt had helped her step off the tracks and out of the way of an incoming train.

But he wouldn’t have helped her if there hadn’t been anything in it for him and she understood that. But why hadn’t he asked for a divorce before now? When she had turned twenty-five, he handed her the control of her trust but agreed, when she asked him, to act as her financial adviser.

For a year she’d tried to follow his directions—buy this stock, sell that one, liquidate this account, open that one—but she’d made mistakes, costly mistakes. When Ben offered to take back the management of her investment portfolio, north of fifty million pounds, and her trust, she’d handed it back to him with a huge sigh of relief. He wasn’t scared of all those zeros, but they petrified her.

But why did he do that for her? Why did he never ask to buy her out of the company, the international empire he’d grown and built? Why did he never ask for a divorce? Why didn’t he cut ties with her years ago?

It wasn’t as though they were friends—before their marriage they’d been barely more than acquaintances. That didn’t change after she became his wife.

‘Now that we’ve danced around a bush or two, are you going to tell me why you really called?’ Benedikt asked.

Right.That.

‘I’m in a bit of a pickle.’ His gaze sharpened, but he didn’t pepper her with questions, he simply lifted one thick eyebrow and waited. ‘I’m actually in the city, I landed a little while ago.’ She saw curiosity flick over his face and spoke before he could ask any questions. ‘But I didn’t read my email from the hotel and it turns out that there’s an incoming blizzard and they are overbooked.’

‘And you need a place to stay,’ he blandly stated.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘The manager said he would try to find me a room, but he looks as though he’s about to have a panic attack. And I get the sense that, because I didn’t read his don’t-come-to-Iceland-because-a-blizzard-is-coming-and-you-didn’t-confirm email, I’m way down on his list of priorities.’

‘Why did you fly in now? The concert isn’t for another two weeks. Why didn’t you wait?’ he asked.

That was a very good question. Maybe it was because, once she made up her mind, she needed to put her plan into action. Because if she didn’t speak to him now, she might lose her nerve and not face him at all. Having a baby was her primary goal, but there were things she needed to do first. Getting a divorce was the first bullet point on her ‘Steps to Falling Pregnant’ list.

She couldn’t explain any of that now, not in an increasingly crowded lobby and not over the phone. ‘Can we talk about that when I see you? But, for now, can you suggest a place for me to stay?’

‘I should be able to manage that.’

‘At a hotel?’ she asked, sounding hopeful.

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