His Mistress, His Terms Page 10

  Alex nodded, his lips a thin line before he answered with a gruff, ‘And, you see, even now the look on your face is telling me you didn’t want me to know that.’

  Because she hadn’t, that was why. What woman was happy explaining to any man the disasters that preceded him? Especially the kind of man who had probably never had anyone cheat on him? Who would?

  ‘Because it has nothing to do with this.’

  ‘Well, do you mind telling me what it is that’s getting in the way, then? ’Cos there’s something.’

  Merrow didn’t know what to say or do—for the first time in a long time—but then she’d never met anyone as dangerous as Alex before. If she let him in, really let him in, then he’d have the ability to hurt her on a level she’d never let herself be hurt before. But she couldn’t brush it over by making love with him this time. Not when he was already so distant. And that already hurt on a whole new level, her heart feeling as if it were being crushed tight in her chest.

  Her hesitation made Alex frown all the harder. ‘Well, maybe when you want to tell me what it is you’ll let me know. You know where I am.’

  Merrow watched in astonishment as he lifted his jacket off the back of her sofa, holding it so tight in his fist that his knuckles went white. He was leaving?

  ‘I thought we both agreed we didn’t want anything serious at this point in our lives?’

  He turned round at the door, tilting his head to an angle that added to the sarcastic tone in his voice. ‘When we agreed to all your hidden rules?’

  ‘Alex—’

  His deep voice dropped a level, held a husky edge that suggested he was holding back a lot more than he was throwing at her. ‘It might have been better if I’d been given a copy of those rules at the start. Then it wouldn’t feel like I’m constantly trying to dance my way round them.’

  He shook his head again, ran a hand over his face. ‘I’m tired, O’Connell—I’ve been driving for hours. And I’m tired of playing a game I don’t know the rules for. That’s all. Like I said—you know where I am.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MERROW put him through five days of hell. Well, it felt like it. One of the most maddening things being the fact that even his pre-Merrow version of days filled to the full just weren’t enough any more.

  It meant by the time she appeared at the Pavenham for their weekly meeting with Mickey D he had to call on every iota of his social training as a Fitzgerald to keep his cool.

  He shook hands with Mickey and invited Merrow to lay her sketches out on the new reception desk alongside the photos and plans he’d already set out. And then he went through his update with his voice calm, his demeanour businesslike, and without looking at her once.

  Because the one look when she’d arrived had been enough. Thanks anyway.

  It wasn’t that she’d chosen to wear one of the short skirts that made him insane—oh, no. She’d played it smarter than that. She had on a perfectly demure pale gold, round-necked blouse that just happened to show a glimpse of flat midriff every time she moved, and hip-hugging cropped trousers that adoringly covered her long legs and gave a nice view of each shapely calf—shown to best effect by the impractical high-heeled strappy shoes that ended with peep toes painted the same pale gold as her blouse.

  She even had her hair twisted up, with quirky ends creating a crown on top of her head and one long strand framing the left side of her face.

  And Alex’s fingers itched to set her hair free, to splay his fingers against that flat midriff, to haul her in and torture her into submission.

  He clenched his jaw and listened to what she was saying about her progress with sourcing materials, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets.

  Merrow had to clear her throat, twice, as she talked Mickey through her part of the weekly update. And it was costing her to keep the calm, businesslike tone in her voice. Especially with Alex standing less than a foot away from her looking so bloody unaffected by her presence.

  Apparently he didn’t even feel the need to so much as look at her, whereas Merrow couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering in his direction every damn five minutes.

  He had on a suit that managed to make him look half Dublin Alex and half Galway Alex and that was just plain playing dirty! The linen suit was only a shade or two lighter than the hazel of his eyes, and, combined with the white shirt he was wearing loose at the neck, it made his tan look even deeper and he somehow managed to look like a man who’d either been recently ‘ruffled’ or was more than ready to be ‘ruffled’ any time soon.

  It was disgustingly sexy and she hated him for it.

  She risked another glance at him from beneath her lashes, her chest cramping painfully, and she faltered on her words again so that she had to clear her throat, again. But then, finally, she was done. And she exhaled with relief.

  The cavernous room went silent barring the noise of construction in the distance.

  Then Mickey D nodded down at the plans, folded his arms across his chest and looked back and forth between them. ‘I’m sensing a little tension in the room.’

  ‘The project is going very well,’ Alex informed him with a cool gaze.

  ‘And we’ve started painting on the first floor…’ Merrow’s words petered off into the silence.

  Mickey nodded slowly. ‘Mmm-hmm. I got all that. But there’s a problem with my team here and I think we should address that.’

  Another glance at Alex saw his square jaw clench briefly. It was the first hint she’d had that he was affected by the air between them. But she also knew he’d be spitting nails that their client was witnessing it.

  She glanced at Mickey, and saw a brief smile flit across his face before he nodded again. ‘I’m thinking we’ve had a bit of a lover’s tiff. I can recognise one of those a mile away. You can do that when you’ve been married as many times as I have.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with the work we’re doing for you.’

  And that was probably as close as Alex would allow himself to get to telling a client to butt the hell out.

  ‘Ah-h-h, but a happy team is a productive team, Alex, my friend. Any time we had a bust-up in the band it screwed with our creativity. You gotta talk it out.’ He unfolded one arm to wave a hand back and forth. ‘Talk to each other. Listen. Even if it’s stuff you don’t wanna hear. Marquess of Queensberry rules, mind…’

  ‘Mickey—’ The warning tone in Alex’s voice was all too familiar to Merrow so she stepped in to stop him saying something he’d regret later.

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about, Mickey.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think we should lie to the client.’

  He had not just said that! She glared at him with wide eyes. ‘Alex—’

  He shrugged his shoulders, his calm gaze focussed on the plans laid out on the reception desk. ‘I’m not the one in possession of the rule book here.’

  ‘Except for the rule about what to do or say in front of a client!’

  Mickey butted in. ‘I doubt there’s anything you two could do or say that’s gonna shock me. I could tell you tales that would turn your hair grey.’

  Alex smiled a small smile and Merrow dearly wanted to strangle him. But the smile disappeared when Mickey continued, ‘So what’d you do, Alex? ’Cos in my experience the woman always thinks it’s the man’s fault.’

  ‘If you can get an answer to that one, then you’re a better man than me.’

  ‘Ah-h-h, the old psychic boyfriend radar not working for you, I take it?’

  ‘Not so much.’

  Merrow lifted both her arms and let them slap off her sides when she dropped them, ‘That’s it. I’m done. You two can swap testosterone for the rest of the day; I have better things to do.’

  ‘I told you this one was a firecracker.’

  ‘You did, Mickey.’

  Merrow pursed her lips together, hard, and started shoving her sketches back into her portfolio case. ‘I’m leaving now.’

  ‘Well, I’m the paying
customer here and I say you’re not. Trouble in the team makes for a bad working environment and I won’t hold to that. Life’s too goddamn short.’ Now that he had their undivided attention, Mickey unfolded his arms and walked backwards. ‘I’m goin’ out front for a smoke and a talk to my manager about the arena tour in the States…’

  His hands rose and formed two pointing forefingers. ‘And you two are gonna stay in here for a half-hour minimum and talk this out. I expect results. All this bad karma might linger in my lovely hotel of seduction…’

  He winked before he turned round.

  They both stared at the door for a long time after it closed, tension sitting in the air between them like a bad smell.

  ‘I don’t believe you just did that in front of him.’ Merrow glared at Alex from the corner of her eye. ‘What happened to the great Fitzgerald & Son work ethic?’

  ‘Well, it’s not like you were in a hurry to come talk to me on your own.’

  ‘Because you made it so very easy for me to do that, didn’t you?’

  ‘You knew where to find me.’

  ‘I’m not the one that changed the rules!’

  ‘Well, maybe it might help if I knew the stupid rules!’

  It was the first time they’d raised their voices to each other and they both knew it. And the air in the gap between them positively sizzled with anger while they let the fact sink in.

  A lone joiner appeared around the corner, took one look at both their faces, and then hastily retreated, whistling in a rising tone that said he sensed trouble.

  Alex took a deep breath, took his hands out of his pockets and started to fold his plans up. ‘We can’t work together like this.’

  ‘I didn’t start it.’

  ‘No, Merrow.’ He glared at her again. ‘The client started it! And if the client can see when there’s something wrong between us, then we’re in real trouble.’

  ‘You didn’t correct him.’

  ‘Because he may be many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.’ He continued folding. ‘And he’s right, this needs to be talked about or we’re gonna have to find a new way to work for the remainder of this project.’

  ‘You can’t fire me.’ She lifted her chin, clenching her jaw to stop herself from showing how much arguing with him was hurting her.

  ‘Merrow, I don’t want to fire you. You’re amazingly talented and you’re doing a great job.’ He took another deep breath, still folding plans, still not looking at her. ‘This has nothing to do with your work; it never has. I’ve told you that. It’s to do with us. And if we can’t fix this, then we need to find a way to get through the next few months. Then we never have to set eyes on each other again.’

  Which hurt ten times more—and she couldn’t speak until she swallowed away the lump in her throat and forced her eyes not to shed a tear.

  But even when she did speak, there was still a tremor in her voice that she couldn’t hide. ‘I don’t know how to fix this.’

  His gaze rose and locked with hers, his hands stilling on the paper. ‘Do you want to fix it?’

  ‘Yes, I want to fix it!’ She laughed nervously. ‘I hate this!’

  The nod was slow, his gaze intense. ‘Me too.’

  Merrow stared back at him, unable to move, and unable to go to him when there was still so much between them. ‘Honestly? I wish I didn’t want to fix it. It would be better if I didn’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  She avoided his eyes and looked around the room, her foot tapping on the floor the only indication of the inner battle she was waging.

  Alex’s voice dropped to the deeply seductive tone that always shattered her resolve. ‘Talk to me, O’Connell.’

  ‘I don’t know where to start.’

  ‘Would it help if I told you what I think?’

  She looked at him again, the unreadable expression on his face making her heart ache all the more.

  When she didn’t say anything he stood a little taller, his broad shoulders rising in a way that looked distinctly defensive to her.

  ‘’Cos I’ve been thinking. That’s what happens when you won’t give me any answers—I go looking for them on my own. So if I tell you what I think, then it might just be easier for you to tell me if I’m right…’

  She continued staring at him.

  So he quirked his brows and continued. ‘I think it’s got to do with what I am.’

  ‘An architect?’

  His mouth quirked; his hands went back into his pockets. ‘No, not an architect; a Fitzgerald.’

  Merrow almost crumbled. See, he did know their families would be a problem. He’d probably known all along—just as she had.

  Alex took another deep breath, his gaze still fixed on hers. ‘It’s what I am, not who I am. But the problem is the two things are tangled up in each other. I can’t change that for you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask you to.’

  ‘I know you wouldn’t. But you can’t forget it either, can you?’ He frowned and tore his gaze away, taking one hand out of his pocket to shuffle the photographs together on the reception desk. ‘I can see how someone like you would find my life stifling. There’s a certain responsibility involved with what I am that you might find hard to take.’

  Hang on. This wasn’t going where she’d expected it to go…But she waited to see what else he had to say.

  ‘The woman that steps into my life won’t be run down by the paparazzi or anything like that, but she’ll automatically enter into the same responsibilities and duties to the family name that I have. There would be hands to shake and photographs to smile for and a legacy handed down from generations to maintain. That’s no easy job. I’ve always known that—’

  A light bulb went off in Merrow’s head. ‘Because you know it’s not easy having been trapped inside it your whole life?’

  He flashed a small smile her direction. ‘Actually, I’m pretty comfy in my shoes these days. But then I was the one who always knew what was expected of me and fought to live up to it; it was my sister who struggled. Maybe if you ever get to meet her, you’ll get to know her well enough for her to tell you about it.’

  Merrow thought she’d quite like that. But she didn’t say so; she just smiled a small smile back at him. And then another light bulb went off.

  ‘Is that why this place is such a big deal to you? Do you see it as your way of living up to the family name?’

  ‘Ah.’ He smiled a self-deprecating smile as he looked around the room, and Merrow felt a small part of her heart giving up the fight. ‘Now, you see, you’re almost right there. I have this goal, you see. You know that plaque outside the office in Merrion Square?’

  ‘The one that says Fitzgerald & Son?’

  ‘That’s the one.’ He smiled down at the plans. ‘Well, I’m kinda determined to have the “& Son” part off there by the end of the year.’

  Merrow smiled at the determination in his voice. ‘And why is that so important?’

  Alex chuckled. ‘It’s probably going to sound daft to you.’

  ‘Try me.’

  He turned round and leaned back against the high desk, folding his arms across his chest before he continued with the familiar hint of a smile on his mouth. ‘Each generation of Fitzgeralds adds their own bit to the family history. My father set up the company and made his name as an architect and it’s his name that goes first on that plaque.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘And I’m not trying to take away from that or prove that I can live up to it. But I see my part of the bigger picture as opening the company up for the future. If I dump the “& Son” then any child of mine who wanted to take it on wouldn’t have to add another “& Son” or an “& Daughter” and if I had a wife who wanted to add to the company in some way then she’d be a part of that plaque too. ’Cos it would be “Fitzgerald’s—”’

  Her eyes warmed when he unfolded his arms to make invisible speech marks in the air in front of his body, his smile growing. ‘As in everyone who carries my name. They’d all be part
of it. Maybe not one for the annals of history—’ another shrug ‘—but it works for me.’

  Merrow didn’t think that was daft. Not at all. In fact she thought it sounded just a little bit wonderful. ‘And a big success like the Pavenham would be a bargaining point with your father?’

  ‘I said you’d think it was daft.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s daft.’ She dropped her chin, leaning the foot she’d previously tapped onto the heel so that she could twist it back and forth while she looked at him from beneath her long lashes, a coy smile on her face. ‘I think I’m a little bit proud of you, as it happens.’

  She could have sworn his chest puffed out as he bowed his head a little, the gold in his eyes glowing. ‘Why, thank you, Miss O’Connell.’

  Merrow grinned. Lord but he was something!

  He pushed off the counter, walking towards her in measured steps. ‘Now, back to the subject at hand. Before Mickey D comes back to check up on us…’

  Merrow stood her ground and waited for him to get to her, her pulse skipping in anticipation.

  ‘I happen to think we had something good going for a while there.’

  ‘I do too.’

  ‘But there’s no guarantee with any relationship these days…we both know that. Even without the outside difficulties…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’d have to just see where it took us. But that would mean dropping the game-playing. No more playboy lover and his mistress.’

  ‘I quite liked the playboy lover part.’

  ‘Okay, that part we can maybe keep. But that then makes you the playboy’s lover, not his mistress.’

  She began to lift her chin as he got closer. ‘I can be that.’

  ‘But I can only help you find your own way with the whole Fitzgerald dynasty thing if you talk to me about how you feel.’ He stopped a few inches away from her, ducking his head down to search her eyes. ‘I don’t want you to change, O’Connell, not for anyone and especially not for my family.’

  Merrow took the biggest breath her lungs could manage, closed her eyes and let the truth out on a rush. ‘It’s not just your family we’d have to consider.’