Johnson Family 2: Perfect (3 page)

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Then stop fighting and come home.”

“Come home to what?” She huffed in exasperation. “There’s nothing there for me.”

He was there, but obviously she didn’t see him as much of an incentive.

“Then this conversation is over.” He turned his attention to the financial reports displayed on the computer screen in front of him. He had way too much work to do to waste any more time on this ridiculous argument.

“I won’t beg you.”

“I never asked you to beg,” he said, talking to the screen on his desk. He checked the variance column and used the cursor to highlight a budget item with a twenty-three percent increase over the previous year. Then he waved his hand dismissively toward the door. “See yourself out.”

“Cyrus.” He shielded his conscience from the pleading tone of her voice. She took a deep breath. “Think about this for a minute. Your behavior is keeping us both from moving on and being happy. If we end our marriage, we’d be free to find other spouses, people we’re more compatible with.”

He paid closer attention to her now.

Was that it? Had she met someone? His brain recoiled at the thought, and anger raged anew inside him. She thought she could get a divorce so she could run into someone else’s arms? Not a chance.

“I’m done talking,” he said coldly.

“Cyrus.”

He shot to his feet and she jerked back at the sudden movement. Pressing his hands on the surface of the desk, he leaned toward her. “The answer is no.” He kept his voice even, but firm.

“You can’t keep me tied to you forever!” Her eyes flashed in anger.

“Marriage is a contract.”

“Any contract can be broken,” she retorted.

“You want to break the contract of our marriage? You want a divorce?” he seethed. “Give me what I want. And you know what I want.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. They were a striking brown color—copper, the same tint as a shiny new penny. “You can’t be serious.”

“You know I never say anything I don’t mean.”

“You black-hearted bastard.”

“Flatter me all you want. The answer is the same.”

“You were serious? You can’t possibly expect me to—”

“I do.”

The color drained from her face, and she stepped back from the desk, shunning his words.

“Give me a child, Dani, and I’ll give you a divorce.”

Chapter Three

Daniella knew her husband could be unreasonable, but this was too much even for him. He was mad. Completely and utterly off his rocker.

Yes, he’d told her he wanted a child, preferably a son. An heir he could groom to carry on the Johnson name and take his rightful place at the helm of the company, the same way he had done. But after so much time apart, she didn’t think he would still demand the same from her. She’d hoped she could reason with him, but he remained as ruthless and irrational as ever.

His coffee-colored eyes bored into hers, and his face, handsome by anyone’s standards, was set in arrogant, unyielding lines that made it clear this one point was nonnegotiable. The angular planes were offset by a pair of lips that were sensual in design and soft to the touch. She almost shuddered at the memory of how those lips could make her unravel.

“We haven’t lived together as husband and wife in a long time.”

“Refusing to wear your rings and live in our house doesn’t make you any less my wife.”

Her eyes dropped to his fingers splayed out on the desk. He still wore his ring, a platinum band custom designed to match her engagement and wedding rings. The fact he still wore the jewelry, the symbol of their union, didn’t surprise her. Cyrus had never accepted their marriage was over.

She’d spent the last few years fighting to be free of him, but they weren’t any closer to the termination of their marriage than when she’d started the process. He’d told her he wouldn’t give her a divorce, and she’d disregarded his resolve, believing—no, hoping—once the proceedings started he would see she was serious and give in. But she’d learned the hard way that he truly never said anything he didn’t mean.

The first year after she’d left him, she’d thought they were simply ironing out the details. Her lawyer had assured her the time frame was typical, but halfway through year two she realized Cyrus had no intention of ending their relationship, no matter her concessions. Even his travel schedule had been used as an excuse to prolong the process. He had an infinite amount of funds at his disposal, and he used his money to pay a team of lawyers to create constant delays, filing motion after motion and requests for evidence to keep her chained to him.

“What you’re suggesting will never happen,” she said.

“If that’s your final answer, then as I said before, we’re done talking, aren’t we?”

“This is insane!” Daniella exclaimed. “How do you expect me to give you a child?”

“Do I really need to explain the birds and the bees to you?” he asked. “I thought I’d done a pretty good job already of showing you how the male and female anatomy worked together. Do you need a refresher?”

The flutter of her stomach testified to how her body managed to betray her time and time again. His voice had lowered to a silky timbre and brought back memories of constantly making love, where sleep and food were unwelcome interruptions, and the only sustenance she craved came from his drugging kisses and tender caresses. His eyes held a possessive gleam as they drifted over her. She fought back the sensual images creeping to the perimeter of her mind and the unwanted throb manifesting between her thighs—a not-so-subtle reminder that when they made love, almost nothing was off-limits.

“No, I don’t need a refresher,” she said huskily.

She told herself her undeniable attraction to him was because he was her first and only lover. She’d waited much longer than most to explore sex because she’d been focused on academic achievements. She’d continued to hold out, despite the ribbing incurred from friends and the unrelenting efforts of boyfriends to wear her down over the years. But she’d had her eyes on the prize of success, and nothing—especially not a man—would deter her from achieving her goals. In her own home she’d seen the result of dreams deferred, and she’d decided years ago she would not fall prey to the unrealistic romantic ideas of happily ever after.

Yet she’d been intensely attracted to him from their first introduction. Unnervingly so. Who wouldn’t be? Indecently good looking, he carried himself with a level of confidence she’d never encountered in any other man. It wasn’t only the way he walked or his movements. It was the sound of his voice, the beauty of his smooth, dark brown skin, his full lips, and the intense way he always looked at her as if no one else was around. But at the time she’d been involved with someone else, Roland Dubois, though it hadn’t been a love match. She’d told Cyrus about her relationship, beating back his aggressive tactics to win her over—which hadn’t been easy.

Even with her lack of experience, she knew her body’s response to him had less to do with him being her first and more to do with his skills as a lover. Sex with him had transcended mere physical pleasure, bordering on the spiritual, and had always left her spent and in a euphoric state afterward.

To hide the truth from his probing gaze, Daniella stared down at her hands. Noting the stranglehold on her purse, she loosened her grip. She had to make him understand they couldn’t possibly bring a child into the world and then simply divorce.

To prove her own fortitude in the face of his unyielding strength, she edged forward, her thighs touching his desk. “What you’re suggesting is unconscionable. Why are you doing this?”

“Shouldn’t I get something out of this marriage?” he asked roughly.

His question surprised her. It meant he believed he had been shortchanged—that she had not held up her end of the marriage deal, which was untrue. She’d done her part. He was the one who’d changed the rules and expected her to fall in line with his plans.

“You expect me to have a baby with you and then walk away?” She couldn’t quell the note of hysteria in her voice.

“I’ve told you what I want.”

“And what about what I want? Can’t you find someone else to do this for you?” There were numerous women who would gladly give birth to a Johnson heir. During the brief time they dated, she’d seen how mothers and fathers practically tossed their daughters at his feet. Even after they married, the same behavior continued, though not as flagrantly. The parents at least took into account if she was standing beside him.

“I’m not going to keep arguing with you about the same thing. I won’t change. If all you want to do is argue, you can leave now.”

He sat down and returned his eyes to the screen, effectively dismissing her. For him, the conversation was over, because that’s how he operated. He’d laid out what he wanted and expected her to simply fall in line with his plans.

His gaze remained on the laptop. She stared at his profile, his hard, clean-shaven jaw and hair cut low on his head. He wore a Brioni suit in the darkest black with a navy blue tie and matching handkerchief sticking out the left pocket. Immaculate. Always.

He didn’t look at her, and his lack of interest pushed her over the edge. She wanted to unsettle him, the same as he’d done to her. Short of smashing one of the desk organizers over his head, she couldn’t think of any nonviolent way to disturb him except one.

She cast her eyes across his neatly arranged desk. Everything in its place. He was obsessive about it, a man of routine and discipline. Three pens were lined up across the top, perpendicular to the edge of the desk. One black. One blue. One red. A cylindrical container held his letter opener, highlighters, a pencil, and two more pens. A leather bound notepad sat in the middle of the desk.

She snatched up the blue pen from the desk and his eyes snapped to her. She had his attention now.

“What are you doing, Dani? Put that down.”

“Your answer is no and so is mine,” she said. She used the blue pen to knock the other two askew.

Cyrus jumped up from the chair. His flesh must be crawling now because she’d disrupted his orderly life. As he rounded the desk, she dropped the pen to the floor and grabbed the letter opener. She pulled it with such force the glass container tipped over and scattered pens and highlighters across the desk.

“Get back,” she said, holding the letter opener above her head as a weapon.

“Put that down. You’re not going to use it.” He sounded bored.

“Yes, I will.” Her voice trembled, but she tightened her grip on the chrome handle. “Get away from me,” she warned.

“Or what? You’ll stab me?” He spoke in a calm voice, completely unfazed by her dramatic display. He took a step and she took one back. “Violence is ugly on you, Dani. I like you so much better when you’re under me, gasping and purring from pleasure.”

Memories—unwelcome and sudden—flashed through her mind, triggering a delicious heat in her loins. How could he do this to her even when she was angry at him?

“Let me go, Cyrus. Please.” She’d said she wouldn’t beg, told herself so many times, but she couldn’t fight him anymore. She was tired and frantic and spending way too much money on something that should have ended long ago.

“Give me a child and I’ll let you go.”

He took another step forward and she took another one back.

She shook her head.

His hand whipped out and snagged her wrist. He held her firm without hurting her, but she knew he could. He was twice her size and she couldn’t match his strength.

She twisted her arm, but with another quick, deft motion, he snatched the weapon from her fingers and tossed it onto the desk. It clattered against the polished wood, and she gasped in dismay at how easily he’d disarmed her.

Cyrus yanked her closer until barely an inch of charged air remained between them. The subtle scent of $165-per-ounce cologne filled her nostrils. Spicy, with an undertone of citrus, it was his signature smell—a scent she’d once equated with passion. The fragrance lingered in his clothes, and there had been times when she’d worn his shirts around the house so she could savor the scent of him while he was away on business. Her own little secret.

His eyes held dark determination as he looked down at her from several inches above six feet. His other hand circled the back of her neck, applying a warm, firm pressure. Years had passed since he last touched her, and she shivered in his grip. His thumb rubbed the tender spot behind her ear, and heat flashed over her skin. She had to remind herself the purpose of his touch was not to awaken desire in her. He was angry.

He lowered his head and his breath skimmed her lips. Her skin tingled as they breathed the same air, and she thought for sure he was about to kiss her. Could she possibly resist him? Fear of her reaction overwhelmed her, and she trembled with anticipation, but the kiss never came.

“You can beg, you can fight, you can threaten me all you want,” he all but snarled, all civility gone. His lips were held so close together she only caught a glimpse of his teeth. “But I want a child, just like you promised. And you’re going to give it to me.” His jaw firmed and his eyes filled with angry resolve. “I’m not letting you go until you do.”

Chapter Four

Daniella tugged free of his grasp, clearly shaken at the nature of his request. They stared at each other. She was breathing heavily, and if he knew his wife—which he did—her shallow breathing was not solely due to anger. No, she was as aroused as he was.