The Tycoon's Red Hot Marriage Merger (4 page)

She cleared her throat.
Stay firm. Calm. Confident.
“Does that mean you’ll give me the contract?” she asked. He still hadn’t granted her the position. Controlling the company meant ensuring that no future mistakes would be made that could ruin lives again.

“You have both.” His touch, thought feather light, ignited sparks. “Do you want to seal the deal with another kiss?”

She shook her head. In this instance, two plus two could yield a dangerous sum. “There’ll be no more kissing—or anything else for that matter—until I have a wedding certificate, too.”

He held out her chair. “Then we should get married immediately.”

She sat, digging into her purse for another elastic to bind her hair into a proper ponytail and create a semblance of emotional distance and asked, “How soon?”

“My private jet will be ready in less than an hour.” He checked his watch. “We’ll fly to Vegas tonight to expedite the ceremony.”

Panic seized her, balled in her throat, making it difficult to speak.
Vegas? Expedite? Tonight?
She tucked her legs underneath her chair, glancing left and right again, unable to formulate a counter strategy to Marco’s rapid-fire approach to their quickie wedding. He made it impossible to think, to rationalize, to stay mentally on top of her game.

He grasped her hands between his broad ones and brought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles with the same intense sensuality he’d expressed on the dance floor. “Do you want to change your mind?” he asked. “Consider your answer carefully. This is your last chance to back out.”

Oh God, what had she gotten herself into? How could she have possibly thought she could tame this beast? Or at least manage him on her terms?

But she had no other choice. “And lose everything?” She gazed into Marco’s piercing green eyes. They gleamed with passion. Lust. Wanting. “No.”

Still, she wanted to win some time to mentally prepare herself for the latter part of the wedding. The night part. The complete and total surrender of her body to a man who would never love her.

Tears scalded the back of her throat. Once she had harbored dreams of a different future. A future filled with understanding, and compassion, and love. A future with a man who had married her because she was a precious gift to cherish. Not a lifetime where she had harnessed herself to a man as a bargaining chip in a power play. But she’d brought this on herself and only she had the power to rectify the past.

Cassandra shoveled mental dirt on her dreams, burying them deep. Faltering now wasn’t an option.

Marco tilted his head, his eyebrows pulled down in concentration while he studied her. A tingling sensation swept up the back of her neck and across her face. Her ears burned and she swallowed several times. In that moment she realized he could see the frightened virgin hiding behind the confident, intellectual mask she had worn all night. He could see her dread, her alarm, and straight into the depths of her vulnerable soul.

Cassandra crossed her arms, looked over her shoulder at the office door, then back into his mesmerizing eyes. “I’ve never been to Vegas.” She masked her fear with a frosty tone. “Will an Elvis impersonator officiate before we rush to consummate the marriage?”

His lips flattened and a tic jumped in his temple. “Trust me, we won’t sprint through the honeymoon.” He took her hand, stroking her wrist with his thumb pad. “I plan to make every minute count and to take my time seducing you.”

Marco’s touch sent a frisson of anticipation through her overheated skin. He was built for sensual, slow, satisfying sex. Everything about him—his full mouth, the scar slashing his cheekbone, the rugged strength and the sheer physicality he exuded—guaranteed pleasure.

While she would never know love with him, she and Marco would be united by their physical relationship and their children. That would have to be enough. She’d never have more than a contract to bind her to him, but this decision held less bitterness than her ex’s lies and infidelity.

The memory brought acid into her mouth. Finding her fiancé with another woman had been humiliating. His jeers about her lack of sexuality raced through her brain.

“I expect you to be faithful,” she demanded to protect herself from the shame of his possible disappointment. “I won’t be made a fool of, no matter what you think of me in bed.”

“Don’t doubt my attraction to you.” He continued massaging her wrist, giving her a sexy smile. “You are, despite your unflattering clothing, a most remarkably beautiful woman.”

The slightly rough texture of his skin created a sizzling friction. A shiver traced down her spine and coiled low. The memory of his arousal pressing against her flashed. Marco could have his pick of gorgeous, worldly women wise in the ways of sex. Yet, he’d made no effort to hide his attraction to her.

That this staggering handsome man responded to her, wanted her sexually and wanted to pleasure her, gave her a measure of feminine pride. Pride that had been seriously wounded a short week ago.

She had never known that power before. Nor had she ever wanted to live up to the sexual expectation glinting in his green gaze. Still, it wouldn’t do to let her future husband lord over her. Not when she had committed to a lifetime with him. By her calculations, Marco’s supreme arrogance could be her undoing.

Cassandra extracted her hand from his, then pushed her glasses firmly up her nose. “And I hope that
I
will be quite pleased with you as well,” she said.

###

Thirty-six hours after Cassandra Nelson had proposed, Marco stepped into his villa in Argentina a married man with a virgin bride. A situation he had yet to alter. That he had resisted the temptation had been out of character, but Cassandra’s innocence presented a unique challenge. Rushing her into having sex could backfire.

Late afternoon sunlight spilled into the foyer and his housekeeper rushed to greet them. “Welcome home,
Senor
Delgado.”

The aroma of spicy roasted meat and other savory dishes filled the air. His mouth watered. “It’s good to be back.” He tilted his head toward his bride. “Imelda, my wife Cassandra.”

Imelda’s brown eyes widened, then she smiled. “Welcome to Argentina.” She clasped hands with his bride, shaking Cassandra’s with enthusiasm. “I hope you’ll be very happy here.”

“I’m sure I will be.” Cassandra glanced first at him, then took in the pristine space with its welcoming open concept rooms. “Your home is lovely.”

Her genuinely appreciative words echoed off the marble floors and high ceilings. Marco’s chest expanded, though why her opinion mattered gave him a moment’s pause.
“Gracias,”
he said. “The villa was my first major acquisition.” And one of many homes he had acquired after he parlayed his meager inheritance into a vast conglomerate worth billions.

“
Senora
Delgada and I won’t need dinner,” Marco said. “We’re going straight to bed.”

“Of course,” Imelda replied. “You must both be exhausted. It’s a long journey from the United States. I have already prepared a light meal for you to eat in the morning.”

“Take the rest of the night off,” Marco said.

“
Si
.” She tilted her head and lifted one corner of her generous mouth. “Enjoy your beautiful wife.”

He shot a quick glance at Cassandra. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly and she fidgeted with the strap of her new yellow leather clutch. “Believe me, I intend to,” Marco said. “Go home and spend time with your family, Imelda.”

“
Gracias, Senor
Delgado.”

Imelda disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived, a paragon of discretion. Marco trusted her completely because she had been his employee for over six years.

“I’ll show you to the master suite,” he said. “Then we’ll shake off some of this jet lag with a walk around the grounds while there’s daylight.”

“What about our luggage?” she asked, walking beside him, and clutching her handbag like a lifesaver.

“The staff will take care of it.” They strolled through the open living area which overlooked his estate. In the distance, a dock cut into the open ocean waters. Marco pointed. “There’s my yacht. The
Diablo
.”

Cassandra turned her head to look outside. Her breath hitched. “She looks like one of ours,” she said.

“Now the
Diablo
is mine,” he said. During the years after his father had passed away, Marco had fought for his rightful place at the head of Delgado Enterprises along with acquiring other companies that had once been owned by his rivals. The rivals who had barred him from their world of regatta racing society—people who had stood beside Cassandra’s father when Nelson had blamed Marco for the death of his only son.

Soon he would provide the bitter old man with grandsons who had a bastard’s blood flowing through their veins.

The color drained from her face. Her throat moved up and down, then she asked, “How does she perform?”

“Magnificently.”

“Great. I’ll try to continue the Nelson tradition of excellence for you,” she said.

Her cool, icy demeanor stopped his progress. Marco took in her pale complexion, noting how her creamy skin enhanced the exquisite blue shade of her eyes. The vulnerability hiding behind her frosty exterior tugged loose a foreign sensation.

A slow, primal drumbeat pounded the blood through his veins. Suddenly, a part of him wanted to protect her. And that shocked him more than he was willing to admit.

He placed his hand on the small of her back, steering Cassandra closer to the broad expanse of windows. “There are jet skis and other water sports equipment in the boathouse,” he said. “Everything here is at your disposal.”

“Wonderful,” she said though the flat tone of her voice belied her lack of enthusiasm.

Irritation snapped a whip chord against his temples. He wanted to blame the long flight for Cassandra’s glacial mood, but when he saw her throat move and her lips compress into a razor’s edge, he recognized the truth. Nervous bride could be the understatement of the decade when it came to his new wife.

He scraped a hand over his face, and then rubbed his left temple with his index finger. “We’ll explore the grounds later,” he said.

“I’d like that.”

When they reached the master suite’s mahogany double doors, he could feel Cassandra’s back tighten. Her high heels stuttered on the marble floor, echoing her hesitation.

Something visceral stirred through his blood. He would be her first. Her last. Her only lover. “Everything will be okay,” he promised before twisting the bronze knob.

“Perhaps.” She stepped inside the suite and strolled to the bank of windows lining the eastern wall. “But time will prove if that’s the case.”

Marco followed, unable to tear his gaze away from the way her ebony hair swished back and forth across her lean shoulders. Nor could he stop looking at the way her vibrant green tank dress’s hemline exposed her luscious long legs to perfection. She had accentuated her slim waist with a narrow band of natural leather which gave him a decadent view of her feminine hips.

His housekeeper had opened the pair of French doors intersecting the glass panes. Trees lined the property, and gardens with colorful flowers caressed the stucco wall surrounding the villa. He heard the ocean’s wild waves crashing against the Atlantic’s shoreline. Wind. Salt. Brine of sea wafted into the room.

His groin tightened.
Easy, Delgado. She’s your wife—your virgin bride—handle her with care.
“How do you like the view?” he asked. Though the only view he was interested in was the one directly in front of him.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“So are you,” he said, running his fingers through her long silky hair. How he wanted to explore every curve of her body, every inch of delicate skin and caress every curve.

“Thank you. Must be the new clothes you’re forcing me to wear,” she said primly.

“Those man suits did nothing for your figure,” he murmured in her ear. “You’re all woman. And you’re all mine.”

A rosy hue flushed her cheeks and fired across her breasts. She drew her arms across her chest. “Excellent, because you’re stuck with me—and only me—for life.”

His blood thundered in his ears. The air between them sizzled and a powerful electrical charge arced through his entire body.
“Si.”
Even the suggestion of sex had her blushing. What would happen when he claimed her?

Hot blood flowed in her veins. She had moved easily with him when they’d danced—melded to him during their kiss with an innate sensuality. Why had she worked so hard to hide what she should have been proud to showcase?

Marco felt compelled to unravel the mystery within Cassandra. He wanted to discover the depths of the passion beating behind the brainiac who had hidden her femininity. A femininity revealed by her short dress and matching high heel sandals that exposed her devastatingly sexy long legs.

She shot him another haughty look. “I might disappoint you,” she said. “Then all you’ll have to show for this marriage is my frigid blue blood.”

“Until you walked into my nightclub and surprised me with your interesting proposal, I hadn’t completely formulated a plan to regain full entry into your regatta society.” Marco turned Cassandra in his arms, then removed her glasses. “You’re my wife, so you’ll never disappoint me.” After all, she’d given him the key to unlock her world’s bolted doors.

Herself.

He’d brand her and the entire regatta racing world would know whom she belonged to when they returned to Florida.

She hissed in a breath and her cheeks flamed with a hot color. “Marco, I—”

He brushed his lips across her temples and kissed the delicate shell of her ear. “Our wedding was fast, but I’m slowing down the honeymoon,” Marco whispered. “I want you to want to be with me, not feel forced into having sex.” Though he had no intention of losing his heart, he wanted Cassandra to enjoy being with him because there was something about her that made him feel like she deserved a warm, compassionate lover.

She tilted her head back, exposing the creamy column of her neck. “But I thought…”

Marco inhaled her scent, a light floral mix of tuberose and honeysuckle. Sweet and pure. “Don’t think, just be,” he said, framing her with his body and indulged in tasting the tender pulse point in her delicate collarbone.