The Executive's Vengeful Seduction / Rich Man's Revenge: The Executive's Vengeful Seduction

Her husband.

All at once he turned his head toward her. His moss-green eyes stared across the table and into her own with a burning intensity. “You were a beautiful bride.”

She realized she was gripping her wineglass so tight she might break it. She forced her fingers to relax. “Thank you.”

“You won my friends over well and truly,” he added.

She grimaced. They both knew Brant and Flynn approved because they thought she was doing the right thing for the business. “I’m sure Kia and Danielle feel a certain…empathy for me.”

His slight smile noted her comment. “The girls might be able to relate, but you can’t discount the fact they are very happily married.”

She met his gaze levelly. “They’re in love, Damien. We’re not.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “You’re right. Here’s to not being in love,” he drawled, lifting his glass of white wine.

Five years ago she would have been devastated by his words, but she knew she was beyond that now.

She raised her glass and clinked it against his. “That’s a toast I can relate to.”

“And to us,” he added.

She pulled the glass back. “There’s no such thing as ‘us,’ Damien. There’s you. And there’s me. Two separate entities.”

“Not after tonight.”

The pit of her stomach began to churn. “I could scream, you know.”

“So could I.”

The comment was so unexpected that her lips twitched.

“Is that a smile I see?” he teased, sounding as if he was truly amused. It was a glimpse of how it could have been if only…

She remembered what their marriage was about. “No,” she said, not looking at him, instead looking everywhere but at him. “I have nothing to smile about.”

A moment passed by. “You’re my wife now,” he said with quiet emphasis. “Accept it.”

She lifted her chin as she looked at him. “I guess I should be honored to be Mrs. Damien Trent?” she said sarcastically, even as she suppressed a tingle at her new name.

“Naturally.”

She made a choking sound. “Your arrogance astounds me,” she said, and caught a look of surprise on his face that in turn surprised her. He really had no idea his words had come across as arrogant. He really did believe she should be honored to marry him.

As if!

No way would she be grateful to a man who forced her into… She winced inwardly. He hadn’t forced her into anything. Yes, he’d married her for his own purposes. And yes, he’d married her for her father’s sake—but for an honorable reason.

She hadn’t quite thought about it in this light before, but by marrying her today he was showing what kind of man he was—an honorable one. He must have had a good upbringing.

Suddenly she realized, Damien hadn’t mentioned his parents today, not once. And she’d been too preoccupied and busy to ask the question.

Now she had the time. “Why didn’t you invite your parents to the wedding, Damien?”

He tensed. “It would be a bit hard. They’re dead,” he said in a clipped tone that didn’t ask for sympathy and would accept none.

A wave of compassion swept over her. And as strange as it seemed, she felt a little sad that she’d never get to meet the parents of this man. Five years ago they’d been on a round-the-world cruise, though she suspected he wouldn’t have introduced her, anyway. About the only other thing she knew about him was that he didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and even getting that out of him had been like asking for state secrets.

“What happened?” she asked sympathetically.

The line of his mouth flattened. “My father picked up some sort of bug during their cruise. It killed him before he could get proper medical attention.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. That’s dreadful. Your poor mother. Did she—”

“She died two years ago.”

She listened in dismay. “I’m so sorry, Damien.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking out to sea, making her think he had hidden depths she was only now beginning to notice.

“So you’re all alone in the world?” she said, trying to find what made this man tick.

He looked at her with eyes turned hooded and dark, a sure sign she’d touched a nerve. “If you want to think of it that way, yes.” Then as if he’d had enough talking, he rose up from his chair like some god ready to sacrifice a virgin. If she’d had time she would have laughed at the thought, but her heart was jumping inside her chest as he came around the table toward her.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

He stopped in front of her, took the glass out of her hand, and pulled her to her feet, his hands circling her waist. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“No, Damien.”

Something lazily seductive seeped into his eyes. “Yes, Gabrielle.”

“Damien, I’m not ready—”

“I’m five years ready.”

She blinked. “Are you saying…you’ve been celibate for five years?”

He snorted. “I’m a man, not a saint.”

Of course. How silly of her. “Then what did—”

“Shhhhhh.” He lowered his head and kissed her. She inhaled sharply and his tongue swept into her mouth, sweeping aside her objections like he did with everything else.

The sheer passion behind it…the possessiveness in it…took her breath away. She melted into him with a low moan, a part of her dismayed at how easily she weakened, another part gloriously alive, reveling in the feel of his lips against hers.

And with each passing moment those firm, manly lips hardened with increasing hunger, growing more urgent and demanding. She returned his kiss, her heartbeat throbbing in her ears, his scent hugging her lungs until all she knew was him.

He lifted his mouth and sent her a heated look, and a private message passed between them. He, too, remembered how it had been. A delicious shudder swept over her. She could almost taste the saltiness of his skin and feel the heat of his body as they lay entwined in bed together.