Rafe swore again but this time it was more a sound of admiration. ‘So, it’s just a marriage on paper, right?’
Another little silence, while Remy thought of how to answer. He didn’t want to lie to his brother but neither did he want to discuss what had happened not ten minutes ago. His body was still singing from what was one of the most—if not the most—exciting sexual encounter of his life.
‘You haven’t,’ Rafe said, sounding stern and incredulous at the same time.
‘Hey, what is this?’ Remy said. ‘I don’t ask you about your sex life with Poppy. Back off. I know what I’m doing.’ Sort of. ‘It’s cool. Everything’s cool.’
‘You married our family’s worst enemy’s daughter without a pre-nup,’ Rafe said. ‘I don’t think that’s cool; I think that’s outright stupidity. You’re jeopardising everything we’ve worked for, just like Nonno did. Have you learned nothing in your thirty-two years on this planet?’
‘What was I supposed to do?’ Remy felt his hackles come up. ‘Let her take the rap for being discovered in my room? I had to think, and think fast. There wasn’t time to draw up a pre-nup. I did what I thought was the best and safest thing.’
‘Being legally tied to Angelique Marchand is not safe,’ Rafe said.
Tell me about it. ‘I won’t stay married to her for any longer than I have to,’ Remy said. ‘I’m working it to my advantage. Remember the Mappleton hotel chain I’ve been trying to buy for months? Henri Marchand’s rumours about me turned old man Mappleton off, but now I’m married to Angelique he wants to play ball. I’m meeting with him next week. If I nail that deal, it will be worth any minor inconvenience of being married.’
‘I can’t help thinking this could blow up in your face.’
‘You always think that about me,’ Remy said. ‘I like taking chances. Going with the gut. I always land on my feet. Always. Goal. Focus. Win. Remember?’
Rafe let out a long breath. ‘Watch your back, Remy. Keeping your enemies close is wise, but sleeping with them is not.’
Sleeping with them is the fun part, Remy thought as he ended the call.
In fact, he couldn’t wait to do it again.
* * *
Angelique was putting the finishing touches to her make-up when her mobile phone rang. She glanced at the screen to see it was her manager, Mackenzie Hillstrom, from her New York modelling agency. ‘Hi, Mac, I was going to call you but—’
‘Darling girl, I should hate you for not inviting me to your totally awesome desert wedding, and for not even telling me you were dating one of the most eligible and gorgeous men on this planet, but I forgive you, because you’ve just landed yourself the biggest contract of all time,’ Mackenzie said.
‘I...I have?’
‘Forget Barbados and bikinis and bum-biting camels in Mexico. You are now the new poster girl for designer bridal wear. Every top designer wants you on his or her books! There’s a bidding war going on as we speak. You looked absolutely amazing in that traditional garb. No one but you could pull that exotic look off. You’ve created the biggest sensation in bridal wear since the royal wedding.’
Bridal wear?
Was this fate’s idea of a twisted joke? ‘Um... Wow, that’s great.’ Should she tell her manager her marriage to Remy was only temporary, a charade unlikely to last longer than it took him to nail the Mappleton account?
‘This is the big break you’ve been waiting for,’ Mackenzie went on in her fast-paced New York accent. ‘You’re our golden girl now. You’ll earn millions out of this. It will set you up for life—me too, when it comes to that. I’ll email you the contract. Get it back to me as soon as you can. Take the next couple of weeks off while I sort the spring schedule out. Shanae will fill in for you on the Barbados shoot. Any questions?’
‘No...that sounds wonderful.’ I think.
Angelique put the phone down on the dressing table. She looked at it for a long moment, wondering if she should call her manager straight back and tell her she didn’t want to take up the offer. Her life seemed to be spinning out of control in an alarming manner. A part of her wanted the money that was being put on the table, but the fame and constant exposure that would go with it gave her a troubling sense of unease. She had planned for months to get out of modelling. She was tired of living in the false world of perfection.
Her body was tired.
She had notebooks and slips of paper with designs doodled all over them. When would she have time to pursue her dream if she was caught up in a hectic shooting schedule? She didn’t believe in doing things in half-measures. If they wanted her to be the next it girl in bridal wear, then her designs would have to wait...