Wife for a Week(52)

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ countered John. ‘I think you’ll find yourself well satisfied with your choice of life partner. Besides, I can hardly do business with a dead man, now can I?’ John picked up the pen and passed it to him. ‘My signature is already on the papers, Nicholas. Honour has been satisfied. Sign.’



Hallie left Nick and John downstairs finalizing the distribution deal and headed to the suite to start packing for the trip home. The packing could have waited until later in the day, tomorrow even, but she was too wired to rest so she started on it with a vengeance. The plan had worked beautifully, Nick was safe, and there was a quiet satisfaction in knowing that no one had pushed her aside and stepped in to save the day. She could be proud of that. Would be proud of it, dammit, and not apologetic as Nick seemed to think she should be, although, to be fair, it wasn’t the successful cancellation of the hit that had sent Nick into orbit; it was the presence of the vase. Nick wasn’t real happy about the vase.

Truth be told, Nick wasn’t real happy with her. She’d been a lousy corporate wife, distracting him from his work, arranging to have him killed, and bringing his contract negotiations to a standstill. He was probably counting the hours until they touched down in London so he could pay her and be rid of her. Not that she blamed him.

For her part, saying goodbye to Nick and watching him walk away was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. One step forward, two steps back. For all her newfound self-confidence she knew instinctively that letting Nick go was going to break her heart.

But she was determined that there would be no tears, no telling him she loved him. No. She wouldn’t do that to him. He’d wanted a wife for a week and after that week was over he wanted that wife to leave. That was the deal they’d agreed on; she could at least get that right.

She was still packing ten minutes later when Nick came up to the room and was composed enough to greet him with a tentative smile, a smile that faded when it wasn’t returned. She watched him cross to the window and stand there, grim and preoccupied, with his hands in his pocket and his back towards her. Oh, hell. Something was wrong. She waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained ominously silent. Hallie picked up a shirt and attempted to fold it, but her fingers wouldn’t co-operate. She had to know. ‘Did he sign?’

‘Yeah, he signed.’

Thank goodness for that! Hallie let out the breath she’d been holding. For a moment there she’d thought she’d sabotaged his business deal completely. But if that wasn’t it, then why the silent treatment?

Oh, yeah. The vase. ‘I, ah, packed the vase for you. I thought I’d carry it in my hand luggage. It’s very fragile.’

He closed his eyes, muttered a curse.

‘And very good value as well,’ she said in a rush. ‘I think when you have it valued you’ll be pleasantly surprised. It’s functional too.’

At this, his eyes opened and fixed on her, thoroughly disbelieving.

‘Not that I expect you to, ah, use it in that way. You could use it as a regular vase. You could put flowers in it.’

‘Flowers,’ he repeated.

‘Maybe a dried arrangement of some kind,’ she suggested.

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, well, I’m really glad the whole funeral-vase shambles didn’t ruin it for you. I think, given the circumstances, that it might be better if I don’t take your money. I mean, what with the clothes you provided and the trip itself…’

The contract hit…

‘What do you mean not take the money? You have to take the money.’ Nick pinned her with an angry gaze. ‘We had an agreement.’

So they did. Hallie bit her lip and looked away.

‘You need that money to finish your diploma.’

The diploma. Hallie sighed. Right now the diploma didn’t seem to be very important at all. Maybe it wasn’t. ‘I’m thinking of putting my studies on hold.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve had an idea.’

‘God help us all,’ he muttered. And then, as if bracing himself for a hurricane, ‘Continue.’

‘I’m going to start my own business.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘I want to start dealing in Asian antiquities, ceramics to be more specific. I have the knowledge. I know what I’m looking for. Not quite tomb raiding, I know, but I think I’d be good at it.’ She waited for a great guffaw of mocking laughter, but it didn’t come.

‘Will you have enough start-up money?’ he asked. ‘Will ten thousand pounds be enough?’