The Duke Takes a Bride (Entitled Book 2) (13 page)

“What if I fall in love with another man?” Shit. She hoped he didn’t catch her slip on
another.

“Then I’ll convince you that it will be a foolish waste of your time. Sooner or later he is going to disappoint you, and you are better off with what we have.”

“Which will be what?”

“A marriage based on similarity in values and interests.”

“It sounds so cold and clinical.”

“A decision based on emotions might sound more romantic, but those based on logic will have a higher chance of success.”

“Gosh, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet,” she said under her breath. When Julian scowled, she stammered, “I-I have to think about it first.” He was handing her her dream on a plate, but on one that she didn’t want to eat from.

His scowl disappeared. He nodded sagely. “Very sensible of you, Imogen.”

“Yeah, just another one of my marriage material qualities,” she chirped sarcastically.

She fled the room, not giving Julian time for a rejoinder. She found Maggie in the kitchen. Her friend fixed her with a stony, disapproving stare. She was so dead.

“Neil MacKenzie and Sean Whittier.”

“Huh?” Imogen didn’t know why Maggie had brought up the names of two men she had short-lived relationships with in college. She was warily eyeing her best friend munching on potato crisps across the kitchen island table.

Julian had asked her to marry him.

She couldn’t stop the thought from running around her head like a toy train on a railroad track.

“And that last one, Richard something. God, I missed this. This is the only reason why I’m not tearing into you right now for sleeping with my brother,” Maggie groaned, crunching another one in her mouth. “I can’t multitask.”

Her long blonde hair was tied back and she was wearing a shirt that read “I dig archaeologists.” Her long legs were encased in frayed jeans and she was wearing some type of combat boots. She still looked effortlessly hip. “I should’ve seen it then.”

Imogen’s blood ran cold. “Seen what?”

“All tall and blond. That tousled, just-out-of-bed hair.” She wriggled her fingers near her head in a strange jellyfish-like motion and speared her with a sharp glance.

Imogen avoided her gaze. “What are you talking about?”

“I feel so stupid for just realizing it!” The bag of crisps was slammed on the island counter suddenly. “You’ve always had a thing for Julian. How could you have kept it from me?”

“Oh, please,” Imogen scoffed to mislead Maggie.

“Don’t deny it, Imogen! I’ve always wondered who the mystery man was.”

“Mystery man?” Imogen parroted dumbly.

“I thought it was odd at the time you weren’t into Holden Scott so much.” Maggie was lost in her recollection of her years crushing on the rock star, “Like you were just pretending because I was into him so much. But when you didn’t let me read your diary, I knew you were keeping something from me.”

“Of course I didn’t let you read my diary. It’s supposed to be private and personal!” Imogen protested in outrage.

“You were always sighing and mooning and looking lost around Trennery Court. Gray said he thought you might be into girls.”

That bloody wanker!

Something in the way Maggie refused to meet her eyes rang alarm bells. “Oh my God!” she gasped. “You thought I had a crush on you?”

“I told myself it was just a phase and I was right, see? Besides, you hooked up with those two gorgeous guys in uni eventually.”

“I’ve never batted for the other team!”
Not that there was anything wrong with the other team, but still, for Maggie to believe in what that arsehole said back then…

“It wouldn’t have mattered to me, Genie.” Maggie’s eyes grew fierce. “I would have loved you just the same.” The battle glow in her eyes extinguished then she grabbed the foil bag and dug out another crisp, biting into it with a savage crunch.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this!” Imogen winced as she gingerly sat on the counter stool.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just see that.” Maggie shuddered delicately. “I really need to go to Dr. Landon after this. My brother and my best friend have scarred me for life. And guess who’ll be footing the bill for my therapy sessions,” she warned darkly, “because I definitely will be needing a lot of them.”

Imogen rolled her eyes. “You didn’t see anything. It wasn’t as if you burst in on us while we were going at it,” she was goaded into saying. “And I must say, Julian can really
go at it−
”

“Oh my God!” Maggie blanched and clapped her hands to her ears. She shot Imogen a glare. After a few minutes, she removed her hands from her ears. “Are you quite done ruining my appetite?

She shot her best friend a bland smile.

“I wonder if Dr. Landon is still alive?” Maggie mused, tapping a piece of crisp on her lips absently. “He was Julian’s therapist when he was a child.”

“Julian had a therapist?”

“It was a long time ago, right after Mother overdosed on her sleep medication. Jules used to wet his bed and Father brought him to a shrink. I heard Father and Olga talking about it one time. Gray was acting up and Father wanted to bring him to Dr. Landon too but Olga refused.” Maggie paused, her eyes going distant, as if seeing a movie in her mind playing out, then she shook her head abruptly. “You and Julian…I just don’t see it.”

Imogen tamped down on the insecurity that pinched her heart. She knew it, but hearing it said aloud made it feel worse. “You don’t think I’m good enough for your brother, is that it?” Her voice might have gotten a bit shrill, but she felt raw and defensive.
Porky nobody.

“What are you talking about?”

Years of frustration bubbled out of her cauldron of emotions. “That I’m not sophisticated, wealthy, and beautiful enough for Julian like your perfect Princess Alexandria, who by the way I think was bloody stupid for dumping your brother for another man.”

Shit!
Did she just say that?

Maggie’s grease-tinted lips parted in shock at her outburst. She stared at Imogen as if she had grown two heads.

Imogen took a deep breath, controlling her emotions. She was still refusing to look at Maggie for fear that she could and would see more. Why didn’t she just keep her mouth shut? But Maggie knew her like no one did, and she did see after all as she felt her green eyes boring straight into her soul.

“No! Oh, no!” Maggie suddenly exclaimed, her eyes widening in realization. ”Don’t tell me you’re in−”

“Maggie, stop interfering. This is none of your business.” Julian’s commanding voice rang from the kitchen’s threshold. He had showered and pulled on a gray shirt and jeans.

Maggie whirled around so fast the end of her ponytail lashed her cheek as she rounded on her brother. Her eyes were blazing. “How could you, Jules? I asked you to take care of her, not make her one of your bed partners. And you were supposed to be ill with the flu!”

“Shut up, Maggie.” His voice cut like a whip. Imogen flinched.

“After you break up with her, things are going to get really awkward and Genie will forever avoid me. Couldn’t you have just chosen one of your lady friends,” she air quoted with her fingers, “to have a rebound shag with?”

“I said shut up.” He hadn’t raised his voice but his grim, forbidding tone earned a death glare from his sister. She crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow, a shared mannerism that would have made Imogen smile on any other day.

“Fine!” Maggie snapped, refusing
not
to have the last word.

“How did you even manage to get in?”

Maggie stubbornly refused to answer. One expressive eyebrow lifted as if to say, “You did ask me to shut up, didn’t you?”

“Margaret,” Julian rumbled threateningly.

“I asked Lopez to let me in,” she replied petulantly.

He was the same bodyguard who had followed Imogen that night she fled his penthouse two years ago.

“No one was answering the door,” Maggie continued, “and you weren’t answering your phones.” Her eyes, a deeper green than her brother’s, narrowed. “Now I know I was right to be worried,” she said darkly, pinning Julian with an accusing stare.

Julian’s jaw, hard-edged and with a bit of morning scruff, clenched.

“It’s not what you think, Maggie,” Imogen blurted out, trying to deflect the rapidly deteriorating situation between brother and sister.

“Hah!” There was another quirk of a blonde brow, a disbelieving one. Maggie faced her brother squarely. “This is low, Julian. Have you run out of models and actresses to seduce that you had to move in on Genie?”

Imogen’s chest squeezed painfully. For Maggie to think that Julian had gone to bed with her because he was desperate and she was on hand-

“Margaret,” Julian barked, his worried gaze snapping to hers, “you’ve said enough!”

Her insecurity about Julian just “slumming” it with her rose to the fore. Before she could think about it, she announced, “Julian asked me to marry him.”

There was stunned silence. She didn’t mean to blurt it out just like that. Maggie’s mouth went slack. Julian blinked. Then all hell broke loose.

Imogen ran from the kitchen and into the guest bedroom. She slammed the door shut, walling off Maggie’s raised, angry voice and Julian’s brusque one. She slumped against a wall, scrunched her eyes shut, and wondered how long it would take before anyone came looking for her. She hoped it took a long time.

“
W
hat does
Genie mean you asked her to marry you?” Maggie demanded belligerently. She seemed to have forgotten she was the younger sibling and was acting like an enraged parent.

“It means exactly what you heard.” Julian tried to keep his voice even in the face of Maggie’s interrogation, but all he wanted was a shot of whiskey before dealing with his sister. He needed a clear head, so he settled for pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

“She stays with you for a week then all of a sudden you want to marry her?” she demanded incredulously.

“Yes.”

His monosyllabic answer inflamed Maggie more. Her green eyes flashed dangerously. “Is this some kind of displaced reaction from Lexie’s engagement? Because honestly, I’d rather you go work it off skydiving or swimming with sharks or whatever you get your adrenaline kicks from rather than messing with Genie!”

“Stay out of it, Maggie,” Julian bit out. “This is between me and Imogen.”

His sister gave him a searching look. “Are you in love with Genie?”

“I care about her,” he said, with a bit more force than he had intended.

“
Care
about her?” Maggie sneered. “If this is about the title, you have plenty of time to look for someone to fall in love with and have children. Men can sire children until they’re well into their dotage.” She sniffed. “Which I think is absolutely gross.”

Julian wanted to put an end to the discussion. “I’ve decided on Imogen and that’s that.”

“Lexie let you off the hook. You have a chance to find someone you love and be happy with. Not all women are like that gold-digging bitch Chelsea.”

“Of course they’re not.” Julian laughed without humor. No woman would ever hold that kind of power over him again. “That’s why I’m going to marry Imogen.”

“Not being Chelsea is a poor reason to marry someone.” Maggie’s lips stretched flat, her stare filled with reproach.

“It’s better than an arrangement done on your behalf when you were barely even potty-trained.” Julian sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Why are you so decided against Imogen? She can be your sister-in-law.”

“I won’t be able to bear it when you hurt her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Oh, you will, Jules. You will,” she said with certainty, skewering him with a penetrating glance. “I know Imogen and she does nothing by half. She’ll want the one thing that you can’t give her.”

“You mean love?” he said scathingly. “What Imogen and I will have will be something more solid and grounded,” he reached for the word that escaped him like a man trying to grasp air. And then he found it. “What we’ll have is something more sustainable,” he pronounced triumphantly. “Yes. Our marriage will be sustainable.”

“This is not one of your business ventures, Jules.” Maggie shook her head sadly. “Not everyone in it is for the profit.” She flounced off the stool bar and grabbed her duffel bag from the floor. “I’m out of here. I can’t bear to watch a train wreck about to happen.”

Julian watched her leave silently, a frown creasing his brow.

I
mogen forced
her breathing to slow down. Drat. Her little announcement might not have been such a good idea after all, but she just wanted Maggie to back the hell off. And yeah, she had to admit to some injured pride as well. To let judgy Maggie know that Julian’s intentions were...honorable. Still, it was in very bad form to toss that little grenade out there when she didn’t stay around for the explosion. Might as well go back before the smoke cleared.

“Are you in love with Genie?” Trust Maggie to get to the bottom of the issue. She hung by the edge of the kitchen, holding her breath.

“I care for her.”

Shrapnel pierced her stupid heart. How many times did she have to hear it to accept it?
Julian is not and would not be in love with Imogen.
She should have that tattooed on her brain. She tiptoed back to her room and closed herself in the bathroom. She meant to take a shower but she couldn’t seem to find the will to do so.

Imogen didn’t know how long she had been sitting on the closed toilet lid staring into space when a knock pulled her back to the present.

“Imogen?” She could hear the concern in his voice even before he said, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Er-just taking a bath!” She didn’t want Julian to find her moping. She quickly stood up, stepped inside the shower enclosure, grabbed the shower handle, and turned it on full force. She shrieked when the cold water doused her. Worse, she was still wearing her clothes. After managing to turn it off, shrieking and swearing the whole time, she found Julian standing outside the glass partition divider, grinning.

Imogen would have sworn her lips were blue at that point, but Julian’s sexy grin was heating up other parts of her anatomy.

He noticed.

“I take it back,” he rumbled, the grin completely wiped off his face as his eyes drifted to her soaked cotton top plastered to her chest, “you can keep your ratty shirts. This is fulfilling all my wet t-shirt contest fantasies, darling.”

Imogen glanced down and found her white shirt had turned transparent. She crossed her arms against her breasts reflexively.

“Out,” she gritted between her teeth.

“Later,” he quipped, casting her a lingering, heated glance before he strode out of the door.

Imogen shrugged out of her wet clothes then turned the shower on full blast. She deliberately left it set to cold.