The Duke Takes a Bride (Entitled Book 2) (17 page)

“Please,” she said, beyond caring that she was pleading, “don’t show Julian.”

He laughed, a mocking parody of the actual one. “Oh, I think we’ll have a jolly good time,
Julian
,” he emphasized, “and I, poring over your works of art.”

“Please! Give it back!” She was sobbing now. She stepped forward to grab the book, but Gray was quick. He took a step back, his long, gangly legs moving him farther away from her. “Why are you doing this?”

His gaze was accusing. “I thought you were different, but you’re just like them.” He took another step back, edging to the exit of the stable. “You chose the wrong brother, Genie.”

Imogen screamed for him to stop but he chose not to hear her. He yanked the door open and slammed right into his brother. She felt all the blood drain from her head.

She heard Julian curse. He was garbed in his usual riding outfit of denims, shirt, and riding boots. His black Labrador, Midnight, burst inside and settled by her master’s side on her haunches. She saw him frown, and with one sweeping gaze of her tear-stained face and the sketchbook in Gray’s hand, he took accurate stock of the situation.

“Give it back, Graham,” Julian ordered in a low, commanding tone.

Gray shot him a vicious glare and side-stepped his older brother. Julian grabbed his arm to detain him, but Gray furiously tried to shake it loose.

“Let go!” Gray yelled as he tried to break free. The Lab started barking ferociously. In the struggle, Gray lost his footing and sprawled on the hay-littered ground. Midnight took the opportunity to sink her teeth into his cheek. Imogen gasped in horror. Julian seized the dog by the collar and gave a sharp tug that dislodged her from Gray.

Gray scrambled unsteadily to his feet, and Imogen blanched at the sight of the ugly teeth marks on his cheek. Julian’s hands were full, trying to control the dog who was snapping at her leash.

“Go!” Julian shouted, and Gray ran out of the door, out of the Lab’s sight, which immediately calmed down.

Imogen stood rooted to her spot, shell-shocked.

Julian bent and picked up her sketchbook. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

She took it with trembling fingers.

“Are you alright?” Julian asked.

She wasn’t. Someone gripped her elbow. “Are you alright?” The voice was more insistent, more real. With a blink, Imogen realized the present Julian had asked the same question as the one in her flashback.

“Yes. I’m fine. Just sleepy.” She faked a yawn.

Beside her, Maggie gave a loopy giggle. “But the party’s just started.”

She hadn’t noticed Maggie had returned. Gray was gone. Julian was now seated beside a young woman tossing her hair in a flirty manner. This revolving musical chair or rather table was starting to make her head throb.

Julian canted his torso forward to address his sister. “I’ve got to get back to Los Angeles early tomorrow. The jet leaves at 7 a.m., with or without you.”

“Oh okay, spoilsport,” Maggie grumbled, grabbed her purse from the table, and lurched upright. Julian shot to his feet and cupped his sister’s elbow. Imogen followed suit and the three of them bade their goodbyes to the other occupants of the table.

Hanging by the shadow of the tent, Gray was chatting with a gorgeous woman, but Imogen felt his eyes tracking them as they navigated their way out of the party. She shivered as she stepped out of the tent, and it was not from the cool autumn air at all.

Julian drew her closer. “Stay away from Gray, Imogen. He and I are going to have a talk.”

She could only nod, grateful for his warmth.

“
W
hat are you doing
, darling?”

“As if you don’t know,” came the dry response.

Julian chuckled as he watched Imogen lift her head from her sketchpad, her mobile stuck to her ear. She searched the ceiling of the living room and wrinkled her nose in the direction of the CCTV camera. Right at him. Through his laptop. Spectacles and all.

He had flown to Hong Kong immediately after the tournament. One of the investors had wanted to pull out of a project after rumors surfaced that the software developer had stolen the idea from another developer. Julian had to fly there suddenly to investigate. The rumors were unfounded and the Hong Kong crisis had been smoothed over, but Julian still had some loose ends to tie up before he could fly out to Los Angeles and intensify his pursuit of Imogen. He had a week left to do it before he was due to fly to the London office, where he would most probably be tied down for a couple of weeks. And he wanted her answer. She was weakening, he sensed it. If she wanted flowers and romance and all that nonsense, Julian was going to give it to her. It was such rotten timing, this Hong Kong crisis.

“It feels creepy, you spying on me like this.”

Julian didn’t have the heart to tell her he also had an audio microphone, a bonus from the tech entrepreneur who had installed the system years ago as security for his paintings. That was how he had heard her shouting to be let out of the penthouse years ago.

And as if reading his thoughts, which Julian felt was by far creepier, she said: “That night,” she began then hesitated, “the cameras were on?”

He had forgotten about the surveillance cameras that night. She had made him careless.

“I erased them immediately.” And everything that reminded him of her. Shipped the portraits with all haste, stripped off the carpet, and refurbished the living room. Everything and everywhere except someplace he couldn’t quite reach.

She nodded, his trust in him implicit.

Julian wished with all his soul he felt the same way. That he could trust someone that easily. Wanted to. But some things broken were better left unglued. Like a vase. Patching things up gave it a semblance of being held together, whole, but a slight fall and it would shatter, more fragmented than it had ever been.

“How’s Hong Kong? Crisis averted?” Her left hand clutching a pencil began moving again, deft and fluid.

“I’ll be able to leave day after tomorrow. You’ll love it here. The food is fantastic.”

“I love dumplings.”

“Me too,” he said in a suggestive tone.

Being Imogen, she caught on in a second. “Excuse me! My breasts are not dumplings!” she cried in faux outrage. “They’re more like pork buns!”

Julian grinned. She was adorable. “What they are is tasty! Now give me a peek. I miss them.”

She dropped her pencil and stared in the direction of the CCTV camera again. “You want me to flash you my pork buns?” she said disbelievingly.

“It’s all your fault, darling,” Julian said gravely. “I told you to stop wearing those ratty shirts around the house.”

“What’s in it for me?”

His grin grew wider at her cheek. “A silk robe? How does that sound?”

“You can do better than that,” she scoffed disdainfully.

“How about a jade bracelet?”

She shook her head.

And then he knew. “Tank ornaments for Clark?”

Her head cocked. “Nothing with jagged edges. Some silk plants maybe.”

“Done.”

“I’m so easy,” she sighed, placing the mobile on the coffee table. She rose from her lotus position on the floor.

And I’m so hard.
His own sister had cock-blocked him inadvertently that last night in Las Vegas. Imogen had gone back to the room she shared with Maggie, fearful her friend wouldn’t be able to rise early to catch the flight if she wasn’t there to wake her up. Julian tried to change her mind; she could sleep in his bed then go back to her room in the morning to rouse Maggie. She had blushed prettily and said she wasn’t sure she’d be capable of getting out of bed
that
early if she spent the night in his bed.

Thus, prolonging the bloody moratorium and saddling him with a perpetual hard-on. Which served him right for imposing the ridiculous sex ban in the first place.

Imogen grasped the edge of her shirt pulled it over her head before tossing it on the floor, leaving her in her pink cotton knickers.

“Did you just groan?” she said. “I put you on speaker phone.”

“I did not,” he denied through gritted teeth. This was going to be embarrassingly fast. “Touch your nipples!”

“What?” she squeaked. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“Just do it,” he snapped.

“Those ornaments better be really fancy,” she grumbled, getting on with the task at hand. “Julian? You’re awfully quiet.”

Perspiration rolled down his forehead. His heart raced. He was so close. Imogen pinched her nipples experimentally and then he came. “Fuck!” He slumped against the backrest of the executive chair limply.

“Julian?” Imogen’s voice was tentative, as if she suspected something but couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yes, darling?”

“I think I should have held out for more.”

Julian’s weak bark of laughter reverberated around his office. He couldn’t wait to be back in Los Angeles.

I
mogen was so caught
up in her drawings, had entered a flow zone, that she did not realize it was already past midnight. Her mobile rang. She didn’t recognize the number but decided to answer it anyway. Maggie frequently called with a different phone number whenever she was out of the country.

“Hello?” she repeated when she was only met by silence. She was about to hang up when the caller’s voice spoke up.

“Genie?”

“Who is this?” He didn’t answer, but she already knew. Dread lodged in the pit of her stomach. He must have gotten her number from Maggie.

“I saw you first.” Gray slurred his words. Imogen wanted to drop the call, but he must have read her mind. “Don’t hang up.”

“Gray,” she said sternly, “you’re pissed. I’m not about to have a conversation with a drunk−”

“Please.”

The single word, raw and pained, stopped her. She was not as immune to that plea as she would have wanted.

She, Maggie, and Gray had done everything together during those summers in Trennery Court. They were of the same age group, Gray being just a year younger since the old Duke had remarried immediately after becoming a widower. They would play pirate and bury a “treasure,” she would draw the map, and Maggie would dig it up. They were inseparable. Gray was a sweet boy whenever he got his way. Until he didn’t.

“What do you want, Gray?”

No response. The silence lengthened and just as Imogen was about to cut the connection, he spoke again.

“You.”

Imogen shook her head, even if Gray couldn’t see her. “You’re spouting nonsense.”

“I saw you first, Genie,” he repeated, sounding belligerent. “You’re supposed to be mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There are rules,” he insisted.

The conversation had just gotten more bizarre. “Rules?”

“Finders keepers, right?” Gray laughed without humor. “But no. He ordered me to stay away from you. That day at the stable, he told me never to see you again.”

“After what you did, it was no wonder,” Imogen said flatly.

“Who does he think he is, ordering me about? The fucking duke?” Gray chortled. “Oh yeah, I forgot. He
is
the fucking duke.”

“I’ve got to go.” Imogen couldn’t stand listening to another minute of Gray’s drunken rant. “Listen to me, Gray.” She enunciated each word slowly, “Lay off the alcohol. Drink some coffee. Now.”

There was another long silence.

She heard a thud, filthy swearing, and a groan. “Gray?! What happened?”

“The fucking floor fell on me!” He sounded more baffled rather than hurt. Then he chuckled, reminding her more of the Gray she once knew.

“Get some sleep,” she said wearily.

“I will, if you promise to see me again. We were friends once.” Imogen’s heart softened just a tiny bit, then he had to go and harden it again. “I’ll show you who the better brother is.”

“Oh, Gray.” Imogen could only shake her head. “Just let it go.”

“I can’t,” he said simply, then he hung up.

Imogen went to bed and fell into a restless sleep. When she woke up there was an SMS on her mobile. She debated about responding to it. In the end, she decided it would be better, once and for all, for everyone involved.

“
I
guess
you were serious about the coffee.” Gray eyed the cup in front of him critically.

He was impeccably groomed, his dark hair brushed off his handsome face, the stem of his sunglasses tucked into the V of his plain shirt. Only the puffy eyes and paleness gave away his state this morning. And even then, he was still a head turner. Women had been covertly glancing at him since he had entered the coffee shop minutes after Imogen arrived.

“It’s black,” Imogen pronounced.

“It’s vile, that’s what it is,” Gray said with disgust, but he took a sip nonetheless. “I guess I deserve it, after last night.”

“You do.”

Amusement and admiration flared in his eyes. “You’ve really changed, Genie. I like it. A lot.”

She sipped her coffee so she wouldn’t be able to answer.

“But some things, they remain the same.”

Imogen didn’t want to go there. “I’m sorry, Gray−”

“No. I’m the one who’s sorry. About that drunk call.” He gazed at her, his lips twisting wryly. “Can you give me another chance? Be friends like how we were before?”

Gazing at her with a guileless expression, how could Imogen be hardhearted enough to resist? This was Gray, her childhood friend, the one she had spent countless summers with running around the estate with. She nodded.

“Come on,” he said, rising from the chair. “Let’s take a walk.” Gray was causing quite a stir in the café. He donned his shades as they left the shop.

“Do you get recognized a lot?”

He shrugged. “Some days. The scar gives me away.”

In most of his ads, the scar was very much visible. She wondered at that when it could be erased so easily digitally.

“It’s become my brand.” His tone was mildly defiant so she didn’t press more.

They sat on a bench and watched the people pass them by for several minutes, neither looking at each other.

“I’m supposed to seduce you, by the way, from Julian,” he said casually as he removed his sunglasses.

“What?” Imogen blinked in confusion.

“Upon my mother’s orders. Maggie let it slip last night that he asked you to marry him.” He saw her dismayed expression. “Don’t blame her. I plied her with enough alcohol to extract the information.”

Imogen shook her head. “She shouldn’t have.”

“Is it because he’s rich? He has a title?”

Imogen bristled. “You think I’m a gold digger?”

“So you’re in love with him?” Gray demanded, his blue eyes flashing fiercely. The abrupt change in his demeanor startled her.

“I’ve been in love with Julian since the first day I saw him,” she blurted out rather unwisely.

Gray jerked back as if he had been struck. He whitened around the mouth. “Julian doesn’t do love,” he spit out. His laugh was ugly. “All he wants is a brat to carry on the title and inherit a pile of crumbling bricks. I just want you to be aware of what his priorities are.”

“I’m very much aware. Thank you.”

Gray cursed violently. “And you’re willing to sell yourself short?

Before she could react further, Gray twisted his torso towards her and grabbed her face with his hands

“I told you last night it wasn’t over, Genie.” The intensity that blazed in his eyes rendered Imogen immobile. “You were mine first. Once Julian gets what he wants from you, he’ll toss you aside, like all his other women.”

“Let me go!” Imogen squirmed, but Gray held on fast. He lowered his head and his mouth descended on hers.

“The lady said no.”

Gray whipped his head up then froze.

It was Lopez. The bodyguard stood back several paces, ready to spring into action if warranted.

“It’s alright, Lopez,” Imogen said with a calm she didn’t feel. “His Grace’s brother was just about to leave.” She was afraid to move, fearful the bodyguard would be compelled to use force if she struggled.

The three of them were all frozen in a tableau until Gray finally spoke.

“’Til next time, Genie.” His lean, elegant form rose in one smooth motion. He shot the bodyguard a murderous glare before he donned his shades and strode off unhurriedly into the street.