The Tycoon's Socialite Bride (Entangled Indulgence) Read online

  “You’re right.”

  “And between the two of us, we’ll charm this city into seeing things our way.”

  …

  A week later, the conference room at Pearson Enterprises was filled with members of the local media. When Pamela had sent out the press release that she and Marcus would be holding a press conference, they’d been flooded with requests to attend. She peeked through the door at the buzzing throng.

  Marcus came up behind her and placed a kiss on her shoulder. “Are you ready?”

  A fluttery feeling skittered in her belly, and she turned in his embrace. “I’ve done these before, but this feels like my very first one.”

  “This time you’re personally involved.”

  “Where are Shelly and Carter?”

  “In the back, on guard if we need them.”

  She adjusted his navy-blue tie and smoothed it against his shirt. He was gorgeous, smart, and strong. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and wiped away the smudge left behind by her lipstick. “Now I’m ready.”

  He held out his hand and she placed hers in it, that feeling of rightness stealing over her again.

  When they entered the room, the only sound audible over the beating of her heart was the click of camera shutters. Alongside Marcus, she stepped up onto the platform housing the wooden lectern and remained still as flashes exploded in their faces. She knew the best way to handle the near-blinding lights was to stand still and let her eyes adjust to the glare. Marcus stood next to her, the hard length of his body lending her additional strength and support.

  “Good morning, and thank you for coming,” she said, addressing the media.

  They’d decided to start with questions, and figured if the topic of the shelter didn’t come up, they’d make a brief statement before ending the press conference. Most of the outlets present thought this was about their marriage. She and Marcus planned to use that curiosity to their advantage.

  “We’ll take questions,” Marcus announced.

  Immediately, queries came at them from all angles. Pamela called on the first reporter.

  “I must say I’m surprised you’re giving this press conference. Everyone in town had given up on being granted an interview.”

  There were a few laughs and murmurs of agreement.

  Pamela smiled. “We wanted some time to ourselves, to enjoy our first few months as husband and wife. But you guys were persistent, so here we all are.”

  “How do you like being Pamela Pearson?”

  “I’m not complaining. It comes with great benefits.”

  “There are numerous rumors going around for your quick nuptials. Anything you want to announce?”

  Pamela laughed. “No. I am not pregnant.”

  “We barely knew you were dating before your surprise engagement and walk down the aisle. How did you meet? When did you fall in love?”

  Pamela worked hard not to fidget or squirm, but she needn’t have worried. Marcus grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “I can’t speak for my wife, but I was blown away the first moment I saw her.”

  Her heart froze, and then began pounding in her chest. She stared at him, brows raised. She knew this was for the sake of the reporters, but his words vibrated with sincerity. With effort, she pulled her gaze from his and called on the next reporter.

  “You were recently spotted at a Nats game. Are you a fan?”

  Pamela widened her eyes and shook her head. The room broke into laughter and Marcus fielded the question. “I’m the fan in the family. A huge fan. When I left the area years ago, the city didn’t have a baseball team. I’m excited they’re here now.”

  “There were reports that Mrs. Pearson had been involved in an altercation at the G Street Women’s Shelter. Would you care to comment?”

  Here it was. The moment they’d been waiting for. She sucked in a breath, but Marcus gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and addressed the reporter’s question. “I’m so glad you brought that up. A week ago, someone attempted to cause trouble at the shelter where my wife volunteers. Fortunately, none of the residents or their children were injured and the assailant was apprehended. Pamela sustained a few bruises, but she was very brave, and as you can see, she’s fine.”

  Pamela chimed in. “We believe in giving back to our community. That’s why I was deeply disturbed to learn there was a group using this incident in an attempt to close the shelter’s doors. The shelter has been here for eight years, fulfilling a vital need in our community. There’s already a shortage of available beds for the women and children who need them. We can’t allow anyone to make the situation worse.”

  She glanced in the back and saw Shelly giving her two enthusiastic thumbs up.

  Marcus placed an arm around her shoulder. “If anyone should be afraid of going back, it would be Pamela. But she didn’t hesitate to resume her shifts. She is the most dedicated person I know.”

  Tears burned her eyes and her lips trembled into a smile. His eyes were bright and intense as he stared at her. He turned back to the bank of microphones thrust in his direction to capture every word.

  “The women the shelter services are courageous. Leaving an abuser is one of the most dangerous things they can do, but they do it, positively impacting themselves and their children, which in turn will impact this community. We have a chance to save not only their lives but also the lives of the next generation. Please, show them your support.”

  Pamela leaned forward, closer to the microphone, and said, “At the table by the door, we’ve included a press packet with information on the G Street Women’s Shelter and all it does for the community, as well as contact information if you have any questions. Thank you.”

  They ended the press conference and watched as the reporters jockeyed for the information and hurried out, each presumably hoping to be the first to get their interview on the air or on the web.

  It was crazy, but even in the midst of the drama with the shelter, there was a lightness in her heart. And she owed a lot of that to Marcus. She would never forget hearing those words of support for the shelter coming from his mouth. It meant so much that he was willing to do this for her and for the women and children who sought safety and shelter.

  “Do you think that’ll work?” she asked.

  “It’s a good start.”

  “I hope so. It’d be a shame for the shelter to finally own the building only to have it shut down by the city.”

  Especially after what each of them had sacrificed. But could marrying Marcus, and sharing his life—the conversations between them, the fun times they spent together, the nights spent in his arms—really be considered a sacrifice?

  Or a reward?

  …

  The luxurious fantasy of the Inn at Little Washington was a five-star foodie delight. It was a visual feast for the eyes, from the rose-colored lampshades that hung over each table to the heavy patterned draperies that offered its diners privacy. Pamela thought it was well worth driving an hour into the Blue Ridge Mountains.

  “What looks good?” she asked Marcus.

  “You.”

  Pamela smiled, lowering her lashes over her eyes. “I’m not on the menu.”

  “Not theirs.” Marcus winked at her before turning his attention to the dinner options.

  “Is that all you think about?”

  “When it comes to you, absolutely.”

  She looked at him, heartbreakingly handsome in a slim-fitting charcoal-gray suit and sky-blue shirt that intensified the color of his eyes. She couldn’t believe he was all hers.

  For now.

  It was easy to forget there was no promise of forever, despite what he said two weeks ago about not having to end their relationship. Still, it was obvious he was enjoying the change in their arrangement. There was a chance a relationship beyond their agreement could work. But they needed to get the Holcombe deal behind them.

  “I’m glad we did this,” she said, admiring the tapestries on the wall. “Can you bel
ieve we’re together in public and the social microscope is nowhere in sight?”

  He took her hand and brushed a soft kiss across her knuckles. The electricity from his touch traveled the length of her arm, arrowed across her midsection, and plummeted to the sensitive spot between her thighs.

  “I’ve been selfish. When we weren’t scheduled to be at a social event, I liked having you to myself at home.” He smiled, sweeping his gaze up and down her form. “But you’re much too beautiful not to share with others. Especially tonight.”

  So he liked the pantsuit. She was glad. It was one of her favorites. The cream color was a warm complement to her skin tone and the slim fit was the perfect showcase for her curves. More of her was covered than in her usual cocktail attire, but she was in the mood to tempt him.

  “You don’t want to keep me all to yourself?” she teased.

  “I can share a little bit of you,” he said, “since I’ll get all of you when we go home later.”

  Her nipples tightened against the thin silk of her coral top. He was playing dirty. He smiled at her, the gleam in his eye adding to the overall impression of wickedness. He turned his attention back to the menu.

  She took a sip of water. “I checked the Rising Heights Neighborhood Association Facebook page. They’ve lost a lot of momentum since the press conference last week.”

  All of the local TV stations had run small pieces on the shelter, along with a couple of the local newspapers. Of course, she and Marcus couldn’t avoid the stories about their marriage, but they’d expected that, and had considered it a reasonable price to pay.

  “Thanks to you,” he said quietly.

  “Thanks to us. We make a great team.”

  “As I was leaving the office, I got a call from Carter.”

  “Let me guess. He’s broken up with stick figure number four and moved on to number five?”

  “Meow,” he said, his lips tipping up in a half smile.

  “I know, I know, but he could do much better. Does he enjoy being a playboy?”

  Marcus arched an eyebrow. “If he didn’t, he would stop.”

  “DC is full of smart, interesting women. I don’t get why he’s so intrigued by the vacuous ones.”

  “I know you don’t, sweetheart, because you’re an admirable woman. But he didn’t call to discuss his sex life.” He closed his menu and placed it on the table. “We’ve agreed to terms on the Holcombe.”

  “Marcus, that’s wonderful!”

  The uncertainty of the situation with David Holcombe had taken a toll on him, although he would never admit it to her. She was glad he’d finally told her about his mother. Knowing that crucial piece of information placed his goal of attaining the hotel in a different light.

  Owning the Holcombe hotel wasn’t just another business deal for Marcus. Maybe he could finally let the heavy responsibility of avenging his mother’s mistreatment fall from his shoulders. Seventeen years was long enough for that self-imposed burden. With the contract signed, he could put it behind him and move on.

  She took his hand and leaned forward, pouring her love and pride into a lingering kiss. “I hope this makes you happy,” she whispered.

  Noticing the smudge on his lips, she took her napkin and dabbed off the glossy color. When she sat back, she saw his furrowed brow and dazed expression.

  “I got it all off,” she said, showing him the stained cloth.

  “No, I—” He stopped, his gaze unfocused and turned inward, as though he was figuring out a complex equation.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” He pulled himself together with visible effort. “We did it. We convinced him. I’m going to own the Holcombe.”

  “When will the contracts be signed?”

  Marcus waited while the server took their orders and menus. When they were alone again he said, “A few weeks. We both agreed to do this in person. I…I need to see his face.”

  She nodded. “Is there anything that would prevent the transaction?”

  Marcus clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing to thin slits. “No. I want the Holcombe, no matter how I get it.”

  Her heart stuttered. In that moment, he’d transformed into the ruthless tycoon she’d first met on the golf course. She’d been lulled by his tenderness, intelligence, and sense of humor, but she couldn’t forget her husband had a well-earned reputation. She wasn’t sure why that remembrance bothered her. He hadn’t been that man with her in a while.

  “Let’s have a toast,” she said, raising her glass. “To you, Marcus. And to finally achieving your dream.”

  That funny look crossed his face again before he lifted his wineglass and touched it to hers.

  “So when will you turn over the G Street building?”

  She hated bringing up this subject, but it was the reason they’d entered into this marriage. She’d kept up her end of their agreement, and he was getting his hotel. As unromantic as it seemed, she needed to make sure he held up his end of the bargain. This wasn’t personal. There were people depending on her.

  “The moment the contract is signed, you’ll have the deed to the building in your hand.”

  “This will mean a lot to those women and children, Marcus. And to me,” she added.

  “I told you about my mother and why getting the Holcombe is important to me. Why were you willing to marry me for a building?”

  She hadn’t expected the question. She had no pithy reply to offer, certain he wouldn’t be satisfied with the story she’d spun for others.

  “I—” She broke off, reaching for another sip of wine. Bracing herself, she tried again. “On Valentine’s Day, six weeks after we became engaged, Devin and I went to a dinner party hosted by some friends. I heard him admit he was marrying me for the perks of being Senator Harrington’s son-in-law.”

  The words stuck to the roof of her mouth, like too much peanut butter or a scandal-induced apology. The embarrassment, shame, and betrayal she’d felt would have been enough to send any woman running to the safety of her home.

  But not a Harrington. She’d pasted a smile on her face and endured the dinner and conversation, loath to cause a scene lest it get back to the Senator.

  “He’s an ass.”

  She shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “The lure of the Harrington esteem entices many.”

  The corded muscle that ran the length of his jaw flexed. She wondered if he was thinking about their own beginning.

  “I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with the shelter.”

  She took a deep breath and continued.

  “Devin never liked driving in the city. Whenever we went out for the evening, he used his car and driver. That night was no exception. He’d drunk too much, leaving him sloppy and obnoxious. In the car, I told him what I’d heard and he laughed. He didn’t try to deny it.

  “I was fed up and disgusted and I grabbed my cell. I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I’d call a cab or the Senator’s driver. I don’t know what Devin thought I’d do, because he grabbed the phone away from me and backhanded me across the face.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Marcus growled, his nostrils flaring.

  “My cheek was on fire. I’d never experienced that kind of pain before. I remember screaming for the driver to pull the car over. When we stopped, I opened the door and jumped out. The moment I cleared the backseat, the car took off. Even as the car drove away, I hadn’t thought Devin would actually leave me stranded. But when the taillights disappeared, I realized I was alone in a dangerous part of the city with no phone and no money.”

  She paused momentarily when the waiter brought their first course, a heart of palm salad with lump crabmeat, then continued.

  “I stumbled along a couple of blocks, looking for a convenience store or some reasonably safe place where I could borrow a phone. My cheek throbbed, but the freezing rain helped with the pain. At that point, a part of me still hoped Devin would come back.”

  “Did he?”

  �
�No. I’d gone a few more blocks when I saw a convenience store. I went inside and asked to use the phone. There was a woman there who let me use her cell. She said there was a shelter nearby and I could wait there until someone could pick me up. That woman was Shelly and she took me to the G Street Women’s Shelter.” She toyed with her napkin.

  “What about Wentworth?”

  Pamela laughed, although there was little humor in the incident.

  “He called me at home the next day, claiming a severe hangover. He said he didn’t remember everything from the night before. That some of it was ‘fuzzy.’” She made air quotes with her fingers.

  “What about hitting you and leaving you alone in a dangerous place? How did he justify that?” Marcus spat out the last word, his voice sharp with anger.

  “He didn’t. He thought if he ignored the event and never brought it up, we would go on as if that night never occurred. I ended our engagement. I remember trying so hard to convince Shelly my bruise wasn’t what it looked like, but she was right. I did need help.”

  Marcus took several slow, steadying breaths, his fingers releasing their death grip on his fork. “I wish I’d known all of this when I met him. I wouldn’t have been so polite.”

  Remembering the tension-filled encounter, she smiled. “I hope I’m never around when you’re rude.”

  “Then head in the other direction the next time we run into him.”

  “Noted. But if that hadn’t happened, I would never have found the shelter. I stumbled across it by accident. But what if that had been my one chance to escape? What if I made a plan to get there, only to find a boarded-up space? Consistency is the key. The women’s shelter has to stay in that location, Marcus. That’s how it will best serve the community.”

  Marcus reached out and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. She closed her eyes and leaned into his strong hand, one that would only give her pleasure.

  “You’re an amazing woman, Pamela Pearson. I won’t let anyone hurt you like that ever again.”

  His voice vibrated with passion and her whole body flooded with warmth. She believed he would protect her. His wife. Pamela Pearson. She’d never tire of hearing her new name.