The Venadicci Marriage Vengeance

‘All right,’ Gabby said on a whooshing breath of resignation. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Fine,’ Vinn said, in a tone that suggested he had never had any doubt of her accepting, which somehow made it all the more galling. ‘The money will be deposited within the next few minutes. I will pick you up this evening for dinner, so we can go through the wedding arrangements.’

Gabby felt herself quake with alarm. ‘Couldn’t we just wait a few days until I have time to—?’

His cynical laugh cut her off. ‘Until you have time to think of a way out, eh, Gabriella? I don’t think so, cara. Now I have you I am not going to let you escape.’

‘What am I supposed to say to my parents?’ she asked, scowling at him even as her stomach did another nosedive of dread.

He smiled. ‘Why not tell them you’ve finally come to your senses and agreed to marry me?’

She gave him another glare that would have stripped three decades of paint off a wall. ‘They will think I have taken leave of my senses.’

‘Or they will think you have fallen head over heels in love,’ he said. ‘Which is exactly what I would prefer them to believe at this point in time. Your father’s health is unstable and will be for some weeks after the surgery, I imagine. I wouldn’t want him to suffer a relapse out of concern for you or for his business.’

Gabby couldn’t argue with that, but she resented him using it as a lever to get her to fall meekly in with his plans. ‘I was planning on going to the hospital this evening,’ she said tightly. ‘Will I meet you there or at the house?’

‘I have a couple of meetings that might string out, so if I don’t make it to the hospital I will meet you at the house around eight-thirty,’ he said. ‘I would like to speak to your father at some point about my intentions.’

Gabby couldn’t stop her top lip from curling. ‘Somehow you don’t strike me as the traditional type, asking a girl’s father for her hand in marriage. In fact I didn’t think you were the marrying type at all. All we ever read about you in the press is how you move from one relationship to another within a matter of weeks.’

He gave her another unreadable smile. ‘Variety, as they say, is the spice of life,’ he said. ‘But even the most restless man eventually feels the need to put down some roots.’

She eyed him warily. ‘This marriage between us…it’s not for the long term…is it?’

‘Only for as long as it achieves its aim,’ he said— which Gabby realised hadn’t really answered her question.

Vinn moved past her to hold the door open for her. ‘I will see you tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you if I am going to be late.’

She brushed past him, her head at a proud angle. The subtle notes of her perfume danced around his face, making his nostrils flare involuntarily. She smelt of orange blossom. Or was it honeysuckle? He couldn’t quite tell. Maybe it was both. That was the thing about Gabriella—she was a combination of so many things, any one of them alone was enough to send his senses spinning. But all of them put together? Well, that was half his problem, wasn’t it?

The door clicked shut behind her and Vinn released the breath he’d unconsciously been holding. ‘Damn,’ he said, raking a hand through his hair. ‘God damn it to hell.’

‘Mr Venadicci?’ His receptionist’s cool, crisp voice sounded over the intercom. ‘Mr Winchester is here now. Shall I send him in?’

Vinn pulled in an uneven breath and released it just as raggedly. ‘Yeah…’ he said, dropping his hand by his side. ‘I’ll see him. But tell him I’ve only got five minutes.’

CHAPTER TWO

GABBY put on her bravest face while she visited her father’s bedside. The tubes and heart monitor leads attached to his grey-tinged body made her stomach churn with anguish—the very same anguish she could see played out on her mother’s face.

‘How are you, Dad?’ she whispered softly as she bent down to kiss his cheek.

‘Still alive and kicking,’ he said, and even managed a lopsided grin, but Gabby could see the worry and fear in his whisky-coloured eyes.

‘Have the doctors told you anything more?’ she asked, addressing both her mother and father.

‘The surgery is being brought forward to tomorrow,’ Pamela St Clair answered. ‘Vinn spoke to the cardiac surgeon and organised it when he was here earlier. He insisted your father’s case be made a priority. You just missed him, actually. It’s a wonder you didn’t pass him in the corridor.’

Gabby stiffened. ‘Vinn was here just now?’

‘Yes, dear,’ her mother said. ‘He’s been here every day. But you know that.’

‘Yes… It’s just I was speaking to him this morning and he said he had meetings to attend all afternoon and evening,’ she said, unconsciously biting her lip.

Her mother gave her a searching look. ‘I hope you’re not going to be difficult about Vinn,’ she said, with a hint of reproof in her tone. ‘He’s been nothing but supportive, and the least you could do is be civil towards him—especially now.’

Gabby could have laughed out loud at the irony of her mother’s turnaround. Pamela St Clair had always been of the old school, that actively discouraged fraternisation with any of the household staff. She had barely spoken to Vinn’s mother during the years Rose had worked at the St Clair estate other than to hand Rose a long list of menial tasks to get through. She had been even less friendly towards Rose’s surly son during the short time he had lived there with his mother. And after he’d had that slight run-in with the law Pamela had tried to ban him from the property altogether, but Gabby’s father had insisted Vinn be allowed to visit his mother as usual.

Gabby hadn’t been much better towards Rose— which was something she had come to sincerely regret in the years since. She still cringed in shame at how inconsiderate she had been at times, carelessly leaving her things about, without a care for the person who had to come along behind her and pick them up.

But it was Gabby’s treatment of Vinn that had been the most unforgivable. She had been absolutely appalling to him for most of her teenage years—teasing him in front of her giggling friends, talking about him in disparaging terms well within his hearing. She had flirted with him, and then turned her nose up at him with disgraceful regularity. She had no excuse for her behaviour other than that she had been an insecure teenager, privately struggling with body issues, who, in an effort to build her self-esteem, had tended to mix with a rather shallow crowd of rich-kid friends who had not learned to respect people from less affluent backgrounds.

On one distressingly memorable occasion, at the urging of her troublemaking friends, Gabby had left an outrageously seductive note for Vinn, asking him to meet her in the summerhouse that evening. But instead of turning up she had watched from one of the top windows of the mansion, laughing with her friends at how he had arrived at the summerhouse with a bunch of white roses for her. What had shamed her most had been Vinn’s reaction. Instead of bawling her out, calling her any one of the despicable names she had no doubt deserved, he had said nothing. Not to her, not to her parents, and not even to her brother Blair, whom he’d spent most of his spare time with whenever he had visited the estate.

Gabby’s father reached out a weak hand towards her, the slight tremble of his touch bringing her back to the present. ‘Vinn is a good man,’ he said. ‘I know you’re still grieving the loss of Tristan, but I think you should seriously consider his proposal. You could do a lot worse. I know he’s had a bit of a rough start, but he’s done well for himself. No one could argue with that. I always knew he had the will-power and the drive to make it once he got on the right path. I’m glad he has chosen you as his bride. He will look after you well. I know he will.’

Gabby couldn’t quite disguise her surprise that Vinn had already spoken to her father. She moistened her dry lips and tried on a bright smile, but it didn’t feel comfortable on her mouth. ‘So he’s spoken to you about our…relationship?’

Her father smiled. ‘I gave him my full blessing, Gabby. I must say I wasn’t the least surprised to hear the news of your engagement.’

Gabby frowned. ‘You…you weren’t?

He shook his head and gave her hand another light squeeze. ‘You’ve been striking sparks off each other since you were a teenager,’ he said. ‘For a time there I thought… Well…Blair’s accident changed everything, of course.’

Gabby felt the familiar frustration that neither of her parents had ever accepted their only son’s death as suicide. They still refused to acknowledge he had been dabbling with drugs—but then stubborn denial was a St Clair trait, and she had her own fair share of it.

‘I’m glad you both approve,’ she said, banking down her emotion. ‘We are having dinner this evening to discuss the wedding arrangements.’

‘Yes, he told us it wasn’t going to be a grand affair,’ her mother said. ‘I think that’s wise, under the circumstances. After all, it’s your second marriage. It seems pointless going to the same fuss as last time.’

Gabby couldn’t agree more. The amount of money spent on her marriage to Tristan Glendenning had been such a waste when within hours of the ceremony and lavish reception she had realised the terrible mistake she had made.

She stretched her mouth into another staged smile and reached across to kiss both her parents. ‘I’d better get going,’ she said, readjusting her handbag over her shoulder. ‘Is there anything you need before I go?’

‘No, dear,’ her mother assured her. ‘Vinn brought some fruit and a couple of novels for your father to read by that author he enjoys so much. I must say Vinn’s grown into a perfect gentleman. Your father is right. You could do a lot worse—especially as you’re a widow. Not many men want a woman someone else has had, so to speak.’

Gabby silently ground her teeth. If only her mother knew the truth about her ill-fated first marriage. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, and with another unnatural smile left.

The St Clair mansion was situated on the waterfront in the premier harbourside suburb of Point Piper, flanked on either side by equally luxurious homes for the super-rich and famous. The views across Sydney Harbour were spectacular, and the house and grounds offered a lifestyle that was decadent to say the least.

Gabby had moved back home two years ago, after Tristan’s death in a car accident, and although now and again she had toyed with the idea of finding a place of her own, so far she had done nothing about doing so. The mansion was big enough for her to have the privacy she needed, and with her finances still on the shaky side, after the trail of debts her late husband had left behind, she had decided to leave things as they were for the time being.

The doorbell sounded right on the stroke of eight-thirty and Gabby was still not ready. Her straight ash-blonde hair was in heated rollers, to give it some much needed body, and she was still in her bathrobe after a shower.

She wriggled into a black sheath of a designer dress she’d had for years, and shoved her feet into three inch heels, all the time trying not to panic as another minute passed. She slashed some lipstick across her mouth and dusted her cheeks with translucent powder, giving her lashes a quick brush with a mascara wand before tugging at the rollers. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in springy waves, and with a quick brush she was ready—or at least as ready as she could be under the circumstances. Which wasn’t saying much…

Vinn checked his watch and wondered if he should use the key Henry had insisted he keep on him at all times. But just as he was searching for it on his keyring the door opened and Gabriella was standing there, looking as if she had just stepped off the catwalk. Her perfume drifted towards him, an exotic blend of summer blooms. Her normally straight hair was bouncing freely around her bare shoulders, the black halter neck dress showing off her slim figure to maximum advantage.