Page 13 of Fake Engagement Arrangement (Wilde Billionaire Brothers #1)

‘Love?’ He said the word so mockingly she could feel a blush staining her cheeks. ‘If that’s how love acts, then I want no part of it.’

‘I’m sorry I hurt you, but at the time I had no other choice.’

His expression was scathing. ‘Your choice was to fill your bank account with money and make a fool of me in the process. But did you ever consider what your actions did to other members of my family? My grandmother, for instance?’

Back then, Mollie had had no time to think about anything but keeping those images out of circulation.

It was only much later that she thought of Jago’s grandmother, who was so excited about her middle grandson finally settling down.

Elsie must have been so bitterly disappointed and sad for her grandson, falsely believing him to be in love with his runaway fiancée.

Mollie had briefly thought of his brothers too, but she had only met them a handful of times, and while she knew they would abhor what she had done to Jago, she didn’t think they would give her another thought. Out of sight, out of mind.

As for Maxwell Wilde…well, Mollie tried not to think about him at all.

But even so, she often found herself wondering why it had been Maxwell who had been approached by the blackmailer and not Jago.

As her fiancé, surely Jago should have been the target for blackmail?

He had wealth equal to if not greater than that of his grandfather.

‘I can only imagine how upset your grandmother must have been,’ Mollie said then added with a note of bitterness, ‘As for your grandfather, I’m sure he was glad to see the back of me. He never liked me. He never considered me good enough.’

‘No one is ever good enough for my grandfather including, at times, his wife and grandsons.’ Jago’s tone was as bitter as hers had been, his frown deep.

Mollie had always wondered what Jago’s childhood had been like growing up with such an overbearing grandfather as his guardian.

Jago was only five when his parents were killed.

It was such a young age to lose his primary caregivers, but to be then raised by an impossible-to-please grandfather must have added another level of trauma.

‘Was your father good enough for him?’ It was bold of her to ask such a question when Mollie already knew he had refused to talk about his parents on every occasion she had raised the topic.

There was a beat or two of weighted silence.

Jago let out a rough-edged sigh and stepped away from her. ‘Just go to bed, Mollie. I need to shower and shave.’ He turned and entered the bathroom, closing the door with a click that was like a full stop. End of conversation.

Mollie released a long breath and glanced at the bed again.

Jago expected her to share the bed with her, but he didn’t want to share anything about his parents.

They had died nearly thirty years ago, and yet Jago refused to tell her anything about what he had gone through in being bereaved at such a tender age.

While she had her own reasons for not talking about her parents, Mollie longed for Jago to trust her enough to tell her about his.

She had done some research of her own and found images of his parents online.

His father had been a striking man with the Wilde jet-black hair and chiselled jaw and deep-set blue eyes and aristocratic bearing.

Jago’s mother had been like a supermodel in looks: a gorgeous brunette with a wide smile, sparkling brown eyes and a willowy build.

They had died in a small-plane crash on their way to a weekend away together.

Several of the press articles had mentioned that tragic as the crash was, it was fortunate the three Wilde boys were not with their parents in the aircraft.

One article had shown a photo of the boys standing outside the front of Wildewood Manor the month before they lost their parents.

Jack, the eldest was standing beside Jago with a cheeky smile.

Jago’s smile had looked genuine enough, but Jonas, the youngest, had not been smiling at all, as if he saw the world through a more serious lens than his two older brothers.

Mollie sighed and brought herself back to the present by listening to the sound of Jago showering.

She knew so much about his body, had explored every inch of it in detail, and yet he had not given her access to his past. It was a cordoned-off area, a do-not-go-there place she could only speculate about because of his point-blank refusal to speak of it.

Just like you .

Mollie knew it was hardly fair of her to badger Jago to reveal all about his childhood when she had told him nothing but lies about her own.

But she hated talking about her childhood.

It was something she wanted to erase from her memory, to keep the pain and distress out of her mind.

Talking about it stirred up memories and flashbacks that gave her nightmares.

Mollie heard the shower stop, and she quickly dived into the bed and brought the covers up to her chin.

She turned on her side, facing away from the bathroom, and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

But she was aware of every sound Jago made, and her body refused to relax enough to get anywhere near sleeping, even though she was tired from the events of the day.

She curled up a bit more, adjusting the pillow under her head, breathing in the clean, fresh smell of the bed linen.

Jago seemed to be taking an inordinately long time, so she tried some other relaxation techniques to get her body and her mind to relax, until finally she found herself sinking into the cloud of the mattress and the softness of the pillow, and her mile-a-minute brain slowed… slowed…and shut down…

Jago came out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips.

Mollie’s slim form was facing away from him, and she was curled up like a comma.

Her breathing was slow and even, which meant she was asleep or doing an excellent job of pretending to be.

He moved to the other side of the bed, glancing at her face to see if she responded to his presence, but her eyelids remained closed.

He had to stop himself leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek and gently run his fingers through the fragrant silk of her hair.

He had to stop himself thinking about all the times he had slipped in between the sheets with her and engaged in bed-wrecking sex.

He had to find some way of resisting the magnetic pull of her.

He could have saved himself this agony by booking separate rooms, but he didn’t trust her enough not to disappear again.

Jago sighed and took off the towel and stepped into a pair of boxer shorts.

He usually slept naked, but he decided a layer of fabric was called for to keep himself in check.

He turned back to his side of the bed and got in, glancing at Mollie to see if she was aware of his presence, but she remained in the same relaxed position, her bee-stung mouth slightly parted as she slept.

He turned on his side and watched her for endless minutes, fighting the urge to stroke his hand down the satinlike skin of her shoulder.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth, remembering how soft and pliable it had felt beneath his.

One kiss was never going to be enough, and yet he had to keep his distance to avoid being sucked into her sensual force field.

He clenched his hand into a fist and turned onto his back, his body throbbing with the raw need she triggered in him.

He let out another sigh and turned to switch off the bedside table light, cloaking the suite in darkness.

He lay there for what felt like hours, unable to sleep, unable to stop thinking about her lying within touching distance.

Mollie made a soft murmuring sound and moved closer, her eyes still shut in sleep. One of her legs brushed against his, and his blood surged to his groin.

This was your idea, buddy .

His conscience gave him a mocking prod. Yes, it had been Jago’s idea to keep Mollie with him, not just to stop her running away again but to prove to himself he could resist her.

But kissing her had stirred his blood to fever pitch, and he wanted her more than ever.

No other lover turned him on the way Mollie did.

She only had to look at him a certain way and he was hot and hard and ready.

The chemistry between them was as electrifying as before, if not more so.

He had promised himself he wouldn’t act on it unless she wanted him to.

Jago closed his eyes, but he could still smell her, the shampoo she used, the lotions and potions combined with her own natural scent.

It was like a drug to him. He wanted to breathe more of her in.

Would there ever be a time when he didn’t want her any more?

He had spent the last two years thinking of her, dreaming of her, aching for her.

It had to stop. Mollie was a fraud, a gold-digger who had royally screwed him over.

He had to remember he had been completely taken in by her, and he couldn’t let it happen again.

He would have to have an even tighter rein on his emotions to make sure she didn’t get under his guard like the last time.

He hated thinking about that day before the wedding when he came back, excited about getting married the following day.

Mollie hadn’t responded to a single call or text, but he reassured himself she was preoccupied with wedding preparations.

But then he’d arrived at Wildewood to find the place in an uproar.

His grandfather had taken him aside to tell him Mollie had left.

‘She’s gone. She’s bolted. She’s not coming back. Get over it.’

He still remembered the sound of his grandfather’s voice, the deep timbre of it reminiscent of when he had delivered the tragic news of Jago’s parents’ death.

‘They’ve gone. They’re not coming back. Get over it.’

Was that why Jago was having so much trouble getting over her?

Moving on with his life? He had a problem with processing grief, but then, who wouldn’t after losing their parents so young?

Not that he talked about it, even with his brothers.

His friends were as casual as his lovers.

He didn’t allow people to get close, which was why Mollie had been such an exception.

He felt close to her even though he hadn’t told her everything about his past. There was a meaningful connection with her, an invisible bond he had only ever felt with his parents.

He had trouble believing she was a gold-digger, as his grandfather had insisted she was.

He still had trouble believing it, but how could her behaviour be explained any other way?

He wished now he had not let his pride prevent him from finding her and asking her what the hell had gone wrong.

Why hadn’t he stood up for her? A niggle of worry began to wind its way through his brain.

If Mollie was the gold-digger his family believed her to be, why wasn’t he accepting it?

Why did one tiny flicker of hope burn in his chest that there was some other explanation for her actions?

But she had sold his specially designed engagement ring.

He had asked a jewellery expert to keep a look out for it, hoping he would be proved wrong, but it had turned up in a pawn shop, and he’d had to accept she had sold it.

Could he forgive her for it? The disposal of his ring had felt like another savage jab to his heart.

Mollie shifted again in her sleep, her movements not so relaxed this time. She flung one of her arms out, almost clocking him on the chin. Her face screwed up like she was having some sort of nightmare. ‘No, no, no,’ she cried and began to thrash her limbs.

Jago gathered her closer, guiding her head to his chest, his hand gently stroking the back of her head to settle her. ‘Shhh, Mollie. Relax, babe. I’m here.’

She moved against him with a soft whisper. ‘Eliot?’

Jago stiffened like he had been snap-frozen. His gut tightened like someone was clenching his intestines in a brutal blood-blocking grip. His heart cramped like someone had punched him in the chest.

Who the freaking hell was Eliot?

He glanced down at Mollie draped across his chest, but her eyes were still closed, and her breathing rate had slowed down.

Two years had passed since she’d jilted him.

She could have had any number of lovers since him.

Why was he feeling such strong emotions about it?

He had nothing to be jealous about: he had slept with other people too.

Not as many as the press had made out, but enough to try and erase Mollie from his muscle memory.

Not that it had worked, but still. He had no right to judge her for moving on with her life, other than she had taken his grandfather’s money to do it and then sold the ring Jago had designed for her.

It suited him to allow Mollie to think she was wearing a replica of his ring when in fact it was the original she had sold.

The irony of it amused him: she was pretending to be his fiancée, believing the engagement ring to be as fake as their current relationship.

There was a risk she might sell the ring again if she realised it was genuine, but it was a risk he was prepared to take.

Although it was an expensive ring by most people’s standards, he had enough money to bear the loss.

The only thing that niggled at him was there was nothing fake about the desire he still felt for her, and that was a problem he had yet to solve. As were those indefinable feelings that lingered in his heart which he was not ready or willing to examine too closely.