Chapter 14

'I paid most of it off with my savings,' she admitted. 'I did a few commercials last summer. They're not really acting, but they pay well.'

He nodded. 'And has he spoken to anyone about his problem? Other than you, I mean. Friends, maybe? Your parents?'

She shook her head. How could she explain about her parents? About their marriage, their life together. About how it was what she wanted to have. Maybe not their diner, the Love Shack-she'd had enough waitressing to last her a lifetime-but they were so supportive and happy. She and David would never do anything to jeopardise that happiness.

'He didn't-we don't want them to know. They'd only worry. Besides...' she added, meeting his gaze '...I-we can sort it out.'

Christopher studied her face. Wrong, he thought silently. This kind of problem could never be sorted out without professional help. Addicts rarely believed that they had a problem, no matter what pain and chaos they caused to those around them. And sometimes even when they did, it made little if any difference to their behaviour.

'So when did he tell you?' he said at last. 'About the gambling.'

She swallowed. 'The same day he stole your watch.'

He was silent a moment, considering her answer. Then he said quietly, 'Selfish of him, don't you think?'

Her head jerked up. But what had she expected? Had she really believed Christopher would understand? Or care.

Christopher Woods.

A man who thought nothing of exploiting another man's moment of weakness or a woman's affection for her brother. She felt sick, her stomach lurching. She had betrayed her brother's confidence, and for nothing.

She glared at him. 'He's not selfish-' she began.

But he cut in.

'He's your twin. He must have known that you'd step up and sort it out for him.'

He held up his hand as she started to protest.

'I'm not judging him, Rachel. But addicts don't think like other people. They lie and deny and prevaricate and make excuses. It's part of their sickness.'

She watched his face carefully. It sounded as if he knew what he was talking about and she wanted to ask him how. Or maybe who. But his expression was distant, discouraging, as though he knew that she was trying to figure out the meaning behind his remark.

She nodded mutely.

He met her gaze. 'David is sick. He needs care and support.'

His eyes were cool and untroubled, but his expression had shifted into something she hadn't expected to see; it was oddly gentle...almost like sympathy.

'Which is why I'm going to arrange for him to receive professional help at a clinic.'

Rachel's heart stopped. Unsteadily she pushed back her hair, trying to make sense of his words. 'Why?' she said finally. 'Why would you do that?'

Why, indeed?

Christopher gazed at her taut face. The fine cheekbones and delicate jaw were offset perfectly by her pale, almost-luminous skin. She was very beautiful. But that wasn't the reason he was going to help her brother.

He didn't approve of what David had done. Theft was still theft. Nor did he agree with how Rachel had behaved. But he understood their motives better now.

He shrugged. 'Despite what you think, Rachel, I'm not a complete monster. He needs treatment. As his employer, I feel some responsibility for his welfare. But there is one condition.'

His voice was quiet but she heard the warning note-felt it echo inside her and through her head to the corners of the room.

'I'll take care of David but I won't be messed around. You might not be on my payroll, but you work for me now, and I expect...' He paused, his eyes pulling her gaze upwards like a tractor's headlight beam. 'I demand honesty from my staff.'

Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she gave him a small, tight smile. 'I understand. And thank you for helping David. It's very kind of you.'

He nodded. 'Leave it with me.'

Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the screen and frowned.

'Right. I'm going to go and change.' He paused again. 'Which reminds me-you need to go shopping.'

The change of subject caught her off guard.

'I do?'

His gaze held hers. 'There's a charity fashion show a week from tomorrow. I think it should be our first public appearance. We'll be ready by then.'

Rachel flinched inwardly. He wasn't asking, but telling her, and his cool statement was yet another reminder of the fact that she was dealing with a man who always got what he wanted, one way or another.

He stared at her calmly. 'It won't be to formal or intimate, and you'll be visible but anonymous, so it will be the perfect moment to introduce you as my girlfriend. But you'll need something to wear. Roland, my driver, knows which stores to go to. Just choose whatever you like and charge it to my accounts.'

'That's very generous.' She frowned. 'But I don't expect you to buy my clothes. Besides, I have quite a few back at David's,' she said, trying to make a joke.

But he didn't laugh. Instead he stared at her, for so long and so intently that she wasn't sure if he'd actually heard her. But then, finally, he smiled coldly.

'I'm sure your clothing was adequate for your life before, but trust me-you'll feel more comfortable in something a little more appropriate.'

Adequate! Appropriate!

Hands curling into fists, Rachel gazed at him in angry disbelief.

Moments earlier she had felt...if not close to Christopher, then at least more relaxed with him. Now though, she was remembering just how much she loathed him.

He was so unspeakably arrogant and autocratic.

'Shouldn't it be up to me to decide what is appropriate?' she said tightly.

'Ordinarily, yes. But that was before you agreed to become my wife.'

He took a step closer and she felt her shoulders tense, priming her for his next move.

'You told me earlier that I needed to commit. And I have...'

He paused and her skin seemed to catch fire as, reaching out, he stroked the curve of her cheek gently.