Trish Morey - The Hot-Headed Virgin

‘And I thought my four years at stage school were challenging,’ Mia muttered resentfully.

‘The challenging part for you will be controlling your propensity for insulting me at every opportunity.’

She gave a cynical snort. ‘That’s rich coming from the High Priest of Insults. If you weren’t such a pompous jerk I wouldn’t find it so challenging.’

‘If you weren’t such an uptight little cat you would see I’m nothing like the public image I project,’ he clipped back.

She folded her arms across her chest, her expression full of scorn. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re really nothing like the Bryn Dwyer the public has come to love and hate. Oh, please. Spare me the violins. Anyone can see you’re a self-serving egotist who would stop at nothing to achieve his ends. This crazy scheme of yours to hoodwink your great-aunt is a case in point. What kind of man would openly lie to a little old lady by marrying a woman he has absolutely no feelings for?’

‘I happen to love my great-aunt very dearly and I would do anything to make her last days happy, even if it means temporarily tying myself to a shrill little shrew to prove it.’

‘Shrill little shrew, am I, now?’ She glared at him. ‘Well, let me tell you I don’t think too much of you either. You’re hardly what I’d call the ultimate choice in husband material.’

‘You don’t have to think much of me,’ he said. ‘All I want you to do is marry me. We’ll sort the feelings end of it out later.’

‘I don’t have any feelings where you’re concerned other than unmitigated dislike.’

‘Good. You’d be best to keep it that way. I wouldn’t want to complicate things any further with you forming an emotional attachment to me.’

‘Where exactly did you go for your ego-enhancement surgery?’ she quipped in return. ‘Was it horrendously expensive?’

Bryn struggled to hold back his amusement but in the end gave up. His face cracked on a smile. ‘I think you are definitely wasted as a serious actor. You have a real future in comedy.’

‘Yes, well, this little farce is definitely running along those lines. You’re asking me to act a role that is totally immoral. Acting in front of an audience is one thing but acting in front of a dying old lady is another. And marriage! It just doesn’t seem right.’

‘It will make her happy. That’s all I want.’

‘I don’t want to do this, Bryn; you can’t force me.’

He held her gaze for an uncomfortable pause. Mia felt as if she was being slowly but steadily backed into a tight corner. She even wondered if it had been wise to mention the word force. She could see the steely determination in his darker than night eyes and her stomach felt as if something with tiny clawed feet had just scuttled across it.

The sudden silence was like a third presence in the room, brooding and somehow menacing, making the fine hairs on the back of her neck lift one by one.

‘I’m hoping it won’t have to come to me actually forcing you,’ he said. ‘At this point in time I’m simply asking you to help me bring a small measure of happiness to an old woman who sacrificed her own to raise me. I am willing to pay you well. I know it will be difficult for you. I also know you hate me, but I can’t help feeling you are the one person my great-aunt will take to. She heard us on the radio this afternoon; she already thinks you’re perfect for me. There are plenty of women I could ask to play this role, but I know my aunt well enough to know that the only one she will accept as the real thing is you.’

Mia tried not to think of how she was going to explain all of this to her family or friends. Instead she thought about an old lady who had sacrificed her life to raise a child who had been devastated by the loss of his parents. She thought too of the little boy of seven who had suffered such a tragic loss. A little boy with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes, a little boy who had become a man who, as far as she could make out, hid his childhood pain behind a façade of cocksure arrogance.

It wasn’t as if it was going to be a real marriage, she did her best to reassure herself. After all, actors did this stuff all the time. God, how many times had Julia Roberts been married on screen? It meant nothing.

It was all an act.

A role to play.

Temporarily.

But still…

‘Can I have some time to think about it?’ she asked. ‘This is totally surreal. I can’t quite get my head around it.’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘But I’d like you to meet my great-aunt tomorrow; it will perhaps help you to make up your mind.’

She captured her bottom lip for a moment. ‘What if I don’t agree to marry you?’

His eyes locked down on hers. ‘Then you’ll be throwing away a fortune.’

Mia gave a tiny swallow. ‘Exactly how big a fortune?’

He named a sum that sent a shock wave through her brain. Mia came from a comfortable background and had never really wanted for anything in her life, but the amount of money he was willing to pay was unbelievably generous. The money he’d already given her had helped ease Ellie’s situation fractionally but if she could send her thousands it would mean her sister would be out of danger for good.

But marrying Bryn Dwyer?

‘If you do decide to take up this offer there will be some legal documents to sign,’ he said into the silence, ‘a prenuptial agreement and so forth. And, as I mentioned in the car earlier, as my fiancée I’d like you to wear an engagement ring.’

Mia watched as he went across the room to where a large painting was hanging. He shifted it to one side as he activated the code on the concealed safe set in the wall and, opening the safe, took out a blue velvet box before closing it again and repositioning the painting.

He brought the box over to her, took out a solitaire diamond engagement ring and handed it to her.

‘It was my mother’s,’ he informed her.

Mia turned the white-gold ring in her fingers, staring down at the simple perfection of the diamond.

‘Try it on,’ he said.

She slipped it on her ring finger, not sure whether to be surprised or spooked by the perfect fit. It was nothing like she’d been expecting. There was nothing ostentatious or flashy about it. It was simply a beautiful ring that had once been worn by his mother, a woman who had been torn from his life when he was a small, vulnerable child.

‘If you don’t like it we can choose something else,’ he said into the silence.

‘No…no, I like it…it’s…beautiful…’ Tears welled in her eyes and her throat felt tight, but she wasn’t sure why she was feeling so emotional.

‘It’s not worth a lot of money but it’s one of the few things I have left of my mother,’ he said, turning away to hunt for his car keys. ‘Come on, I’d better take you home. It’s nearly three a.m.’

Mia followed him out of the house in silence, the ring on her finger tying her to him in a way no priceless jewel could do.

It’s just a stupid old ring, she chided herself, but somehow whenever she looked down at the diamond winking up at her she felt as if something elemental had just taken place in their relationship.

He didn’t speak on the journey back to her flat. Mia stole covert glances at him from time to time but his expression was closed. She could see the lines of tiredness around his eyes and wondered what sort of day he had ahead. She knew that working in radio was not just a simple matter of turning up for the time he was on air but that hours of research and preparation had to be put in before and after. She also knew it was a fickle business. A radio personality could be the flavour of the month only to be cast aside the next. Ratings were everything and contracts were cancelled or renewed on what they revealed. But Bryn hardly needed the money. He was a multimillionaire, so whatever satisfaction he got from having his own prime-time show must be motivated by something other than monetary reward. Fame? Prestige? Power? Or was it the desire to be known as something other than who he really was?