Helen Bianchin - Purchased - His Perfect Wife

A few minutes later he handed her a cup and saucer, then he took a nearby chair and regarded her steadily.

She sipped and cautiously swallowed the hot, sweet tea, and waited several seconds before repeating the action.

‘Is there anything else you haven’t told me?’ Wolfe queried silkily.

‘No.’ Lara closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again, all too aware how foolish she’d been in not calling the loan shark before leaving the restaurant.

‘It wouldn’t have made any difference. You were out of time, and loan sharks are notorious for their hardline tactics.’

Her eyes widened as they met his.

He read minds?

Or was hers transparent?

‘Drink your tea. A doctor should be here soon.’

‘Soon’seemed an age, although it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before an imperious knock on the door heralded the doctor’s arrival.

Credentials were offered, introductions completed. The answering of a few pertinent questions and an examination resulted in the assurance her larynx wasn’t damaged, the bruising would duly emerge and subside, and her voice should return to normal by morning.

He handed over a sample pack of painkillers and a sedative, accepted his fee and left.

Lara unpacked a few essentials and headed into the en suite . A shower helped ease some of the tension, and she enjoyed the luxury of a seemingly endless supply of hot water…so different from the boarding house, where an inadequate hot-water system meant lukewarm ablutions.

Dry, she pulled on a large cotton tee-shirt, added briefs, caught her hair together in a single plait, completed her nightly routine, then emerged to find Wolfe waiting for her, pills and a glass of water in hand.

‘Take these, then go to bed. You’re beat.’

Oh great. As if she needed to be reminded of her mirrored image, the dark, dilated eyes in a waxen, pale face.

Without a word she took the pills and swallowed each one cautiously with water, then she slid beneath the covers on the bed closest to the external glass-wall.

‘Thanks.’ A huskily voiced word meant to encompass much.

Wolfe inclined his head as he switched off the lights with the exception of a lamp on the desk, then he opened his laptop and soon became engrossed with data on-screen.

Lara closed her eyes and willed the medication to take effect as she relived walking into the house, making the phone call in the hallway…her assailant appearing out of nowhere and the resultant fracas.

It was all too easy to feel a hand gripping the top of her throat, the resultant pain and pressure as he lifted and slammed her hard against the wall…and the fear.

A shiver shook her slim frame, and she unconsciously curled her body into a protective ball.

She was here with Wolfe, and safe.

But for how long?

Soon she’d become his wife, and face another hurdle…that of sharing his life without allowing herself the benefit of emotional attachment.

Difficult, when she had vivid recall of the frankly sensual touch of his mouth on her own, and the electrifying passion he’d effortlessly aroused. It had blown her away, and had become an unconscious benchmark which sadly no other man had matched.

So where did that leave her?

It suddenly became too difficult to think, and her breathing slowed as she was claimed by sedative-induced sleep… unaware of the man who worked a little longer, showered, then slid in between the covers of the other bed.

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