He frowned at her. “How dare I what?”
“You rang Mr. Wainwright! He says I don’t have to finish up my week. He’s releasing me from my contract early.”
“And you’ve come to tell me you’re grateful?” he joked.
“I can’t believe you did this.” Her lip curled. “On second thought, I can. The high-handed Valentes do what they like, when they like, and damn everyone else.”
His jaw set. “As far as I’m concerned, if you want something you go and get it.”
She flashed him a look of disdain. “What did you offer him? A bit of business thrown his way? You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours? Is that the way it is, Matt?”
A muscle pulsated in his cheek. “That’s business.”
She glared at him.
Glared for all she was worth until…
Something powerful drew her gaze downward.
And her eyes hit the hard contours of his chest.
His broad, bare chest.
All at once she realized he’d been in the middle of getting dressed and that his hand was still at the opening of his trousers. Her eyes flew back up to his face.
Zip.
He finished the job, sending the sound rushing through her veins, the blood rushing to her cheeks, but it was his knowing look that helped pull her together. He knew his half-dressed state had taken her off-guard. Knew he had made her knees go soft.
The arrogant devil!
She angrily gathered her thoughts. “My career is none of your business. And I mean that quite literally.”
“I want you home with Megan.”
She gasped, then bristled with indignation, forgetting all about his bare chest and the back scratching and the sexy sound of a zipper sliding up.
“You’re not one of those men who don’t want their wife to work at all, are you? Please tell me you don’t want me pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen?”
His eyelids flickered and darkened. “Of course not. I meant this week, that’s all. You said yourself she would find everything new and strange. I was just trying to make sure you spend some time with Megan until she gets used to it.”
He was being caring of Megan? She believed that. But did he have to tread all over her to do it?
She set her chin in a stubborn line. “You could have asked me that yourself. But I suppose that’s not worth your time. I’m still working three days a week with you. So don’t try and renege on the deal, Matt.”
“I don’t renege on deals.”
She stared at him. He seemed to have no idea he’d done anything wrong. Or more than likely he just couldn’t acknowledge any wrongdoing.
“Don’t interfere in my career again.” She turned to leave the room.
“Lana?”
She stopped but didn’t look back.
“Don’t forget I’m your boss now. Your career both now and in the future is in my hands.”
Lana swallowed. His tone was steel covered in velvet.
This time she did turn around. “Don’t you forget something, Matt. I’m a Valente now. I can play dirty, too.”
Then she turned on her heel and went back to the study, her mind spinning from the sheer arrogance of her new husband. If he thought he’d browbeat her, then he had another thing coming. She might no longer have a job to go to at Wainwright’s, but she had a free day tomorrow before starting at Valente’s. She would work her fingers to the bone to finish up as much as possible. It was a matter of pride, not to mention a small victory over Matt’s attempt at controlling her.
Five minutes later she heard the front door close and Matt’s car drive away. Evidently she’d be eating dinner alone tonight.
She told herself she was glad about that. She didn’t want to break bread with a man who demanded she do what he wanted. A man who rode roughshod over everyone, and too bad for them if they didn’t like it.
Yet she felt a chill. Memories of her father leaving the house for a night out on the town colored her thoughts. Where was Matt going? Who was he meeting? Would he come home smelling of alcohol? Of another woman? Dear Lord, she didn’t think she could do this for a whole year.
At eleven she heard him return, heard his footsteps stop outside the study door, then she let out a slow breath as they continued on their way. That was exactly how she wanted it to stay, she told herself. She wanted to be just a small pause in his life until it was time for him to move on.
Five
M att’s face was shuttered when he walked into the sunroom the next morning, but Lana knew she flushed. She didn’t want to think about her comment last night in his room on scratching backs, or the sound of a zipper going up or running her palms over his muscular chest, yet she couldn’t seem to help herself.
She knew he saw it, too, and something reciprocal flashed in his brown eyes before he turned to focus on Megan.
He swung his gaze back to Lana.
“What do you plan for today?” he asked, surprising her with the question.
“Just a quiet day at home with Megan.” No need to tell him she planned on working until she’d finished her commitments to Wainwright’s.
He stared for a moment. “Have a good day.”
“I will.”
He left not long after, and Lana roped in Ruth’s help this one time to keep an eye on Megan, so by mid-afternoon she was able to take the paperwork over to Mr. Wainwright.
She felt such a sense of accomplishment as she handed over the files, but that soon disappeared on the way out when one of the female staff made a smart comment about her being lucky enough to marry Matt Valente.
Lana held her head high and ignored her. She wasn’t feeling terribly lucky right now.
Far from it.
Arriving back at the house, she was disconcerted to see Matt’s car in the driveway. She’d meant to ask Ruth not to say anything about today, but had forgotten in her rush to get out of the house.
Not that it really mattered if Matt knew what she’d been doing all day. Serve him right if he got a guilt attack from it. She pulled a face. Who was she kidding? Matt Valente didn’t know the meaning of guilt.
She found him sitting on the leather sofa bouncing Megan on his lap, the pair of them laughing together. Her heart ached a little to join in the fun.
She stepped into the room. “You’re home early.”
His head turned to face her, the animation dying on his face. “I wanted to see Megan.”