Michelle had to catch her breath before she could speak. "That's the problem with you, Peter. You're terribly unworthy. Can't count on you for any backing if I need it."
"Are we talking money here?" he lilted over the telltale unzipping of his fly.
"Alex has solid wealth. And his family has the kind of prestigious status that adds more class to my standing as a designer. They're assets you can't give me, darling."
"But I can give you this..."
Alex didn't know how he made it through the rest of the wedding reception. It was a torturous length of time before the bride and groom finally took their leave. Maintaining a semblance of geniality in the face of Michelle's high spirits had stretched his self-discipline to the absolute limit. The moment the honeymoon car drove off, he forcefully led his very soon- to-be ex-fiancée towards his own car.
"The party isn't over," she protested. "We're going," he stated curtly.
"What is the matter with you, Alex?" she cried in exasperation. "You haven't been any fun all evening. Are you sick or something?"
"Yes, I am."
"Well, you could have told me." "I'm telling you now."
She huffed her annoyance at this unsatisfactory end to her good time.
Alex contained his own inner seething until they were both seated in his Jaguar SL—evidence of his solid wealth—and on the road, heading for Michelle's apartment. It wasn't far, just down the road from the marina where her Port Douglas boutique was situated. Rather than be distracted from driving, he did the short trip in silence.
"Since you're feeling sick, I take it you won't be staying with me tonight," Michelle sniped, probably regretting that she hadn't set something up with Peter Owen.
"No, I won't. Nor any other night," he bit out, bringing the car to a halt outside her apartment building.
It drew a sharp look from her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm breaking our engagement. As of now." He switched off the engine and turned his head to look at her with very clear cold eyes. "Our marriage is off, Michelle. We're not really suited to each other."
"And what made you suddenly decide that?" she flared back, incensed by his flat announcement.
"Several things. But I'd have to say your intimate encounter with Peter Owen tonight capped the decision. And hearing how you viewed my assets as a husband."
Her mouth gaped momentarily. Her recovery was fast, though she spoke in a fluster. "That was just silly chat, Alex. Peter is so superficial, it's pointless talking about feelings." Her hand flew across to squeeze his thigh. "You know I love you."
He picked up the all too experienced hand and dropped it back in her lap. "I was taking a walk around the castle. Voices carry on the still night air, Michelle. So do other sounds. I didn't want to create a scene so I left you to it and walked back the way I'd come."
Her chin tilted in defiance as she saw that denial was futile. "Peter and I were lovers before I met you, Alex. There's been nothing between us since and there'll be nothing more. It was just a..."
"Reminder of old times? A fond goodbye?" he shot at her cuttingly. "It was meaningless," she lashed back.
"Like any bit of infidelity stolen here and there whenever the urge takes you." He shook his head. "That's not the kind of marriage I have in mind, Michelle. Better we go our separate ways."
"Why? So you can hit on Gina Terlizzi without having a guilty conscience?" she jeered.
It wasn't far off the mark and his grim silence lent Michelle the ammunition to fire again.
"Don't be stupid, Alex. Have her if you want to. Get it out of the way."
"And that would neatly excuse your peccadillo, wouldn't it?" he flung back at her, hating her casual dismissal of any honour and integrity.
"Oh, for God's sake! It's like having a brief binge on chocolate. You do it because you're tempted. Once the taste is satisfied, you go off it. You know what diet suits you best and that's what you keep to in the long run. It's all a matter of perspective."
"Thank you for giving me that point of view. It just so happens I don't care to share it," he returned icily, reining in his anger. She was displaying an attitude that absolved him from any concern about her feelings, making it easier for him to walk away.
"At least I'm honest," she went on jabbing at him. "What I did with Peter is over and done with. You're still sizzling for the singer, aren't you? Nothing like frustration to screw up your head, not to mention other parts of your anatomy. I bet that was what you were trying to walk off. And now you're angry because I did what you wanted to."
Her eyes gloated with a derisive certainty in her assumption. She was wrong.
He would not have used Gina Terlizzi like that. Never.
He unclipped his seat belt, alighted from the car, strode around the bonnet and opened the passenger door.
"I'm not getting out until we talk this through," she declared, furious at his action.
"We're finished. I have nothing more to say to you, Michelle," he clipped out, giving her no room to manoeuvre a different situation between them.
She stared up at him in hard-eyed challenge. No way was he about to budge.
With a doleful sigh she unclipped her seat belt and slithered her way upright beside him, probably trying a reminder of how sexy she could be, given some incentive.
"You'll think better of this, Alex," she purred huskily. "I'm not going to give you your ring back."
"Keep it," he replied carelessly. "Consider it the spoils from the game. But don't think for one minute the game isn't over. It is." He closed the car door to punctuate the point.
"Pride is a poor bedfellow, Alex."
"I can live with it more easily than I can with a string of Peter Owens." He gestured to the apartment building. "Do you want me to see you to your front door?"
She gave him a mocking little smile. "No. I think I'll see you off instead. Who knows? You might change your mind halfway down the road."
It was her choice to reject the courtesy. Alex didn't argue with it. He nodded a cold acknowledgement, said "Goodbye," and returned to the driver's seat, closing Michelle Banks out of his life.
Halfway down the road, he didn't even glance back. He wasn't consciously driving towards Gina Terlizzi. She just happened to be in the castle tonight. He was simply going home.