Read Online Bride in a Gilded Cage by Abby Green - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Abby Green
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diamonds in a circular art deco setting.
And again to her surprise, it had fitted like a glove, needing no adjustment. Rafael had all but smirked when it had fitted snugly on her finger, and his hand had remained on hers for an uncomfortably long time.
Since then she’d seen him only a handful of times, always surrounded by people, and in the past few days not at all—he’d had to fly to the States on business.
The papers had been full of their marriage, and Isobel poredover the articles with a sick fascination. Her blood had run cold, though, when she’d read about the deal he was currently involved in; he’d gone to America to bail out a failing company whose employees were mainly illegal Argentinian immigrants. They had gone there as skilled workers who hadn’t been able to find work at home due to the economic downturn.
The papers were full of speculation that Rafael would be helping deport those immigrants and building up the company again with legitimate US employees. While Isobel couldn’t condone immigrants working illegally, she felt sick to her core that Rafael would just send people back to the place they’d struggled so hard to leave.
He’d phoned every day, though, and predictably Isobel’s thoughts were scrambled as soon as she heard his voice. How could she be so affected by someone so amoral and ruthless?
‘I’m looking forward to seeing you walk down the aisle to me, Isobel,’ he’d said once.
She’d gripped the phone tight, panic a familiar sensation. ‘You mean you’re looking forward to seeing your bride of convenience walking down the aisle.’
Before he could say anything Isobel had said, ‘You might find yourself begging to divorce me in six months’ time, and that’s not going to look good for your business, either.’
His voice had turned to steel. ‘We won’t be divorcing ever. There is no room for failure in this.’
‘Your hair, Isobel,’ her mother wailed shrilly on the day of the wedding. ‘How could you have cut it all off like that?’
Isobel didn’t answer, knowing her mother didn’t really expect her to. And anyway, she wasn’t sure if she could speak as she took in her reflection in the mirror. About three people hovered around her, making last-minute tweaks to thewedding dress. Isobel felt slightly removed from it all, but hyper-aware at the same time.
The dress was exquisitely simple. It had been her grandmother’s. At first Isobel had protested, feeling far too much of a fraud because her grandmother had been so in love when she had got married. But of course her mother wouldn’t be swayed. After a few adjustments to update it, it was now strapless, and fell in a simple fitted silken sheath to the floor. Tiny diamonds sewn into a lace overlay sparkled and shone when she moved. And on the back of her head was an antique silver comb which held the long veil in place.
Isobel looked at her reflection in the mirror now and saw the colour surge into her cheeks. She was very much afraid that on some deep, secret level Rafael was affecting her in a way that had nothing to do with logic and common sense. How could it when her disgust at his business ethics was having no effect on her physical reaction to him?
She chastised herself for thinking like that. Her reaction was purely to do with the extreme circumstances of their situation, and the fact that Rafael’s sheer masculinity resonated with something in her. She’d never thought she’d react to such an alpha male, but that was all it could be.
She could never develop feelings for a man like him—not in a million years. Her main concern in this marriage would be to seek a way out of it as soon as possible.
Thirty minutes later, with that assertion sill ringing in her head, Isobel stood on her father’s arm just outside the open doors of the church. This was it. But instead of the barrel full of nerves that Isobel had expected, that she’d hoped would give her the impetus to tear off her veil and
And again to her surprise, it had fitted like a glove, needing no adjustment. Rafael had all but smirked when it had fitted snugly on her finger, and his hand had remained on hers for an uncomfortably long time.
Since then she’d seen him only a handful of times, always surrounded by people, and in the past few days not at all—he’d had to fly to the States on business.
The papers had been full of their marriage, and Isobel poredover the articles with a sick fascination. Her blood had run cold, though, when she’d read about the deal he was currently involved in; he’d gone to America to bail out a failing company whose employees were mainly illegal Argentinian immigrants. They had gone there as skilled workers who hadn’t been able to find work at home due to the economic downturn.
The papers were full of speculation that Rafael would be helping deport those immigrants and building up the company again with legitimate US employees. While Isobel couldn’t condone immigrants working illegally, she felt sick to her core that Rafael would just send people back to the place they’d struggled so hard to leave.
He’d phoned every day, though, and predictably Isobel’s thoughts were scrambled as soon as she heard his voice. How could she be so affected by someone so amoral and ruthless?
‘I’m looking forward to seeing you walk down the aisle to me, Isobel,’ he’d said once.
She’d gripped the phone tight, panic a familiar sensation. ‘You mean you’re looking forward to seeing your bride of convenience walking down the aisle.’
Before he could say anything Isobel had said, ‘You might find yourself begging to divorce me in six months’ time, and that’s not going to look good for your business, either.’
His voice had turned to steel. ‘We won’t be divorcing ever. There is no room for failure in this.’
‘Your hair, Isobel,’ her mother wailed shrilly on the day of the wedding. ‘How could you have cut it all off like that?’
Isobel didn’t answer, knowing her mother didn’t really expect her to. And anyway, she wasn’t sure if she could speak as she took in her reflection in the mirror. About three people hovered around her, making last-minute tweaks to thewedding dress. Isobel felt slightly removed from it all, but hyper-aware at the same time.
The dress was exquisitely simple. It had been her grandmother’s. At first Isobel had protested, feeling far too much of a fraud because her grandmother had been so in love when she had got married. But of course her mother wouldn’t be swayed. After a few adjustments to update it, it was now strapless, and fell in a simple fitted silken sheath to the floor. Tiny diamonds sewn into a lace overlay sparkled and shone when she moved. And on the back of her head was an antique silver comb which held the long veil in place.
Isobel looked at her reflection in the mirror now and saw the colour surge into her cheeks. She was very much afraid that on some deep, secret level Rafael was affecting her in a way that had nothing to do with logic and common sense. How could it when her disgust at his business ethics was having no effect on her physical reaction to him?
She chastised herself for thinking like that. Her reaction was purely to do with the extreme circumstances of their situation, and the fact that Rafael’s sheer masculinity resonated with something in her. She’d never thought she’d react to such an alpha male, but that was all it could be.
She could never develop feelings for a man like him—not in a million years. Her main concern in this marriage would be to seek a way out of it as soon as possible.
Thirty minutes later, with that assertion sill ringing in her head, Isobel stood on her father’s arm just outside the open doors of the church. This was it. But instead of the barrel full of nerves that Isobel had expected, that she’d hoped would give her the impetus to tear off her veil and
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