She was not like that. At least, she’d never been like that in all the years he’d known her. Besides, Ethan was a great judge of character and he certainly wouldn’t call someone his best friend if she was the type of person to use another, to go so far as to sleep with him, simply to further her own agenda. And there’d been that sense of innocence about Shanal when they’d kissed and when they’d made love for the first time. That wasn’t something you could fake.
Raif slammed the door of the wardrobe and strode from the room. He’d get to the bottom of this somehow.
* * *
Shanal shoved a pen behind her ear and rubbed at her eyes. Working late at the laboratory, going over and over the test results from their latest genetic experiment to increase the yield of a particular strain of vinafera hybrid, had done nothing to calm her mind or relieve the ever tightening noose of strain that trapped her. She pushed her chair back from her desk and stared out the window of her office into the darkness that lay beyond. How symbolic it was of her life at the moment, at least of her future, she thought with a shiver of foreboding.
When Burton had delivered her to her parents’ home on Tuesday night last week, she’d felt exhausted and unwilling to talk. But sometime in the night she’d heard her mother up and moving about in the house, and she’d gone to her. Shanal still couldn’t quite rid herself of the dreadful and overwhelming sense of guilt she’d felt as she’d seen her mother—her shoulders bowed, her skin gray with worry and her mouth a grim line as she’d paced back and forth. It was Shanal’s fault her mom was unable to sleep even though she was exhausted from caring for her husband all day. All their problems could be solved if she’d just do one thing—marry Burton Rogers.
And she had a second chance now to put things right, even if doing so would probably kill every last dream and hope she’d ever had. She had to go through with it, though, for her father and for her mother. They’d done everything for her, given her every opportunity. Oh, sure, she knew that’s what parents did for their beloved children. Yes, with love came sacrifice. But what of her love for them? If she could do anything, anything at all, to make her father’s remaining time—whether it be months or years—as trouble free and comfortable as he’d worked to make her life from the day she was born, she would do it. It was that simple.
And that hard.
Burton had been civil since he’d brought her home—that was about the only term she could use to describe the cool politeness with which he greeted her each day as she’d arrived at work. She caught his reflection behind hers in the window now. It was as if thinking about him had helped him to materialize here in her office. She turned, ready to face him.
“You’ve been home a week now,” he said calmly, but she could see the vein pulsing high on his forehead, at the edge of his hairline. She’d learned that was the marker that he was less than pleased. “I thought you might have made some effort to discuss our wedding by now.”
“I...” Her voice trailed away. There was nothing to say.
“I’ve been more than reasonable, Shanal—I’ve given you a week to pull yourself together after your unfortunate behavior. But I think you can appreciate that I will not wait forever. I want you as my wife. Set a date.”
There was a grim note of determination to his voice that sent a shiver down her spine. She held back a sigh and swiveled her chair around to face him.
“Twelfth of September,” she said, as firmly as she could. She pulled her calendar up on her phone and scrolled through the dates. “But no fuss this time. Just something small.”
He nodded. “Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements. I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses. The twelfth is perfect timing. I’ll be back by then.”
“Back? From where?” He hadn’t mentioned anything about having to go away anywhere in the lead-up to their original wedding day.
“I’m needed at our facility in California. An urgent and unexpected matter. I leave tomorrow.”
Shanal fought to hide her relief. Not having his oppressive presence around would be small compensation for the next few weeks, at least.
“A problem?” she asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied smoothly.
He stepped forward and raised a hand to grip her chin and tilt her face upward, then bent down to kiss her. His lips were cold and smooth, so very much like the man himself. Despite his coaxing, she kept her mouth firmly closed. This was nothing like the warmth and slow burning need she’d shared with Raif. In fact, if two men could be polar opposites, then Burton and Raif were that. Instead of desire gently unfurling within her, she felt the sting of distaste. Instead of anticipation, she felt only dread.