His Innocent Unwrapped in Iceland
Author
Jackie Ashenden
Reads
18.7K
Chapters
15
Chapter 1
ISLA KENDRICK, DRAPED IN the delicate ivory silk of her wedding gown, stood in the narthex of the ancient abbey where she was about to get married and clutched at her bouquet of delicate pink peonies as if they were a lifeline.
Orion North, the man who for the past year had been angling to take over Kendricks’ Family Christmas, the company that had been in David Kendrick’s family for generations and provided much of the Christmas-themed products and services around the world, surveyed her dispassionately, his amber gaze cold as it always was.
He’d simply appeared in the narthex as if by magic, and she didn’t know what he was doing here. She certainly hadn’t invited him to the wedding, and her adoptive father wouldn’t have either. She’d met him across the boardroom table, of course, during his negotiations to buy Kendricks’ off her father, and also at a few business functions she’d attended. She’d found him cold and distinctly unlikeable.
She liked him even less now.
Her two bridesmaids—her father’s two secretaries, since she didn’t have any sisters—were fussing with her train, but as soon as Orion had stepped into the narthex they’d stopped and stared at him instead. Unsurprisingly.
He was a man who commanded if not demanded attention, and that was only one of the reasons Isla found him so irritating.
He was six-five and broad-shouldered, built like a warrior rather than the multibillion-dollar businessman he actually was, and he towered over most people like an ancient oak towers over just about every tree in the forest. Then again, he was one of the world’s most feared corporate raiders and had the cold, acquisitive gaze to match, so maybe the warrior simile was more apt.
He was also devastatingly attractive, which didn’t make her any more well disposed towards him. Taken by themselves, his features were too rough and blunt for handsomeness, but there was something about their arrangement, something to do with the straight black brows and the proud jut of his nose, the curve of his lower lip, and the fact that his eyes were the colour of ancient amber that made people turn and stare.
Isla didn’t want to stare. She didn’t want her breath to catch every time he entered a room she was in. He was a wolf, a stone-cold predator, and she hated how he made her feel like prey. Not that he’d ever made any move towards her. Sometimes she noticed him staring at her disconcertingly from across the boardroom table, but he never said anything to her, so why he was even here she had no idea.
Just as she had no idea why he’d been circling Kendricks’ for so long, not unlike a vulture circling a lion that wasn’t quite dead. He hadn’t made a move, though, which had made her father jumpy since North had a reputation for a quick kill when it came to acquiring companies.
He glanced at her bridesmaids and nodded towards the doors that led into the church proper. The unspoken command was clear, so they stopped fussing with Isla’s train and went, leaving Isla alone with him.
A shiver of trepidation went through her, a cold feeling settling in her gut.
She’d been full of nerves this morning, wondering if she was doing the right thing in marrying Gianni, one of her father’s protégés. Her father had introduced them six months earlier and Isla had known immediately that this was the sign that David thought it was time for her to settle down. Family was important for Kendricks’ and most especially for the Kendricks’ board. It wouldn’t do for the heir to remain single, and since Gianni had been nice enough and was clearly on her father’s list of approved suitors, she’d started seeing him.
And when he’d proposed six months later, she’d said yes.
She didn’t love him, but that didn’t matter. David thought he’d make a good husband and son-in-law and since Isla wanted to do David proud, she’d agreed. She wanted a family of her own, so why not? Except her prewedding jitters hadn’t agreed, and now Orion’s sudden appearance hadn’t helped.
Today, he wore an expertly tailored dove-grey morning suit that made him look even more devastatingly attractive than he already was and that unsettled her even further. She was about to get married. She shouldn’t be looking at other men. She shouldn’t even be aware of them.
Ignoring the slow creep of ice in her gut, Isla lifted her chin and stared at the man who’d so casually interrupted the proceedings. ‘What on earth are you doing here, Mr North?’ She consciously tried to imitate the note of cool command her father used in the boardroom. Cool didn’t come naturally to her, but she was trying. ‘I’m about to get married in case you hadn’t noticed and I don’t believe you were invited.’
Orion’s harshly carved features betrayed nothing, though there was a strange gleam in his wolf-gold eyes. ‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘I was not.’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Isla. But your groom isn’t coming.’
The words didn’t make any sense. ‘Not coming?’ she repeated blankly. ‘What do you mean he’s not coming?’
‘I mean, he took a private jet out of Stansted early this morning, bound for Rome.’ Orion’s cold voice was full of harsh edges and deep chasms. ‘I advised him not to poach on my territory and offered him a significant amount of money to go away. So he did.’
Isla blinked. His territory? Poaching? What on earth was he talking about? ‘Excuse me? You did what?’
Orion didn’t move, but that odd, hot light in his eyes glinted again. ‘He will not be marrying you, Isla. Not today, not tomorrow and not next week. In fact, I would go so far as to say that he will not be marrying you at all.’
A deafening silence fell in the narthex and yet Isla was conscious of a roaring in her ears. The bouquet of peonies slipped from her nerveless fingers to land in a shower of petals on the stone floor. ‘What?’ Her voice came out scratchy, a raw scrape of sound. ‘I don’t understand.’
Orion calmly bent and retrieved her bouquet from the floor just as some footsteps echoed on the stone and a man she didn’t recognise came through the front door of the church. Orion murmured a few words to him and the man left again, this time going through into the church proper and closing the doors behind him.
Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.
‘Mr North,’ she said, forcing away the cold clutch of shock. ‘I want an explanation. Where is Gianni? Why isn’t he here? And what do you mean you paid him to go away?’
A rustling sound was coming from the church and the low buzz of shocked conversation. There were five hundred people out there waiting to see her get married, the cream of London high society, as well as many of her father’s business cronies, not to mention Gianni’s family. But something was happening there too, because they’d been silent before and they weren’t now.
Orion took a step towards her and held the bouquet out to her. ‘I just told you why he isn’t here. He’s on his way to Rome. And I paid him to go away because he should never have asked you to marry him in the first place.’
Shock was creeping through her and she had to fight to force it down. She didn’t know what was happening, but going to pieces wouldn’t help. Her father had always said that staying calm in a crisis was a valuable skill and one she needed to learn before she took over Kendricks’ as CEO. In fact, there were many skills she needed to learn before she took over, and while some of them had been easy, others were more difficult. She had to detach, David had told her. She was too much at the mercy of her emotions.
Isla already knew that—there was a reason her first adoption had fallen through—and so when David had adopted her at twelve, she’d resolved to make sure her temper stayed leashed and she’d be the perfect daughter.
Except keeping her emotions locked down with shock coursing through her veins and a man she didn’t like standing in front of her telling her that he’d paid her fiancé to jilt her, her brittle, cool authority was in danger of cracking entirely.
‘Why on earth shouldn’t he have asked me to marry him?’ she demanded.
‘Because he doesn’t love you,’ Orion said without hesitation. ‘And you don’t love him.’
Isla stared at him in astonishment. This made no sense, none of it. His presence, Gianni’s absence, what he was saying to her...
‘That...’ she said stupidly. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘It’s true, though.’ There was a note of certainty in his voice. As if he knew her feelings better than she did herself. ‘You’re marrying him because David wanted you to.’
Anger stirred inside her, threatening her grip on her detachment. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You know nothing about me or Gianni.’ She snatched her bouquet from him and straightened, trying to inject some steel into her spine, projecting ‘future CEO’ and not ‘angry orphan’. ‘I don’t care what you paid him or why. You need to bring him back this instant.’
Orion simply looked at her, the glitter of the wolf in his eyes. ‘No,’ he said in the same calm tone. ‘I will not.’
Her fingers felt cold, and she could hear the buzz of conversation from the assembled guests. It was louder now.
It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be happening. Surely Gianni was already at the altar, waiting for her. Surely he was.
He would have sent someone to see what the delay was about by now.
True. Yet no one had come except that employee of Orion’s.
Ice crept through her as reality began to assert itself. Gianni didn’t appear and neither did her father, and all she could hear was the conversation of the guests, getting even louder.
While Orion merely stood there looking at her, dressed in his exquisite grey morning suit.
The roaring was back in her ears, the floor feeling as if it had shifted beneath her feet and then unexpectedly, a large, warm hand was beneath her elbow.
Orion. His grip was firm and strong, the solidity of mountains keeping her upright, and for a split second, she almost leaned into his hold, because her knees felt weak.
‘I know this is a shock,’ he continued in that same steady, implacable tone. ‘But I’m not here to hurt you.’
‘I don’t understand.’ She hated how uncertain and weak she sounded. ‘Why are you here then?’
His palm beneath her elbow was warm, in stark contrast to the cool of his voice. Yet his amber eyes gleamed with a sudden, dark fire. ‘Why do you think? I’m here to marry you instead, Isla.’
Orion watched Isla’s pretty blue eyes widen in shock.
He wasn’t surprised. It was, after all, a very shocking proposal.
Yet that had been the plan he’d been formulating for the past month, ever since he’d found out that Isla Kendrick was going to marry one of her father’s protégés. Orion simply couldn’t allow that to happen.
He’d been playing the long game for months now, deciding initially that he’d take the slow, careful approach with her. Then her engagement had been announced, which he hadn’t been expecting, and he’d had to rethink his plans.
He wasn’t in love with her—love wasn’t possible for him these days—but he’d admit to being in the grip of a singular...fascination with her.
It had all started at a business gala held at the National Gallery, where he’d found her standing in a small gallery away from the crowd, in front of a painting, and there had been a rapt look on her face.
He hadn’t known who she was, but she’d seemed illuminated, lit from within by something he didn’t understand and his interest had been caught. He’d checked the painting to see what it was that held her attention so completely. But it was only Van Gogh’s painting of a night sky.
Orion didn’t like it when he didn’t understand something. His instinct was always to make sense of it, so he’d gone over and asked her what was so interesting about the painting.
She’d smiled, like the sun rising on a midwinter morning, and started talking about the brushstrokes, the layers of the paint, the flowing motion of the painted sky and how they came together to form a beautiful, luminous whole. Her hands had moved as she spoke, as eloquent and graceful as her words, and he’d been...transfixed.
He’d never much appreciated art and the creative impulse was a mystery to him. He was a man who took things apart. He didn’t create. He’d tried once, long ago, to build something, but that had left him broken, so now he didn’t bother. Satisfaction came from looking at a system that wasn’t performing, at identifying why it wasn’t and what was broken, and then deciding what to do about it. Rather like a mechanic taking apart an old car and selling some parts for scrap, while reconditioning other parts to make it go better.
He was good at it.
So it was all very mysterious why he’d found looking at this woman while she talked about a bit of paint on a board so fascinating. There was something about her. About the way she came alive that consumed his interest so completely he hadn’t been able to do anything but stare.
That was the night he’d decided that he simply had to know more about her.
It hadn’t taken him long to discover that she was David Kendrick’s adopted daughter, Isla, the apparent heir to Kendrick’s underperforming Christmas company. Her adoption thirteen years earlier, at the age of twelve, had been a media sensation—‘Childless Christmas company magnate adopts orphan girl at Christmas time!’—and Kendrick had made much of her potential. Having been an orphan himself, Orion was further intrigued to see what kind of businesswoman she’d grown into. Perhaps she came alive when talking about sales projections as well as paintings?
However, that turned out to be not the case which at first he’d found underwhelming. She was quiet, barely saying a word even when asked, and she seemed uncertain of herself. Not at all the hungry go-getter Kendrick had always portrayed her to be and not at all that luminous woman he’d seen in the gallery that night.
Her milkmaid appearance didn’t help the CEO image, all spun gold hair, dark blue eyes and peaches and cream complexion. She looked like a porcelain doll—if a porcelain doll had been petite and curvy, all rounded breasts, hips and thighs. The male animal in him had appreciated the feminine in her, and while he certainly found her lovely, she didn’t have the same luminosity in the boardroom that she had in the gallery.
It puzzled him and, since he liked a puzzle, he’d arranged more meetings with Kendrick on the pretext of buying his company, but in reality wanting to observe Isla Kendrick more closely and find out just what was so fascinating about her.
She was always very polished and put together, yet he’d noticed that sometimes a lock of blond hair would come loose from its elegant chignon. That her red lipstick was sometimes smudged a little at the side of her pouty mouth. Or that the top button of her white tailored blouses had a tendency to come undone.
And that wasn’t all. There were moments in the boardroom on the rare occasions she spoke, where although she seemed poised, he was certain that she wasn’t. Where he sensed she was out of her depth. It seemed so at odds with the woman who spoke so knowledgeably and confidently about the painting, that he found himself to be even more intrigued.
On a number of occasions during those meetings, he’d tried having a conversation with her, but it soon became clear that she didn’t like him and avoided him. He was used to being disliked. No one warmed to the pirate who boarded their ship and took all their gold, after all, but he found it...annoying when it came to her.
He’d been planning on how to overcome her dislike when news of her engagement had broken. And that’s when he’d decided she would be his next takeover.
There had only been a week between her engagement and the date for her wedding, which meant there had been no time for the ‘slow and careful’ approach. No time for finesse or subtlety. He’d already discovered by then that the marriage had been engineered by Kendrick himself to improve her already poor standing with the company board and hardly the love match portrayed in the press—not that he would have put his plans on hold even if she had been in love—so he had no qualms about making his move on her wedding day.
It was the perfect opportunity to use shock to his advantage in order to get what he wanted, and he wouldn’t have been the ruthless businessman he was if he hadn’t made the most of his opportunities. He was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he wanted her.
He’d gone to Kendrick the night before and told him that he wanted Isla, and that if Kendrick knew what was good for his company, he’d let Orion have her. The old man though hadn’t just rolled over. Orion’s interest in Kendricks’ had unsettled him and he’d known his company was vulnerable to a takeover. So he’d told Orion that if he wanted Isla, not only would he have to buy Kendricks’ outright for an extortionate amount, but he’d have to retain Isla as CEO for the optics—a family Christmas company needed a Kendrick to remain in charge and preferably a married Kendrick. Oh, yes, and he’d also insisted that Orion keep the company intact and Isla as CEO and his wife for at least a year, before making a decision about what to do with either.
Orion had no feelings at all about the company—he’d keep it the year Kendrick specified but then he’d likely break it up and sell the more profitable parts—nor did he care whether Isla stayed on as CEO. But he wanted to secure his asset and if he had to marry her to secure her, he would. He didn’t mind marrying her. Marriage had always seemed a pointless institution to him and a year should be more than enough time to explore his fascination with her.
Not that a year of marriage was his biggest issue right now.
No, his biggest issue was going to be getting her to agree to go through with it.
Luckily, he had leverage on his side in the form of Kendricks’ itself, plus a few well-rehearsed speeches about how it would be a win-win situation for both of them. All he had to do was convince her.
The frothing fall of her veil didn’t hide how her dark blue eyes had deepened into indigo with shock or how white she’d gone. Almost as white as her wedding gown.
‘Marry you?’ Her light, cool voice had gone hoarse. ‘Are you mad?’
‘No,’ he said, smiling slightly. ‘Think of it as an opportunity.’
‘An opportunity?’ A couple more petals from the poor, abused peonies in her hand drifted to the stone floor. ‘An opportunity for what?’
He tightened his grip on her elbow a little, hoping the physical touch would jolt her out of her shock response. Nothing to do with how the warmth of her silken skin under his fingers made his breath catch. It had been a reflexive thing to steady her, but now he was touching her, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.
‘An opportunity for you to save Kendricks’,’ he replied. He preferred not to use threats when it came to business negotiations, but he would if it got him what he wanted. So he let her see the pirate, the ruthless part of him that had driven him from a hand-to-mouth existence as an unwanted orphan, to being CEO of one of the world’s most dangerous acquisitions companies. ‘I went to your father last night and we had a very interesting discussion. He was quite happy for me to marry you instead of Gianni, as long as I not only bought Kendricks’, but kept you as CEO. I did make him a promise to keep the company intact for at least a year, but...’ He lifted a shoulder. ‘Perhaps I won’t. Perhaps I’ll break it up and sell it for a healthy profit. Unless of course my wife advises me otherwise.’
Anger sparked suddenly in her blue eyes and a hint of colour washed through her pale cheeks. That was good. She had a bit of backbone it seemed. ‘If you expect that I’m going to let you—’
‘Think,’ he murmured, giving her elbow another squeeze, watching how the reminder of his touch made the colour in her cheeks deepen still further. Interesting. He was well aware that she didn’t like him, but that blush indicated that she was affected by his hand on her arm at least, which was pleasing. ‘As CEO and my wife, you’ll be able to discuss with me any restructures. Perhaps you might advise against them. Perhaps I might listen to you.’
She took a breath and he watched as she visibly forced aside her shock, her pretty features hardening. It was impressive. Was this the potential her father had seen in her? Certainly it was more feeling than he’d ever observed in the boardroom.
‘Is that a threat?’
‘Not at all. As I said, I’m merely pointing out an opportunity.’
‘Or you could just not buy Kendricks’ at all,’ she said coldly. ‘Or not be my stand-in groom. You could just go back to doing what you do best which is destroying things. How’s that for an opportunity?’
He allowed himself another smile. Oh, she definitely had more backbone than he’d expected, which was pleasing. However, she didn’t know him. She didn’t know that he never gave up when he wanted something, never ever. Once, long ago, when he’d still had a conscience and a heart that hadn’t completely frozen over, he’d let something go. Something very, very precious to him. But he never would again. The conscience he’d once had was dead and so was his heart, and now nothing could touch him.
‘I could,’ he said. ‘But alas, I wish to marry you more.’
Beyond the big doors of the church’s interior, he could hear more rustlings as people shifted in their seats, the hum of conversation now a dull roar.
He needed her to make a decision and to make it quickly.
‘I won’t require anything of you,’ he went on, keeping his voice low and steady. ‘It’ll be a marriage in name only. We can hash out the details on our honeymoon.’
Isla was white beneath her veil, but he could see her pretty mouth. The lipstick she had on today was a soft pink, highlighting the lush fullness of her lips. ‘A honeymoon? You can’t be serious.’
‘Of course I’m serious.’ He’d already planned it out in the hours before the wedding, because he was nothing if not prepared. ‘We will need a honeymoon to let the dust settle here and so we can discuss our arrangement.’ And so he could discover his own peculiar fascination with her.
She was staring at him now as if she’d never seen him before in all her life. ‘So let me get this straight,’ she said slowly. ‘If I don’t marry you today, now, you’ll remove me as CEO and break Kendricks’ up?’
‘Correct.’
‘But that’s blackmail.’
He lifted a shoulder. ‘I prefer to think of it as an incentive.’
‘But you’re not giving me a choice.’
‘Naturally, you have a choice. You can choose not to marry me. I’m not forcing you into anything.’
Her gaze behind her veil was very dark, her posture stiff, and he could feel the tension in her arm.
Time was passing and they’d been standing there too long, and if he waited any longer, her shock would wear off and she would start thinking clearly and logically, and his window of opportunity would be gone. He couldn’t let that happen.
‘Come,’ he murmured. ‘We can’t stay here too much longer. People are getting impatient. You can refuse, in which case I’ll leave, then take the company anyway, removing you as CEO and your father gets nothing. Or you can agree, in which case your father gets the nice little windfall from the sale of the company he was expecting, you get to remain as CEO and I get to keep the company intact for the year that I promised. You might even convince me to keep it intact longer than a year.’
She was trembling slightly. ‘You’re a bastard.’
Unperturbed, Orion inclined his head. He’d expected her anger. ‘Indeed. Though, I’ve been called worse.’
‘Doesn’t it matter to you at all that you paid my fiancé off? That you—’
‘Enough with the outrage,’ he interrupted mildly. ‘You didn’t love him, as I already pointed out. You don’t love me either, so really, all you’re doing is swapping one means to an end with another. It’s no big deal.’
The blush in her cheeks burned more intensely, which intrigued him. He’d assumed that her tremble was fear, and though he hadn’t wanted to frighten her, he’d accepted that she might be afraid. However, that blush wasn’t fear, that was anger.
Good. Anger was better than fear. It was certainly more powerful.
‘No big deal?’ she hissed. ‘Are you mad?’
‘Isla,’ he murmured. ‘Yes or no.’
For a second he thought she might refuse and his muscles tensed in response.
Then she tore her arm from his grip. Yet instead of heading out of the church and escaping, she marched straight over to the big oak double doors that led to the church proper. She stopped in front of them, clutching the remains of her peonies in a white-knuckled grip. ‘Come on then,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
Orion smiled. She had more spirit than he’d expected, a lot more, in fact. And he liked that. He liked it very much.
So he came over to where she stood, and pushed open the doors, and let the strains of the wedding march fill the church.
