Forcibly Wedded: The Billionaire’s Convenient Wife

A deep ache settled in Anzu's heart as she read the letter—the small looping letters familiar with Ayaka's elegant script.

She drew it to the tabletop, digesting the tight demands her sister outlined in one paragraph, the sum of money she required to keep mum on the affair.

"Do you believe me now?"

Anzu lifted her gaze, expecting to see gloating in Seto's eyes, the knowledge that he was right and she was wrong. What she saw was a shadow darkening smoky-blue eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, forcing the words through a constricted throat. Dashing her pride to the floor, she went on, "I want to say I'm sorry."

For several seconds, seconds that made her discreetly uncomfortable, he held her gaze. "Why the need to apologize?" he queried in a flat tone.

She swallowed hard. "I ignored what everyone else told me," she whispered raggedly. "I chose to believe Ayaka despite everything, and I know now that that was foolish of me."

Seto shook his head slowly, and then he surprised her by reaching out and taking her hand, holding on to her fingers when she would have pulled away.

The numbness Anzu felt was overwhelming, but Seto's hand atop hers created a warming fire from within.

"Blaming yourself for something out of your control is pointless," he spoke softly, too damn softly. The odd glint in his eyes told her he wasn't looking at her, but to a distant somewhere only he knew existed.

"You blamed yourself for Mokuba's accident, didn't you?" She accused, horrified her tone was so cold, so hardhearted.

She stifled the sound of mourning as he tore his hand away, taking all that pleasant tingling warmth with him.

"My life doesn't concern you," he said frostily, drinking a mouthful of café noir to punctuate the sudden end of this topic.

Anzu ignored it.

"You're right, it doesn't." She concurred, tucking an errant curl behind one ear. "But I wasn't asking about your life. I was asking if you blamed yourself for Mokuba's death."

"Same thing."

Her eyebrows met in the centre of her forehead in a frown. "You've never talked about his accident. I want to know what happened that day, Mr. Kaiba."

Seto's dark gaze collided with hers, slivers of fear embedding itself on every nerve in her skin. "You're ordering me?"

She shrugged. "Nothing of the sort. I simply want to know," she stated calmly, threading the pieces of her composure back together.

When he didn't jump to 'share his feelings', Anzu got lost in the silence which hung between them.

"I did."

She glanced up quickly, unsure if she'd imagined him speaking. "Pardon?"

Seto kept his gaze firmly on the dark liquid of his coffee. "I blamed myself for Mokuba's death. He was my brother and I failed him."

"What does that mean?" she asked, gripping on to the line he cast.

"Nothing," he said dismissively, as the icy coldness slinked into his gaze, blocking her out. "I'd rather not talk about it."

She bristled at his standoffish attitude. "Would you rather not talk about it? Or you just don't want to talk about it with me?" she inquired hotly.

"I don't want to talk about it with you," he clarified crisply.

The hurtful cruelty of his words started a surge of anger in her veins, then fizzled to a premature death as she coped with her emotions.

There wasn't a single sane reason for her to react this way. There wasn't any need to take offense.

"I guess this dinner is over," Anzu said, her voice remarkably strong. "Goodnight, Mr. Kaiba."

She left the restaurant and didn't see Seto coming after her.

The long, black limousine which brought her to the restaurant was still there—parked and waiting by the curb.

Relief traveled her mind and Anzu hustled to the door, just as the chauffeur stepped out of the massive vehicle.

"Rafael," she winced at her breathlessness. "Would you take me back to my hotel, please?"

He tipped the rim of his hat with a single finger, bowing politely. "Of course, ma'am"

Grateful to sink into the darkened abyss that was the interior of the limo, Anzu allowed herself a small sigh. She was startled when the door opened again, a disgruntled Seto Kaiba appearing magically at her side.

She twisted away from him. "Get out," she hissed.

An unperturbed look entered his eyes. "This limousine belongs to me," he said with a smidgen of arrogance, and then angrily he asked, "Why the hell did you run out like that?"

"I didn't run," Anzu tartly denied. "I walked out in a very dignified manner. Which was perfectly understandable given the circumstance."

"Which was?"

She smiled sweetly. "You were being an ass."

Rafael fired the engine, the limo pulled away from the curb and sped down the lighted streets of Sydney.

"You really are something," she heard Seto exclaim, but paid him no mind. "You actually had the nerve to run out—pardon me—walk out on our dinner."

Anzu turned, the taunt eating away at her emotional control. "What?" she asked brightly. "Never had a woman leave you during a date?"

"I thought we agreed it wasn't a date?" His smile was pure male. "And no. No woman has ever dared. Why would she?"

I can think of a few reasons, Anzu thought waspishly. "I'm amazed you can get that head of yours through the door," she said aloud. "Your ego's more bloated than a woman with PMS!"

"Indeed?"

"Stop laughing at me," she pouted sulkily, the pangs of irritability gnawing on her insides. "I will not be the object of your amusement."

"Then let's drop the matter, shall we?" Seto offered coolly.

"Gladly."

The silver bangles on Anzu's wrist tinkled as she smoothed a hand through her hair, a swift and deep sigh floating through her lips as she stared at the moving city lights.

With a curiosity that never quits, she tentatively broached a very touchy subject. "To pass time, you could tell me about Mokuba."

Seto visibly stiffened, then relaxed. "I'm not in the mood."

Anzu giggled; his behavior was like that of a petulant child.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

She waved a frantic hand. "Oh, nothing, nothing." She coughed discreetly. "Come on. Talking helps, you know."

"If you say so." As if changing his mind, he began slowly, "On the day Mokuba died I was in New York on business. My housekeeper—Jeanette, phoned with the news."

"What did you mean earlier when you said you failed him?" Anzu asked, consciously holding a breath.

A muscle knotted in his jaw. "You can ask your sister when we find her."

"Ayaka?"

"You have another gold-digging sister?" he sneered, sarcasm biting his words. "Mokuba's mobile records showed a call received one hour before his death. The caller was your sister."

Anzu could barely breathe, her eyes gone wide from shock. "How do you know it was her?"

"Jeanette overheard Mokuba arguing with her," Seto confessed coldly. "He probably called her a few not-so-respectable names."

"And then he got into his car…" Anzu numbly guessed. "Do you think he was going to meet Ayaka?"

"Possibly."

Immediately she reached out and touched his arm, a thousand nerves responding to the feel of her small palm. Seto met her gaze, unknowing of how to react when her sapphire eyes were drenched in sympathy.

Instincts kicked in with a sharp thud, and he shrugged off her scalding touch. "I don't need anyone's pity."

She was as mad as he. "I wasn't offering you any."

Seto turned away, refusing to see her lovely face angelic against the shadows. She was another man's mistress, he reminded himself almost painfully.

Anzu's affair with Zachary Dalton—her very married employer—bothered Seto more than he'd care to share, and knowing this should have destroyed whatever attraction he had for her.

Instead, the potent flame of desire roared inside him, daring him to take her…

He slammed the lid on those foolish impulses. He had to remember Anzu was no better than her sister. The pair quite famous for conducting illicit affairs.

"Thank you," her serene voice drifted to his ears. "For telling me. I know you didn't want to."

He grunted.

Rafael cut the engine when the limo drew to a still, coming round to open the door as Anzu prepared to leave.

Seto clasped a hand on her wrist, tanned fingers holding her hostage. "I'll be seeing you," he smiled handsomely, keeping his blue eyes locked on hers.

Anzu stitched a tight smile on her lips. "Oh, I'm sure you will," she said, then bolted out of the limo.