As she turned to go inside, her gaze swept around the old white weatherboard colonial mansion she had transformed to suit herself and her business. It was perfectly sited here at Randwick; close to the inner city, close to Fox Studios, and close to the National Institute for Dramatic Art. Its semicircular driveway—previously a carriageway—provided off-street parking for clients, and the downstairs rooms housed not only her casting agency but also a top photographers’ studio so that portfolios could be created under her guiding eye.
She had always liked the gracious style of the place, its wide verandahs with their ornate white iron-lace finish and the old-fashioned bullnose iron roof which was painted the same dark green as the Norfolk pines that stood in the grounds. Somehow it presented a statement of lasting quality, of class that was by no means diminished by the changing architectural styles demanded by modern society.
But Nick was right. While it would still have suited her as a single mother—the perfect set-up, in fact—being married to him and establishing a family unit would definitely mean moving.
Where to and to what?
Tess couldn’t get her mind around that, either. The sense of still being in dreamworld was too strong for such down-to-earth decisions. All she knew with absolute certainty was she was not about to sell this place. It represented the life she’d made for herself—a life she trusted.
Trust was very much on her mind when Nick returned with the legal forms, intent on nailing their marriage down. Zack was having his mid-morning nap upstairs, so Tess was in her office, going over the list of new contracts her PA had organised. The moment Nick was ushered in, he was commandeering her desk, laying out the documents, handing her a pen, instructing what was needed and where, pouring out the energy that automatically swept people along with him, doing his will.
‘Once I lodge these at the register office with the relevant documents—copies of our birth certificates—we have to wait a month,’ he informed her, hitching himself onto the front of the desk, arrogantly taking up a position of dominant control.
A month, she thought. Was a month long enough for testing how genuine Nick’s commitment was to both herself and Zack?
‘Which means we’ll be running into Christmas and New Year,’ he ran on, ‘making the best function places a difficult proposition. But I thought if we employed a top wedding planner, got the invitations out straight away…’
‘Stop!’
He glowered at her suspiciously as she put the pen down and rolled her chair back from his overbearing and highly distracting vicinity. ‘Stop what?’ he demanded.
She clutched at the common sense she’d been working on before he’d returned. ‘I’ve had some time to think about this, Nick.’
A thunderous tension instantly descended. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.’
‘I haven’t once said I would marry you,’ she stated sharply, refusing to be intimidated by the pressure of his will. ‘In fact, you’ve given me very little time to consider your proposal.’
‘What’s to consider? We have a duty of care to our son which is best served by the two of us getting married. Given your background and my own, how can there possibly be any argument between us over that?’
Flustered by his ruthless logic, Tess seized on her main uncertainty. ‘What about us?’
‘I thought we settled us last night. Did we or did we not lay down the rules for our marriage to work? And reach a mutual understanding over them.’
In the heat of the night, yes, but…
‘What’s the point of backtracking now, Tess? Just sign the papers and give it a chance.’ His eyes glittered at her in hard, relentless challenge. ‘Remember how it was for you as a kid—lost between Livvy’s and your father’s worlds. I sure as hell remember how it was for me—not wanted by anyone, shuttled aside to fend for myself. We have to make it different for Zack. For his sake, you must see our marriage as the best way.’
Give it a chance…
For Zack’s sake…
Yes. Her mind seized on the cogent argument of their own wretched childhoods. It was the right thing—the only fair thing—to do for their son. To at least try a marriage with Nick.
She was probably putting her heart on the chopping block, but on the positive personal side, she wouldn’t have a cold lonely bed for as long as Nick kept faith with his commitment. She might as well take the pleasure he was offering while she could.
‘Okay!’ she decided, rolling her chair back to the desk and proceeding to sign the forms with a sense of reckless determination. She was probably a fool, taking fool’s gold, but until this marriage was proven worthless, she would give it a chance. For Zack’s sake!
‘But I don’t want a big social wedding,’ she said emphatically, putting the pen down and facing Nick with her decision.
‘Why not?’ His eyes narrowed in fiercely probing assessment. ‘Neither of us is planning to do this again. It’s a one-off, Tess. Why not do the big splash…the whole fairy-tale wedding that all women want?’
‘For one thing, it wouldn’t be a fairy-tale wedding.’ Her own eyes mocked that impossible concept as she pressed the inescapable truth. ‘More like a three-ring circus.’
He frowned.
‘Think about it, Nick,’ she invited derisively, her hands gesturing the grand scale of what would inevitably occur. ‘It wouldn’t be a wonderful personal occasion. It would be the gossipfest of the year—my father and his three wives in attendance—your mother and my mother competing for the limelight—the bride who is Brian Steele’s daughter and the groom who turned out to be not his son…’
The dark frown lifted as his mouth twitched with sardonic humour. ‘Could be quite amusing to have them all dancing to our tune.’
His cynical view of their family situation completely missed the point. ‘Do you imagine anyone would actually be there to wish us well?’ she threw at him in exasperation, thinking of all the bitchy A-list women who’d hate her for roping in the man they’d targeted.
She could hear them now—
The good old pregnancy trap…
The Steele billions behind her…
Nothing to do with love, darling…
Nick shrugged. ‘Humanity is as it is. We swim in that stream, Tess, and so will our son. Hiding from it won’t make it go away.’
‘But we don’t have to play to the gallery,’ she protested, her innate sense of self-protection forbidding the taking of that road.