Chapter 2

"I bought your father's share of the company. There are no debts."

"But even that wouldn't be enough."

"I also bought this house. Is mine now."

"So you did it? You finally got everything! The moment I saw you I knew you were dangerous, but he never listened to me. You knew how thing were going, but you just sat back and let it happen, waiting for the right moment to plunder. Now you got everything and he's dead."

She never even thought deeply about what she was saying until she saw the harsh fury on his face, until he stood up and looked down at her with icy eyes.

"Be very careful how you speak to me Miss Summers. I don't tolerate hysterics. What exactly did I do? Did I introduce him to every casino in Las Vegas? Did I produce the women?"

Buffy winced and turned away, her face showing her pain and rage, Angel grasped her shoulders and turn her to face him.

"Yes! That's the deepest cut, isn't it? The women!"

"My mother was beautiful."

"Like you," he rasped. "I know that. Hank had a photo of her in every place he went, in the office, here..." violently taking the frame at the desk and trusting it into her hands, "Joyce! I know her. I see her every time I look at you. She died a very long time ago, but not to him. My God! To love a woman as much as that must be a life sentence."

"Then why the women?"

"To find solace, I think. The women meant nothing to him. There was only Joyce and you. Every time he saw you he must have seen her, a comfort and a torture. They were an escape."

He turned to her irritably.

"This is getting us nowhere. Hank had no idea he was ill until too late, and then he worried about you, panic-stricken, in fact. That's where the deal comes and I agreed to three conditions. One, the company will keep it's name O'Connor-Summers. Two, you can live in this house for as long as you want."

"I don't want that." Buffy cried vehemently. She didn't know what to do. She felt ashamed at his knowledge of her true situation. "It's yours now. You own everything. I'll leave in the morning."

"As I told you before it's up to you." He said indifferently.

"What it's the last condition? Tell me now, so we can finish this conversation." Her temper rising.

"The last condition depends on you. He wanted a future for you, a good future so, I agreed to marry you."

It was said without any emotion, that for a moment she felt she had not heard correctly. She just stared at him blankly, not thinking about the implications, and then all the color drained from her face.

"Y...you...agreed...to...?"

"Well it suits me," he informed indifferently, his face expressionless. "It gave him the pace he needed and I have no great objections."

Horror, incredulity and panic washed over Buffy and it showed it in her face. She took a small step away from him and faint.

When she regain consciousness she was laying in the divan and Angel was sitting beside her, watching her intently with an odd expression in his face.

"Neat," he congratulated sarcastically. "No arguments, no screams, just instant oblivion. I'll try it at the next awkward board meeting."

He got up and poured a small brandy, holding it out to her, but she seemed incapable of taking it form his hand.

"Where's your courage?" he taunted. "Buffy, if you touch my hand you'll not be compromised in any way at all." But still she made no move, with a look of impatience Angel lifted the glass to her mouth until she could drink.

"Y...you don't have to..."

"I don't have to do anything," he agreed irritated, "even though, in theory I can toss you out into the night and convince Jenn to stay with me."

"Be serious." She touched his hand without thinking and he looked down arrogantly at her pale fingers against his own, she pulled away quickly. "I'd like to get up."

"Okay, but I'm warning you to stay right here for awhile. You look shaken."

"Surprised?" she swung her legs to the floor but remained seated, and he gave a hard laugh.

"I'm not surprised. There's was no other way to tell you. Coming to you with the idea was clearly a waste of time. I know what you think of me, Buffy. You've gone a lot of trouble to make it quite plain over the past two years and I'm not exactly what you're used to."

"Then why did you even bother to mention it?"

"Because I gave my word and, as I informed you before your dramatic slide into unconsciousness, it suits me."

"How can it suit you? I don't like you at all. Did you think I'd agree."

"Look!" He turned so suddenly that she jumped, and that did not pleased him; his eyes burned her. "I'm thirty-five I'm successful, wealthy and unmarried. I plan to live in this house, it always appealed to me, and naturally, I need a hostess. I've seen you in action here; no one could do it better."

"I...I don't think you really know what you're saying," Buffy began desperately. "People don't get married for that reason."

"You're right," he agreed. "They get married for the same reason you father married his Joyce, 'endless love' except that it never is. I had a rough beginning and I have no intention of having a rough end. This is a business deal, part of the bargain I made with your father. No love, no grief. I want a beautiful wife who appreciates beautiful things, who is accustomed to wealth and values it. You'll have everything you desire. You'll have luxury and safety. You will have my name but you will not have me."

"I don't want you!" Buffy snapped. "I violently dislike you!"

"Why?"

His suddenly quiet question puzzled her, and she blushed. "How can I possibly explain something like that? It was instinctive, somehow I recognized what you are."

"And what am I, Buffy? I already know I'm a nobody."

"I never said that. In fact I never even thought it."

"Then why the dislike?"

"You're danger. I knew the moment I saw you. And I can see it now." She found herself looking into his eyes. He was now sitting beside her and those eyes were drowning her. His mouth twisted in amusement and for her dismay he trailed one long finger down her cheek."

"You are naïve, Buffy. You have a wild imagination."

"I have a great sense of self-preservation." She snatched her face away, blushing when he laughed softly . "I really don't want to talk about it. And in any case," she added, a thought suddenly striking her, "what about Miss Chase, your..."

"Lover?" he enquired helpfully. "Don't de afraid to speak right out. Harsh words can't damage Cordelia."

Buffy hadn't imagined they could. The gossip columnists had been following Angel progress with Cordelia Chase, a successful fashion designer with her own chain of boutiques. A career woman, glossy and sharp, her successful in Hollywood had enthralled the media. She looked as if nothing could hurt her.

"I'm not interested in her, or anything. I just want to wake up and find this is only a bad dream."

"No wonder you father was worried about you." Angel snapped, getting up to step away from her. "You're unbelievable. How can you expect to survive? You never worked in your life. You're planning to take an apartment in a sleazy neighborhood and fill it with second hand furniture?"

"There's furniture here..."

"Yes there is, but it's mine. The house wasn't enough so I bought the furniture as well. Antiques are valuable."

"So I have nothing," she whispered, and he turned to glare at her.

"You can have your clothes...if you can find an apartment big enough to have your large and glamorous wardrobe."

"You don't know anything about my wardrobe or my lifestyle."

One black brow rose sardonically. "I'd follow your progress. The ballet, theatre, fancy dinners and parties. You think you're going to survive with an apartment in LA? Then what? A job? What kind of job? All you know is how to be beautiful and charm your guests. You might survive a week. It's like throwing a lamb to the wolves, a silky little virgin in the big, bad city."

"You have no idea that I'm..." she stopped blushing, he looked amused.

"Indeed I do. You say you see danger in my face, I see virginity in yours. And in any case I know all about you Buffy. Your reputation is pure as snow." He looked down at her. "You really haven't had much of a life, have you? Hank kept you close and never let you lift a finger to help yourself. He wanted a living image of Joyce right under his nose. When things got too much for him he simply went off and blew in a bit more cash, quite secure that you were settled into a safe little life. He was so far gone with grief that he never thought about your future."

"You despised him really, didn't you?"

"No I liked him, and I imagine that deep down he knew I'd look out for you when it came down to it. You see Buffy, it has always been my intention to marry you, right from the moment I first saw you."

For a minute Buffy just stared at him, her face even paler. Was this the danger she originally felt? Was this the reason his eyes followed her whenever he was in the house? Of course not. Dignity was the only thing that was going to get her out of this.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I know you're only being kind. For some reason you promised my father that you'd marry me and now you're trying to make it sound better, I'll manage quite well. Jenny will be with me and..."

He sat down in the chair opposite to her and started to laugh, his eyes dancing with amusement at her dignity. She had never seen him laugh like that before and it lit his face, making him like a different person.

"You're quite hilarious Buffy Summers."

"I was only thanking you for your efforts," Buffy said indignantly, and it amused him even more.

"And she drew on her gloves and swept out," he taunted softly. "Listen you are a rare creature. I need a wife and I picked you a long time ago...two years ago, actually. You have everything I want. You're beautiful, gracious, and you have enough dignity for the two of us. I mentioned it to your father about a year ago." Angel grimaced wryly.

"That was a non-starter as far as he was concerned. I was given a brief history about your family background, in a kindly manner, of course. The Summers are not self-made, the Summers inherit. Then was of course Lord William, dear Spike, in your father's words. At the time he was your boyfriend, and I believe Hank might have let you go to a title. At any rate, I didn't merit thought. He dismissed it from his mind but he remembered at the end when he realized just how vulnerable he was going to leave you. I never dismissed it from my mind because I intended to marry you with or without your father's blessing."

For a minute Buffy stared at him and he looked back at her with a sort of mocking amusement. He had never said so much to her before and had never before even looked as if he wanted to marry her. What was he up to?

"You've got to be making this up," Buffy said airily. "A few moments ago you were saying you needed a hostess, and you point out your opinion of love!"

"Do you love me?" he asked unexpectedly, his eyes narrowed.

"Don't be ridiculous! I don't even like you. I've made that quite obvious."

"Then let's try to be sensible." He leaned back and looked at her levelly, his lips still twitched in amusement. "I told you why I need a wife and explained why you are perfect. You need the sort of background you grew up in. And I can give you that. You can't survive without me."

"You have a big opinion of yourself, Mr. O'Connor! And obviously a very low opinion of me. I know you think I'm capable of nothing at all but I don't need a man to take care of me."

"I know you're not capable of taking care for yourself. You have only social accomplishments. You've been surrounded by kindness all your life. Too much affection is really enervating and it's probably too late now for you to stand on your own feet. Be realistic. You can live in your own home, live as you've always lived. Jenny will bless you and, as a matter of fact, so will I."

"I can't see you stooping to bless anyone." She stopped and sighed. "By the sound of your proposition you expect me to act some dumb hostess with a ring on my finger and a leash in my neck. I'm telling you, it's not going to happen."

"Not a proposition, Buffy a proposal. I'm very rich man. I built a business empire. I need an heir."

Buffy stood up slowly, almost swaying, and he got to his feet too, observing her intently.

"You said...you said no love. You said you would never feel as my father felt."

She was frightened, their conversation until now seemed unreal. There were something in his eyes that until this moment had been hidden. He wasn't taunting her anymore and her heart was beating furiously.

"And I never will," he assured her. "Love is not at all necessary, that kind of trap is not for me. I saw my mother trapped and I saw it again with your father."

"My mother could not help dying," Buffy whispered.

"It shattered his life and in some way yours too. No woman is going to take my life and then let it drop by leaving me in any way."

"Then you got the perfect set-up, you have a lover with the same selfish desires."

"So far, it's been enough." His haze held hers. "Now I want more, I want this house with you in it as I first saw you. I want to own all that cool, golden beauty. I want a child with green eyes and hair the color of honey. I want you!"

She gave a shocked cry and turned to run away from him, but he caught her by the waist, spinning her back to him, his arm tightly round her, his other hand grabbing her hair to hold her still.

"I could make you want me," he threatened. "I could hold you in my arms until that virginal terror disappeared, and I wouldn't need love for that. You know nothing about men. Hank saw to that, didn't he? He was scared of losing you. Even at the end he was only happy to hand you over to me because he imagined he knew why I wanted you. He assumed I would keep you safe and immaculate, leave you in your old room and simply smile at you across the breakfast table, maybe pat your hand and be quite content to be married to a Summers. If he'd known what I really wanted he would have simply left things in a mess because nobody had to want his porcelain doll, his little Joyce."

"You hated him," she whispered, her whole body trembling.

"I knew him!"

"No. I knew him." Suddenly she began to cry, hot painful tears that fell on to pale cheeks. "Today I buried him."

He gave a low murmur that might have been either exasperation or pity, she didn't know which, then the lift her in his strong arms and carried her to the door.

"Jenny!" He shouted just once and immediately Jenny was there, her face anxious and tear-stained. "Come and take her to bed, she had enough." He ordered.

He walked up the staircase, holding Buffy tightly as she tried to get control of her weeping, and Jenny ran along in front to open the door of Buffy's room. He paused at the door as he walked away again.

"Give her a minute to recover and then feed her," he commanded. "She's not allowed to sleep before she's eaten. Much more of this and she's going to be in hospital."

Seeing him upstairs, hearing him issuing orders made her realize that now he owned everything. He was rocking the very foundation of her life. She had to get away and never see him again.

Jenny brought some soup, and scrambled eggs, she was still toying with it when there was a knock on the door and Angel simply walked in.

"This is still my room," she snapped. "Unless you decided to throw me out tonight."

"Stop talking nonsense," he rasped, walking over to look at her. "I have no intention of seeing you leave this house and you know it damn well! I came to see if you'd eaten anything. I can see that you've moved it's position on the plate slightly," he added, glancing at the tray. "I'm quite relived to see that you've finished the soup. Keep doing this and I take you to the hospital."

"What I do is absolutely none of your business!" she said tightly, her anxiety growing by his attitude. She felt trapped. But she was too tired to fight.

"Everything you do is my business," he said sharply. He took the tray away and placed it in the small table by the bed and then moved to sit next to her, making her move further away.

"Will you please go?" he was scaring her even more, he looked at him pleadingly.

"For God's sake stop being scared of me!" he growled. "What, do you think I'm going to rape you? Believe me, I don't need to use force."

"I'm sure you don't, your love-life has been published in the social columns for as long as I remember. I had to be illiterate not to know who you've dated the past two years. When Cordelia Chase came on the scene they did a full synopsis of the past."

"You could easily have turned the page," he murmured, suddenly cynically amused. "You surely didn't feel obliged to read about all my indiscretions?"

"I'm not interested! Something so obvious, though, is hard to miss."

"Never believe all you read," he warned softly. "Plenty of women are prepared to have their name linked with mine in the chance it will do them some good. At that point I normally drop them."

"Everybody knows you're cold blooded."

"The ladies don't seem to think so. Or do you imagine it's because of my money."

"Obviously," she lied. She knew he had women on his feet and she knew it wasn't because of his money, either. He was vibrant, a frightening sexual attraction hidden behind that arrogant face. Until today she had never noticed it because until today she had been just as far away from him as she could get, always avoiding his eyes, changing direction when he came towards her at any gathering they had held. She had been aloof and distant, keeping him at arm's length.

Tonight, though, he had forced her to look at him. He had forced her to face him and she was more scared than ever, not by his power but by the man himself.

"Are you staring at me to look for answers?" he enquired. "You want me to prove to you that it's not just my money."

"You're being cruel." She managed to say. "You got me at disadvantage and you're showing just what you're really like."

"You don't know what I'm really like, Buffy," he assured her softly. His eyes traveled over her and she was glad her nightgown was not transparent: the white satin covered her well but his eyes found the frantic pulse that beat in her throat and he smiled again. "Virginal," he murmured. "I could have expected you to sleep in white."

"Please go away," she said in little more than a whisper. "You have no right to be here."

"I've wanted to be here for a long time," He held her with dark eyes. "Scared little Buffy, too afraid to live. Hank did you no good, really."

It brought it all back. Here with him in her room the air seemed to be vibrant but just beyond the door there was silence, there will always be silence.

"I'll never see him again."

"He sees you."

It was so unexpected coming from him, that she stared at him. His dark haze met hers, drowning her, and she couldn't look away at all.

"Suppose I promise to make you happy?" he asked softly.

"You couldn't, I hate you. I hate you because you've forced your way into my life, because you've taken everything from me. how can you make anyone happy? You're not even real. You're just raw power."

His eyes ran over her and she shivered as his hand slowly raised to touché her skin. His fingertips rested lightly on the pulse at the base of her throat as if he was listening to her inner thoughts.

"Then I'll not promise anything," he assured her quietly. "I'll simply wait. I've waited two years so far. You'll come to me, Buffy, because you need me." He stood and looked at her with the same fathomless eyes she had grown accustomed to. "In the meantime, I'll make my own arrangements. Tonight, with your permission, I'll sleep here. The security guards will stay in the gate until morning. Sleep tight, nothing is going to disturb you."

Everything disturbed her. He disturbed her! She turned out he lights with her mind tormented.

"Oh, Daddy, why?" she whispered brokenly. She could never blame her father, he was in the power of that awful Angel O'Connor, and she blamed him.