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“We would share custody.” But he didn’t sound any more enthusiastic about that prospect than she felt.
Romi narrowed her eyes and challenged, “Would we?”
“Perhaps we should consider remaining married until our child goes to college.”
“What if we have more than one?”
“Would you want to?” The awe was there again.
And it touched her when she wanted very much to keep her wits about her. “I’d always hoped to have more than one child.” Hardly a secret, it wasn’t hard to admit. “I would have loved to have a sibling that actually lived with me.”
“As opposed to your sister-by-choice.”
“You don’t know how many times I wished Maddie had been my sister by birth. We agreed a long time ago we wanted more than one child because we wanted something different for our own families.”
“How many children do you want?” he asked cautiously.
“At least two, maybe more.” She shared Maddie’s dream of possibly adopting at some point.
Max didn’t look upset by her answer. Far from it, he appeared intrigued. “Russians put a premium on family.”
“And yours was truncated.”
“Exactly.”
“So, you are saying you want more than one child.” From the man who still considered commitment a dirty word, despite his claim he wanted to marry her.
For him, a wedding really was just a piece of paper—a contract that could be adhered to, or broken with consequences.
Even so…
“This conversation is beyond surreal,” she said helplessly.
Surely he could see that.
“I do not agree. It is the conversation we should have had a year ago, I think.” He laid his silverware on his plate, clearly done with his salad.
“Are you kidding me? After a few dates?” Put that way, it didn’t make a whole lot more sense now.
“I knew I wanted you. You made your terms clear.”
“I wasn’t negotiating terms when we broke up.” Was it a breakup when the number of dates wouldn’t count all the fingers on one hand?
“Nevertheless, you revealed what it would take to get you into my bed.”
“I revealed that on the way over here.”
His brows rose, his disbelief clear. “Do you honestly believe one night would be enough for us?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
He wanted honesty? She’d give him some truth. “The whole point of one night is because no limited time would ever be enough. I was falling for you a year ago and my heart doesn’t have very far to go before we hit the place of no return. I do not want to fall in love with a man who considers it a weakness, can’t you understand that?”
“Are you so sure you have a choice?”
Crap. That hurt. She gasped with a real live physical pain as the truth of his words sank in.
Nevertheless, she wasn’t taking that lying down. “I think you don’t have a lot to say about an emotion you refuse to feel.”
“We are different people, Romi.”
“No kidding.”
Rather than annoying him, her sarcasm made him smile. And that irritated her.
“You wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“At least I have a heart,” she retorted, stung.
“Yes, you do. A generous one.”
“How can you sound so admiring when you’ve made it clear it’s a trait you don’t actually admire?”
“I never said I found your ability to love a weakness.”
“But for you it would be?” she asked, confused.
“As I said, we are different people. You are willing to risk the pain of eventual separation for the benefit of the temporary emotion.”
“What if it isn’t temporary? What if it never goes away?” That was what scared her the most with him.
Maxwell Black could end up being her one true love. As cheesy as some might consider that, Romi believed in soul mates. Her parents had been.
And while Romi wanted nothing more than to have that kind of love for herself, she did not want to spend the rest of her life grieving for a lost love. Particularly one who had simply walked away.
“There is no actual expiration on the marriage,” he pointed out. “Read the contract.”
“No, because it’s not what you have on paper that worries me. It’s what is going on inside you, Max. You expect to get bored eventually. You expect to walk away.”
“No.”
“But, you said—”
“I acknowledge the probability that our marriage will not last. I do not demand that it end at some point.”
Which was actually a huge departure from his attitude the year before. “I just don’t understand what you hope to get out of this.”
“Your body.”
All the air really left the room this time, Romi’s vision going black around the edges.
With a muttered Russian imprecation, Max jumped up and then he was there, holding her so she would not slide sideways out of her chair.
Her fuzzy gaze settled on the Tiffany ring box. That did not help her sense of disorientation.
“You need to finish eating. We will continue this discussion after you have done so.”
“You think I’m suffering low blood sugar?” she asked with a near hysterical laugh.
First of all, she was almost finished with her salad—even if it had been appetizer-sized—and a piece of flatbread. Second of all, his words were the problem. Not the food, or the fact she hadn’t eaten all of it.
“You are suffering something. Now, eat.” He removed the dome covering her plate and traded it for the salad plate before going around the table to do the same for his own lunch.
Certain she couldn’t eat any more, half of Romi’s artichoke-and-egg-white quiche and its accompanying slice of melon was gone before she realized she was wrong.
She stared across the table at Max, unaccountably cranky that he might have been right. Sometimes she needed protein and the fact he’d taken note of that during their brief time together made her feel strange.
That didn’t make the topic of their conversation any more normal, either. “So, if I don’t marry you, you’re going to take my father’s company, thereby triggering Maddie’s crazy fail-safe and just in case that’s not enough, you’ll revoke your support of my dad going into rehab?”
Repeating it didn’t make the threat any less outrageous than when he’d made it, or any easier to understand.
Max didn’t even flicker an eyelid. “Yes.”
“What does that make you?”
“The winner.”
CHAPTER SIX
“IS THAT ALL that matters to you?” she asked with shock, when really, she had no reason to be surprised. She made no effort to hide her unease with the idea. “That you win?”
“I never go into a fight without the intention of doing just that and the certainty I can do so.”
“Have you ever lost?” she wondered out loud.
“I lost my Russian family before I knew what it meant to have anyone in my life besides my mother.”
“That wasn’t your fight. It was your mom’s.” And while the loss was very real, and no doubt impacting, even to an emotionless tycoon who relegated marriage to a business deal, it wasn’t an example of M
ax being defeated.
“She won her independence and the life she wanted for me at great cost. Mama still misses her family.”
“So, you were raised not to count the cost, but to weigh the victory.” It was the attitude of strength, one that made no allowance for fear.
She was impressed despite herself.
“That is a very good way to put it.” He smiled. “Mama would be proud.”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you didn’t answer my question.” One thing a professional at avoidance like Romi could do was recognize the tactic.
“I have never come out the loser in a business deal.”
No doubt, but that wasn’t exactly what she was asking. Since Romi didn’t actually see marriage as a business deal.
“What about personally?” Though she couldn’t imagine him really fighting for anything on a personal basis.
Before today anyway.
He certainly hadn’t fought to keep seeing her a year ago. She’d told him no and he’d accepted her word without trying to change her mind. She’d vacillated between relief and disappointment.
The relief had been unwarranted emotion, she now realized. Maxwell Black didn’t give up. He just regrouped.
“Not since I became an adult.”
“Your mom’s family does not count, we’ve already said.”
“Every loss counts,” he responded implacably.
And he said he had no heart. For the first time since meeting him, Romi wondered if the heart he claimed not to be guided by was just buried really deep.
“Then you shouldn’t have any trouble remembering them.”
Rather than answer, he stood and indicated the living room with a tip of his head. “Would you like to move this discussion somewhere more comfortable?”
They ended up side by side on the big brown leather sectional even though there were several seating options that would not have required such close proximity.
He settled back into the corner, his arm along the back, his gaze holding hers. “Despite having a relationship with my mother that lasted more than two years, my father walked away from me without a backward glance.”
“You don’t know that.” She kicked her ballet flats off and tucked one foot under her, turning to face him more squarely.
“I do.”
