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‘Well, at least Nik didn’t suggest that the baby might be some other man’s—’
‘Why would he when you’ve been living like you’ve taken a vow of celibacy?’ Belle demanded with a wry roll of her eyes. ‘A child is going to make everything so much more difficult and complicated for you.’
‘I don’t see why,’ Betsy replied in a fiercely upbeat tone as she tilted her chin. ‘I have a business, a home and a devoted dog. The baby will slot right in there perfectly and life will go on.’
Soon after that, Betsy got up to leave because the emotional turbulence of her day had exhausted her and she was looking forward to getting home and relaxing in front of the fire with Gizmo as a foot warmer. Belle pulled open the drawing room door for her. ‘Oh, before I forget, you’re booked to come to my birthday party a week on Friday. I’ve even arranged a lift for you—’
‘A...lift?’ Betsy repeated in surprise.
‘Chris Morrison. He lives by you and he said he’d be happy to bring you with him, so you won’t even have to stay the night here because he’ll take you home again as well,’ Belle revealed with satisfaction. ‘I passed on your number so that he can contact you to arrange a time.’
‘Who is he?’ Betsy prompted with a frown, recognising how Belle had cleverly boxed her in and made it impossible for her to refuse to attend. Her momentary spark of resentment at being managed, however, evaporated when she pictured herself sitting home alone every night moping. Nik wasn’t moping; no, her soon-to-be ex was regularly linked to society beauties, whom he escorted to clubs, art galleries and opera performances. Indeed, Nik, who had rarely taken Betsy out anywhere after marrying her, had turned into a maddeningly visible male, whose social success was mapped by a trail of revealing photos in gossip columns and both glossy and worthy magazines.
Across the hall in the very act of emerging from Cristo’s study where a couple of brandies had chased the increasing chill from his stomach, Nik had frozen into immobility at the unexpected sound of Betsy’s voice. A glance at his brother revealed that even tolerant, laid-back Cristo had tensed at the obvious fact that the feisty Belle was already making dates for Nik’s still legally wed wife. And with a womaniser like Chris Morrison, of all people! Only Betsy would have to ask who the man was! Only one of the richest bankers in the City! Diavelos! Nik’s eyes flashed pure emerald brilliance as he fought down a tide of pure toxic rage because no matter how he felt he couldn’t strangle his brother’s provocative wife.
‘Ah, boys together too...’ Belle trilled teasingly, not one whit perturbed by the awkward meeting. ‘Isn’t this cosy?’
‘Betsy...’ Cristo gave Betsy an uneasy smile that warned her that Nik had confided in him. She wondered if Nik’s brother even appreciated how extreme an honour that was, because Nik was one of the most secretive men she had ever met. She finally dared to shift her attention to Nik. His sheer physical impact as he stood there poised with his arrogant black head held high and his broad shoulders thrown back hit her like a thunderclap. The amount of stress she had been fighting at his office had shielded her from the full effects of his compelling sexual magnetism. Now suddenly she was bare to the elements, reliving X-rated moments of their passionate encounter weeks earlier. She remembered the hard, jolting thrust of his demanding body into hers, the wild, screaming sensitivity of every nerve ending and the mad excitement that had engulfed her. A flush of heat travelled from her pelvis up through her already tender breasts and burned her face.
But behind that unwelcome response smouldered an anger and a resentment that Betsy had always repressed because as a child she had been taught to regard such emotions as destructive, rude and undesirable.
‘Betsy won’t need a lift from Morrison,’ Nik announced, tight-mouthed. ‘As I’m coming to the party as well, I’ll organise her transport.’
Betsy could not credit her hearing because Nik had spoken as though she were a crate requiring shipping. Or a personal possession that he still had the right to move about at will. This, from a male who had deceived her, deserted her and who was racing to divorce her! Without warning a volcanic fury beyond anything Betsy had ever felt before funnelled up through her diminutive figure like hot, scorching lava and she stalked forward, blue eyes ablaze.
‘Where do you get the nerve?’ Betsy spat out, her small face a mask of raging indignation as she confronted Nik and jabbed a small forefinger hard into his shirtfront. ‘Where the hell do you get the nerve to think you have the right to organise anything for me?’
As taken aback as if a chair had suddenly lifted up and attacked him, Nik gazed down in disbelief at Betsy, the most conciliatory person he had ever known and without an ounce of aggression, facing up to him like a miniature warrior on the battlefield.
‘I—’
‘Shut up...I don’t want to hear your voice!’ Betsy seethed up at him, head tipping back because she refused to focus on his chest, but it was a challenge to seek eye-to-eye contact when he was so much taller than she was. ‘You’ve got nothing to say that I could possibly want to hear! You don’t own me and you don’t have any say in what I do or where I go or who I do it with! Only last week you were wrapped round an Amazonian blonde at some New York party. I didn’t interfere. I didn’t offer you an opinion. Why not? Because it was none of my business! And my life now is none of your business either!’ she completed with a final stab of her forefinger on his broad chest. ‘Do you get that, Nik? Or do I need to write it down for you, put it in business language so that you might actually grasp it?’
‘That is enough,’ Nik warned her, hard cheekbones rigid beneath his flushed golden skin. ‘What has got into you?’ he demanded, incredulous at her daring in attacking him.
‘You’ve got into me, Nik...literally and figuratively. You were a rotten, selfish husband and you went out of my life on an even worse note—’
Cristo swung wide the door of his study in an almost comically inviting gesture. ‘You and Nik can talk in there—’
‘But I wouldn’t miss a minute of the mouse finally roaring,’ Belle confided without shame. ‘You go, girl!’
Even white teeth gritting together, Nik breathed curtly, ‘You’re pregnant—obviously you don’t want to be forced into the company of another man—’
‘Why should being pregnant stop me? And who said I was being forced?’ Betsy queried, still as furious as she had started out because Nik’s many, many sins and omissions were piled up like coffin dust in the back of her mind. She wrenched her arm free the instant he closed long brown fingers round it in an effort to hustle her into the study. ‘Lay one hand on me, Nik, and I’ll charge you with assault—’
‘You will not stage a public argument with me in my brother’s house!’ Nik thundered down at her, green eyes so startlingly light with rage they shimmered like polished gems in his lean dark features.
‘That’s fine. I wasn’t planning to stay and waste my breath on a lost cause.’ Azure eyes like jewels assailed his irate stare with a boldness that stunned him. ‘Just don’t you ever dare to tell me what to do again! Subject someone else to the control-freak stuff... You’re not my husband any more. I spent three years trying to be the very best wife I could be, submitting to your every demand and expectation and fitting myself into your world, and thank heaven I don’t have to do it any more!’ she slung at him with a sudden sense of freedom as she walked with determination towards the front door.
‘We’re still married,’ Nik reminded her stubbornly, his attention locked to her like a powerful force beam
that could not be evaded.
And Betsy spun round, rigid with so much annoyance at that provocative claim that she was instantly ready to storm into round two of the battle. ‘Really? Where have you been for the past eight months? Oh, yes, divorcing me, repossessing the dog you always ignored, trying to take the roof from over my head while running round with other women. If I did choose to sleep around, consort with lots of men and generally act like a very embarrassing ex-wife, well, I might as well, because playing nice with you all those years certainly didn’t do me any favours! You lied to me—’
‘I didn’t... I have never ever lied to you,’ Nik breathed grittily, big, strong hands clenched into fists by his sides, pale as death below his year-round tan. A claustrophobic silence fell while she waited to see if he would say anything else but, predictably, Nik sealed his firm masculine lips together.
‘You lied by omission,’ Betsy conceded and a belated flush of mortification that they were fighting in Cristo and Belle’s home engulfed her and she cringed inwardly at the lengths her loss of temper had taken her to. ‘And trust you to make that distinction. You’re too clever for your own good, Nik, and I was never h-half clever enough... You broke my heart, Nik, and I’ll never forgive you for it.’ Something very like the start of a sob clogged in her throat and her eyes burned and in more haste than ever she wrenched the front door open, starting down the steps, only halting when a heavy hand settled on her shoulder.
