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Sergios asked Bee about the children and she relaxed a little, telling him that Eleni had performed very poorly at her hearing test and the doctor suspected that she was suffering from glue ear. The toddler was to be examined by a consultant with a view to receiving treatment. Bee went on to talk about the picture that Paris had drawn on his bedroom wall. She considered his depiction of his once-happy family complete with parents and home to be self-explanatory. He had no photos of his late parents and Bee asked Sergios if there was a reason for that.
‘I thought it would be less upsetting that way—he has to move on.’
‘I think Paris needs the time to grieve and that family photos would help,’ Bee pronounced with care.
‘I put his parents’ personal effects into storage. I’ll have them checked for photo albums,’ Sergios proffered, surprising her by accepting her opinion.
‘I think that all that is wrong is that the children have endured too many changes in a short space of time. They need a settled home life.’
Sergios expelled his breath with a slight hiss, his expression grim. ‘I’ve done my best but clearly it wasn’t good enough. I know nothing about children. I don’t even know how to talk to them.’
‘The same way you talk to anyone else—with interest and kindness.’
A grudging smile played at the corners of his sardonic mouth. ‘Not my style. I’m more into barking orders, Beatriz.’
‘Call me Bee…everyone does.’
‘No, Bee makes you sound like a maiden aunt. Beatriz is pretty.’
Bee almost winced at that opinion. ‘But I’m not.’
‘Give the beauty professionals a chance,’ Sergios advised without hesitation.
At that advice, Bee took an offended stance, her spine very straight, her chin lifting. ‘Actually that’s what I wanted to discuss with you.’
With veiled attention, Sergios watched the buttons pull on her shirt, struggling to contain the full globes of her breasts. He wanted to rip open the shirt and release that luscious flesh from captivity into his hands. More than a comfortable hand
ful, he reckoned hungrily, his body hardening. Startled by the imagery, he decided that he had to be in dire need of sexual fulfilment. Clearly he had waited too long to release his desire. He did not want to look on his future wife in that light.
Lost in her own thoughts, Bee breathed in deep and spoke with the abruptness of discomfiture. ‘I don’t want a makeover. I’m happy as I am. Take me or leave me.’
Sergios was not amused by that invitation. His clever dark eyes rested on her uneasy face. ‘You must appreciate that when it comes to your appearance a certain amount of effort is required. Right now, you’re making no effort at all.’
Incensed by that critical and wounding statement, Bee threw her slim shoulders back. ‘I’m not going to change myself to conform to some outdated sexist code.’
Sergios released an impatient groan. ‘Leave the feminism out of it. What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you care about your appearance?’
‘There’s nothing the matter with me,’ Bee answered with spirit. ‘I’m just comfortable with myself as I am.’
‘But I’m not. I expect you to smarten up as part of the job.’
‘That’s too personal a request…beyond your remit,’ Bee spelt out in case he hadn’t yet got the message. ‘I have already given up my home, my job…surely how I choose to look is my business.’
His brilliant dark eyes flamed gold, dense black lashes lowering over them to enhance the flash-fire effect. ‘Not if you want to marry me, it’s not.’
Bee flung her head back, glossy chestnut strands trailing across her shoulders, an angry flush across her cheekbones. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it? I find you unreasonable. It’s normal for a woman to take pride in her appearance. What happened to you that made you lose all interest?’ Sergios demanded starkly.
The silence hummed like a buzz saw against Bee’s suddenly exposed nerves. She very nearly flinched, for that incisive question had cut deep and hit home hard. There had been a time when Bee had taken great interest in her personal appearance and had chosen her clothes with equal care. But it was not a period she cared to recall. ‘I don’t want to talk about this. It’s absolutely none of your business.’
‘The makeover is not negotiable. There will be public occasions when I expect you to appear by my side. There is no longer any excuse for you to go around in unflattering clothes with your hair in a mess,’ Sergios asserted with derisive cool.
Rage surged up through Bee like lava seeking a vent. ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’
‘I’m being honest with you. Come over here,’ Sergios urged, a firm hand at her elbow guiding her across to the mirror on the wall. ‘And tell me what you see…’
Forced to acknowledge a reflection that displayed windblown hair, an old shirt and baggy jeans, Bee just wanted to slap him. Her teeth gritted. ‘It doesn’t matter what you say or what you want. I’m not having a makeover and that’s that!’
