But there would be no changing of her mind. She might have no faith that they could make it work, but they owed it to their child to try, she saw that now. It was all about mindset, just as Domenico had said, and this time her mindset would be that she was entering their arrangement with her love blinkers off and her eyes wide open.
Except it was a hard mindset to maintain when her legs were still draped over his lap and her hand was still cupping his neck and his hand was still touching the naked flesh of her back and he was staring at her with such an intense but unreadable expression.
A new form of sickness rose inside her, another that was painfully familiar, this one anticipation as she held her breath and waited for what came next.
Would he seal their agreement with another kiss? Seal it with something more…?
The anticipation accelerated. Her pulse cantering, Marnie found herself suddenly struggling to breathe.
Eyes still boring into hers, he traced the contour of her ear with a finger. ‘Are you hungry?’
Another emotion lanced her, one as familiar and powerful as all the others that had caught her in their grip since he’d joined her in the rose garden. Disappointment.
He was talking about food.
Mindset, Marnie, she valiantly reminded herself, as what she’d just agreed to flashed before her.
Sex in their marriage had only ever been about making a baby. Their baby’s actual conception had been an aberration fuelled by bitter anger and rage-unleashed alcohol, one she knew he would never allow to be repeated. The kiss when he’d come into her bedroom had been fuelled by anger too, the one they’d shared after she’d cried borne from an ulterior motive. Neither had been driven by genuine, heartfelt emotion. Not from him.
She did not doubt that in his quest to prove himself a better husband and prove he’d listened to her, Domenico would pull out all the stops. He would make an effort to be more affectionate and attentive. He would act the good act and treat her more like a partner than background wallpaper. She didn’t doubt, either, that he would be faithful to her, and she supposed for that reason alone, he would want to have sex with her, and because she was a slave to his touch, had been until the very end of their marriage, she wouldn’t resist him. He would sleep by her side rather than leave her bed as if she were some kind of doll that could be unplugged and forgotten about.
Passion, though? She could forget that. He would never allow that to happen again. Forget, too, the genuine, heartfelt emotions she’d craved throughout their marriage.
The sooner she accepted this in her heart, the better, because this was what she’d just agreed to, and it was with this in mind that she pulled a small smile to her face. ‘A little.’
He returned the smile, making her heart turn over. ‘Then let’s go and eat.’
Chapter Eight
DOMENICO STEPPED OUTof the shower, dried himself off, and stood before the mirror to brush his teeth.
He was still waiting for relief at Marnie’s agreement to try again to hit him. He could only assume it was her flat refusal to remarry that was stopping it from rushing out of him. The cards she’d played, although exceedingly fair, had kept them stacked in her favour. It gave not an iota of satisfaction to know she’d learned all her tricks from him.
Teeth clean, he stepped into his bedroom. His empty bedroom. His stare flicked straight to the adjoining door.
Marnie had gone to bed before him, shortly after they’d finished their dinner. Although she was recovering physically and her appetite was returning, he knew the intensity of their morning had taken its toll on her. It had taken its toll on him too. He guessed the weight of her thoughts was also playing its part.
She didn’t want to try again. Not for him. Not for herself. It was all for their baby.
It shouldn’t bite as much as it did.
By the time she’d gone up, her face had been drawn with exhaustion. She’d excused herself and slipped out of the dining room without looking back at him.
Despite sharing a bedroom being part of their new agreement, it didn’t surprise him that she’d retired to her own bed. Marnie needed the comfort of the familiar…
Where the hell had that thought come from?
He pushed the thought aside to be pondered another time as he instead forced himself to think of another, more probable reason she’d retired to her own room: in all their time together, he’d never invited her into his bedrooms. More than that, he’d made it very clear she wasn’t welcome in them, not here in Rome or in London. He hadn’t taken her to his other homes. Not after their marriage.
He reached the adjoining door with relief even further away and with a weight compressing his chest.
His perfect marriage had been made of smoke encased in the thinnest, most fragile glass, and as he recalled all Marnie had said about her reasons for marrying him, the weight grew.
It was the first time he’d properly allowed himself to think about it.
After lunch, he’d kept himself busy, first by sending out instructions for a video conference with his directors and the heads of all divisions and then having said video conference so he could personally relay the news that he would be ceasing all transatlantic travel until after the birth of his and Marnie’s child. He guessed the news about the pregnancy had already spread to everyone because the surprised expressions at the news looked practised. The practicalities of his announcement had taken the rest of the afternoon to work out.
He’d been glad of it. Glad of the distraction. Glad he had something practical to get his head focused on after the intensity of all that had occurred between them in the morning. Problem-solving was something he excelled at.
