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Would having my own child heal that old wound in some small way? Was I capable of being a good father in a way my own father and grandfather had not been?
Did I even want to try?
I laid my hands flat on the bar, ideas and implications racing through me. Was I willing to give up my way of life for something else? Something perhaps better?
An image floated through my mind—a little boy with grey eyes, a young girl with light brown hair. A sudden shaft of longing pierced me unexpectedly, and I nearly gasped from the strength of it.
Could I possibly be thinking this way? Wanting a child when I’d always said I did not? Wanting a life I’d never actually envisaged for myself? And what about Daisy?
I could handle her, I decided. She would bend to my will as she had before. This marriage might no longer be quite as convenient, but it would still be on my terms.
* * *
‘Wake up, Daisy.’
Sleep blurred my brain and clouded my vision as I slowly blinked the world into focus. The first thing I saw was the clock by the side of the bed in my hotel room—half past seven in the morning. The second thing I saw was Matteo Dias, standing at the end of my bed.
‘What?’
The word came out in a high-pitched screech as I scooted upright, clutching the duvet to me in maidenly modesty. I was wearing a roomy T-shirt and shorts as pyjamas, but still...
‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I want to talk to you.’
Matteo seemed unconcerned that he’d invaded my hotel room at a decidedly early hour. He looked remarkably well put together, considering the time, dressed in a grey pinstriped suit with a starched blue shirt and cobalt tie, his hard jaw freshly shaven, his dark hair still slightly damp from a shower. He looked wonderful, and I hated that fact.
‘How did you get into my hotel room?’ I demanded, my senses still spinning simply from having him here.
‘I asked the concierge to let me in.’
‘What?’ I could scarcely believe it. ‘And he did? That’s a total invasion of my privacy!’
‘You’re my wife,’ Matteo replied with a shrug, seemingly unconcerned by the gross misconduct of the hotel staff.
‘When it suits you,’ I snapped.
I was at a distinct disadvantage, sitting in bed with what I suspected was a terrible case of bedhead and a pair of short pyjamas, while he was looking as if he’d just stepped out of a business meeting.
‘I’m going to make an official complaint to the hotel.’
‘Then you can do so to me. I own it.’
I gawped at him for a few seconds. ‘Oh,’ I said finally, feebly.
I knew Matteo was CEO of a real estate company, of course, but I had never known how vast or wealthy it—and he—was, although I expected very was the answer to both. I certainly hadn’t realised he owned the place when I’d booked myself in.
‘Even so...’ I managed to rally. ‘You shouldn’t abuse your privilege like that.’
Another shrug was all the apology I got.
‘I wished to speak with you before you left for Amanos and this was the most expedient way of doing so.’
‘Why?’ I asked irritably. I scooted out of bed and snatched the thick terry cloth dressing gown off the bathroom door, swathing myself in it for protection. I still had bedhead, but at least I wasn’t half naked. ‘I hardly think there is anything left to discuss.’
‘Actually, there is. I’ve ordered breakfast. Why don’t we discuss it while we eat?’
‘That sounds remarkably civilised,’ I harrumphed.
