He shot her an impatient glance before looking down at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. He did not have time for the drama. He had some very crucial decisions to make regarding the company and there was a pile of scripts on his desk to sort out. Marital issues were the least of his problems right now.
"I don't need to prove a damn thing." He lifted his left hand, and it was then she noticed, with painful clarity, the missing wedding ring. Their wedding had been a grand event, mostly organized by his mother. If it had been up to her, she would have preferred a quiet ceremony in a small chapel. But Marianne Copeland had insisted that her only child and the heir to the Copeland fortune could not have anything less than a showpiece wedding.
Eliza had bought the ring, had lovingly selected it to match the stunning square-cut diamond he had given her. Now he wasn't wearing it. When was the last time she had seen it on his finger? she wondered, her breath backing up inside her throat.
"What is it?"
"Your ring," she whispered.
"My what?"
"Your ring, the one I placed on your finger, the one you swore to wear till death do us part." Her eyes lifted to his and he felt his gut clench at the look of defeat and despair on her stunning face. He never meant to hurt her, but that's all he seemed to do and it didn't matter that it was unintentional.
"It's no big deal. I had to get my hands dirty during a scene two weeks ago and…"
"Two weeks ago?" Where had she been and why hadn't she noticed that he wasn't wearing his ring?
"Look, there's no need…"
He jolted when she slammed her hands down on the desk, eyes blazing. "Are you having an affair, Samuel? Is that the reason for all these changes?"
His gray eyes kindled with anger. "I will not grace that with a response."
"You're evading the question, which means you are." Straightening, she took a deep breath. "Do you want a divorce?"
His hands clenched into fists and he felt the guilt coursing through him. He had thought about it, several times. He had also been tempted to sleep with someone else. The marriage wasn't going great. They both worked too hard and too long and hardly had time for each other. And he was disillusioned.
He wanted a child. He was thirty-six years old and all their enthusiastic coupling over the years hadn't produced an heir. A child to call his own.
"No." He swung away from the desk and strode over to the cabinet. It was still early afternoon, but he was badly in need of a drink, and he was bloody well going to have one. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he poured a finger and downed it in one gulp.
"Who's she?"
He had his back turned to her, but he could hear the pain in her voice.
"I'm not having an affair."
Eliza felt the relief coursing through her and felt weak.
"I went to the clinic."
His broad shoulders stiffened. "We're not doing this again."
"I want this. We both do."
"We haven't been able to produce a child the natural way, so we should just leave it alone."
"I can't, and if you still care for me, you will come to the clinic with me."
Still care for her?
He couldn't do anything without thinking about her. Even when he hated her, he still loved her. It was frustrating the hold she had over him.
Turning around, he examined the exquisite features of her face. The first time he had seen her was at a casting party held by a director friend of his. He had been enchanted by her looks, but even more so by the fact that she had properly told a popular actor off who had been trying to get her to dance with him. During the next hour, he had noticed her again, tucking finger foods into her enormous purse. He had abruptly excused himself from the group and walked over to her. It had started then.
He had a hard and fast rule: never go out with anyone he was working with, because there were always complications. But with her, he had fallen hard and fast. It had never been enough to just take her to his bed as he had thought. After the first time, he realized he could not get enough of her.
Even after five years of marriage, which had turned rocky, he was still hooked.
