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Nate had just finished reviewing the financials for the Emelia when Mina walked through the door in a charcoal-gray suit, her traffic-stopping legs clad in a pair of finely made Italian heels.
If he’d thought a suit would help dull his attraction to her he had been entirely wrong. The suit was conservative, covered all the requisite parts adequately; it was what was under it that was unavoidable. The fitted jacket highlighted her tiny waist and taut high breasts, the knee-length pencil skirt skimmed generous hips.
A power suit to be sure, but on his wife it swayed all the power in favor of her innate sensuality.
He brought his gaze back up to her face. Studied the pallor that blanched her honey-colored skin. “What’s wrong? Did Silvio contact you?”
She set down the bag she was holding and slid off her shoes. “No—it’s—I’m fine.”
“You were having nightmares about it last night. You’re not fine.”
A flush filled her cheeks. “I woke you?”
“I was still working. Mina, I promised to protect you and I will. You don’t need to worry about him.”
“I know. I do. It’s just—sometimes my imagination gets the better of me.” She raked her hair out of her face. “That’s not why I’m upset. My mother called. She was furious. Not that I hadn’t expected that. My reputation is in tatters. Also not surprising.”
“Then why the lost look? What did she say to you?”
She shook her head. “You are my boss now. I should keep this professional.”
He gave her a wry look. “We are also married. I think we have a rather unique relationship. What did she say?”
She exhaled. “She wasn’t worried about me. She didn’t ask if I was okay. She didn’t care if I was happy with you. She said I’d disappointed her.”
He lifted a brow. “For running away from a monster to marry a man who professes to love you and will keep you safe? For delivering the exact same result in the sale of the ring? What kind of a mother is she?”
She shook her head. “She never wanted children. My father did. I was always with my nanny, Camilla. As soon as my father died, she sent me off to boarding school in France, as if she couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I always came home with good grades, top of my class, but it seemed inconsequential to her. She just didn’t care.”
“How old were you when your father died?”
“Eight.”
The image of a tiny Mina being sent off to school at such a young age pulled at his heartstrings. “You’ve never talked to her about it? Asked her why?”
She lifted a shoulder. “My mamma—she is cold. It’s her way. I told myself to let it go. To not wish for the impossible. But sometimes I do. I wish I knew what she finds so...lacking in me so I can fix it.”
He knew how that felt. To always wonder what it was about you that was so defective your own father wanted nothing to do with you. That he could turn his back on his own flesh and blood and slam a door in your face when you had come to beg for assistance. To deny you even existed. But he knew it was a fruitless pursuit. A soul-destroying pursuit.
“It’s better not to wonder,” he told Mina roughly, “to look for that flaw in yourself you think they see in you. Because it’s not you, it’s her. She should have been a proper mother to you and she wasn’t. That’s her cross to bear, not yours. Don’t waste your life trying to figure out something you’ll likely never get an answer to.”
She blinked. “Are you talking about your father?”
He ignored that. “Learn how to stand on your own two feet. How to exist without her approval. It will be the most empowering thing you can ever do.”
She nodded, but hurt still throbbed in her eyes.
He sighed. “What?”
“She’s all I have.”
His heart squeezed. “You’re better off without her. That’s not how a true parent acts.”
Her mouth compressed. Turning on her heel, she walked into her bedroom, came back and handed him the massive diamond solitaire Silvio had given her. “I need to give this back.”
He took the small fortune out of her hands. “I’ll have it sent to him. Speaking of which, we’ll need to get you a rock for show.”
