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He watched as she rubbed two fingers tiredly across her forehead. ‘You’re going home?’
‘Yes, Dante—I’m going home. I’m only just within the legal requirement for flying, if you must know.’
‘Why the hell are you flying? Why aren’t you doing what most women would do in your position—lying on a sofa with your feet up instead of trekking halfway across the globe?’
‘I’ve been working.’
‘Of course. I should have guessed.’
‘I know that for you it’s a dirty word when it comes from a woman’s lips—but that’s just the way it is. I was working—and now I need to pack. So if you wouldn’t mind leaving me to get on with it, I’d appreciate it.’
‘As it happens, I would. I’d mind very much.’ For the first time he saw the faint shadows which darkened her eyes. ‘I presume you’re booked on to a scheduled flight?’
‘I wasn’t planning on flapping my arms and flying to England, if that’s what you mean.’
He let out a low breath of irritation. ‘That is a completely unsatisfactory state of affairs. You will travel with me instead. On the D’Arezzo jet.’
For a moment she hesitated. ‘You’ve got your own plane now?’
‘Yes, I’ve got my own plane,’ he snapped. ‘I told you at the wedding that the company was doing well—you didn’t bother to ask how well. But I don’t know why that should come as a surprise, when my career never made you sit up and take notice. It was always about you—wasn’t it, Justina?’
He said it in a way which filled Justina with rebellion. Already he was trying to take over. To use his power and his wealth to control her movements. Earlier in the day she’d been feeling lonely—but now she could see that there were worse things than having to deal with an unplanned pregnancy on her own. Like having Dante call the shots and expect her to fall in with his wishes.
‘I will not travel on your plane,’ she said quietly. ‘I already have my ticket and I’m intending to use it. Before you ask, I will be travelling in first class and I will be perfectly comfortable. I don’t need your money and what it can buy. That’s why I’ve always made my own. Why I’ve always been so protective of my career and my independence. Don’t you realise that I’m not impressed by your wealth, Dante? I never was.’
There was a pause while their eyes clashed in a silent battle of wills. Yes, he thought bitterly, she had always made it perfectly clear that she didn’t need him.
‘But I’m not trying to impress you,’ he said quietly. ‘On the contrary, I am merely trying to make you see sense. Because this is no longer just about you and what makes you happy—although God knows that’s been your main consideration for so long that it’s difficult to see how you could ever change your behaviour. You seem to forget that you carry my child within you, and I have a responsibility towards that unborn life.’
She felt her heart contract. ‘But you don’t—’
‘Now, we can do this one of two ways.’ His unequivocal words cut through her protest. ‘You can force me to carry you kicking and screaming through the foyer of this beautiful hotel—with all the attendant embarrassment and publicity that will cause. Publicity which will be abhorrent to me and to the D’Arezzo corporation. But if I have to do it, then I will. Be under no illusion about that.’ There was a pause as his dark gaze scorched through her. ‘Or we can do this the easy way. You can go and do your packing and let me fly you back to England and all you have to do is sit back and let it happen. Which is far better for you—and for the baby. Surely even you can see that?’
Justina pursed her lips together, afraid that she was going to do something stupid—like bursting into noisy tears of frustration. He still thought he could march right in and take over her life. Even worse, he didn’t just think it—he was actually going ahead and doing it, in that powerful and pig-headed way of his. He had her backed into a corner and she knew it—just as she knew that his forceful words were underpinned with truth. It was better for the baby, and this was no longer just about her.
And if she was being brutally honest hadn’t his words produced a flicker of comfort somewhere deep inside her? A feeling which was distracting, because comfort had been absent from her life for so long. For months now she’d carried on travelling and working as she’d done all her life while her belly had got bigger and bigger. She’d tried to convince herself that she was a perfect example of an independent woman who could do this on her own. But lately it had felt lonely, and sometimes in the middle of the night it had even felt scary.
At this precise moment she felt tired—and Dante was standing in front of her like a symbol of everything which was strong and vital. But it was dangerous to buy into that. Everything that he did came with some sort of clause. He never offered something without demanding a whole lot back in return. She should remember that.
‘It seems that you’ve got your own way as usual,’ she said.
Dante gave a bitter laugh as she spoke the sulky little phrase without any apparent sense of irony. Didn’t she realise that she was the one person who had stopped him getting his own way and thus had marred his personal track record of success? That she was the one and only person who had ever defied him?
‘Maybe you should hold on to that thought, Justina,’ he said. ‘It might save you from useless rebellion in the future.’
CHAPTER SIX
‘THIS IS WHERE you live?’
Justina fought against an inescapable feeling of weariness as Dante stood like a dark avenger in the centre of her apartment and bit out his critical question. Despite the undeniable luxury of his private jet she was exhausted after the long flight, and the traffic from the airport to her East London home had been horrendous. And now she was being forced to stomach the sight of Dante dominating her private space, which was making her feel edgier still. She wished he would just go away and leave her alone—and yet she knew him well enough to realise that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Because nothing between them had been settled.
No decisions had been made about the baby during that flight from Singapore. He had settled down to tackle a huge pile of work and largely ignored her. At the time she had been grateful for the respite—relieved not to have to tackle a difficult subject beneath the eyes of the gorgeous stewardesses who worked on his plane. She’d even pulled her notebook from her bag in a retaliatory gesture, but she’d been far too het-up to be able to concentrate on her latest song.
She had tried to buffer herself against the curious volatility of her emotions during that long journey, and yet it had proved almost impossible to remain calm and immune to him. She despaired of the ever-present desire she experienced whenever he was near—as if her body had been hard-wired to make her want him even when she was this pregnant. She didn’t know how to make it go away. And now she was beginning to realise that they couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable talk about the future.
‘Yes, it’s where I live,’ she said, putting a pile of unopened mail down on the table. ‘What’s the matter with it?’
