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Now, standing in her red dress in the shadowy hedge maze, she felt like she was in a Gothic Victorian nightmare. Knowing he didn’t love her back was heartbreaking, but she might have been able to endure it as long as she had hope that, someday, perhaps he could.
Cristiano had taken even that hope away from her, and then used her own words of love to mock her. He’d made it clear that their marriage would be on his terms alone.
She was to fill his bed and raise his child, and he would give her nothing in return. Not his heart. Not his love.
Not even a home.
She wiped her eyes. “You heartless bastard,” she whispered. “What have you done to me?”
“Now it’s my fault, because I cannot return the love I never asked you to feel?” He looked down at her icily. “I do not have the ability to produce feelings on command. What you want from me, I cannot give.”
Pain ripped through her and, along with it, the humiliating realization that for all his coldness and cruelty, she loved him. Still.
“What will we do?” she whispered.
“Our marriage will continue as always.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Nothing has changed between us. We leave for Tokyo in the morning.”
Hallie didn’t realize her knees had buckled beneath her until he was beside her, supporting her arm.
“It’s late, Hallie,” he said quietly. “You’re tired. Come inside.”
She looked up at him wordlessly as he half carried her into the villa. Inside, it was dark and quiet. The rooms were elegant and empty. They seemed to go on forever.
On the second floor, they found Agata sitting outside the nursery, knitting. The older woman looked between them, then said only, “The baby had a good night. He just fell asleep.”
In the darkened nursery, Hallie looked down at her sleeping baby. Jack’s fat arms stretched back above his head. His chubby cheeks moved as his mouth pursed in his sleep.
Coming behind her, Cristiano put his hands heavily on her shoulders, his voice firm. “Let’s put our quarrel behind us, Hallie. This is what’s important.” He looked down at the crib. “Our son. Our family.”
A lump rose in Hallie’s throat.
He was right. Family was the most important thing to her. For years, all she’d tried to do was recapture what she’d lost. To have a family again. A home.
How had it all gone so wrong? A lifetime in a loveless marriage stretched ahead of her. Instead of having a home, surrounded by friends, at her husband’s command she would be forced to travel from hotel to hotel.
Her hands tightened at her sides. And her son would be raised to think this was normal. He’d see the cold relationship between his parents and think it was what marriage was. What family was. He’d never know what a family was meant to be—a rowdy, chaotic life of give and take, of arguing and joking and kisses, filled with love.
Her tiny baby’s soul would be warped by this, just as Cristiano’s had once been.
With an intake of breath, Hallie looked up.
Cristiano frowned when he saw her expression. “What is it?”
She’d thought commitment made a home. That was why she’d married him. She’d thought, if she took his name, if they lived under the same roof, under his protection, they’d be a family.
But there was a reason that, in spite of all his money and lavish gifts, Hallie hadn’t felt as happy and secure as she had as a child. A reason, even in this amazing, luxurious villa, she’d never truly felt at home.
“Love makes a family,” she breathed. “Love makes a home.”
Certainty rushed through her, clanging like a bell. Her husband had said he would never love her. He would never take that risk. He would never give up anything he couldn’t afford to lose. He would never give himself.
Hallie’s heart tightened. Her back snapped straight.
Turning on her heel, she went to the enormous master bedroom. She took a suitcase from the shelf of the walk-in closet.
