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‘Did you mean it?’ he said abruptly. ‘Did you mean what you said earlier—about not marrying me for my money?’
He could see the confusion in her eyes. ‘Yes, of course. I would have married you if you’d been penniless.’
‘So why did you keep working, then?’ Another question—this one older, but just as pressing. ‘In New York?’
She frowned. ‘I needed to—I need to have that control.’
The words left her mouth unprompted, unedited, and she stared at him, embarrassed and angry, because up until that moment that fact had been private, not something she could even really admit to herself.
Sensing his curiosity, she hesitated, but his dark gaze was calm and unfazed and she felt her heartbeat steady itself.
‘My mum was terrible with money. She was so out of it sometimes she’d forget to pay the rent. And she was always upping her medication, so it would run out, and then we’d have to buy other people’s prescriptions. Otherwise she’d steal them.’ She swallowed. ‘I know my life isn’t like that any more, but...’
Gazing down, she saw that her hands were clenched in her lap, and with an effort she forced her fingers apart.
‘I can’t seem to stop that feeling of dread.’
‘I didn’t know that was how you felt,’ he said slowly.
She shrugged. ‘Having a regular income, however small, just makes me feel calmer.’ Finishing her sentence, she glanced towards the door. ‘We should probably go back in.’
For a moment Aristo didn’t respond, and then he nodded slowly and they stood up and walked back through the silent house.
‘You asked me why I work. And you’re right—it’s not the money, or even how work makes me feel...’
He had stopped at the top of the stairs and was staring back down, as though considering his next step, his next sentence. Finally he turned to face her.
‘I do like being in control...having a focus—but it’s more than that. It’s about creating something that matters beyond just making me rich.’ His gaze fixed on her face. ‘I want my brand, my name—George’s name now—to be indelible.’
And he was prepared to work relentlessly to reach his goal, Teddie thought miserably. Even when he was just talking about it, she could see the fire in his eyes, the relentlessness and determination to succeed, and her stomach clenched. How could she or George compete with that?
As though reading her thoughts, he shook his head. ‘I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. Work was too important to me—more than it should have been. But only because I let it be. I can change. I’m already changing.’
He took a step forward and his fingers brushed against hers lightly, then he caught her hand in his.
‘We both are. Look at us talking.’
His hand tightened around hers and he sounded so vehement that she found herself smiling.
It was true. Last time he had stonewalled her, and she had run away rather than face their problems, but here they were discussing things. Only...
‘Aristo, I’m glad we’re talking, but...’ She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure that’s enough for us to find a way back to how we used to be.’
‘Good.’ He pulled her against him so that suddenly their eyes were level. ‘Because I don’t want what we had before. What we had before needed improving. This time you and George are going to be my top priority.’
Her heart was beating too fast; she couldn’t keep up with him. Or with the rush of longing that was racing through her blood. ‘Did everything about us need improving?’
His dark gaze rested on her face. ‘No, I can think of one thing at least that was utterly incomparable,’ he said softly. ‘But if you don’t believe me then maybe I could remind you.’
His words rippled over her skin like the softest caress. He looked so handsome, so certain. She could feel the smooth tension of his hard body next to hers, and his eyes were darker than the night sky. She knew she should disentangle herself, but instead she reached up and touched his face.
She heard him breathe out softly, and the sound made something inside her chest crack apart like ice breaking. She wanted him so badly that she felt she might catch fire. So why was she fighting it? Fighting herself? What point was she really proving to Aristo, or herself, by denying the attraction between them?
They already had a bond through George. Nothing could be more permanent and binding than a child, and she had managed to come to terms with that by setting boundaries.
So stop making everything way more complicated than it needs to be, she told herself. Than you want it to be.
His hand was firm against her waist, his eyes steady on her face, and she could feel his longing, sense the power beneath his skin. But she knew that he was holding himself back, waiting for permission.
