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“You will know, when we look at Jack and laugh, like normal parents, that it’s a lie.”
Her lips parted on a gasp, or perhaps the start of a plea, a desire to make him stop talking like this. “And you will know that if I kiss you, Elodie, it is because of the same chemistry that drove us together that night, and nothing more. You will know that I will never like you as a person, that I will never forgive you for your decisions.”
She didn’t get a chance to speak. His lips claimed hers and she moaned, knees that had been jelly for long, aching minutes giving way so she would have collapsed to the ground if it weren’t for his arm clamped vice-like around her back, holding her to his body, binding them together.
And they were bound together. By their son, and by something else, something that lodged inside Elodie and refused to let go.
Chapter 4
“DON’T.” She shook her head but didn’t pull back.
She didn’t want to.
Her brain was screaming at her to put some distance between them but her body…oh, her traitorous, treacherous body. Everything shook and trembled inside of her, and her hands were lifting and tangling in his hair of their own accord. She remembered this so well – the feeling of her body pressed to his. The height difference meant she had to push right up to be able to reach, but his hands curved around her waist and lifted her the rest of the way, holding her to him, her feet off the floor, as though it was the only way they could exist.
His words were still hammering inside of her, the disdain he felt for her evident in every single one, but her body was desperate, hungry, and for a moment, she willingly pushed away common sense and simply existed. She felt rather than thought.
His kiss dominated her.
It was only afterwards that she realised it was a punishing kiss, designed to draw submission from her, to show her his pain, even when it was a pain she already understood. But punishing or not, the kiss swirled the waters of her soul so she was whimpering into his mouth before she realised it, and only just stopped herself from moaning, ‘please’, into the room.
Her intense need was a wake up call.
With a fierce burst of reason, she pushed at his chest, separating them now, her feet finding the floor physically and metaphorically, shock at what had just happened causing her to lift trembling fingers to her lips as though she could wipe his kiss away.
It was some very small consolation that he looked as shocked as she felt.
“Don’t,” she said again, but this time, she meant it. “Don’t you dare kiss me.”
Whatever surprise he felt was disguised quickly enough. He lifted a single brow, regarding her with arch mockery.
“I mean it, Fiero. God,” she spun away from him, her stomach in knots. “A minute ago you were threatening to keep me out of my son’s life. How dare you follow that up by…by…”
“It won’t happen again.” His words were curt and the rustling sound of fabric alerted her to the fact he was moving. She spun around to see him at the door.
“My driver will bring you home when the doctor discharges you.” He hovered just inside the door, staring at her with a wave of resentment.
“What?” She muttered, when he continued to stare without speaking.
“I will not raise my son in a war zone.” The words were grim. “If we cannot find a way to live together peaceably then this deal is off.”
Her heart fluttered. Meaning he’d make good on his threat and ship her off, fight her for custody. My son. I will not…Everything was coming from him. His perspective, his feelings. How had he made her the villain in all of this? She’d had every reason to believe the worst of him. She’d chosen to be a single mother rather than destroy his marriage – wasn’t that worth something?
Evidently not. His expression was shuttered. “I’ll see you later.”
The words dropped into the room like dead weights. She shuddered, spinning away from him, her pulse racing, her heart heavy.
How was this possible?
Her eyes chased the familiar shrubs and bushes that were visible from her window but she drew no pleasure from them today. There was only misery.
How could they ever make this work?
She closed her eyes and there was Jack, his dimpled face as familiar to her as her own. She closed her eyes and saw their son and she knew that, somehow, they would. Because failure simply wasn’t an option.
The night they’d met, she’d been captivated by Fiero. She’d never known anyone like him, and more than that, he’d offered her kindness at a moment when she’d badly needed it.
Six months after her parents’ death, on their wedding anniversary, she’d gone to the London hotel they’d had their wedding dinner at, intending to dine in the restaurant and honour them with a glass of the finest champagne.
