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But the moment the ding sounds and the doors slide open, I realize the lobby is bustling with activity and there’s no need for me to have my phone. This interaction is going to be quick and hopefully painless.
Besides, there are so many witnesses.
I approach the security desk, about to ask one of the suited gentlemen where my visitor is when I hear his deep voice coming from directly behind me.
“Charlotte.”
Slowly I turn to face him, and this time around, I really take him in. At the coffee shop on my wedding day, I’d been so shocked I really hadn’t seen him. It was more like a haze had dropped over my eyes, making it difficult to see.
Or maybe I just didn’t want to see him. Having Seamus in front of me after all that time without seeing him at all was too painful for me to deal with.
Now I study him, noting the extra silver at his temples. His inky-black hair and eyebrows and the matching dark scruff on his jaw. Turbulent brown eyes meet mine and I see regret there.
So much regret.
Well, too damn bad.
He was a handsome man then, and he still is. That hasn’t changed. Only my feelings for him have.
I lift my chin, glaring at him. “Seamus.”
His smile is small. Hopeful. “I’m so glad you agreed to meet with me. It’s been—a while.”
His familiar Irish brogue touched with a hint of Parisian makes my heart pang, but for only a second.
No. Not even a second. More like a blip, because the longer I look at him, hear his voice, see the way he’s behaving, the angrier I get.
“I’m only talking to you because you’re so damn persistent,” I tell him, letting my anger fly. “I want you to leave me alone. I’m married. I have no interest in hearing what you have to say, or how much you regret how things ended between us. I don’t care about any of it. Or you.”
His gaze flickers with annoyance. “You really think I regret how things ended?”
Him picking up on that one particular sentence only makes me angrier. “I don’t care if you do or don’t regret it. I’m asking you politely to leave me alone. Do you understand?”
I’m about to turn and head back for the elevators when his cold words stop me.
“You know he’s using you.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I frown at him. “No more than you were using me.”
“Suppose you’re used to that sort of treatment, then. Such a pathetic little girl you are.” His smile is not pleasant. It’s dark and almost menacing. “The Constantines are utter trash.”
I turn to face him fully once more. “Don’t insult my family.”
Seamus laughs but there’s no humor in the sound. “They’re not yourfamily. I don’t see them rallying around you and taking you into the Constantine fold. You’re still holed up in this apartment, bought by Lancaster money. They have no plans on making you a true Constantine, Charlotte. You’ll be running back to your parents’ place within six months’ time. I guarantee it.”
I do my best not to flinch at his words, keeping myself in place. “That’s not true.”
“And how do you know that?”
I consider what I’m about to say and go for it. “Because my husband came inside me without a condom on just last night. And a few days ago, too. On our honeymoon. We want to have a baby.”
That last part is a lie, but it sounds good. And it delivers just the reaction I’m looking for.
Seamus is furious.
“You’re a fool,” he mutters, taking a step forward. “Getting pregnant with his baby will ruin everything.”
I glare at him. “We’remarried.We want to eventually start a family. That’s the whole point.”
