‘I think it would matter at least a little,’ Rico returned. ‘As my wife you will certainly have some freedom and autonomy. More, I think, than you would have had otherwise, should you have married Prince Zayed or stayed in your father’s home.’
Halina’s eyes flashed dark fire. ‘Prison is prison, no matter how gilded the cage.’
Although it wasn’t an avenue of discussion he really wanted to explore, Rico could not keep from asking, ‘What is the alternative, Halina? You are carrying my child. What would you propose, if not marriage?’ He thought of the way she’d hidden from him. ‘Would you really want to live the rest of your life out in the desert to escape me?’
She was silent for a long moment, gazing out of the window at the azure sky, her expression thoughtful and a little sad. Rico felt himself getting tenser and tenser. What was she thinking? And why did he want to know so badly?
‘When I was a little girl,’ Halina began slowly, ‘I had this daydream. I wanted to live in Paris, in one of those tall, old houses, like Madeleine in the children’s story. Do you know those books?’ Wordlessly Rico shook his head. ‘I had them as a child, given to me by my French godmother. I loved them.’ She lapsed into silence and Rico waited, having no idea where she was going with this.
‘I pictured it all in my head,’ she continued in a dreamy, faraway voice. ‘I used to decorate it in my imagination. I’d live on the top floor, and there would be vines climbing outside and big French windows that opened onto a balcony with wrought-iron railings. I’d grow flowers and herbs in pots and I’d sit outside and sip my coffee and look at the
world bustling below.’ She smiled, caught in the memory, and Rico stared at her, bewildered. He had no idea what to say. What to think.
‘And there was a piano in the living room,’ Halina continued. ‘A grand piano that I played on. I’d give music lessons as well, and I’d have a tin of sweets on top of the piano to hand out to children when they were good. And when I wasn’t working I’d go outside and wander through the Tuileries Gardens—they were mentioned in the Madeleine books as well—and sketch.’ She glanced up at him, a hint of a smile in her eyes. ‘Do you know, I’ve never actually been to Paris? This is all just in my dreams.’
‘Perhaps you’ll visit there one day,’ Rico said gruffly. ‘With me.’
‘Perhaps.’ Halina turned back to the window. ‘The thing is,’ she said softly, ‘I always knew I’d never live that dream. I’d never even have the chance. I’ve never had any say in my life, Rico. That’s why I went to the party that night in Rome. The night I met you.’ She drew a shuddering breath. ‘I just wanted one evening to myself, to make my own choices.’ She let out a hollow laugh. ‘And look what a disaster that was. Perhaps my father was right all along in restricting my life so much. Maybe I’m not capable of making my own choices, or at least wise ones. But I’ve always wanted the chance. I still do.’
Her words resonated uncomfortably inside him, because in a strange way he could relate to them. His childhood had been entirely different to Halina’s; she’d been cossetted, protected, privileged. He’d grown up first on the docks and then in the orphanage, both places of nothing more than grim survival. And yet he’d felt as trapped and restricted as she had, and his only choice had been to fight his way out. To be seen as cold, arrogant, ruthless. Because at least then he was in control. At least then he couldn’t be hurt.
What was Halina’s choice?
She didn’t need one, Rico reminded himself. He would provide for her, protect her, give her every luxury she could possibly want. All this nonsense about an apartment in Paris was just a childish dream, meant to be discarded and forgotten upon adulthood.
Their breakfasts arrived, putting an end to any more whimsical conversation.
‘You need to eat,’ Rico reminded her as he watched Halina push the eggs around her plate. ‘Keep up your strength.’
‘I know.’ She took a tiny bite of dry toast. ‘I’ve just been feeling so ill.’
Which reminded him that she hadn’t yet seen a doctor. ‘As soon as we arrive in Rome, I want you to be checked over. I’m sure something can be prescribed for your nausea.’
‘Hopefully,’ Halina murmured, her gaze downcast. She took another bite of toast. Rico regarded her in growing frustration, unsure why he felt so dissatisfied.
He’d found her, he’d got her on the plane and they were now only mere hours from Rome. She’d already agreed to marry him. He was getting everything he wanted, and still he felt disgruntled and annoyed. Hurt.
The word popped into his head and he suppressed it immediately. He wasn’t hurt. He never felt hurt. He’d never allowed himself to feel such a thing, not since his father had walked away from him while he’d watched. If he was bothered by Halina’s lukewarm response to the idea of their marriage, then he knew just how to rev up her enthusiasm.
In bed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HALINA TOOK A deep breath as she gazed at her pale reflection in the mirror the morning after her arrival in Rome. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of activity and movement: a limousine had met them at the airport and taken them to Rico’s penthouse apartment in a sleekly elegant modern building near the Spanish Steps.
Halina had stepped into the sprawling luxury, too tired to be dazzled or impressed by the striking minimalist architecture and hand-crafted pieces of furniture. She’d felt as if she were a tiny boat being tossed on an endless stormy sea and Rico was the one controlling the wind and the waves.
As soon as they’d arrived he had shown her to the guest bedroom and practically ordered her to rest. For once Halina had been glad to obey. She was so tired she was swaying on her feet.
‘Will you tell my father where I am?’ she’d asked as she stood on the threshold of her bedroom. ‘So at least he won’t worry?’
Rico had given a terse nod, his expression flinty. ‘I think he already knows, but I will inform him of our plans at a suitable time.’
‘And when will that be?’
Rico had shrugged. ‘When I decide it is.’
Of course. He decided everything. She’d turned into the bedroom and closed the door in Rico’s face. At least she had control over that.