‘I’m not getting it for him,’ Remy said. ‘I’m getting it for Rafe. He worked harder than any of us to rebuild our assets. Rafe has always shouldered the responsibility of looking after Raoul and me. I wanted to do my bit to show him his sacrifice hadn’t gone unnoticed or been taken for granted.’
‘Don’t you care that you’re hurting me in the process?’
‘How am I hurting you?’ His expression turned mocking. ‘You’re the one who just landed a multimillion-dollar contract simply because you’re married to me. I have yet to reap any benefits, especially if this Mappleton deal falls through.’
But I don’t even want that contract. I shouldn’t have signed it. I wish I hadn’t.
Angelique pushed the errant thoughts back and planted her hands on her hips. ‘I seem to recollect you got some fringe benefits last night.’
His eyes started to smoulder as he closed the distance between them in a couple of lazy strides. ‘I didn’t hear you complaining.’
She pushed her bottom lip out in a pout. ‘I have bruises.’
A frown flickered across his forehead. ‘Where?’
Angelique turned over her wrists to show him where his fingers had faintly marked her skin when he’d held her down the night before. Every time she saw the tiny marks she felt a shudder of remembered pleasure go through her. It had been like being branded by him. Owned by him. Controlled by him. She had been more than willing, which somehow made it worse. She didn’t want to need him in such an intensely physical way. She had always been the one in control with men in the past. Being dominated by Remy, even playfully during sex, made her feel as if she was relinquishing all power to him, especially when he still hadn’t told her if he was going to give her back her home.
He took her left wrist, brought it up to his mouth and gently brushed his lips against the almost imperceptible mark. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I’d hurt you.’
She felt a traitorous ribbon of desire unfurl inside her. ‘You didn’t hurt me. I just have a tendency to bruise easily.’
His thumb moved over her pulse point. ‘Maybe you should be the one who does the tying up next time.’
Angelique arched a brow. ‘You’d let me do that?’
His eyes smouldered some more. ‘Only if I knew I could get out of it.’
Like our marriage.
It wasn’t for ever. He wanted to be free as soon as his business deal was signed and secured. The bitter irony was she was going to help him achieve it. She would be breaking her own heart. Trashing her dreams. Ruining her hopes.
There would be no happy-ever-after with Remy.
It was foolish to dream of black-haired babies with chocolate-brown eyes. It was crazy to think Remy would ever utter an endearment he actually meant. It was madness to want him to fall in love with her.
It was madness to have fallen in love with him.
She would have to fall out of love with him. Quick smart. It would be the ultimate in humiliation to have him find out how she felt. It sounded so pathetic, being hopelessly in love with someone since you were sixteen.
Unrequited love.
Obsessive love.
That was all it was—a fantasy. A teenage infatuation that had grown into an adult fixation.
The sooner she got over it the better.
Angelique stepped back from him with a casual air. ‘What plans have you made about food and so on? I’m pretty sure my father wouldn’t have left anything healthy and nutritious in the pantry.’
‘I’ve organised a food parcel from our hotel in London. It’s in the car with our luggage. I’ll do some more shopping tomorrow.’
She widened her eyes in mock surprise. ‘You actually know how to shop for food?’
‘I do occasionally pick up the odd item or two. I quite enjoy it.’ He turned to the thermostat on the wall and began adjusting the temperature settings. ‘My mother used to take us shopping with her. She was keen for us to experience as normal a life as possible because she hadn’t been born to money or privilege. If we behaved well, she’d buy us a gelato at the end.’ His hand dropped from the panel and he turned. He had a wistful expression on his face. ‘Rafe would always have chocolate, Raoul would always have lemon, but I used to have a different flavour each time...’
Angelique studied him for a moment. He looked like he was mentally recalling each and every one of those outings with his mother. The boating accident on the French Riviera that had killed his parents had occurred the year before she had been born. She had only ever known the Caffarelli brothers as orphans. From her youthful perspective they had always seemed terribly sophisticated and racy, with their eye-popping good looks and wealthy lifestyle. But behind the trappings of wealth and privilege was a tragedy that had robbed three little boys of their loving parents.
Angelique remembered too well the shock of feeling alone. The utter desperation she had felt at seeing her mother’s body lowered into the ground on the dismally wet and grey morning of the funeral was something she would never forget. The build-up of emotion inside her chest had felt like a tsunami about to break. But somehow she had kept it in because she hadn’t wanted to disappoint her father. He had said she must be brave and so she was. But inside a part of her had died and gone with her mother into that cold, black hole in the ground.