Claimed by the Wealthy Magnate

‘I wouldn’t.’ There was certainty in her voice. ‘I’m not coded that way.’

‘Maybe your husband would.’

‘He wouldn’t. I’d do everything in my power to be the wife he wanted.’

‘It doesn’t always work like that.’

‘I’ll cross that bridge if I get to it.’

‘And tolerate infidelity?’

Kaitlin pressed her lips together. ‘I don’t know. Maybe if it made him happy...maybe if it didn’t hurt me...’

‘You cannot possibly believe that. Infidelity humiliates you in your own right and in the eyes of your children. Regardless of whether you love your partner or not.’

There was a pause and he knew he’d screwed up—Kaitlin made a pastime of reading people—watching their every nuance and inflexion.

‘You know that as fact, don’t you?’ she said.

What the hell? If it showed her the stupidity of her beliefs... ‘Yes, I do. My stepfather cheated on my mother on numerous occasions and she turned a blind eye. But it destroyed her inside.’

It was the price she’d paid to remain inside her gilded cage, to keep her children by her. Her defence had been the fact that as long as she accepted infidelity Antonio Russo would never divorce her. But, oh, how Daniel had loathed it. The taste of bitterness still flavoured his memories. He still felt the twist of frustrated anger at his own helplessness.

Even now his fists clenched involuntarily at the memory. Never would he risk that kind of humiliation—one that would be even worse if you actually loved the other person.

‘I’m sorry. I...’

‘Don’t be. But don’t delude yourself either.’

With a savage gesture he pulled the rucksack towards him.

‘We should move on.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

KAITLIN STARED AT her reflection the following morning and tried to push the memory of that foolish conversation from her mind. Disbelief lingered and mingled with irritation that she had shared way too much.

But now was not the time to reflect on indiscretions she could not change—today she needed to battle panic and sit herself in a kayak, to ensure the teens had a brilliant day and to maximise exposure for the foundation.

She took one last look at her reflection. Walking boots, suitable kayaking clothes, minimal waterproof make-up, hair carefully pulled back in a seemingly causal ponytail. She was good to go.

A knock on the door heralded Daniel, and she forced a smile to her lips.

A smile he paid no heed to. ‘It’s not too late to back out.’

‘No.’

Focusing on keeping her expression neutral, all signs of nerves carefully locked away, she walked alongside him to the car, climbed in and concentrated on deep breathing and meditative thoughts until they arrived at their destination.

Before the ordeal of the water she had to face—and charm—the barrage of press cameramen.

‘Hi, guys. Good to see you all here.’

Friendly smile in place. Tick. Stance relaxed. Tick. Showing no untoward awareness of Daniel. God, she hoped so.

‘I hope my team made it clear that today is about the Caversham Foundation. More than that, it is about the kids who are here to learn a new skill in this beautiful place.’

‘Aw, come on, Kaitlin. Can’t we ask a few questions about you?’