Claiming My Bride of Convenience

Bastian Arides hesitated, and I saw—felt—the reluctance in him, seeping from every pore. Hard, proud man that he was, he didn’t want to admit anything to me. If he wanted my forgiveness it was for his sake, not mine. He still didn’t care a whit about me.

‘I’ve come to see that I was too hard on you,’ he said at last.

I let out a laugh that was a bit too wild. ‘Too hard on me? That’s all you’ve got? And you want my forgiveness?’

‘I’m dying, Matteo—’

‘And I’ll see you in hell.’

Without another word I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

Fury poured through me in a scalding acid rush, making my fists clench and my heart thud.

How dared he? How dared he?

After all this time, after all the abuse, he thought I’d take his I suppose I have to say sorry attitude and be thankful? Be cringingly, pathetically grateful? And the hell of it was he hadn’t even said sorry.

I couldn’t go back and face Daisy; I didn’t even want to. I pictured her face when we’d spoken earlier, soft and sad in confusion, wanting to help, wanting me to let her in, and I both despaired and raged because of it.

No, I couldn’t let her in. I wouldn’t. Because the horrible, humiliating truth was part of me wanted to accept Bastian Arides’s pathetic offer. Part of me wanted to crawl right up to him and thank him for finally taking the time to so much as look at me.

And I hated that more than I’d hated anything else—except Daisy knowing.

So I strode away from the house, down through the gardens, just needing to move—because if I didn’t I was afraid of what I might do.

‘Matteo.’

I whirled around to see Daisy at the edge of the lawn; she must have followed me. ‘Don’t,’ I warned her. ‘Just don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’ she asked softly.

Don’t ask me what’s wrong. Don’t look at me like that, as if I’m breaking your heart when it’s mine that’s in agony. Don’t love me, because I don’t think I can bear it.

‘Just don’t.’

She stared at me for a moment, and then she started forward. ‘Matteo, I want to help. I want to be with you—’

‘Don’t.’

The word came out close to a roar, and I turned away from her, away from all of it, striding back to the house and slamming the door, as if I could actually outrun the demons that tormented me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

‘MAY I SPEAK with you for a moment?’

Startled, I turned to see an elderly man who could only be Matteo’s grandfather standing in the doorway of the library, where I’d been waiting out a miserable morning. After I’d seen Matteo in the garden he’d disappeared for the rest of the day, and he hadn’t come to our bedroom—our bed—that night. I hadn’t seen him this morning either, and I was fighting off a dragging sense of despair.

Why was he pushing me away so hard? When would he stop?

‘Yes, of course.’

I rose from my seat, but Bastian Arides waved me back down as he shuffled slowly into the room.

‘As you can see, I’m not very well.’ He sat down in the chair opposite me with a quiet groan of relief.

‘I’m sorry...’

‘It happens to us all. I’m an old man. I’ve lived my life, for better or for worse.’ He eyed me with weary appraisal. ‘So you are the woman my grandson married?’