His words immediately conjured an image in her head of a brood of beautiful dark-haired little children, romping through the hallways of this enormous house.
Camila’s grandchildren.
‘Of course,’ she said, putting down her fork and reaching for her wine, conscious of a sharp, painful pang in her chest. ‘But once you’ve got kids you won’t want to work all the time, will you?’
‘I’m CEO of a multinational corporation with a multibillion-dollar turnover,’ he said, in that very matter-of-fact tone again. ‘I will never have the luxury of a mere forty-hour working week. Which is why I will select a wife who’ll be content to focus on my needs and our children’s.’
The quintessential corporate wife. Of course. Jordan could just picture her, too. She’d be elegant, poised, well-dressed and well-bred—because an impeccable pedigree would be a must—and, of course, stunningly beautiful. Oh, and she’d be the consummate hostess, handing off the children to the nanny while she hosted lavish dinner parties for her husband’s friends and associates, naturally at ease in these sumptuous surroundings and never once getting lost in the sprawling maze of marble-tiled corridors and rooms.
Jordan swallowed a large sip of wine. The very thought of the future Mrs Xavier de la Vega made her feel horribly, utterly inferior.
‘You might fall in love with a career woman,’ she couldn’t resist suggesting.
‘If my future wife has a career she will need to juggle her priorities and ensure our children come first.’ He picked up his own wine and savoured a mouthful before continuing. ‘And when I marry it will be for compatibility, not love,’ he said, sounding about as passionate as if he were discussing the purchase of a fridge.
The hopeless romantic in Jordan balked. Not marry for love? Love was the only thing she would marry for. She knew what a loving, committed relationship looked like. It was what her dad and Camila had had, and she wanted the same for herself. And children, of course. What could be more rewarding, more satisfying, than surrounding yourself with people to love and nurture? People who needed you?
As for expecting his future wife to prioritise her children over her career—Jordan would be hard pressed to argue the flipside of that coin. Maybe because she remembered what it was like to be the child of a workaholic parent. Knew the deep, long-lasting hurt and eroded self-worth that resulted from being abandoned by a mother who’d been more interested in climbing the corporate ladder than raising and loving her child.
No...the idea of a woman devoting herself to her children, making them a priority, didn’t sound terrible at all.
‘You disapprove of this too?’
She put her wine glass down. ‘How can you say you won’t marry for love?’
He shrugged a broad shoulder. ‘Marriage is a union between two parties—not unlike a business partnership—and the success of any partnership relies on common goals and values, not whimsical emotion.’
So cold and clinical. And so wrong! Love wasn’t whimsical. Love and true emotional commitment were the only things strong enough to weather the inevitable ups and downs of life.
His attitude to the contrary cast a chill over her skin.
She turned her attention to her salad, as did he. Which was good. Safe. Subjects they disagreed upon were best left alone.
Except Jordan just couldn’t help herself. ‘So...if you’re always working...and you’re not interested in taking the time to look for a love match...how exactly will you find a wife? Pay someone to do it for you?’ she said, half jokingly—and then she saw the flare of dull red across his cheekbones.
Uh-oh.
He reached for his wine, took a sip, then set the glass back down, each movement unhurried. Controlled. He would have looked utterly imperturbable if not for the tiny muscle flickering
in his jaw.
‘Do you find that concept strange, Ms Walsh?’ he said at last. ‘The idea of hiring a proven professional who can handpick a shortlist of candidates whose needs, goals and desires perfectly align with your own?’
She flushed. ‘No, I don’t think it’s strange. I know there’s plenty of matchmaking services out there, and that plenty of people avail themselves of such a service. I’m just not convinced it really works. Or that it’s the best way to find your life partner.’
‘Is there a better way?’ he challenged smoothly. ‘Or do you prefer to leave your relationships to chance?’
She felt the flush spread down her neck. Just because that approach hadn’t worked out so great for her so far, it didn’t mean it never would. ‘I prefer to think the right guy is out there somewhere, and that when the time is right I’ll meet him.’
‘Ah.’ His lips gave a cynical twist. ‘Destiny?’
‘Something like that,’ she said, sounding a bit prickly and hating it that she did. ‘But I’d prefer that to choosing someone based on a clinical checklist of goals and attributes.’ She sipped her wine, the crispness of the Sauvignon mingling with the sudden bitterness on her tongue. ‘And if you have children?’ she asked. ‘If you don’t love their mother will you love them?’
Xavier went very still all of a sudden. ‘What sort of question is that?’
A perfectly valid one, she thought defensively, given that he’d declared his idea of a successful marriage was one devoid of love! His children would be her stepmom’s grandchildren, and a part of Camila would live on in them. Was it unreasonable for her to want to know if those children would grow up happy and loved?
Just then Rosa appeared, interrupting the awkward moment to deliver a main course of chargrilled peppers and slow-roasted lamb. She cleared their first course plates and set out new ones, giving no indication of whether she sensed the tension between her boss and his guest.