Angelique felt a pang of envy for Raoul’s bride-to-be, Lily. How excited she must be getting prepared for her wedding. Doing all the girly things to make her day so special. Angelique cringed when she thought of her wedding to Remy. The whole thing had been nothing but a big, overblown sham. She was a fraud. A fake bride. A fake wife. And this was a fake honeymoon.
If she was pregnant would Remy insist on her staying with him for the sake of the child? He would end up hating her for tying him down. He might even end up hating the child.
Angelique bit her lip as she looked in the mirror at her body. For years she had denied her body, punished her body, controlled her body, but now it would not just be hers but the shelter in which her baby—hers and Remy’s baby—would grow and develop.
She could not think of getting rid of it. It was certainly an option and one she felt other women were entitled to make. But it wasn’t for her.
She put a hand to her flat belly. How could it be possible that she and Remy had made a baby? He didn’t even like her.
Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true. He certainly didn’t hate her any more. She had seen him looking at her with lust, longing, amusement, and even annoyance when she got in the last word, but not hatred.
Their relationship had changed over the last three weeks. They still bickered occasionally but it was a sort of foreplay. They were both strong-willed and determined and didn’t like losing an argument or debate.
It was foolish of her to have fallen in love with him but it had happened so long ago it was pointless flagellating herself about it now. She had fallen in love with him at the age of fifteen.
She still remembered the day it had happened. She had gone with her father to Vittorio’s villa for a function. Remy had been home for a visit and he’d been assigned the task of keeping her entertained while her father and Vittorio had a business meeting before dinner. She had been waiting in the home entertainment room, idly leafing through one of her fashion magazines, when Remy had come in. She hadn’t seen him in a year or two. Her heart had quite literally stopped when he had come in. He had been so tall and so staggeringly handsome, with that lazy smile that had travelled all the way to his eyes.
But as soon as she had stood up his smile had disappeared. He’d seemed a little taken aback seeing her dressed in a short denim skirt and a clinging top that revealed a generous amount of cleavage due to the brand-new push-up bra she’d bought.
He had cleared his throat, walked briskly over to the television, selected a movie and set it running. ‘There, that should keep you happy for a while.’
‘I’m not twelve,’ she’d said with a pout.
He’d pushed a hand through his thick overly long hair. ‘It’s a good movie. It won two Oscar nomination and three Golden Globes.’
She had put on her beseeching face. ‘Will you watch it with me?’
He had muttered something that sounded very much like an English swear word before he had sat down on the sofa furthest away from her. But he had stayed and watched it with her. He’d even laughed at the funny bits, and at one point paused the movie to go and get some popcorn he’d charmed one of the housemaids to make.
Yes, falling in love with him had been the easy bit.
Falling out of love was going to be the kicker.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘ARE YOU SURE you’re all right?’ Remy asked Angelique when they landed in Paris. ‘You’ve been so quiet and you still look a little pale.’
‘I’m fine.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘I’m just nervous. The thought of all those wedding dresses is enough to make my insides churn.’
He put an arm around her waist as they walked out to the waiting car. ‘You’ll blow everyone away as soon as you walk up that aisle.’
Angelique hadn’t been sick for the last couple of days but she still felt queasy in the stomach. She had managed to keep it from Remy but then saw a pharmacy ahead and wondered how she could sneak in and get a testing kit without him noticing. But just then his phone rang and she seized the opportunity. She pointed to the ladies’ room and mouthed the words to him about needing to take a pit stop. He nodded and turned away, plugging one ear so he could hear the conversation without all the noise of the busy airport terminal.
Angelique walked briskly into the shop and bought tampons—that was her positive thinking working overtime—and a pregnancy kit. She put both items in her tote bag and came out with her heart thumping so loudly she could feel it in her throat.
Remy was still talking on the phone and only turned around when she appeared by his side. He ended the call and slipped his arm back around her waist. ‘That was Robert Mappleton. He said to say hi.’
‘He’s a very nice man,’ Angelique said, falling in step beside him as they made their way out to the waiting car. ‘He really misses his wife. She died eight years ago after a long struggle with breast cancer. They’d been married for forty-nine years. She used to do a lot of the background work in the business. I think that’s why it went downhill so badly. He’s been grieving all this time.’
Remy glanced down at her. ‘He told you all that?’
She nodded. ‘We talked about the grieving process—the denial, the anger, the bargaining, transition and then acceptance. I told him how lost I’d felt when my mother died. He was very understanding. He and his wife couldn’t have children.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if we could choose our parents? I would’ve loved a father like Robert Mappleton instead of my own.’
Remy’s arm tightened protectively. ‘I wish I could have mine back, just for a day, to tell him how much he meant to me. And my mother.’
Angelique leaned against his shoulder. ‘They’d be very proud of you and your brothers.’
His expression clouded and he looked away. ‘Of Rafe and Raoul maybe, but me? I’m not so sure.’