‘Looking for you. I was under the impression the room you and I shared last Sunday was the master bedroom, but I see I was wrong. This is much larger,’ he said, his dark eyes resting on her.
Beth didn’t need reminding of that day. ‘If you’ve brought me food you can take it away. I’m not hungry and I want to be alone.’
He put the tray down across her knees. ‘What you want and what you need are entirely different,’ he said and, pulling up a lounger, sat down.
‘Now, eat. I am going to sit here until you do.’
Beth looked at the plate of open sandwiches—ham, cheese, egg, tomatoes, salami and prawns, plus a token couple of lettuce leaves. ‘You must have raided the fridge for this lot.’
‘I did—to tempt your tastebuds. In the last twenty-four hours you have been tested to the limit physically and emotionally with the loss of the baby. You need to build up your strength again.’
She picked up an egg sandwich and realised she had not eaten since lunch yesterday. She took a bite and found she could finish it. ‘There’s no need for you to stay. I am eating.’
She glanced up into the black brooding intensity of Dante’s dark eyes without a flicker of emotion in her own.
‘I am staying. Not just to see you eat, but for as long as it takes to make sure you are fully recovered.’
Spoken like the despot he was, Beth thought. But it didn’t bother her. She was immune to him now. And from what she knew of Dante he was not cut out for the quiet life of Faith Cove. He’d be bored out of his mind in a couple of days and would go back to his high-flyin
g life. She’d never see him again.
‘Please yourself. You usually do. As long as you understand you are not sharing my room.’ He didn’t argue and she wasn’t surprised. With no sex available, why would he?
* * *
By Monday morning, when he insisted on going to the hospital with her, Beth was not quite so sure he would leave. He was a good house guest. He cooked—though not very well—he made his bed in his own room, and he had clothes delivered and his laundry collected by a concierge service. Yes, he had a tendency to wrap an arm around her or drop a kiss on her brow, but it had no effect on her.
* * *
Over dinner on Tuesday night Beth had a rude awakening.
Dante was not the most patient of men, and being blanked by Beth for four days was getting to him. When he touched her she was like a block of ice. If he told her to eat, she did. If he suggested a walk, she agreed. Tonight he had cooked spaghetti, one of the few dishes he could make well, and she had sat down like an obedient child. He’d had enough. He wanted the feisty Beth back.
Dante watched her full lips part as she forked food into her mouth and felt the familiar tug of desire. She wore no make-up, her glorious hair was swept severely back from her face—she looked beautiful, but remote.
‘My mother called me today and she sends you her love. She hopes to see us soon. As she missed our wedding, she wants to arrange a post-wedding party for family and friends. I agreed. I think a party will do you good. I have to be in New York next week, probably for three or four weeks, so I suggested mid-November.’
Beth couldn’t believe her ears. ‘A party? No way! We are getting a divorce, remember?’
‘I recall you mentioned divorce, but you were ill so I said nothing.’
The way Dante was looking at her suddenly made Beth feel threatened. He was big and golden, and the dark glitter in his eyes, the slightly predatory curl of his mouth, contained a message she did not want to recognize. She knew she had to tread carefully.
‘But I thought you’d agreed when you didn’t say anything against it?’
‘We had just got back from the hospital. I did not want to upset you and I certainly wasn’t going to argue with you. You did read the prenuptial agreement?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Beth didn’t get the connection.
‘Then you must know you have not fulfilled your part of the deal.’
‘What do you mean?’ From just feeling threatened Beth knew she was being threatened, and she received an answer that astounded her.
‘It states quite clearly that three years after the birth of our first child I will agree to give you a divorce if you so desire. As sadly we don’t have a child yet, I don’t have to give you anything—certainly not a divorce unless I want to, and right now I don’t want to.’
‘Are you telling me I have to get pregnant again?’ Beth exclaimed.
‘Hell, no. I am not that much of an ogre. Though it is something we could consider in the future.’