‘Yes you have—’
‘But I don’t like your attitu
de’ he said bluntly.
Every scrap of colour ebbed from her lovely face and she bent her head fighting for the control not to snap back at him. Her first marriage proposal and it was an insult. He knew his own worth too well. He saw no reason why he should dress up the degrading reality that all he wanted was her body on tap. He regarded her as a lesser being whom he would be honouring with his name and his riches.
Her role was to be a grateful recipient scarcely able to believe her good fortune. Unfortunately torture could not have dragged such a humble response from her at that moment. How dared he think that she would take him on such terms? How dared he tell her to her face that sex was all she had to offer him? She hated him. That was all she was sure of just then. Hatred and pain were like a twisting knife inside her and she couldn’t think beyond that.
‘l’m sorry you don’t like my attitude,’ she said woodenly, staring a hole in the tablecloth.
‘But 1 wouldn’t want to marry someone like you.’
The tension was appalling. She was so stiff she was afraid a sudden movement would shatter her into tiny pieces, and the silence seethed around her like a menacing storm. She had offended him, and his displeasure chilled the atmosphere.
‘Look at me…’
And she looked, even though she didn’t want to look, for the habit of command was so engrained in him that she could not resist its powerful pull. He surveyed her with impassive dark eyes and she shivered.
‘You’re saying no’?’ Like a marionette on strings, she nodded, hardly daring to credit her own nerve. Yet the more his formidable assurance and presence intimidated her, the harder she fought to remain untouched and unaffected.
Pure outrage leapt in Cristiano. He could not believe it.
Unless there was someone else she cared about. But how likely was that when she had been a virgin? A celibate, very moral someone else? Some dead guy? He suppressed that unusually imaginative train of thought with icy distaste. Could she dislike him so much? He rammed that reflection back down into his subconscious while mercilessly crushing that disturbing sense of outrage stone-dead. He had made the offer. If she was too foolish to appreciate the advantages of becoming his wife, honour at least had been satisfied. She had done him a favour. For the first time he reminded himself that she was a thief, and just as quickly he was marvelling that he had ever contrived to overlook that reality and even considered marrying her.
While Lydia watched, Cristiano checked the time and murmured without expression,
”We’re flying to London early tomorrow morning.’
Her spine was so rigid it ached.
‘Are we? But we only got here yesterday.’
”This is how my life is. 1 have a board meeting at the UK office.’
‘Right,’ Lydia muttered, her entire focus locked to him in bemusement. Was that it? Was that really it? Was there to be no further discussion of that staggering proposal? It seemed not. The savage tension had already vanished as though it had never been. He appeared cool, indifferent.
‘And you have an appointment to keep with the Happy Holidays charity.’
Her eyes opened very wide, and even though she assumed she had misheard him, she lost colour.
‘1 beg your ardor…?’
‘l’m afraid that, regardless of how you feel, you will have to bite the bullet and smile throughout the proceedings.’
‘What proceedings’?’
‘My staff have organised a photo opportunity and reception to which the press have been invited. You will officially hand over a cheque for the money you were accused of stealing,’ Cristiano explained with unnerving calm.
Her stomach executed a nervous somersault.
‘You’re joking !
‘No. 1 have never regarded theft as a laughing matter.
You do not have a choice on this one.’
Even though she had not been responsible for stealing the money in the first place, Lydia still cringed at the threat of being forced to meet the charity personnel again. ‘I won’t do it’
‘You will do it. The charity has agreed. It’s a PR exercise. You’re part of my life now, and your reputation must be rehabilitated,’ Cristiano advanced without apology.
‘But everybody’s going to know it’s your money I’m handing over! ‘
she protested, rising from her seat in her distress. ”What’s the point’?’ people may well wonder if it’s my money, but they will no longer feel so certain of your guilt. Doubts will be aired. And if, in a couple of months, you are seen to perform another act of goodwill for the same charity, you will look even more like an innocent. Most will assume that the recent…unpleasantness… ‘ he selected that word with acerbic bite : …was a storm in a teacup.’
‘I won’t do it,’ she mumbled again, but it was like talking to a brick wall.
‘I mean it, Cristiano.’
”Think of it as your penance.’
‘I thought you were that! ‘ she returned bitterly.
”Would you really prefer to carry the label of thief for the rest of your life’?’
That derisive question cut through her defences and she swallowed hard. Years from now, who knew what her life might be? Her supposed theft might well come back to haunt her when she least expected it. His argument was un-answerable. She supposed it was best if the whole shameful episode could be decently buried with a show for the sake of appearances. But the very thought of having to face the Happy Holidays fundraising team again tilled Lydia with dread.
“Problems ‘?’
Cristiano enquired with a raised brow.
‘A Gwenna Powell has requested a meeting with you, and she’s a very insistent woman.’
Cristiano frowned. ‘Gwenna…powell’?’
The PA cleared his throat.