Juliette handed the glass to him, being extra careful not to touch his fingers. ‘Are you hinting I might drink to excess and make a fool of myself?’
He drew in a breath and pressed his lips into a flat line before releasing it. ‘Look, I know the situation this weekend is hard on you. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other face to face since you left.’ His hands were thrust in his trouser pockets, his broad shoulders rolled forward. ‘I would have preferred meeting with you in London but you didn’t respond to any of my attempts to contact you.’
Juliette had ignored his texts and emails for months. She had even blocked his number on her phone. It had been her way of punishing him for not being there when she’d needed him the most. But in a way she had punished herself because she had made herself completely isolated. Her friends and family had tried to support her but, a few months in, they were all suffering compassion fatigue. Even Lucy, with the distraction of her wedding preparations, hadn’t been as available to her, especially since Juliette hadn’t felt up to illustrating the books they wrote together since the loss of Emilia. She’d desperately needed to be with someone who knew and understood what she was going through—the grief, the pain, the loss. She looked down at the flagstones at her feet rather than meet his gaze. ‘I wasn’t ready. I found it too...triggering.’
He moved closer to her and lightly touched the back of her hand with one of his fingers. ‘That’s completely understandable.’ His voice was gentle as a caress and her hand tingled as if it had been zapped by a live current.
Juliette brought her gaze up to meet his. ‘Do you think about her?’
His eyes flickered as if he was suffering a deep internal pain and only just managing to control it. ‘All the time. That’s why I’ve regularly donated to and been fundraising for a stillbirth research foundation for the last few months. I wanted to do something positive to help others in our situation. If you’d happened to read any emails from me, you would have known about it. I donated money on behalf of both of us.’
A stillbirth research foundation? Juliette’s heart contracted. He had been fundraising for a stillbirth foundation?
The anger she wore like armour dropped away like a sloughed skin, leaving her feeling stripped of her defences. Defences she needed to keep her from getting hurt all over again. She hadn’t read any of his emails for the last fifteen months. She had marked them as spam and felt immensely satisfied doing it.
Knowing now he was doing something for others was all very well, but what about helping her through the worst time of her life? She had stood by their baby’s grave alone. Time and time again, she had grieved in isolation. ‘But I don’t get it. You tell me you’ve donated money and, knowing you, it would be a significant amount, but you haven’t once visited her grave since the funeral.’
His mouth went into a tight line. ‘Graveyards aren’t my thing. I prefer to pay my respects in other ways.’
Every week when Juliette visited her baby’s grave, she hoped to see flowers or a card or toy left by Joe. But there was nothing. She couldn’t understand it and nor could she forgive it, in spite of his generosity to others. He came to London for work regularly—how hard would it have been to drop by the cemetery and hand-deliver flowers or a soft toy? Or didn’t he want to be reminded of their baby and their broken marriage?
‘Were you keeping away in case you ran into me?’ She couldn’t tone down the accusing note in her voice.
He looked down at her with an unreadable expression. His features could have been carved in stone. ‘How often do you go?’
‘Every week.’
‘Does it help your grieving process?’
Juliette blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Nothing helps with that. But at least I feel I’m not ignoring her.’
‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’
She raised her chin to a combative height. ‘Aren’t you?’
He drew in another sharp breath and turned again to look at the view. His posture was stiff and tight as if invisible steel cables were holding him upright. ‘There’s no right way to grieve, Juliette. What works for one might not work for someone else.’ He spoke through gritted teeth, his hands thrust back in his trouser pockets.
‘And is your grieving process working?’
He turned his head to look at her with a grim expression. ‘What do you think?’
Juliette shifted her mouth from side to side and looked away. Trouble was, she didn’t know what to think. He had never behaved the way she had expected him to behave. He hadn’t expressed the words she had wanted to hear or done the things she had hoped he would do. Their relationship had been based on his sense of duty towards her and the baby, so when the baby was lost there was no reason to stay together. He hadn’t given her a good enough reason to continue their relationship. He hadn’t expressed any feelings for her. But then, neither had she for him. She had been incapable of expressing anything but profound grief, which had in time morphed into anger.
She schooled her features into coolly impersonal lines and turned to face him again. ‘I think you’re secretly relieved we no longer have a reason to stay together.’
His jaw worked for a moment and his mouth tightened into a flat line. ‘Let’s leave that discussion until later. We’re at our friends’ wedding, remember?’ And, without another word, he turned and left her with nothing but the company of the ocean-scented breeze.
CHAPTER FIVE
AFTER THE BRIEF wedding rehearsal Joe made idle conversation with some of the other guests but his mind was stuck on Juliette. He kept searching for her in the knot of people, a tight fluttering sensation going through his chest every time he caught sight of her honey-brown head in the crowd.
He had thought often of going to the cemetery where their baby was buried in England but each time he baulked. His father had dragged him to his mother’s graveside to pay his respects on each and every birthday until he was a teenager. It had been a form of torture to stand by that headstone knowing he was the reason his mother was beneath it. No amount of wishing and praying and hoping could bring his mother or his baby daughter back. No number of visits, flowers or cards could undo what was done. He had always found his father’s way of grieving a destructive process. Joe had chosen a different outlet—a constructive way of processing his grief by raising money for the research that would hopefully save lives and, no doubt, relationships.
But now, touching Juliette, standing next to her, breathing in the scent of her stirred his blood and upped his pulse and made him wonder if there was a chance something positive could come out of their situation. The chemistry was still there, as hot and electric as ever. The explosive chemistry that had kick-started their relationship was the one thing he could rely on to get it going again. He felt the pull of it like an invisible force drawing him to her. He’d had to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop reaching for her. He couldn’t be in the same room as her without wanting her. Damn it—he couldn’t be in the same country without aching with the need to take her in his arms.
Juliette turned and looked at him across the now moonlit terrace and a small creature scuttled through the ventricles of his heart. Girl-next-door-pretty rather than classically beautiful, she still had the power to snatch his breath. Her grey-blue eyes reminded him of a deep stormy sea with shifting shadows. Her slim frame was ballerina-like with a natural elegance of movement. And her skin was pale but she had a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her upturned nose that reminded him of sprinkled nutmeg. Her mouth was a Cupid’s bow of pink lushness that drew his gaze like a magnet and he realised with a sharp pang how much he missed her sunshine-bright smile. Not those fake ones she flashed when required but a genuine one that lit up her face and eyes.
Juliette’s gaze shifted back to the older couple next to her who were the bride’s parents, but Joe could see she wasn’t really engaged in the conversation. She kept chewing a
t her lower lip and fiddling with the clasp of her evening purse as if she couldn’t wait for the evening to be over.
And soon it would be over and they would be alone in their suite.
The string quartet was playing dance numbers and several couples were dancing further along the terrace. He remembered the first time he’d danced with Juliette, how she had moved with him with such natural rhythm as if they had been dancing together for years.
Making love had been the same.
After their one-night stand and they had gone their separate ways, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He’d had commitments back in Italy and then another project in Germany but he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. And then, out of the blue, she’d called him and told him she was carrying his child. The news had stunned him. They had used protection but fate had decided to step in and create a new life. A life that hadn’t lasted long enough to take a single independent breath.
Joe let out a long sigh as the familiar pain seized his chest whenever he thought of his tiny baby daughter. He blamed himself for not being there when Juliette went into early labour. Perhaps if he had been there to take her to hospital earlier things might have panned out differently. There were so many things he wished he had done differently.
Joe wove through the small crowd to join her, taking one of her hands in his. ‘Would you like to dance?’ He figured it was one way he could legitimately hold her in his arms. And, more importantly, stop her from dancing with anyone else.
She looked as if she were about to refuse, but then she shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze. ‘Sure. Why not?’
Joe led her to the part of the terrace set up for dancing, overlooking the ocean below. The string quartet was now playing a romantic ballad and he gathered her close, moving with her to the slow rhythm of the music. ‘You didn’t look like you were enjoying the conversation you were having back there,’ he said, breathing in the flowery scent of her hair.
Juliette glanced up at him with a frown. ‘Was it so obvious?’
‘Only to me.’ He led her further away from the other guests who had joined them on the dance floor. ‘Do you know Lucy’s parents well?’
‘Pretty well. I spent a fair bit of time at their house when Lucy and I were teenagers.’ She gave a little sigh and added, ‘I was really envious of her. Her parents were so different from mine.’
‘In what way?’
She didn’t respond for so long, he wondered if she hadn’t heard him. But then she aimed her gaze at his shirt front and spoke in a low tone. ‘They were so...so uncritical. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them say anything negative about her or the choices she made.’
Joe eased back to look down at her. ‘And your parents were critical and negative?’
She gave a little eye-roll and lowered her gaze back to his shirt front. ‘Not so much when there’s an audience. They’re way too polite and subtle for that. But I know how much I’ve disappointed them by not being as academically gifted as them and my two older brothers.’
Joe couldn’t say he was all that surprised by her confession. But it niggled him that he hadn’t drawn her out a little more on her family while they were living together. What did that say about him? What sort of husband didn’t show an interest in his wife’s background?
A husband with a troubled background of his own who wanted no questions asked, that was who.
Joe had only met her parents and brothers twice—at the wedding and then Emilia’s funeral. The funeral was a bit of a blur to him and they hadn’t been particularly warm towards him at the wedding—but he hadn’t been expecting them to welcome him with open arms. They’d been polite in a stiff upper lip kind of way, but then his courtship of their only daughter hadn’t exactly been ideal. A one-night stand pregnancy was hardly the way to impress and win over in-laws but he hadn’t wanted his child to grow up without knowing him. Marriage had been the best option in his opinion.
Their child had to come first—the baby had been his top priority.
Her parents hadn’t come to the hospital when they’d lost the baby as they were on a long-haul international flight. Juliette had flown to England to visit her parents before they’d left for a three-month tour abroad. She had been booked on a flight back to Italy the next day when she’d gone into labour. He’d flown back as soon as he heard but he got there too late.
‘But you’re so talented, Juliette. Your illustrations are amazing. Aren’t they proud of your work?’
Her gaze was downcast, her mouth downturned. ‘I’m the only person in my family without a PhD. I barely scraped through my GCSEs. A children’s book illustrator isn’t what they consider a worthwhile career, especially as I don’t even have an art degree. They’re proud I’ve had stuff published, sure, but they still see it as a kind of hobby.’ She gave another sigh that made her slim shoulders go down. ‘I haven’t done a sketch in months so maybe they’re right. It’s time to find something else. I don’t know how Lucy has put up with me this long. It’s not just my career on hold, but hers too.’
Joe placed one of his hands along the curve of her creamy cheek, meshing his gaze with her troubled one. ‘You don’t need to think about a career until you’re ready, cara. I’ve been depositing funds in your bank account to more than cover any loss of income.’
A tinge of pink spread across her cheeks but a determined light came into her eyes. ‘I don’t want or need your money. I haven’t touched a penny of it.’
Joe brushed his thumb pad across the small round circle of her chin. ‘You hate me that much?’
Something flickered in her gaze until her lashes came down over her eyes to lock him out. ‘I never wanted your money. That wasn’t why I married you.’ She stepped out of his hold and crossed her arms over her body as if she were cold but the night air was balmy and warm.
‘Yes, well, we both know why you married me.’ Joe couldn’t remove the cynicism from his tone in time. ‘You wanted to show your cheating ex you’d moved on.’
She pressed her lips into a flat line, the colour in her cheeks darkening. ‘That’s not true. It had nothing to do with him. I can barely remember what he looks like now. I thought I was doing the best thing by the baby by marrying you. Anyway, you were the one who insisted on marriage. I would’ve been just as happy with a co-parenting arrangement.’
‘Have you heard from your ex? Do you ever see him?’ Joe wasn’t sure why he was asking because he didn’t want to know. He could do without the punishment, the torture, the despair of imagining her with someone else. He had never considered himself the jealous type. But the thought of her being intimate with someone else made his gut churn. The thought of her having another child with someone else sent a tight band of pain across his chest until he could hardly draw a breath.
Juliette flashed him an irritated look. ‘I hardly see how it’s any of your business who I see or don’t see.’
Joe led her by the elbow away from the other dancers to a quieter part further along the terrace. ‘It’s my business because we’re still legally married.’
He lowered his hand from her elbow but he had to summon up every bit of willpower he possessed to stop from pulling her back into his arms and crashing his mouth down on hers. To remind her of the passion that sparked between them. The passion that was charging the atmosphere even now.
Which brought him to a perplexing question—what the hell was he going to do about it? He had already made mistakes with Juliette. Big mistakes. Mistakes that couldn’t be undone. Would it be asking for trouble to revisit their relationship? To see if it was worth salvaging?
Her gaze glittered with defiance. ‘I find it highly amusing how you’re suddenly so interested in my private life after all these months.’ She glanced at his mouth as if she was expecting him to do what he was tempted to do. ‘And why do you keep wearing your wedding ring? It seems rather pointless.’
‘It’s not entirely pointless. It keeps me free of unwanted female attention.’ He waited a beat before continuing. ‘I still have your wedding and engagement rings.’ Joe wasn’t sure why he was telling her that snippet of useless information. Did it make him sound like a sentimental fool who hadn’t got over the walk-out of his wife? Should he tell her he hadn’t removed one article of her clothing from his wardrobe? That he couldn’t even use the same bedroom they had shared as it caused him too much gut-wrenching pain? And don’t get him started on the nursery. He hadn’t opened that door once. Not once. Opening that door would be tearing open a deep and devastating wound.
Juliette glanced down at their joined hands before returning her gaze to his. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t pawned them by now or found someone else to give them to.’
Joe stroked the soft flesh of her palm, watching as her pupils flared and her breath quickened. ‘They belong to you.’
Her chin came up, an intransigent light sparking in her eyes. ‘I don’t want them.’
‘Maybe, but still you want me.’ Joe brought her hip to hip to his body, his gaze lowering to her mouth. ‘Don’t you, mio piccolo?’
Juliette licked her lips again, her eyes flicking to his mouth. ‘No.’ Her tone was firm but her body swayed towards him as if propelled by a force bigger than her will to resist.
He tipped up her chin, stroking her lower lip with his thumb. ‘Pride is a funny thing, is it not? I would like to say I don’t want you either but I would be lying to myself as well as you.’
She drew in a breath and released it in a shuddery rush. ‘Joe...please...’
‘Please, what?’ Joe cupped one side of her face with his hand, the other hand going to the small of her back to bring her even closer to the throb and ache of his lower body. ‘Are you going to deny what you’re feeling right now? What you’ve felt from the moment I walked into the suite this afternoon? What you felt the first time we met? It’s why you blocked my phone and emails, isn’t it? You don’t want to be reminded of what you feel for me.’
The Return 0f Her Billionaire Husband (HQR Presents) Page 5
