“And what about children, Leila? I thought we’d agreed that when we started a family, you would be a full-time mother. You’d place our children above everything, and most certainly above your career. Are you telling me now that has changed? “
CHAPTER THREE
RAFAEL held on to his emotions as silence roared between them, obliterating the soothing sounds of the surf washing over the sands and the excited beat of music pulsing in the warm night air.
He’d asked a simple question, one they’d agreed upon before they’d gotten married. The answer should be instant, in keeping with her promise.
“Many mothers work as well as look after their children, Rafael,” she said, which sounded like she was building up to an admission that she’d had a change of heart.
He bit off a curse and jammed his hands into his trouser pockets when every cell in his body goaded him to shake sense into his wife. The last thing he needed to do was lose his temper. He had to remain calm. Rational. Or as rational as he could be when his dreams of a family were teetering on the edge.
“Most women with children hold down a job because they have to. You most certainly do not need to work.”
“I disagree with you,” she fired back. “Many women work because it gives them purpose.”
“You think being a mother won’t do that?”
He wished he could see her face, but the velvet night swallowed up the details. The tension he felt rocketing through her though was very real, and very telling.
“I can’t think of anything on earth that would be as soul-satisfying as having a child,” she said at last, her voice breaking a bit with genuine emotion. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t work in moderation. I love my career, Rafael. Through it, I’ve been able to help other young girls who suffer with eating disorders. I’ve made a difference in their lives.”
He was well aware of the clinic she’d established in Rio and he was proud of all she’d achieved. He was aware, too, that of late she’d suffered a financial setback there. A setback that he could have easily funded for her. But when he’d offered to secure her clinic under his business umbrella in March, she’d thanked him before she’d flatly refused his help.
He’d not brought the subject up again, but now he had to know. “What about your business manager? Doesn’t he oversee those issues for you?”
“Yes, but I have final say. Especially with the clinic. It’s important to me that I keep a close watch over it,” she said.
Leila had as much pride as he. She was also clearly set on having control over her career as well as her charity.
He understood that, for he was the same. But of late he suspected that her drive to make crucial decisions in her life had edged to the extreme. It wasn’t just the little things she needed to evaluate. She was micromanaging everything.
Their marriage and future family as well?
She couldn’t give up her career, and she wouldn’t put the management of her charity into anyone else’s hands. She insisted she could keep a finger in her work and still be a mother—which she was obviously again trying to put off starting.
He sucked in a breath, then another, but his nerves were still snapping like ribbons in the wind. He knew full well how part-time work could eventually suck up all the hours in a day. He knew, too, how devoted—no, driven—Leila was with her career.
Which made the thought of her being a working mother all the more troubling. A baby could easily be shuffled off while she was busy on a set, cared for by strangers.
Just like his youth? Passed from one neighbor to another while his mother cleaned houses for a meager living. And later, when he was left alone in their small flat when his mother couldn’t support them and her various causes with just one job.
Rafael ground his teeth in annoyance, for he’d vowed at an early age that no child of his would endure that type of life. His children would have a home and two parents to come home to every day. They would know they were loved. Wanted. Cherished.
He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, placing a light kiss on her fingers. A shiver rocketed from her into him, telling him she wasn’t immune from him at least.
“Leila, I am tired of us being apart and waiting to start a family,” he said. “I want a wife who lives with me again. I want a home and children.”
He heard her clear her throat, felt another tremor skitter through her. “God knows I’ve missed you. But what you are asking me to give up right now is unreasonable.”
“No, I am speaking from experience,” he reasoned softly. “I lived with a mother who worked all her life, not one but two jobs. I know what it is like to be alone, and I will not put our child through the same.”
Before she could answer, a couple’s low laughter intruded on them, followed by a barbed comment from a man. He glanced at the sound, noting with irritation that two couples were coming their way, all close to being lost to drink, he’d guess.
“Let’s return to our suite,” he said, pulling Leila away from the approaching group. “Gladly.”
By the time they’d wended their way through the crowd and into their hotel in brittle silence, Rafael’s emotions were stretched to breaking point. At this rate any further conversation about children would likely end in an argument. Yet how could he rest until he knew what had changed Leila’s mind?
Dammit, they’d made these plans long ago. Had he simply deluded himself into thinking their marriage and their love was strong?
“It is clear to me that you need to decide what you want,” he said, his voice sounding suddenly cold. “A family with me. Or your career.”
“Perhaps it is fate’s choice to make and not mine.”
There was something in her tone that chilled him. Something heart-wrenching in the shadows lurking in her eyes.
Without another word, she slipped into the bedroom. Instead of following, he stood there alone, dreading that there was far more to her prophetic comment than he would like.
Leila jolted awake at the tinny ring of the alarm. She fumbled to turn it off, then sprawled in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The short hours of sleep had left her horribly disoriented. But events of the past day quickly came back in a tumble of bruised memories.
She turned her head and stared at the empty place beside her. The bedclothes were rumpled, the pillow still holding the indentation of his head.
Rafael had joined her in bed, but had stayed on his side. He’d deprived her of his comforting arms.
No, that wasn’t true. She had been keeping him at an emotional arm’s length for too long.
She heaved a sigh and levered herself from the pillow-top mattress. It was certainly the first time they’d shared a bed and not made love. The first time she could recall when they’d gone to bed with harsh words between them.
He’d given her an ultimatum she dreaded to make, for if she gave up her career to start a family, she could lose her baby again. The pressures she had faced in getting to the very top of her career would be nothing compared to that devastation. Yet she knew Rafael would not relent. That he’d push her to be the wife and mother she had once promised and hoped to be.
If only it were that simple.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
She jerked her gaze toward the overstuffed chair by the window. He sprawled in it like a feral cat lazing in the sun.
Her mouth went dry. His broad shoulders and taut ribbed belly were more impressive bare. His skin was tanned. The light sprinkling of black hair on his muscled chest was soft, she knew.
“I rested,” she replied, slowly lifting her gaze to his eyes that were wiped clean of the anger that had roiled in him last night. But she didn’t kid herself into thinking all was well between them. “When did you come to bed?”
He lifted one broad shoulder. “Close to four.”
And with so little sleep he still looked devastatingly handsome. Focused. In control.
She was certainly far from having power over her emotion
s now. Her eyes felt gritty. Her stomach was a jumble of nerves. And all the grief and guilt she’d suffered this past year seemed to have doubled overnight.
He had to know she’d already tried to be a mother and had failed. That the next try at having a child might not be successful either.
She wet lips that were dry and struggled to find just the right words to tell him about her miscarriage. That she was now terrified to get pregnant, but that her arms still ached to hold her baby close to her bosom. His baby.
“Rafael …”
“According to the schedule, you have a shoot in one hour,” he said, his gaze now locked on his mobile, brow slightly furrowed.
He was clearly still angry with her and who could blame him. She couldn’t very well tell him the truth now and then rush off to get ready for the shoot. He deserved so much more of her time.
“Do you need the bathroom?” she asked, thankful her voice didn’t betray the war going on inside her.
“No. Be my guest.”
She wasted no time slipping inside the en suite bathroom and by the time she was finished she felt a bit more invigorated.
Yet as she stood in front of the mirror, she could see every new line that had etched her face. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the problem at hand, shoving thoughts of Rafael from her mind. If she excelled at anything it was applying makeup that looked natural, yet took years, and worries, off her face.
If she could only correct the problems with her body just as easily, problems she wouldn’t have had if she hadn’t developed an eating disorder. But the damage was done, and her guilt ran bone-deep.
Tucking those heartbreaking emotions away, Leila mentally stepped into the role of top model. With her long hair blown dry and silky straight, she slipped on a strapless dress and stepped from the bathroom. To her surprise Rafael had added a crisp white shirt and brown shoes to his ensemble.
He could’ve been a model.
It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed her mind. He was that put together. That sure of himself.
More sure than she was of herself at this moment and she hated that indecision in her. It had been that inability to make a stand for herself and her career when she had first started modeling that allowed her mother and agent to control her life. To make choices for her that had nearly cost her life. That left her now with damage that could prevent her from ever having a child.
If she could overcome the fear of getting pregnant.
Even then she’d never forget that first life conceived of love. That beautiful surprise that had been taken from her far too soon.
She blinked back sudden tears and checked her purse. Her new mobile rested within, the phone her husband had designed for her, a companion to his own unique one.
It took every ounce of fortitude to tamp her grief and guilt back in its niche. Longer still to remember how to bring up the calendar that would refresh her memory of the location.
She rattled off the address, carefully avoiding meeting Rafael’s gaze. “I should be finished by noon.”
“Good. We can take lunch afterward.”
“That would be perfect. I’ll call you when I am free.” She slipped her bare feet into an empowering pair of designer slings and moved to the door with determined strides that she hoped wouldn’t be interpreted for what they were—a desperate escape from the past that festered inside her.
“No need. I’ll be there with you.”
That brought her up short and whirling to face him. “What? Why? You’ll be bored to tears watching a shoot—it could go on for hours.”
His smile came quickly and rocked the hold she had choked on her emotions. “Querida, I will never tire of watching you.”
A quiver of excitement skittered through her, but she quickly reminded herself of his deepest desire—to convince her to give up her career and start a family, and she knew she had to be strong.
But as his dark gaze glided over her it made her feel weak. Her skin pebbled, her nipples hardened and ached for his touch, and the most damning was the heat in his eyes that melted her resolve.
Dangerous. He was the most dangerous man she’d ever met. A predator who knew how to stalk his prey—find its vulnerability.
Yet even knowing that, she couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him. Moth to flame.
They’d certainly burn together.
He crossed to her, dark eyes intent, challenging her to argue with him. “Surely you have no objections.”
She had dozens of them that all danced around her own guilt over lying to the man she loved beyond reason. But there was no point in voicing them right now, not when he was this close. Not when he looked at her with such wicked passion that she was forced to lock her knees to keep from swaying into him. Not when she desperately wanted him. Now. Tonight. And forever.
When the guilt of hurting him was killing her.
“Of course not. The first shoot is in an old château,” she said, slipping her model’s persona on and stepping from their suite, for when she was “the diva,” she was in control. “A limo should be waiting to take me—” she flicked him a smile over her shoulder “—take us there.”
“It sounds fascinating,” he said, closing the door and following her down the hallway.
Tension pulsed in the elevator as the two of them rode it to the lobby. The possessive hand Rafael kept at her back as he guided her to the concierge desk heaped tinder on her guilt. Keeping secrets was a dangerous game she had never wished to play.
She’d tell him about the baby they’d lost after the shoot, when they were alone. She’d bare her soul about her health and hope he understood what had driven her to do what she’d done.
And if he didn’t?
Fear crouched in her heart. God help them both then.
When they arrived at the shoot, the producer was waiting for her with a smile that looked strained. Leila suspected Siobhan’s patience had been tested by the little man beside her who was the representative of the client—Coltere Fragrance.
It was well known that this client often caused trouble on the set. She only hoped that Siobhan could keep him in line.
That thought had barely crossed her mind before the client snapped, “Who’s he?”
“My husband,” Leila answered, aware the only way to deal with him was to dare the little man to object. “Is that a problem?”
“Guests are a distraction,” the client said.
That was a fact she couldn’t dispute. Especially tall, arrogant husbands who commanded attention! But Rafael had been to some of her earlier shoots and she’d not suffered from his presence. Surely now wouldn’t be any different? And if it did?
She would take control. She was, after all, a professional. For this little man to assume otherwise was an insult to her.
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know how to focus,” Leila said.
“Of course you do. Now let’s be off,” Siobhan said, putting an end to the man’s rant.
Rafael kept his distance from the overbearing client by pacing the back of the vast hall in the villa. But he’d only retreated here after he’d seen that Leila and her producer had the client in control.
Watching his wife deal with her business made his chest swell with pride. She was nerves of steel draped in silk and poise. It was clear that she oversaw every detail on the set, and was quick to voice her opinion—and will—when necessary.
She commanded respect. And she got it without question. He could understand why she was reluctant to abandon her career, yet he couldn’t see how she could do justice to this and motherhood too. Why couldn’t being his wife and mother to his children be enough for her, like she’d once dreamed of?
Rafael swore under his breath and paced the length of the hall again. Being in this mansion set him on edge, for it brought back memories of Wolfe Manor with its lush gardens and imposing facade.
But unlike his brothers’ and sister’s childhood home that had fallen into ruin, t
his villa was in excellent repair, from the ornate Y-shaped staircase that gleamed a rich walnut to the period furnishing that screamed opulence.
But for all its grandeur, he still felt oppressed here. Just like he had all those years ago as he’d stood at the back fence of Wolfe Manor and stared across the gardens at the grand house, where his half siblings had resided.
He’d longed to be invited inside. To play with his half siblings. To fully be a part of his family. But his father had denied him that right. William Wolfe had let it be known that Rafael didn’t belong there among his other children.
The stigma of being unwanted burned his soul, even though his eldest brothers had welcomed him into the family fold well before William Wolfe had died. He’d still been the outsider, the one who went back to his squalid home at night. He’d never forged that connection siblings have just by living together, even though they’d all endured hell that their father had heaped on them. But Rafael still felt like the added appendage, there out of Jacob’s and Nathaniel’s good graces. Accepted, yet still distant.
Sadly, he felt much the same around Leila. He stood at the back of the room watching her, wanting to share every moment of his life with her again. Desperate to share the future with her as well, to grow old with her, to watch their children grow into adults.
To be content with Leila by his side.
But this past year had changed them both. She had become a different woman. There was a remoteness about her that troubled him. A shadow in her eyes that begged forgiveness. But from what?
His gut twisted at the possibilities. Had he been so driven to be a success, to prove that his eldest brother Jacob’s money hadn’t been wasted on him, that he’d let the one good thing that had happened in his life slip through his fingers? Had he already lost her to her career? To another man?
No, he couldn’t believe his Leila would cheat on him. It was simply that she was not ready to give up her career yet, which meant he had to convince her that the dreams they’d woven together before they married were just as strong now. Just as viable.
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