slid the cups onto the table’s sparkling glass surface. “A dissatisfied customer refused to pay for an extravagant function. The loss was too much on a shaky overdraft. The bank called in the loan. No other institution would bridge. You lost your business.”
She gripped the back of a white wicker chair as regret and anger flooded her. “I lost everything.” Thanks to Barclays Australasia.
Her five-year-old red coupe was the first to go. She’d loved that car. Then came the garage sales, the desperation. The repossession of her modest but dearly loved house would have been next, if the fire hadn’t taken care of it first. Small print in the insurance policy translated into “goodbye, picket fence, hello tiny apartment.” The deposit she’d sweated blood to save, all down the drain.
He pulled out her chair. “Life isn’t always fair.”
Though his words echoed her own thoughts, they sounded trite coming from Armand’s privileged mouth. A millionaire couldn’t possibly know the struggles small-business people faced to keep afloat.
She took her seat. Maybe he didn’t deserve it, maybe he did. Either way, she couldn’t help a dig. “Perhaps we should take another ride in your Bentley and you can tell me about what’s fair.”
His eyes glittered, with mischief or warning? “Retract the claws, Felix. I’m here to help, remember?”
More like help himself.
Armand’s housekeeper breezed into the room, breaking their tension. Ruth defied all the rules associated with the term housekeeper: tall, svelte, smart civilian clothes rather than a drab uniform. In her early sixties, perhaps, she was still a striking woman: a salon-cut copper blonde with elegant sapphire starburst ear studs. The only giveaways to her vocation were an apron and brutally short nails. As Ruth laced her hands before her, hazel eyes half-mooning above a kind smile, Tamara wondered if she had grandchildren.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
Armand’s smile was fond. “I’ll take care of everything from here on, thanks.”
Ruth’s comfortable gaze jumped to Tamara. “Good meeting you, Ms. Kendle.”
Earlier the housekeeper had prepared a snack. With pregnancy hormones ambushing her appetite, ham and cheese on whole grain never tasted so good. “Thanks again for the sandwich, Ruth. It really hit the spot.”
Headed for a corner of the kitchen, the older woman brushed the compliment aside. “Wait ’til you taste my beef Wellington.” She hung her apron on the back of the pantry door. “It’s his favorite.”
Sitting alongside Tamara now, Armand scooped a heap of sugar into his cup. “Your choc-mint cheesecake is my favorite.”
Ruth mouthed to Tamara, “Sweet tooth,” then said aloud, “I’ll be in early tomorrow. Master needs to go to the vet—”
“I’ll take care of that,” Armand let her know, stirring. “Have a good weekend.”
Ruth winked at Tamara and headed out the room. “See you Monday.”
Shoulders sagging, Tamara gave in to a sigh. Guess she would at that.
While she gathered her cup close and filled her lungs with the sweet herbal aroma, Armand set their conversation back on track.
“We were discussing the death of your business.”
A nasty shiver ran through her. Did he have to put it like that?
She set her cup down. “I might be in a tight place at the moment, but I’ll get by.” She always had.
His furrowed gaze challenged hers. “Like your mother got by?”
Her throat swelled, cutting off air. Despite the neglect, she loved her mother and wanted to include her in her baby’s life. And if he dared mention her father…!
Some things were best left buried.
“My mother has nothing to do with this.”
He weighed her statement before he cocked a brow and drank. The cup landed back in its saucer with a clatter. “You’re right. This is about you and what opportunities you, as a mother, decide to give or deny your child.”
A knot twisted in her stomach. Money didn’t guarantee happiness. Still, given her less than stellar start in life, Tamara knew full well food and clothes didn’t materialize out of thin air. She leveled him a look. “That’s not fair.”
“I believe we’ve had that discussion.”
So cool. So suave. So blasted infuriating!
She surged up from her chair.
By the window, she dragged a gaze around the outside view to where a bust of what looked like a satyr guarded a garden entrance. Orderly, pristine, clutter-free. Must cost a fortune to maintain.
Her days wouldn’t shorten after the baby was born, particularly once she was ready to rebuild her business. On top of that, having no partner meant not only long hours on the job, but longer childcare hours, too.
The tip of her index finger trailed down the glass, then drew three times over a horizontal figure eight.
A marriage of convenience…to Armand De Luca… no more struggle…no more treading water.
A razor-sharp pang coiled inside of her. Her hand clenched and dropped.
What on earth was she thinking? She wanted to be in love with the man she married, not indebted. Surely that wasn’t expecting too much, even with all the uncertainty clouding her life. Even given the way Armand made her feel…temporarily rescued.
Her stomach jumped when Armand’s heat-infused palm came to rest on her shoulder, but she dared not face him. The flare of his touch was enough to unhinge her. She wouldn’t risk more confusion by looking into those eyes.
His breath warmed her crown as his voice rumbled at her ear. “Weigh your options carefully. Consider the opportunities you’d give your child, now and in the future.”
A future with opportunities, security, a name that opened doors. And all she had to do was marry a stranger.
She chewed her lip and struggled to form the question that had scratched at her mind since this man, more like a phantom, had swept into her life.
“Don’t get the idea I’m saying yes, because I’m not, but…” Her mouth was cracker-dry. She fought to swallow against the choking beat of her heart vibrating up her throat. “If we were to wed, if we were to become man and wife…”
A hot flush washed through her. She couldn’t say the words.
“Would the marriage include conjugal rights?”
As his question soaked in, cool dots of perspiration broke along her hairline. From the corner of her eye she saw his long blunt fingers splayed over the shoulder of her white cotton shirt, the glint of his dress ring’s ruby catching the last of the day’s old-gold light. Suddenly she couldn’t get enough air. Couldn’t
