style="font-size:15px;"> Sophie was only...
The mother of his unborn child.
Damn her, being so reasonable, leaving him little room to manoeuvre.
The thought of sharing his daily life with another person made his skin crawl. The thought of sharing it with this woman made his chest tighten and his stomach cramp.
He made sure her attention was fixed on him before giving a sharp nod. ‘Bueno. We will try it your way, but I warn you now, keep your expectations realistic. I live my life to please myself. This is my home and it is run to suit me. I will make accommodations for our child when it is born, but if you want to enter a marriage where the small details of our lives are not already agreed on then you must live with the consequences when you find the reality not to your liking.’
* * *
For the third time in as many months, Sophie approached Javier’s front door. This would be her last approach as a visitor. When she stepped through it this time, she would be staying.
This beautiful villa was going to be her home.
This was the best course of action, she told herself firmly, for what had to be the hundredth time.
The past fortnight had passed in a whirl of activity, Sophie busy packing and making arrangements for her new life. She had lived and worked in Madrid for eighteen months but it had never been permanent and she’d lived a minimal life there, always intending to return to England for good when her ballet career was over. Now, embracing that the rest of her life would be spent in Madrid whatever happened in her marriage, she was moving her entire life over.
She had no idea what Javier had been doing since their short meeting where they had thrashed out an agreement that suited neither of them but was best for their child.
She would give their marriage her best shot and she would force him to give it his best too. He had agreed to try. She had to hold onto that even if his actions since she’d returned to England had been less than positive.
He’d politely declined her offer to go to the hospital with her for the first scan, claiming he was too busy, so she had gone with her mother.
Her mother, bless her gentle heart, had been enthralled with the image on the screen. Her father had spent an age staring at the grainy picture she had given him of it. It had broken Sophie’s heart to tell the loving couple who had adopted her at eighteen months that their grandchild would be raised in Spain, but she had been able to offset their disappointment by promising lots of visits. She knew it had comforted them to know she would be marrying, although it had been another disappointment to them that they wouldn’t meet the groom before the wedding day.
Her poor parents. They’d masked their disappointment at her unplanned pregnancy well but she’d seen the pained glances they’d exchanged before embracing her and offering their full support.
Her parents had both been virgins on their wedding day. Sophie had never expected to stay a virgin until her own but she had been waiting for the thunderbolt they had both told her about, that certainty that she had found ‘the one’, the man she would spend the rest of her life with. She would never willingly disappoint them with anything less.
Javier was the only man she had looked at and felt her heart and pulses soar.
She had emailed the scan to him but received no response, either positive or negative. His next message to her had been to confirm the date of their wedding, written in the style of a business memo.
The man who had threatened to take full custody of their child if Sophie didn’t comply with his demands had so far shown zero interest in it.
She would force an interest. By the time their child was born in six months, she was determined Javier would be as excited for its arrival as she was. She didn’t expect miracles. She doubted he would be a hands-on father—the thought of that towering inferno of a man changing a nappy evoked hysterical laughter in her—but for their child’s sake she wanted Javier to reach a place where he could open his heart and love it.
She had to believe he was capable of love. She had to.
To be fair to him, he hadn’t abandoned her completely. She’d arrived back in the UK to find a chauffeured car waiting for her at the airport, the driver informing her she had him at her disposal until her return to Madrid. When they had settled on the date for her to move in with him, Javier had insisted on sending his private jet to England to collect her. He’d also arranged for a company to collect and transport all her belongings. They should have beaten her here, her stuff all ready for her to unpack in the house she very much hoped would soon feel like home.
Her heart thudded painfully as she took the heavy knocker in her hand, not yet ready to simply walk into this mansion as if she belonged there. She had barely moved it when the door opened.
A thin man in a sober suit greeted her with a nod. ‘Miss Johnson, please, come in,’ he said in impeccable English. ‘I am Julio, Mr Casillas’s butler. I run the household staff.’
Sophie tried to stop her eyes popping out of her head.
Javier had a butler? Wow.
On her previous two visits she had seen only one member of staff and had thought little of it. But now she did think about it and realised there was no way a house of these proportions and of such magnificence could be maintained by only one person.
‘How many staff are there?’ she asked curiously.
‘Nine. Three of us live in. Can I get you any refreshment?’
‘I ate on the flight over, thank you.’
He smiled. ‘Then shall I show you to your room so you can get comfortable?’
‘Is Javier not here?’
‘Mr Casillas is in a meeting. He will be back this evening.’
She forced a smile to hide the pierce of disappointment.
Javier hadn’t said he would be at home to meet her. She had made an assumption that he would want to greet her and make her feel welcome because that was what decent men did for the women carrying their child.
She had a feeling this was a deliberate act on Javier’s behalf, a throwing down of the gauntlet, a reminder that this marriage was not how he wanted it and he would not have his space encroached.
‘Then show me to my room,’ she said with artificial brightness. ‘Has my stuff arrived yet?’
‘It was delivered last night,’ he confirmed, leading the way up the grand staircase that spread like wings at the top for the two long sections of the house. He turned right and strode down the wide landing lined with chaises longues and cabinets filled with ancient artefacts until he reached the furthest door at the end and opened it for her.
Sophie stepped inside and immediately sucked a breath in.
The room was beautiful.
‘I hope you don’t mind but we took the liberty of unpacking for you,’ Julio said. ‘If you are not happy with where your possessions have been put then we will put them where you think more suitable.’
She
