Freya in mind, the flash of jealousy that had wracked Sophie to imagine her best friend in the arms of the man she had developed such strong feelings for. To see it replicated in her own contract had filled her with despair.
‘I am aware you work long hours and travel a lot for your business, so the evenings are often going to be the only times we share together,’ she continued. ‘How can we form any kind of bond if we’re in separate wings of your house?’
‘If it’s sex you require then I can accommodate that without you moving into my personal space.’ His eyes flashed dangerously as he finally crossed the threshold of the huge, luxurious bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him. Walking towards her in slow, long strides, like a big cat stalking towards its prey, he put his hands to the buckle of his belt. ‘If it is relief you are after then take your dress off and I will satisfy it for you.’
‘Sex is a part of it,’ she answered, refusing to be intimidated by this power play instinct told her was designed to frighten her, ‘but I’m talking about intimacy.’
He stopped a foot away from her, his face contorted. ‘I do not do intimacy.’
‘But that’s what a real marriage entails. If you won’t share a bedroom with me then it proves you’re not willing to try like you promised you would and, if that is the case, I might as well have our baby in England, where I will get the support I need—’
‘You dare threaten me?’ he cut through her, his incredulity obvious.
‘I would never threaten you,’ she said, horrified he would think her capable of such a thing.
‘You just threatened to return to England with our baby.’
‘Only until it’s born.’ She sat back on the ottoman and threaded her fingers through her hair as she tried to explain her thoughts without getting so emotional that the tears started falling.
Javier was so ice-like that it felt as if she were trying to get through to a sculpture.
‘I haven’t made this move for my sake but for our child’s. If I was thinking only of my own interests I would have stayed in England and had my parents’ support throughout the pregnancy. I don’t expect miracles, but if you won’t share a bed with me when that’s the most basic part of a marriage then what’s the point? I made it very clear that I want a real marriage and this for me is it. Sharing a bed. Getting to know each other, and getting to a point that when our child is born we’re comfortable together and united. That’s my red line. I need you to prove your commitment. Either we share a bed or we forget about marriage because it will be far more damaging for our child to be born in an unhappy home than be born to two separate but content homes. Our child can still have your name because I know that’s important for you. I’ll be happy to live in Madrid after the birth so we can share custody. You can still be a father even if you won’t be a husband.’
Javier listened to Sophie speak knowing she’d outmanoeuvred him again with her damned reasonableness.
She was giving him a way out of their marriage and if he had any sense he would take it.
‘Do you know what my experience of a real marriage is?’ he asked harshly, sitting on the edge of the bed so she was only a blur in the corner of his eye. ‘My parents.’
He heard her suck an intake of breath. ‘I know that to call your childhood hard would be an understatement but I don’t want our baby to suffer for it. I’m not asking you to commit emotionally to me, Javier. I am asking you to commit emotionally to our child.’
He thought of the scan she’d emailed to him the week before. He’d stared at it for so long his eyes had blurred.
Their baby. Their innocent baby, who had no idea what kind of a father it had been burdened with.
He’d been prepared to leave the raising of any child he had with Freya in her hands. Sophie, he suspected, would want him to be involved.
Sophie, who wanted him to share a bed with her every night. To share a space.
Dios, he hadn’t shared personal space since he and Luis had left their grandparents’ home when they’d turned eighteen to set out on their own, determined even at that young age to earn themselves a fortune. They had rented a small two-bedroom apartment and for the first time in his life Javier had found himself with a room to call his own. The freedom had been like learning to breathe for the first time.
He thought hard before rolling his neck and taking a sharp breath. ‘Bueno. You win. We will try it your way and share a bedroom but only here in this house. I have made it very clear what my own red lines are. I need my solitude. I am a loner and I will never change. I dislike company. When I travel on business, you will not be invited to accompany me, so don’t waste your time thinking of arguments for why you should. I have no need for a confidante, so do not expect me to pour my heart out to you. If I wish to go out for an evening on my own do not expect me to take you with me. If I tell you I need space then I expect you to respect that.’
‘I will respect all of that,’ she promised.
‘Good.’ He nodded tightly and got to his feet. ‘Excuse me but I need to shower before dinner.’
He strode to the bathroom before she could object, needing to get away from Sophie and that floral fragrance she wore that had already permeated the walls of his bedroom.
She might have inveigled herself into it but he was damned if he would let her get a foot in any other aspect of his life.
He could manage nights with her, he reasoned. After all, night-time was for sleeping.
He would dine out more frequently, he decided. Work even longer hours than he already did, hit his personal gym with more vigour, exhaust himself so greatly that when he did rest his head beside hers he would not care that Sophie and her sinfully tempting body lay there. He would simply fall asleep.
* * *
‘Is Luis going to be your best man?’ Sophie asked when she could bear the silence no more.
They’d finished their first course of cured meats and accompaniments and were now eating their main course. They’d been sitting in the dining room for half an hour and Javier had hardly exchanged a word with her. Her every attempt at conversation had been met with monosyllabic answers and grunts.
To make the tension in her stomach even worse, this was the very table he had made love to her on.
It felt so long ago now it could have been a different life but being in here with him brought back memories and feelings that had been smothered under the weight of the fear she had carried with her since, from the horrifying realisation they had failed to use protection to the terrifying realisation she was pregnant with his child.
His lips tightened but he didn’t look up from his phone, which he was typing on with his left hand while working his fork absently between his food and his mouth with the other. ‘No.’
His own twin wasn’t going to be his best man? ‘Who is, then?’
‘I’m not having one.’
‘Why not?’
‘I have no need for one. We do not need guests. Our wedding ceremony will be quick and serve a function.’
Not need guests? What kind of a wedding would it be without them?
‘I’ve already invited my parents.’
‘Un-invite them.’
Sophie put her fork down, folded her arms across her chest and stared at him for so long that eventually he noticed and flickered his eyes at her.
‘I am not getting married without my parents,’ she told him flatly. ‘It wouldn’t be fair. They’ve already booked their flights.’
His jaw clenched. ‘Have you told them they can stay here?’
Do I look stupid? she wanted to retort,