She didn’t respond to the jibe. ‘When I told you on our wedding day there had been no other man—’
‘It had conveniently slipped your mind that you might have forgotten to mention one or two?’ he suggested.
She blanked his harsh sarcasm, because of course he would lash out at her—wouldn’t anyone have lashed out in the circumstances? But he hadn’t yet made sense of his past, she realised—and maybe in a way, she had been guilty of the same. ‘No. There has been no other man because...’ she swallowed ‘...because nobody ever came close to you. And what I felt for you, I’ve...I’ve never felt for anyone else.’
She didn’t know what kind of reaction she had been expecting from this tentative revelation but it certainly wasn’t the one she got. All his icy composure had vanished and his face now blazed with sudden fury. ‘Is this pity you dole out to me now, Emily?’ he demanded savagely, angry green fire spitting from the depths of his eyes. ‘You think that because I have revealed my shameful parentage to you, I will grab at any crumb of affection which comes my way? That the illegitimate son of a hooker and a thief will be grateful for anything he can get?’
She saw his pain and his anger and thanked whichever self-protective instinct had stopped her from coming right out and telling him she loved him. And wouldn’t logic rather than emotion serve her better than anything else right now? ‘I don’t care about your past!’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t care who your father was or what your mother did.’
His face was a mask. ‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted your affirmation,’ he said coolly. ‘I only told you because you asked.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘THE THING IS, ALEJ—if you’re serious about going into politics, there are a couple of issues you really need to consider first.’
Alej glanced up from the financial journal which was dancing unintelligibly before his eyes. Emily was standing on the other side of the room, pulling on a pair of silk panties, her curvy body illuminated by the morning sunlight, which was turning her hair to pure gold. He swallowed down the lust which was rising up inside him, a lust which seemed permanently outside his control. Last night before dinner he’d told her his dirty secret, expecting...what? He wasn’t sure—but it certainly hadn’t been her steadfast acceptance of the grim facts about his parentage as they’d come spilling out of him like dark poison.
He felt his gut twist. He’d thought that knowledge of his past would drive her away. That he’d see her face contort with disgust, no matter how much she tried to keep it hidden. But instead she had remained calm. There had been no recriminations. No hurt expression at the way he had snapped at her. She’d just slid her feet into her new shoes and they’d gone out for dinner with Salvatore di Luca and his girlfriend and Emily had settled easily into her role of glowing newly-wed. She’d acted as if he hadn’t told her the sordid truth about his past, which had only reinforced his prejudices about her. Because maybe now she knew the whole truth about him, she imagined she was in a stronger bargaining position. His jaw tightened. Had she been seduced by the private jets and luxury hotels, the jewels and designer clothes he had provided for her—and decided she didn’t want to give them up without a fight? Was her love of material comfort greater than discovering that her husband was the son of a violent drunk and a prostitute?
Yet when they’d had sex last night, she’d been as tender as ever he’d known her. She had held him tightly afterwards, her long fingers gently stroking through his hair in a way which had felt delicious. Dangerously delicious. He had pulled away from her afterwards and had lain there staring mutinously at the darkened ceiling. Was all that tenderness born out of compassion? he had wondered bitterly. Did she really think he needed her sympathy?
‘Alej?’ she was saying. ‘Have you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s not particularly easy to concentrate on anything when you’re doing a reverse striptease in front of me,’ he drawled.
She was zipping up the sleek cream dress, which had also come from the Chanel shop, and he could see the sudden look of courage which crossed her face—as if she was about to say something he didn’t want to hear. ‘If you’re serious about going into politics,’ she said quietly, ‘aren’t you worried that some of the stuff about your mother will come out?’
Half regretting his impetuousness in telling her, Alej shook his head. ‘Why should it? It never has before, not even when I announced I was leaving polo.’ His jaw tightened. ‘I suspect most of her clients will be dead by now and those who aren’t are hardly going to boast about consorting with a prostitute, are they? Even if they do make the connection.’
‘But it might,’ she persisted. ‘Especially if you’re entering politics, when every aspect of your past will be dragged into the daylight and raked over.’
He shifted uncomfortably. ‘That’s just a risk I’m going to have to take.’
‘Unless you take control of it,’ she suggested.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Meaning, what?’
She seemed to choose her words with care. ‘None of us should be defined by the things our parents have done. You are a good man, Alej, and you do good things. You have a charitable foundation—’
‘Like I told you before, I’m not asking for your affirmation,’ he said harshly.
‘And rather than living with the fear of disclosure,’ she continued firmly, ‘I want you to think about making some kind of announcement. If the information about your past comes from you, then it loses some of its power. I’m not suggesting you do it straight away—just think about it when you’re about to launch your campaign.’
Once again Alej felt the sharp prick of conscience. He wished she would stop being so damned reasonable, because with each second that passed he was reminded of what had made him fall for her in the first place. Her softness. Her understanding. Her enthusiasm. But that was then, he reminded himself grimly, and this was now. It wasn’t going to be easy to do what he had to do and the longer this quasi-marriage went on, the harder it became. But he couldn’t give her up. Not yet. There was still too much of her soft sensuality for him to experience before that day came around. He swallowed. So maybe he should take her back to Argentina—to where it all began. To be alone with her and enjoy her over and over again, until his appetite was finally sated. Wouldn’t there be a delicious sense of irony to complete the circle that way?
Pushing back the rumpled sheet, he got out of bed. ‘I’m having new flight plans drawn up with my pilot,’ he said.
‘Oh?’
‘We’re heading for Argentina,’ he supplied coolly.
Pausing mid-brush of her hair, she turned round from the mirror and blinked at him. ‘Already?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? We’re done here in Paris. Make sure you’re packed and ready to go. We’ll be leaving this afternoon.’
Emily turned away, determined to hide her hurt at his cold and commanding tone, just as she had hidden it yesterday when he had rejected her attempts to comfort him after he’d told her about his mother. But what had she expected—that a man so deeply scarred and traumatised by his terrible past would turn around and let her get close, just like that? Was she really that naïve?
But she refused to do what she suspected Alej wanted her to do—to war with him just because he seemed determined to pick a fight. Because she couldn’t do that. She