“No.” His eyes glittered in the Christmas lights as they drove through the city. “There will be no divorce.”
Time seemed to stop for Callie.
Behind his head, she dimly saw the bright lights illuminating the colorful displays in shop windows. “But you said three months!”
“I changed my mind.” He scowled at her. “From the day I held our baby, I knew that whatever I’d once planned, our marriage would be—must be—permanent. That is the best way to raise our child. The only way. I’d hoped you would come to realize that.”
“But you said you’d divorce me,” she whispered. The will-o’-the-wisp Christmas lights seemed to be dancing away, disappearing along with her dreams of returning home to her family. “You promised. You said our marriage was just to make our child legitimate, to give her your name!”
His eyes had turned utterly cold, his body taut beneath his tuxedo. “You should be pleased,” he said stiffly. “As my wife, you have everything you could possibly want. A fortune at your disposal, beautiful homes, servants, clothes and jewels.”
“But what about …” Her throat closed and she looked away. “What about the people I love?”
“You’ll love your children,” he ground out.
Wide-eyed, she turned back to face him. “Children?” she stammered. “As in … more than one?”
He narrowed his eyes. “It is lonely to be an only child. Marisol needs siblings. Sisters to play with. Brothers to protect her.”
Callie stared at him, remembering what
she’d heard about Eduardo’s poverty-stricken childhood in Spain, about his mother who’d run off with her lover, and his proud, humiliated father, who’d shot himself in the aftermath with an old World War II rifle. At ten years old, Eduardo had been shipped off to a great-aunt he’d never met in New York, and even she had died when he was eighteen. He had no one. He was alone.
She couldn’t even imagine it. As much as the restrictive rules of her old-fashioned parents had chafed her, and as much as her little sister had irritated her on a regular basis, Callie couldn’t imagine being an only child—and an orphan to boot, whose parents had both chosen to abandon her. Sympathy choked her, but then she hardened her heart. “So just like that, you expect me to agree? You expect us to remain married, to have more children? To plan it all in such a cold-blooded fashion?”
Glaring at her, he sat back in the car seat, folding his arms. “Marisol will be wanted. She will be safe and loved. She will have two parents and a home. There will be no divorce.”
Horrified, Callie stared at him.
Stay Eduardo’s wife?
Forever?
Her heart twisted in her chest. It was all like some strange dream. For a moment she was mesmerized by his certainty. Perhaps Eduardo was right. Perhaps it would be better for Marisol … better for everyone.
But how could she stay married to him, loving him as she did? He still wanted to be married to her for one reason only: to give their child a good home. How could Callie spend the rest of her life giving him her love, when all he wanted was—at most—her body?
Could she sacrifice her heart, and all hope of ever being loved? Could she spend the rest of her life feeling unloved and alone, in order to give her child the home she deserved?
Swallowing, Callie lifted her chin. “My family would have to be part of Marisol’s life. And mine. I miss them. My parents and my sister and—” She cut herself off, but too late.
A sneer rose to his lips. “And Brandon McLinn, of course. His light still glows so brightly in your heart.” He set his jaw, turning away. “You disappoint me.”
Controlling herself with a deep breath, she didn’t rise to his bait. “It was unreasonable of you to block me from seeing him. The only reason I went along with your demand was because I knew that as soon as the three months was over I could—”
“Yes.” His eyes were hard as he glared at her. “I know exactly what you were planning to do.”
The limousine stopped and Sanchez opened the door. Miserably she followed Eduardo out of the car. Why did he always take things so wrong? Why did he persist in being jealous of Brandon?
Eduardo didn’t even look at her as they walked through the lobby of their building. The hot passion of Central Park seemed to have evaporated like smoke. He pressed the button, and they stood without touching, waiting silently in front of the private elevator.
Then he abruptly turned to face her, his hands clenched.
“I’ve left you alone too long,” he ground out, his eyes dark. “I was trying to give you space to grieve the past and accept your new life. To embrace your future as my wife.” Furiously he seized her in his arms. “But I see I took the wrong path with you. I should have staked my claim long ago.”
Callie stared up at him, her eyes wide with shock. “You can’t—”
Tightening his grip on her, he brought his mouth down on hers in a hard, punishing kiss. Trembling, she tried to push him away, but he was too strong for her. Especially when his lips tasted like sweet fire …