Delphi stared at him in silence, the word knocking the breath from her lungs. Back in the hospital, when he had stepped into the cubicle, she had actually thought things might be different. He might be different. But nothing had changed. Instead of understanding that her actions had originated out of a need to survive, he saw only a challenge.
But this wasn’t about her pushing him away. It was about self-preservation. It was about her trusting him, and him letting her down. Repeatedly. Day in, day out. Every day a little piece of her had been chipped away. That was why she had left. Because if she’d stayed there would have been nothing left of her.
Only he had no idea of what he’d done. Actually, he didn’t think he had done anything. As far as Omar was concerned, she was the one at fault. She was the one who had reacted—overreacted.
Still blindsided by the injustice of that word, she shook her head. ‘And that’s why you think I left? Because I’m scared of how being with you makes me feel?’ She resisted the impulse to slap his stupidly handsome face. He really was the most monumentally arrogant and selfish man on the planet. ‘Do you know what your problem is, Omar?’
He raised an eyebrow questioningly, as if he hadn’t until now considered the possibility that he might possess one. Probably he hadn’t. For men like Omar, other people were always to blame.
‘You’re so busy building your empire, so obsessed with whatever deal it is you’re making, you don’t ever stop and take a look at yourself. At who you are. And how you behave.’
‘How I behave?’ A muscle tightened in his jaw. ‘I’m not the one who walked out on our marriage without so much as a word of explanation.’
She felt her pulse jerk. Would explaining have changed anything? Perhaps in that moment, yes. Omar would have been devastated to know that she had been pregnant and lost the baby.
There was a heavy feeling at the back of her eyes as she remembered her breathless shock, the hot, wet stickiness of her blood. Yes, he would have been devastated—but then what? People didn’t change—not really, and not for very long. The miscarriage had simply made her face up to the fact that she came and would always come second to his work.
The part of her that had still been hoping for a happy ending had slipped away in that bathroom too. Lying on the cold tiles, she had accepted that there was something wrong with her. Something that meant that a happy ending would always be out of reach.
So Omar was right. There were some truths you couldn’t hide from. They were just talking about different truths.
‘We shared a bed and a ceremony,’ she said flatly. ‘But it takes more than a ring and piece of paper to make a marriage.’
Omar stared down at Delphi’s bare fingers, anger and outrage rippling over his skin in waves. Did she really, seriously think she could lecture him about what made a marriage?
With an effort of will, he held his breath, hung on to his temper. He would deal with the ring later...
‘It’s not just a piece of paper. It’s a legally binding contract.’
She held his gaze. ‘So is divorce.’
He gritted his teeth, wanting to shake her. She had no idea what he’d been through these past weeks. Nor, apparently, did she care, he thought, his gaze searching and failing to find any evidence of remorse in her clear brown eyes. But if she thought she could just toss their marriage away like a broken toy, she was going to be in for a nasty surprise.
Almost as nasty as coming home and finding your wife gone.
‘Marriage isn’t just about the individual and the personal, Delphi. You have obligations to meet, liabilities owed.’
She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Trust you to see marriage as a balance sheet.’
Her words stung. And what had she seen it as? A gamble? A chance to reinvent herself. A trap? He didn’t like the tightness in the chest those thoughts provoked.
‘But you didn’t, did you?’ he said slowly. ‘Trust me, I mean.’
She stilled like a small animal trapped in the beam of a poacher’s torch. For a moment she looked young, even younger than she was, vulnerable, almost fragile, and remembering the accident he felt a stab of guilt. But then his mood hardened as her expression hardened into a scowl.
‘Wisely, as it turned out,’ she said.
‘Here you go.’
Their heads snapped round as one.
The barmaid was back.
He watched, his pulse drumming irritably, as she slid a glass onto the table. Opposite him, Delphi sat stiffly, angled off the seat, one foot arched upwards like a sprinter. Preparing to run again, he thought. Although those spike-heeled sandals were hardly designed for running. More for showcasing her legs.
Not that he needed reminding. He knew every inch of them intimately. A beat of heat skimmed over his skin. And how it felt when she wrapped them around his hips...
Delphi leaned forward, shoulders braced, and then her chin tilted upwards, and he realised that he had been wrong. She wasn’t poised to run. She was waiting to dismiss him. Just like his father had done so many times in his life.