“Can’t happen again.”
Her words stopped him cold. “What?”
It almost hurt to watch the change that came over her. The coldness that eclipsed the lingering passion in her eyes. The straightening of her shoulders as she pulled away from him. The firming of her lips as she stood, smoothed her skirt and sat down on the other chaise.
That a woman could box him up and push away so neatly after such a heated, passionate encounter—in the middle of the damned ocean—and then react with all the cool efficiency of a military general rubbed him raw.
That that woman was also carrying his child made the wound especially grievous.
“I’m sorry, Alejandro. I kissed you first and started our...that is—”
“Our lovemaking?”
He hadn’t thought it possible, but her face grew harder.
“Don’t call it that.”
If he hadn’t just held her in his arms, felt her come apart beneath his lips, he would never have thought the ice queen sitting before him capable of the passion she’d just displayed.
But she had. Others might confuse this withdrawal for her being rude, or even a “stone-cold bitch,” as he’d heard one waiter snap at an event when Calandra had taken him to task for showing up late in wrinkled clothing. Was he the only one who had glimpsed her pain? The only one who had seen her staunch loyalty to those she believed in, like Suzie and her culinary students?
“What would you like me to call it?”
“A mistake.”
It wasn’t just his pride that she hurt. No, those two words crawled beneath his skin and lodged somewhere near his heart, seeping into his body with a black, poisonous pain that made him question himself.
Not enough.He’d wondered over the years what it would be like to surrender his playboy image, to settle into a relationship. Most marriages in his world were power plays. But that hadn’t stopped the curiosity, nor the loneliness that sometimes invaded after he left yet another bed at the crack of dawn. A hell of his own making, but one that had grown tiresome.
Yet he’d never wanted to risk trying. Who was he without his money, his power, his reputation? The women who had expected more from him hadn’t wantedhim. They’d wanted his lifestyle, possessions, notoriety.
Until Calandra. The woman who had given herself to him, then turned around and presented him with yet another gift. Who made him want more, to be more.
And then crushed him before he could even try.
He smiled, the distant smile he’d perfected over the years. She blinked, some of the glacial condemnation slipping from her face.
“Alejandro, I—”
“You’re absolutely right.” He nodded at the lights of Marseille on the horizon. “I might enjoy seducing women all over the world, but on the deck of a ship when we could have been caught was crass to say the least.”
She started to reach out, to settle her fingers on his arm, but he stood and stepped out of reach.
“I hope this incident hasn’t ruined my chances of being involved with our child.”
She shook her head. Her eyes gleamed, and for a moment his commitment wavered. Were those tears?
Doesn’t matter.
“No. And I’m sorry, Alejandro.”
He bowed his head before she could say anything else. “Me, too. I took advantage of you.”
“No!”
“Yes. It won’t happen again.” He turned and walked away. She’d done it to him twice now. Once in New York, and once on the deck of his own yacht.
It probably made him cruel, no better than his father. But he couldn’t stop the grim satisfaction that settled in his bones as his footsteps carried him farther away from the one woman who he had realized, too late, held too much power over him.