Her features pale. "So, Iamright."
"I admit, now that we’ve fucked, our body language is different. It helps to come across as more genuine to everyone, but that’s not why I planned the evening last night. I wanted to do it for you. I wanted to make it special for you."
"And I don’t understand why. This entire thing is a contract, nothing more."
"But what if it isn’t? What if it’s the start of something else? What if—" I scan her features. "I want it to be something more."
"You mean, like a real marriage?"
"I mean, like a real partnership. You saw how combustible we are in bed and how compatible we are out of it. What if, instead of going through alternative means, we make a child the old-fashioned way?"
Something shifts behind her eyes. "I see. This is about your heir." She laughs. "Of course it is. It’s one of the clauses of your father’s will, after all."
"I’ve never hidden that. But given everything that’s happened between us, I don’t see the point of going through artificial means of having a child. Also," —I lean in closer until our eyelashes tangle— "it would be so much more pleasurable, don’t you think?"
Her lips part. An array of emotions sweeps across her features. Lust, need, then regret.
"No." She takes a step back.
I blink. "No?"
She shakes her head. "I don’t want a future with you. I don’t think we’re compatible. We come from very different backgrounds, and I value my independence. Given how strong a personality you have, I’d be smothered in any relationship with you. It’s why I think it’s best we don’t sleep together again. And we stick to our original agreement of things being strictly business from now on."
My guts churn. It feels like that ten-ton truck that slammed into my chest yesterday, which I thought I’d shaken off, is back. And this time, driving back and forth over my prostrate body, ensuring my annihilation.
I grip her by her shoulders and haul her up to her tiptoes. "Look into my eyes and tell me you didn’t feel something last night. That you weren’t as affected as me by our making love. That it didn’t mean anything to you."
"It meant nothing to me. I wasn’t affected by it. I didn’t feel anything." She glances away, then back at me.
"At least learn to lie better."
"I’m not lying."
I bare my teeth. "I so fucking don’t believe you, Isla. Why’re you resisting the chance for us to have something together? Why’re you turning your back on what could turn out to be the thing that’s missing from both of our lives?"
"What’s missing from my life is that I don’t have my independence anymore." It would make more sense for her to complain that she will never have her independence again because she's being forced to have a baby she never planned to have and now she'll be tied down to it forever. But not to him, because he'll be a reminder of what she had to give up.I tighten my hold on her and glance between her eyes. "What are you scared of, Isla? What’s got you running at the first signs of genuine intimacy?"
"It’s you. I don’t want to be with you, Liam. Is that so difficult to understand? I don’t want another woman’s castoff."
Hurt pounds at my temples. Anger claws at my insides. She doesn’t mean it. She’s saying it to hurt me, so I’ll push her way. A part of me insists that, but I disregard it.
"So, this is it then? This is what you want? For us to have a strictly contractual relationship from now on?"
She nods. Her features are set. There’s no hint of emotion in her eyes. I want to believe she’s hiding her genuine feelings, but right now, I can’t see evidence of it.
"Fine."
"Fine."
22
Isla
"You okay?"
Zara shuts off the treadmill and wipes her face with the towel slung around her neck.
"I’m good." I return to perusing my phone with the treadmill set at a low speed where I can both walk—and pretend to exercise—as well as reply to the emails which I was sure would have flooded my inbox overnight. Unfortunately, it turns out none of my vendors are missing me, given they are taking instructions from the people Liam assigned to take over the wedding planning operations from me.