She didn’t care about his wealth or his power. But she wanted to matter to someone, to be the most important thing in their life. And that someone was Thierry. Because that was how she felt about him. Once she’d have settled but now she didn’t want to make do. She wanted everything.
But he didn’t believe in love. Would he ever? If he did, would it be for her or some woman from his own set, privileged and sophisticated?
Bile rose, and she almost choked.
‘Are you all right?’ The concern in his eyes was real.
Thierry did care. Just not enough.
‘Fine,’ she croaked, reaching for the sparkling water on the tray. She had to hold the glass in both hands so as not to spill it, but at least that gave her something to concentrate on other than Thierry’s piercing gaze.
She felt his scrutiny like a touch. He wanted an answer.
What was she going to do? Flounce home and give up any chance he might, over time, begin to care for her as she did him? Or stay here like some charity case, making do with what he handed out, maybe breaking her heart little by little each day?
The mineral water tasted unbearably metallic, and she put it down with a grimace.
‘Maybe I won’t have anything to eat after all.’
‘You’re unwell? Morning sickness?’ Thierry whipped away the tray, getting off the bed to put it on a nearby table. Imogen’s breath eased out in a sigh of relief. She needed space to think.
‘I’m a little out of sorts.’ After one swift glance at his frown she looked away, watching her hands smooth the rumpled sheet. How had she gone from ecstasy to misery in such a short space of time?
It wasn’t as if he’d led her on. He’d been marvellous. It was all her own doing, because she’d made the mistake of believing the fantasy. Because she loved him.
‘I’ll get you some herbal tea.’
‘No. Nothing, thanks.’ She doubted she’d keep anything down.
‘Lie down then and I’ll stay here till you sleep.’
‘No!’ Her head shot around to find him staring at her curiously. ‘No, there’s no need.’
See? He was caring. The sort of man any woman would want, even if he didn’t love her. Was she crazy to wish for more?
She must be. Why would a man born to his world of privilege and power fall for someone as ordinary as her?
A warm hand closed around hers. He stood beside the bed, so close she had to crick her neck to meet his eyes. They were unfathomable, deep and steady, yet she felt the intensity of his stare through every part of her being.
‘So you’ll stay, Imogen? You agree?’
She imagined tension in his voice. Clearly, she was projecting her own emotions.
‘I...’
‘You won’t regret it. We’re good together; you know it.’
Good. There was that word again.
She didn’t want good. She wanted spectacular, amazing, special. She wanted love.
She gnawed at her lip, torn between fighting for what she wanted and the craven impulse to take whatever Thierry offered. She wasn’t sure she’d like the woman she’d become if she did that.
‘Stay, Imogen.’ His voice was compelling, his hold tight.
She swallowed hard. ‘I’ll stay. For now. Let’s see how it goes.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEE HOW IT GOES.
She was going to see how it went.
As if he were on probation!
Thierry frowned, flipping another page of the contract before realising he hadn’t taken in a word.
Disgusted, he shoved his chair back from the desk.
His ability to concentrate, even in a crisis, had always been one of his strengths. It had saved his hide more than once on long-distance motor rallies and while climbing. It had been one of the few assets he’d had in the early days when he took on this business.
Until today concentrating on what needed to be done hadn’t been a problem. Even when he’d yearned for the wind in his hair and a far more physical challenge than that presented by corporate negotiations. He’d always given his all to the job at hand, knowing the sooner he solved a problem and moved on, the sooner he’d be free.
Nowadays he even found satisfaction in developing and expanding the business, finding new opportunities.
Not today.
A month today since Imogen had agreed to stay and see how it goes.
A month and no resolution.
He felt like he was on trial.
He surged to his feet and stalked to the window, staring at the blue sky that mocked his mood. He felt dark, stormy and miserable.