Martinez's Pregnant Wife. Rachael Thomas

divorce.’

      He turned and walked away from her and she watched him, watched the rigid line of his shoulders as he looked out over the river Thames. She couldn’t move even though somewhere deep inside her she wanted to, wanted to go to him, tell him she loved him that it was enough for her. But it wasn’t. She’d tried that.

      ‘I grew up in Seville.’ He turned to face her and she wondered where this was going. They’d never really discussed their past, their childhood. They’d always lived for the moment, which had suited her perfectly.

      ‘So how—?’ She stumbled over the question that came to mind after having read the story in the newspaper. ‘Your father?’

      ‘How did he have two families and neither knew about the other? Because my mother and I were in Seville and his other family, his wife and legitimate son, were in Madrid. It’s only now I realise why we moved to Madrid when I was a young boy, why my mother thought it best to leave behind her family and follow him—my father.’

      She blinked a few times and took a deep breath as a wave of nausea threatened. ‘I hope my child never goes through anything like that.’

      The words were out before she could stop them. The pain of her childhood blending with the hint that his had been far from filled with love and happiness.

      ‘Then we want the same things, Lisa. A happy home for our child.’

      She turned from him, frowning as questions cascaded over her like a torrent of floodwater. He made it sound as if he wanted to give them a chance, to build a happy marriage for their child, but how could that be when she knew he didn’t love her and, worse, that he didn’t want to be loved?

      The heels of her boots made a soft tap as she walked away from him, excruciatingly aware of his gaze following her, taking in every move she made, as if he could read every question, every doubt she had and was preparing his answers, his arguments.

      She turned and looked at him. ‘We don’t have to remain married to give a child that.’

      He walked toward her, long strides that brought him far too close to her. ‘We owe it to our child to try.’

      Her heart ached. He’d said nothing about them. She shook her head slowly. ‘No, Max.’

      He touched her cheek, the palm of his hand warm, and she sucked in a deep breath. ‘We had something good once, Lisa, something that brought us back together and created a child—our child.’

      Her heart thumped. Stupidly she thought he was referring to love and to her dismay her eyes fluttered closed, hope filling her.

      ‘That passion is still there, is it not?’ Her eyes flew open, not because of the heavy accent of his words, which reminded her of those intimate moments when she could easily fool herself that he loved her, but because of what he considered to be between them.

      ‘Passion isn’t enough.’ Her hot retort did little to deflect the charm that this man was renowned for.

      ‘But it’s something.’

      She looked away, desperate to break the heady contact of his dark eyes. Beyond the small but well-equipped office she looked through the window and out over London lying beneath dark heavy clouds. She was about to turn back to him, to tell him that maybe he was right, when papers on his desk caught her attention.

      The petition for divorce. On top of the acknowledgement form lay a pen, as if he’d been interrupted in the process of signing it.

      * * *

      Max followed her gaze and looked at his desk, seeing a story he knew she would quickly piece together. The pen lying where he’d dropped it as he’d answered the phone call from his half-brother, Raul, which had thrown everything into disarray—and that had only been the beginning.

      Then he’d been poised ready to sign the papers, to end a marriage he’d made in haste, but even before the ringtone of his phone had slashed through his thoughts he’d been unable to do it. Unable to make it so very final.

      ‘You were going to sign them,’ Lisa said softly as she looked back to him, and the pain in her eyes clutched at him, stabbing his conscience.

      The truth of it all was that even before the phone call his hand had hovered over the form, ready to sign but not able to. Still the shock of receiving them cut deeply. He’d failed. Just like his father, he’d been unable to be the man he’d promised to be.

      ‘Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?’ He deflected her question, throwing one back at her, and he knew that if he stood any chance of being in his child’s life he had to get Lisa to understand that they needed to remain married.

      ‘Yes,’ she said, but the hint of hesitation told him he was finally winning. ‘It was.’

      ‘And now that you are carrying my child? Do you still want me to sign them?’ He moved away from her, wanting to give her space to think but more importantly to take away the temptation to kiss her.

      He looked out over London, the tension in the room notching up as her silence lengthened. He went to his desk, turning the papers round to face him and picked up the pen.

      He looked at her, saw the way she bit at her lower lip, her focus on his hand. ‘The baby changes nothing, Max. We should never have married.’

      ‘But we did,’ he said as he put down the pen and stood tall, his arms folded across his chest. Anything to stop himself from going to her, from trying to kiss some reason into her. She was his wife and the thought of her moving on, of her meeting someone new, lashed at him like icy rain.

      ‘I don’t want a reluctant father for my child, Max.’

      He drew in a deep breath as her words hit at his biggest insecurity. ‘Then we agree on that at least because I want to be there for my son or daughter all the time. Which is why I want to give our marriage another chance.’

      ‘We already know we don’t work.’

      ‘I’ll make a deal with you, Lisa. We give the marriage one last chance. We live as a married couple for the next two weeks and if by New Year’s Eve you still feel the same, I will not contest the divorce and we can both start our lives again.’

      * * *

      ‘Why?’ she asked, her brows furrowing in suspicion. ‘You don’t love me. You told me that in no uncertain terms.’

      Lisa looked at Max as his eyes met hers across the small space of his office. Her heart flipped over and her stomach fluttered just as it always had done when he’d looked at her like that. For her it was all about being in love, but for him it was something different.

      ‘Because we have created a child, our child, and we owe it to that child to at least try.’ His words confirmed her thoughts. This was about his conscience, about doing the right thing.

      She’d never wanted a divorce. Not because she couldn’t admit they’d made a mistake, but because she still loved him. It had been his cold and cruel words after their passionate night that had prompted her to tell him that morning she wanted a divorce and the pain had stung long enough to ensure she’d eventually seen it through.

      ‘Our night together should never have happened.’ She turned and glared at him, pushing down her softer side, the one that wanted to fall into his arms and take anything he was offering. She might have been able to do that once, but not any more, not now she had a child to think of.

      ‘So why did it, Lisa?’ His voice was deep, gravelly and very sexy.

      She bit down hard, keeping the truth inside. There was no way she was ever going to let him know she still loved him. She’d thought her dreams had all come true at once when she’d first met Max and giving up on her dreams was hard. Too hard.

      ‘Far too much wine.’ She snapped the words she’d used earlier and turned, leaving the small office and the air that was full of the scent of Max. She couldn’t stay here any more, not when