Hot Picks: Secrets And Lies. Dani Collins

her.

      Instead she found herself stumbling across the hall as he dragged her with him. He plonked himself onto the love seat in the parlor and tugged her to sit beside him.

      She was shaking so badly she let it happen and sat beside him in stiff silence, trying to hold her threadbare self together.

      He sat with his elbows on his thighs and his face pressed into his wide hands.

      She reminded herself she’d had weeks to process her pregnancy and the fact it was twins. He’d had, well, she would guess a few hours on the first baby and about ninety seconds on the second.

      Oh, she didn’t want to feel sorry for him! Maybe the idea of being a father was hard for him, but it didn’t change the fact he’d thought awful things about her and hadn’t tried at all to hang on to what they’d had.

      What had they had? she asked herself for the millionth time. Sex. So much sex and yes, a few good laughs and many excellent meals. But while they’d been profoundly intimate physically, on an emotional level he’d held her off in a dozen subtle ways. Two years she had spent banging her head against that reserve of his and yes, she knew things about him like his taste in music and had a handful more facts on his family than the average person did, but he had never let her into his heart.

      How many times had she counseled a girlfriend not to let a man own her soul without giving back a piece of his? Dear God, it was easier to give that advice than take it.

      She reached for a tissue off the side table and blew her nose, fighting to pull herself together. She hadn’t realized how much poison she’d been harboring over all of this. At one point her mother had accused her of punishing Henri by keeping the pregnancy from him and Cinnia had denied it, vehemently.

      Just as she had vehemently done her best to annihilate him in every possible way today, holding off on stabbing him with the fact it was twins so she could do maximum damage when his shields were down.

      Because she was crushed and she wanted him to join her in her anguish. She wanted to know she could hurt him.

      Taking a shaky breath, she started to rise.

      His hand shot out and he kept her on the sofa.

      “I have to use the toilet. It’s nonnegotiable.”

      He released her and she went, then lingered after washing her hands, studying the profile of her body while avoiding her gaze in the mirror.

      She had come from a loving, nuclear family. It was what she had always aspired to have for herself and had never been comfortable as Henri’s mistress. He had called her his friend and his companion, sometimes even his lover, but the lack of emotional commitment had always stung.

      Part of her had wanted to believe Henri did love her deep down, but she had believed Avery had loved her because he had said the words and he hadn’t. Even her first boyfriend, who had possessed her whole heart, had let her down. So she had tried to hold off giving up too much of herself to Henri. Had tried to stay autonomous and strong.

      Still, she had hoped they were moving toward something. When she had turned up pregnant, however, she had had to face how superficial their relationship really was. She hadn’t been able to stay with him at that point, not if she had any self-respect left.

      At the same time, she knew how he would react to a pregnancy. Ties. Short, cold chains and tall, barbed wire fences.

      It wouldn’t be easy to hold herself apart from him while he tried to do what she knew he would want to do: pull her inside his castle and shut the drawbridge. That was why she had held off telling him. She couldn’t be dragged back into his life knowing she meant nothing to him.

      That was why she had to find the strength to continue resisting him now.

       CHAPTER SIX

      THE RATTLE OF china made Henri lift his head.

      Millicent Whitley—Milly—came in with a tea tray. She set it up on the coffee table before him. The only noise was the sound of the dishes, but she made a statement with the force with which she served him.

      He knew that Cinnia had had words with her mother at different times about their relationship and his refusal to offer a ring. Milly had never said a word to him about it, though. She was too wellborn, too possessed of impeccable manners.

      Today, however, she brilliantly conveyed that she would love to see him choke to death on his petit four.

      “Thanks, Mum,” Cinnia said in a subdued tone as she came back.

      “Eat one of the sandwiches,” Milly said to her, pointing at the stack of crustless triangles as she straightened with the now empty tray, adding as she passed her daughter at the door, “You’re behaving like a harridan.”

      “Gosh, I hope I haven’t ruined my chances for a proposal.”

      Her mother shut the door on that comment and Cinnia made a face.

      “How is your health?” Henri asked her, grasping for a lifeline of fact and logic to keep from being blown into the abyss of unknowns circling in his periphery.

      Cinnia blew out a breath that lifted her fringe and came to perch next to him. She reached for a sandwich. “No issues. The weight packs on fast, which is expected. I’m not watching calories, but I try to avoid the empty ones. I’ve started drinking my tea black and I skip things like mayonnaise and sweets.”

      He nodded, watching her bite into what looked like plain tuna with a slice of tomato between two dry pieces of bread. Her lips looked fuller. Plump and kissable.

      “There haven’t been other women.” His voice came out a shade too low.

      She choked, hand going to her mouth before she reached for her tea and took a cautious sip, clearing her throat and flashing him a persecuted look.

      “I’m ready to be civilized, but let’s agree to be honest, shall we?”

      “I had to date, you know I did.” If she was offended that he’d accused her of deliberately getting pregnant, he was insulted that she believed he’d slept with all those women—any woman—since her. “Our breakup was well documented. I couldn’t appear to be carrying a torch, could I? That wouldn’t be safe for you.” He’d been plagued by concerns regardless, teetering on wishing she would find a man to look out for her while passionately hating the idea.

      “Well, you did an excellent job of convincing me you weren’t carrying one.”

      He waited for her gaze to come to his, but she kept her attention on the plate she held.

      Her features were softer and, if anything, prettier for it. More feminine. She wasn’t wearing makeup, her hair was clipped at her nape, but he found her casual elegance as fascinating as ever.

      He wanted her, every bit as much as ever.

      He pushed to his feet, restlessly moving away from temptation. He was still processing that she was pregnant. His brain was not ready to take in twins and he was still very much reeling from the anger she’d thrown at him.

      “There were no other women,” he repeated. “I’m not going to say it again.”

      It was too much of a blow to his ego. He couldn’t screw other women. She wanted them to throw toxins at one another? Fine. He would love to tell her how much he resented her grip on him. He felt like a cheat merely allowing another woman’s hand to rest on his arm. Had he realized that would be a by-product of a long-term, monogamous relationship, he never would have entered into one.

      Damn. He wished that was true, but Cinnia had entranced him from the first time he’d seen her. She still did, sitting there cutting a suspicious glare at him from beneath pulled brows. This connection between them was as base as an alpha wolf imprinted by a mate.

      He