She waited for him to make a comment on the puppy being in their bedroom, which he had effectively banned and she had effectively ignored if he wasn’t in, but instead he asked, ‘What’s the dress for?’
‘The party.’
‘What party?’
‘Dante Moncado’s party tomorrow night.’
He was silent for a beat before asking, ‘How do you know about that?’
‘The invitation was hand-delivered this morning. It was addressed to both of us, so I opened it. I’ve put it on your dressing table.’
He took hold of it and read it silently. Then he put it back down and rubbed his face. ‘We’ve been invited for business purposes. You won’t enjoy it, carina.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘You’re pregnant.’
‘Yes, pregnant. Not dead.’
‘It will be full of rich, posturing idiots. I’ll go on my own, conduct our business and come back.’
Her heart thumped, the warm fuzzy feelings generated by Javier’s brusque insistence that she should follow her dreams squashed back to nothing. ‘Do you know, you haven’t taken me anywhere since we married. Are you ashamed of me?’
‘What a ridiculous thing to say. And I have taken you out.’ He’d taken her to a business dinner where partners had been invited.
‘A business dinner doesn’t count. You haven’t taken me out—out socially.’
‘This is a party I’ve been invited to for the sole purpose of business, not for social reasons.’
‘But it’s an actual party. It says so on the invite. And my name’s on the invite too. I want to go.’
‘I didn’t realise you were a party person,’ he said stiffly.
‘You never asked and we haven’t been invited to any...’ She narrowed her eyes, suspicions rising. ‘Unless you didn’t tell me about them.’
He stared back.
It took such a long time for him to answer that her suspicions became a certainty.
He had turned invitations down without mentioning anything about them to her.
‘I never go to parties,’ he eventually said in the same stiff voice. ‘I don’t drink. Who wants to watch people get drunk and make fools of themselves?’
‘I do.’ She hated that her voice sounded so forlorn and made an effort to strengthen it. ‘If you won’t take me then I really will think you’re ashamed of me.’
Would he have these qualms about taking Freya with him? Sophie wondered.
He’d probably only said all that stuff about her becoming a vet so she would be occupied and out of his hair for the next ten years, she thought bitterly.
It hadn’t crossed her mind that he wouldn’t want to go to the party. She was well aware that her husband was not one of life’s great socialisers but had assumed he would be willing to attend a party being hosted only twenty minutes from their home. Since his return from Cape Town he’d taken to giving her prior warning of meetings and functions he had planned that would take place outside normal office hours. It was a gesture that had given her hope. Slowly their marriage had been starting to feel like a real one. His attitude now put her right back to square one.
He had nothing booked in for tomorrow night.
All she could think was that he didn’t want to show his second-choice wife to his peers.
So proud had he been of having Freya tied to him that he’d thrown a huge party to celebrate their engagement.
He hadn’t invited a single guest to their wedding. They hadn’t had a single guest to their home since they’d married.
‘I am not ashamed of you.’ He groped at his hair.
‘Then prove it and take me,’ she challenged. ‘We don’t have to stay for long. You can conduct your business and I can meet some new people and then we can come back.’
Even Frodo, sitting at her feet, looked at Javier expectantly.
Javier noticed. ‘What about the dog? We can’t take him to a party or give him free rein alone in the house, and you won’t put him in a crate.’
Sensing victory, Sophie smiled and opened the bedroom door. Marsela, the youngest of the household staff and a live-in one to boot, had been cleaning the spare bedrooms a short while earlier. She called for her.
A moment later, Marsela appeared.
Frodo spotted her and bounded over, his tail wagging happily.
‘Have you got any plans tomorrow night?’ Sophie asked.
‘No. I have a date with a box set.’
‘Any chance you could dog-sit Frodo while you watch it?’
Marsela’s eyes lit up. ‘I would love to.’
‘Thank you!’ Turning back to Javier, Sophie fixed him with a stare. ‘So, are we going?’
His face like thunder, he gave a sharp nod, turned on his heel and stormed from the room.
She let him go, her heart battering manically against her ribs.
She could take no joy in her victory, however widely she pasted her smile.
Forcing his hand into taking her made it a hollow one.
* * *
Javier stepped out of the door his driver held open for him, then extended a hand to Sophie.
She took hold of it with a smile of thanks and, careful of her dress, climbed out.
Then she straightened, carefully smoothed her hair, which she’d styled into loose curls, and said, ‘I think this is the part where we go in.’
He breathed deeply and gave a nod. ‘Prepare yourself. Everyone will be watching you.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said with a brittleness to her tone he’d never heard before.
He would learn soon enough if she was right.
She certainly looked the part.
When she’d appeared from the dressing room, it had taken everything he had to stop his mouth gaping open like a simpleton.
The light had shone behind her, making her glow like an angel.
Her floor-length dress, navy-blue mesh lace, low cut at the top to skim her ever-growing cleavage and puffing out at the hips, fitted her as well as if it had been made bespoke for her.
A more perfect vision of glowing beauty he had never seen.
The thought of lecherous eyes soaking in her beauty for their own delectation had made him feel like a thousand bugs were crawling over his skin.
He’d wanted to pull that dress off and make love to her so thoroughly that his scent would be marked in her, a warning to all others to not even look let alone touch.
It had been a fearsome thought that had him clenching his hands into fists and walking out of the bedroom before he could act on it.
They had not exchanged a solitary word on the drive over.
Resting a hand lightly to her back, he led her through the old, exclusive apartment building, where a concierge escorted them to the elevator that would take them to Dante’s new penthouse.
The huge, open-plan space the party was being hosted in was already filled with guests.
The buzz of chatter increased in volume and excitement