The last sentence was like driving a knife into her already torn-up gut. “But you’re not with her anymore because of me?”
His gaze collided with her. “Because you’re pregnant with my child.”
Kim flinched.
“When I learned of your wedding I was furious. Marissa didn’t like my reaction. She gave me an ultimatum. I had to finish things with you if I wanted a life with her.”
“But that means you...” She blinked. “You didn’t come to the island to sed...to sleep with me?” She corrected herself at the last minute.
The arrogant resolve in his eyes dissolved and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“No. I wanted to see you one last time, to show you what I had become. To throw the divorce papers in your face and walk away. Instead I saw you and lost my mind again.”
Bitter disappointment knuckled her in the gut. How pathetic was it that she felt cheated because Diego hadn’t come to find her for some elaborate revenge scheme? That she hadn’t merited even that much of his energy?
Exactly as she hadn’t with her own mother.
She bit out a laugh. It was either that or dissolve into tears. “And I fell pregnant and ruined your plans...and hers.”
He shot up from the couch and materialized in front of her. “It would be so much easier if I could blame you, but we were both there.”
“Oh please. Will you stop with the whole honorable act? I would much prefer seeing the hatred in your eyes than looking for things that are not there.”
“I hurt her, Kim. Not you. The one thing she asked of me was to finish things with you. Because of my insane obsession with you, because of my refusal to leave you alone—” every word out of his mouth reverberated with bitter disgust, and the depth of it slammed into her “—I...I broke her heart, and there’s no way to fix it. I have to live with that guilt my entire life.”
He stepped away from her as though he couldn’t bear to be near her now Marissa had been mentioned, as though even looking at her compounded his guilt.
“I’ll send Anna down. She will look after Jennie,” he said, halting with his hand on the doorhandle. “Make sure you eat something and get some sleep. Think of the babies, if nothing else.”
She sank to the couch as he closed the door behind him. She had hated him for setting her up, for ruthlessly walking away, but he had paid the price for their reckless passion just as she had.
She wished with every cell in her being that he was the ruthless man she had thought him. Because the man he was underneath—kind and thoughtful—how was she supposed to resist him?
He could have thrown her ineptitude in her face, laughed at her fears. Wasn’t that why she had been stewing in it by herself? But he hadn’t.
He had held her, hugged her, tried to make her feel better. He had been genuinely concerned for her. He could make it so easy for her to depend on him, to bask in his concern, to fall deeper and deeper...
That was if she wasn’t already in exactly the situation she had fought so hard against.
Her legs shook as she hugged herself. She needed Diego in her life. No, she wanted Diego in her life. But the gnawing, terrifying truth was that nothing but his honor was keeping him there.
Nothing about her was keeping him there.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS, WITHOUT doubt, a sex party.
Diego had no other name for it. His thoughts had swung from mild curiosity to full-blown agitation when a six-foot bouncer had checked his ID at the entrance and announced that admittance cost ten thousand dollars.
He had spent the better part of the evening trying to find Kim. It was half past ten now, and this was where her colleague had finally directed him to.
The party was in full swing in a two-floor Manhattan loft that had taken him several phone calls to locate. He scowled and moved past a waitress dressed in a French maid’s costume serving hors d’oeuvres.
Soft, sultry music streamed through the richly carpeted foyer from cleverly hidden sub-woofers. Pink neon lights strategically placed on the low ceiling bathed the lounge, illuminating the retro-style furniture and a bar. It was very elegantly done, with a high-class Parisian feel to it.
The lower floor was dotted with futons against the retro chic walls, and in the corner a thin, exotically dressed woman was working massage oil into a naked man’s back. On the other side of the full bar was a huge dance floor, where at least twenty men and women were softly bumping into one another.
He gritted his teeth and loosened his tie. What the hell was Kim doing here? Was this to compensate for the vulnerability she hadn’t been able to hide yesterday? Or was it an act of defiance to rile him up because he had organized her day today?