While the movie played, Daniella emptied almost an entire bottle of wine by herself and then expressed her appreciation for the rose-petal bath the night before with a great deal of creativity. By the time the credits rolled, Leo couldn't have stated his own name under oath.
The whirlpool of Daniella had well and truly sucked him under and he could no longer pretend he was taking the weekend off for any other reason than because he physically ached when he wasn't with her.
He didn't want to pick work over her. Or vice versa. If there was a more difficult place to be than between a woman and ambition, Leo didn't want to know about it. Not just any woman, but one who tilted his world and righted it in the same breath. And not just ambition, but the culmination of banishing childhood fears and achieving adult aspirations.
Sunday, after the last round of sleepy morning indulgence Leo would permit himself to experience for a long, long time, Daniella kissed him soundly and retrieved a flat package from under the bed.
"For me?" An odd ping of pleasure pierced his chest as she nodded, handing it to him.
He tore off the plain brown wrapping to reveal a framed sepia-toned drawing.
"It's one of da Vinci's," Daniella explained quietly. "You probably know that."
He did. Reverently, he tilted the frame away from the light to reduce the glare. It was one of his favorites, a reproduction of da Vinci's earliest drawing of the Arno Valley. "The original hangs in the Uffizi. Thank you. What made you think of this?"
"Da Vinci was more than a painter. He invented. He drew. He was a sculptor and a mathematician. And, like, four other things I've forgotten." With a small laugh, she tugged the frame from his grasp and laid it on the bed, then took his hand. "He was so much more than the Mona Lisa. Like you're more than Reynolds Capital Management. I wanted you to know I see that."
The gift suddenly took on meaning of exponential proportions. And he wasn't sure he liked it. "Are you angling for me to show you something I drew?"
The exposure of such a thing was inconceivable. Drawing was for him alone. No one else. It would be like slicing open his brain and allowing his deepest secrets to flow out, then trying to stitch the gray matter back together. It would never heal quite right. There'd always be a scar and the secrets would be out there in the world, unprotected.
"I would have asked if that's what I was after."
"What are you after, then?"
Her expression softened. "No nefarious motives. All my motives are right here." Crossing her heart with an index finger, she sought his gaze, her irises as deep and rich as melted chocolate.
"What does that mean?"
"What do you think it means, Leo?" She smiled. "I gave you the picture because I love you and want to express that in tangible ways."
His insides shuddered to an icy halt.
I love you.
It echoed in his head, pounding at the base of his skull. Where had that come from? No one had ever said that to him before. Well, except his mom.
Oh, dear God. His overtly romantic mother would have a field day with this. Leo's arranged marriage had just blown up in his face. His wife had fallen in love with him.
What was he supposed to say in response?
"You can't drop something like that on me out of the blue."
"I can't?" She sat up, covers-and her state of undress-forgotten. "How should I have led up to it, then?"
He unstuck his tongue from the desert the roof of his mouth had turned into. "I mean, you didn't have to say it at all. That's... We're not-" He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to corral his spooked wits before he told her the truth. That he'd liked the sound of those words far more than he would have expected. "That's not the kind of marriage we agreed to."
She recoiled and quickly composed her expression, but not before he saw the flicker of hurt. "I know that. It doesn't erase my feelings. You're a kind, generous man who makes me happy. We spent a romantic weekend together and you kind of pushed me over the edge after Tommy called and you blew him off. Wouldn't you rather I be honest with you?"
Not really, no. Not when it involved sticky emotions he couldn't fathom. Dangerous emotions. Wonderful, terrible emotions that quaked through him. Love was a hell of an indulgence and he could hardly comprehend the ramifications of her blithe announcement.
But it was out there and he couldn't ignore it. Like he couldn't ignore the corkscrew through his gut over what he had to do next. "Since you're such an advocate of honesty, I lost a couple of deals over those fantasies I couldn't get out of my head. I spent the weekend with you so I could go back to work on Monday and finally concentrate."
The pain radiating from her gaze sliced through his chest like a meat cleaver.
Get some distance before you hurt her even worse.
He couldn't reach for her. He wanted to. Wanted to tell her it was all a big lie and I love you was the sweetest phrase in the English language. It almost made the Tommy-free weekend worth it and that scared him the most. Because he might do it again.
Curling his fingers under, he said the most horrible thing he could think of.
"The rose petals weren't intended to seduce you into falling in love. It was an exorcism."
One that had just failed miserably. His wife had fallen in love with him. It was all over her face, in her touch. Had been for some time and he'd only just realized how much he liked it on her.
Worse, he had to pretend that her words hadn't lodged in his heart. That his soul wasn't turning them over, examining them from all angles and contemplating grabbing on with all its might. Whispering seductive ideas.
It could be like it was this weekend forever. Forget about work, not your wife. You don't have to surface. Not really.
Said Satan about the apple.
Love was the decisive destroyer of security, the ultimate quicksand that led to the ghetto, and he would not fall prey to the temptations of his weaknesses. He would not become his father. No matter how hard it was to force out the words.
"We have a marriage of convenience, Daniella. That's all."
"I understand," she whispered, and nodded once without looking up from her folded hands.
She wasn't going to slap him and storm out. The relief he'd expected to feel didn't materialize. Instead, the juggling act had grown exponentially harder. Now he had the Herculean task of continuing to push her away so she didn't utter I love you in his presence again. He couldn't take that raw devastation on her face, knowing that he was hurting her, knowing that he'd hurt her even more later if he slipped and said it back.
And neither would Leo allow Dax to be right. He still had his edge and that wasn't ever changing.
Eleven
The pill was so tiny. How could such small packaging prevent such a huge thing like pregnancy?
Dannie stuck the birth control pill in her mouth and swallowed, the action serving the dual purpose of getting it down her throat and keeping the tears at bay. The pill was both functional and symbolic. Not only was she preventing pregnancy, but she was giving up on grand, sweeping passion and love. Forever.
Her heart was too bruised to imagine having a baby with Leo. Not now. Maybe at some point in the future she'd get those images of him smiling tenderly at their child out of her head. Leo didn't have an ounce of tenderness in him.
Okay, that wasn't true. He had it, he just used a great deal of judiciousness in how and when he allowed it to surface. She couldn't willingly give birth to a child who would one day want his or her daddy's attention. No child deserved to be fathered by a man who refused to participate in his own life.
Scratch a baby off the list. Yet another sacrifice she'd make. She understood people didn't always get their heart's desire. But she'd about run out of dreams for her non-fairy-tale real life to strip away.
She'd had an entire weekend to show Leo how wonderful their marriage could be. And she'd failed. He didn't find the idea of opening his heart to her the least bit appealing. In her most spectacular screwup to date, she'd assumed they'd grow to care for each other. Maybe not at the same rate, but they'd eventually catch up, right? It had never occurred to her he'd refuse to show even a tiny bit of affection for his wife.