Something shifted in his chest: a slippage; a gear not quite meshing with its cogs.
He shook off the feeling and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.
Angelique rolled over to her back, pressing a hand to her churning stomach. She was due for a period. She had taken herself off the pill months ago because she felt the brand she’d been on was making her put on weight. She hadn’t bothered renewing her prescription because she hadn’t been dating anyone. But she didn’t feel period pain, just this wretched, churning nausea. That near-faint had happened a few times before when she hadn’t eaten enough. But she could hardly use the lack of food as an excuse because she had been eating normally over the last couple of weeks. The thought of not having to bare her body all the time in a bikini was like being let out of prison. She was almost getting excited about the Paris shoot. Almost.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed again and tested her balance. So far so good. Her stomach was uneasy but her head was more or less clear. She padded back to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. She closed her eyes as the water cascaded down and mentally calculated when her last period had been—was it four weeks or five?
She was occasionally overdue; disruptions came with the stress of dieting and travelling.
Anyway, they’d used condoms. The failure rate was miniscule...but enough to be slightly worrying. Terrifyingly worrying.
Angelique put a hand to her concave belly. It wasn’t possible. She wasn’t the type of girl to get herself pregnant. It just couldn’t happen.
She thought of the first time when Remy had taken for ever to withdraw. Had some of his Olympic-strong swimmers sneaked out past the barrier of the condom and gone in search of one of her desperate little eggs?
Oh, traitorous body and even more traitorous hormones!
Panic set in. She felt it clutch at her insides. She felt it move over her skin like a clammy shiver. She felt it hammering in her chest.
She couldn’t be pregnant. She couldn’t be.
Buying a pregnancy test in a village this small was out of the question. She would have to wait until she got to Paris. And then after Paris, baby or no baby, she would have to attend Raoul and Lily’s wedding and pretend everything was normal in front of their family and friends. It seemed so tacky to be attending a romantic wedding when theirs had been so extravagant yet so meaningless.
Angelique felt a pang of envy for Raoul’s bride-to-be, Lily. How excited she must be getting prepared for her wedding. Doing all the girly things to make her day so special. Angelique cringed when she thought of her wedding to Remy. The whole thing had been nothing but a big, overblown sham. She was a fraud. A fake bride. A fake wife. And this was a fake honeymoon.
If she was pregnant would Remy insist on her staying with him for the sake of the child? He would end up hating her for tying him down. He might even end up hating the child.
Angelique bit her lip as she looked in the mirror at her body. For years she had denied her body, punished her body, controlled her body, but now it would not just be hers but the shelter in which her baby—hers and Remy’s baby—would grow and develop.
She could not think of getting rid of it. It was certainly an option and one she felt other women were entitled to make. But it wasn’t for her.
She put a hand to her flat belly. How could it be possible that she and Remy had made a baby? He didn’t even like her.
Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true. He certainly didn’t hate her any more. She had seen him looking at her with lust, longing, amusement, and even annoyance when she got in the last word, but not hatred.
Their relationship had changed over the last three weeks. They still bickered occasionally but it was a sort of foreplay. They were both strong-willed and determined and didn’t like losing an argument or debate.
It was foolish of her to have fallen in love with him but it had happened so long ago it was pointless flagellating herself about it now. She had fallen in love with him at the age of fifteen.
She still remembered the day it had happened. She had gone with her father to Vittorio’s villa for a function. Remy had been home for a visit and he’d been assigned the task of keeping her entertained while her father and Vittorio had a business meeting before dinner. She had been waiting in the home entertainment room, idly leafing through one of her fashion magazines, when Remy had come in. She hadn’t seen him in a year or two. Her heart had quite literally stopped when he had come in. He had been so tall and so staggeringly handsome, with that lazy smile that had travelled all the way to his eyes.
But as soon as she had stood up his smile had disappeared. He’d seemed a little taken aback seeing her dressed in a short denim skirt and a clinging top that revealed a generous amount of cleavage due to the brand-new push-up bra she’d bought.