“You don’t hate me,” he persisted, rising to his feet.
For a moment they stared at each other in the darkened kitchen.
“I don’t hate you,” she agreed sadly. Her eyes were luminous in the shadows of the kitchen’s flickering fireplace as she said bitterly, “But I wish to God I did.”
He shook his head. “But why? You must know that our marriage would be best for our son.”
“It would be a disaster,” she said sharply, “when I know you will soon lose interest in being tied down by the ball and chain of a family. Better you abandon us now rather than later, when Henry is old enough to be hurt by it.” She lifted her chin. “Nor are you the role model I want for my son as he grows into a man!”
That stung. He stiffened with an intake of breath. “I’m not going to let you take my son from me, Carrie,” he said coldly. “You will marry me, whether you wish it or no.”
He saw her tremble. “Théo, be reasonable—”
“I will never let you go,” he bit out. “Accept that fact. Accept your fate.”
He looked down at her plate, at the lavish gourmet meal he’d tried to make that was now burned and inedible. He’d made a mess of dinner, just like his attempt to seduce her into marriage.
But he’d never thought it would be so hard. Angrily, he raked his hand through the back of his hair. How was it possible that the one woman he desired to marry was the only woman on earth who did not wish to marry him?
Carrie cleared her throat, and when she spoke, the tone of her voice had changed—as if she were deliberately trying to lighten the mood. “It’s been strange to have you serve me a meal,” she said softly. She smiled, and her eyes were endless pools of light in the flickering shadows. “Do you remember how we first met?”
He nodded. “I’d never seen any woman so beautiful,” he whispered. “I was mesmerized. I couldn’t take my eyes off you as you served our table.” He grinned. “And then you found out I’d just come from Paris, and you dumped half my food in my lap.”
“It was an accident!” she protested. She sighed. “You know I’ve always dreamed of seeing Paris. The Eiffel Tower, the charming little cafés, everything…” She looked down at her hands. “Someday I’ll see the City of Light. Someday.”
As he looked at her wistful face, a sudden jarring memory passed through Théo’s brain, like the echo of a whisper. It was possible that during their whirlwind affair he might have promised to take her to Paris. In Théo’s opinion, promises made in bed were widely considered not to be real vows—just fantasies used to heighten the pleasure. And yet he felt a certain regret looking down at her. Twice now he had brought Carrie all the way to the South of France, and yet she’d still never seen Paris—the headquarters of his company, only three hours by high-speed train, or less by private jet.
Pushing the uncomfortable thought away, he forced out a laugh. “Whatever the reason, you dropped a whole plate of food in my lap when I was in negotiation with my Japanese associates. Face it. Waitressing is not your true gift, chérie.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Yes. Well…” Her face fell even further. “I don’t need to worry about that now, since I have no job.”
He stared at her unhappy face and felt it again—that annoying pang of guilt. He tried to shrug it away. With his fortune, after they were married Carrie would never need to work again. But, looking at her eyes, he wondered suddenly if she’d had some childhood ambition. Strange that in their time together last year he’d never asked her. But then, during their brief affair they’d rarely managed to spend much time out of bed.
Taking her hand in his own, he leaned forward across the table. “What do you want to do?”
She lifted her eyes. “What will I do?” Her voice was listless. “Find another waitressing job, I suppose.”
“I don’t want to hear about jobs,” he said. “What is your dream?”
“Dream?” She frowned, as if he’d just spoken in a language utterly foreign to her.
Ironic, he thought, when Carrie Powell was the most dreamy, idealistic woman he’d ever met. How funny that he’d have to spell it out for her.
“When you were a child,” he said, “what did you want to be?”
“Oh.” She took a deep breath and her cheeks turned pink. “I never had a dream—not like that. Not really.”
“That can’t be true.”