her at this point would be unwise. He couldn’t do that to an injured woman, despite his outrage. After a moment he knocked carelessly and walked in, tall and elegant and faintly arrogant, controlling his expression so that he seemed utterly unconcerned.
Which was quite a feat, considering that inside he felt as if part of him had died over the past five years. Melissa couldn’t possibly know how it had been for him when she’d first vanished from the hospital, or how his guilt had haunted him. Despite his misgivings, he’d searched for her, and if he’d found her he’d have made sure that their marriage worked. For the sake of his family’s honor, he’d have made her think that he was supremely contented. And after they’d had other children, perhaps they’d have found some measure of happiness. But that was all supposition, and now he was here and the future had to be faced.
The one thing he was certain of was that he could never trust her again. Affection might be possible after he got used to the situation, but love wasn’t a word he knew. He’d come close to that with Melissa before she’d forced him into an unwanted marriage. But she’d nipped that soft feeling in the bud, and he’d steeled himself in the years since to be invulnerable to a woman’s lies. Nothing she did could touch him anymore. But how was he going to hide his contempt and fury from her when Matthew would remind him of it every day they had to be together?
Chapter Five
M elissa watched Diego come in the door, and it was like stepping back into a past she didn’t even want to remember. She was drowsy from the painkillers, but nothing could numb her reaction to her first sight of her husband in five years.
She seemed to stop breathing as her gray eyes slid drowsily over his tall elegance. Diego. So many dreams ago, she’d loved him. So many lonely years ago, she’d longed for him. But the memory of his cold indifference and his family’s hatred had killed something vulnerable in her. She’d grown up. No longer was she the adoring woman-child who’d hung on his every word. Because of Matthew, she had to conceal from Diego the attraction she still felt for him. She was helpless and Diego was wealthy and powerful. She couldn’t risk letting him know the truth about the little boy, because she knew all too well that Diego would toss her aside without regret. He’d already done that once.
Even now she could recall the disgust in his face when he’d pushed her away from him that last night she’d spent under his roof.
Her eyes opened again and he was closer, his face as unreadable as ever. He was older, but just as masculine and attractive. The cologne he used drifted down to her, making her fingers curl. She remembered the clean scent of him, the delicious touch of his hard mouth on her own. The mustache was unfamiliar, very black and thick, like the wavy, neatly trimmed hair above his dark face. He was older, yes, even a little more muscular. But he was still Diego.
“Melissa.” He made her name a song. It was the pronunciation, she imagined, the faint accent, that gave it a foreign sound.
She lowered her eyes to his jacket. “Diego.”
“How are you feeling?”
He sounded as awkward as she felt. She wondered how they’d found him, why they’d contacted him. She was still disoriented. Her slender hand touched her forehead as she struggled to remember. “There was a plane crash,” she whispered, grimacing as she felt again the horrible stillness of the engine, the sudden whining as they’d descended, her own screaming.
“You must try not to think of it now.” He stood over her, his hands deep in his pockets.
Then, suddenly, she remembered. “Matthew! Oh, no. Matthew!”
“¡Cuidado!”
he said gently, pressing her back into the pillows. “Your son is doing very well. I have been to see him.”
There was a flicker of movement in her eyelids that she prayed he wouldn’t see and become curious about. She
Which was quite a feat, considering that inside he felt as if part of him had died over the past five years. Melissa couldn’t possibly know how it had been for him when she’d first vanished from the hospital, or how his guilt had haunted him. Despite his misgivings, he’d searched for her, and if he’d found her he’d have made sure that their marriage worked. For the sake of his family’s honor, he’d have made her think that he was supremely contented. And after they’d had other children, perhaps they’d have found some measure of happiness. But that was all supposition, and now he was here and the future had to be faced.
The one thing he was certain of was that he could never trust her again. Affection might be possible after he got used to the situation, but love wasn’t a word he knew. He’d come close to that with Melissa before she’d forced him into an unwanted marriage. But she’d nipped that soft feeling in the bud, and he’d steeled himself in the years since to be invulnerable to a woman’s lies. Nothing she did could touch him anymore. But how was he going to hide his contempt and fury from her when Matthew would remind him of it every day they had to be together?
Chapter Five
M elissa watched Diego come in the door, and it was like stepping back into a past she didn’t even want to remember. She was drowsy from the painkillers, but nothing could numb her reaction to her first sight of her husband in five years.
She seemed to stop breathing as her gray eyes slid drowsily over his tall elegance. Diego. So many dreams ago, she’d loved him. So many lonely years ago, she’d longed for him. But the memory of his cold indifference and his family’s hatred had killed something vulnerable in her. She’d grown up. No longer was she the adoring woman-child who’d hung on his every word. Because of Matthew, she had to conceal from Diego the attraction she still felt for him. She was helpless and Diego was wealthy and powerful. She couldn’t risk letting him know the truth about the little boy, because she knew all too well that Diego would toss her aside without regret. He’d already done that once.
Even now she could recall the disgust in his face when he’d pushed her away from him that last night she’d spent under his roof.
Her eyes opened again and he was closer, his face as unreadable as ever. He was older, but just as masculine and attractive. The cologne he used drifted down to her, making her fingers curl. She remembered the clean scent of him, the delicious touch of his hard mouth on her own. The mustache was unfamiliar, very black and thick, like the wavy, neatly trimmed hair above his dark face. He was older, yes, even a little more muscular. But he was still Diego.
“Melissa.” He made her name a song. It was the pronunciation, she imagined, the faint accent, that gave it a foreign sound.
She lowered her eyes to his jacket. “Diego.”
“How are you feeling?”
He sounded as awkward as she felt. She wondered how they’d found him, why they’d contacted him. She was still disoriented. Her slender hand touched her forehead as she struggled to remember. “There was a plane crash,” she whispered, grimacing as she felt again the horrible stillness of the engine, the sudden whining as they’d descended, her own screaming.
“You must try not to think of it now.” He stood over her, his hands deep in his pockets.
Then, suddenly, she remembered. “Matthew! Oh, no. Matthew!”
“¡Cuidado!”
he said gently, pressing her back into the pillows. “Your son is doing very well. I have been to see him.”
There was a flicker of movement in her eyelids that she prayed he wouldn’t see and become curious about. She
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