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‘It’s a big step—moving in together, getting married. And it may have seemed more distant, when these things were agreed between us, but time’s moving on. House move next week and then, before you know it, we’re married and a new chapter begins.’
Working her way through the toast, Alice looked at Mateo warily from under her lashes. ‘What does that have to do with you turning up at my leaving party?’ she asked with genuine curiosity.
She felt at a distinct disadvantage. She knew that she was rumpled from having just woken up, and her baggy tee-shirt wasn’t exactly the sort of power outfit required for a conversation that sounded serious.
He, on the other hand, looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in black jeans and a black jumper that fitted him like a glove. Nerves slammed into her and all of a sudden the toast tasted like cardboard.
‘I think I ought to get dressed,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘I don’t think that a bed is the right place for us to be having a serious conversation.’
‘Okay. I’ll wait for you in the living room. Want some more coffee?’
He was already standing as she shook her head and pushed back the duvet. She felt a vice-like grip around her heart. So it was going to be a serious conversation. How much more serious did conversations get than ones that included a marriage proposal—except, perhaps, one where it was retracted?
She waited till he had left the bedroom then had a quick shower and dressed hurriedly in loose jogging bottoms and a loose top, stuff she could move around in, because anything with a waistband was out of the question.
He had deposited a pile of money in an account for her but so far she had bought nothing for herself with any of it, despite his gentle reminders that it wasn’t there to gather cobwebs.
‘I’ve got things for the baby,’ she’d replied vaguely.
He’d laughed and said, ‘The money is for you as well. You’re going to be my wife. You’ll need a wardrobe of clothes that aren’t just serviceable, Alice. Feel free to buy whatever designer things you want, and that includes whatever designer things you find to accommodate your beautiful, growing shape.’
‘That’s a waste,’ she’d responded politely, reminded of the new role her brand new life was going to entail as wife of a billionaire, ‘When they’ll only get used for a matter of a few weeks.’
She emerged into the beautiful, spacious sitting room with an air of quiet defiance.
He was waiting for her. The apartment was completely open-plan with only the bedroom and the bathroom enclosed. Unlike Mateo’s own enormous house, this apartment was modern but informal. It had come furnished with comfortable sofas, and the wooden floor was scuffed but gleaming, proud testimony to all the people who had enjoyed the space.
Alice paused and looked at him for a few seconds, trying to decipher what was going through his head from the thoughtful expression on his face. His beauty never failed to shock her. Maybe that, along with everything else, had piled up on top of her recently, making her pensive and cautious around him.
Had he picked up on that? Was that the reason for his sudden urge to have a serious conversation with her? They’d made love but he hadn’t forgotten that he still wanted to talk to her. Making love wasn’t a panacea that encouraged forgetfulness, not in this instance.
She took a deep breath and joined him, curling up on the sofa next to him and laboriously positioning herself so that she was looking straight at him; he, in turn, did the same.
‘Why am I nervous?’ she opened with a little laugh.
‘Are you?’
‘You’re sitting there as though you’re about to interview me for a position in your company.’
Mateo laughed. ‘I’m struggling to think of anyone who might be less interested in working in my company. Since when have you expressed any interest in the nuts and bolts of what I do?’
‘It’s not because I’m not interested.’
‘Yes, it is, and I like that. I can’t think of anything more boring than coming home to a wife who wants the details of what deals I managed to put away.’
Heartened by that, Alice smiled and relaxed.
‘I suppose,’ Mateo said thoughtfully, ‘as the time goes on I’m curious about...well, to name but one thing...your broken engagement. You haven’t told me a huge amount about that, about what happened there. You’ve mentioned it in passing, and I’ve let it go, but now...tell me what happened?’
Something must have occurred to him and he frowned. ‘I’ve never been a guy who believes in a lot of hand-holding and confidence sharing, but it’s suddenly occurring to me that I’ve shared a lot more with you than you have with me.’
It was an uncomfortable realisation and he flushed darkly and shot her a fulminating, vaguely accusatory look from under his lashes.
‘So?’ he prompted.
‘So it just didn’t work out. It wasn’t that it ended on a bad note. In fact, I can’t really recall what sort of note it ended on—an amicable one. Which is probably why, when I told you about him, told you that it was all very friendly in the end, you immediately concluded that he must have been boring.’
‘Did I conclude that?’