Page 32 of On His Bride's Terms

He looked at her again.

‘But this is different...we’re married.’ Primo gestured to the table full of fruit and tempting pastries. ‘Look at us, having our first breakfast together. Cute.’

There was only the slightest hint of mockery in Primo’s voice.

Faye desisted from making a face, or saying,Don’t get used to it.But she wanted to turn the spotlight on him and asked, as she picked up apain au chocolat, ‘Based on what you told me about your thoughts on marriage and romance, I’m assuming you’ve never been in love?’

Primo took a sip of his own coffee. He shook his head. ‘No. I don’t believe in it. I think people form attachments...have things in common. They like to call it love as a justification for staying together, for choosing one person.’

He looked at her.

‘Youhave been in love.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

FAYEFELTPANICKY. How did he know? What had she told him about her husband?

‘I never told you that.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But your first marriage wounded you more than just on the surface. You were hurt.’

Faye avoided his eyes and picked at the pastry. Eventually she admitted, ‘I thought I was in love with him, but I was just naive.’

‘You were young, and you had a good example from your parents. Why wouldn’t you have hoped for a successful relationship built on more than just strategy after seeing that?’

Faye looked at him. Sometimes she felt a lot older than her years, having gone through a marriage and a divorce and the trauma of becoming infertile. But here with Primo and his non-judgemental acceptance she felt lighter. Somehow...younger again. As if there were still possibilities.

She shook her head at the fanciful notion. Good sex. That was all it was. Addling her brain.

‘Maybe,’ she conceded, and put some of the pastry in her mouth in case she asked any more leading questions.

It didn’t surprise her that he hadn’t been in love, but she didn’t like to admit that she felt a sense of relief. It disturbed her—the thought of someone being able to crack this man’s generally serene exterior.

They managed to eat and finish their coffee companionably enough, but then Faye realised something. ‘My clothes are all in my room, on another floor.’

Primo said, ‘I’ve arranged for the butler to gain access to your room and bring over some things so you can dress.’

Once again he was demonstrating an easy and generous courtesy. It made something swoop dangerously inside her. Chipping away at her defences. Faye felt churlish for insisting on maintaining her own space, but after last night, and how easily he could make her lose herself, it was more important than ever.

She stood up. ‘Thank you for doing that.’

‘They’re in the guest room.’

‘I’ll go back to my room before we head out, if that’s okay? Meet you in the lobby in about twenty minutes?’

‘Sounds good.’

Primo waited for Faye in the lobby. For the first time in a long time he was taking his foot off the unrelenting accelerator.

You mean the first time ever, prompted a little voice.

And it had happened without him really making a conscious decision. A little unsettling to realise now, even if Primo knew that everything was in good hands.

He’d handed over the responsibility for ensuring the smooth transition of absorbing MacKenzie Enterprises into Holt Industries. He knew Faye’s father would be watching everything carefully, and he did trust his man. But still, for someone who had taken up his role as heir to his father and devoted his every waking moment to it for the better part of the last two decades, it was only now he was appreciating the extent to which he’d abdicated his responsibilities. For a woman. When no woman before had inspired any desire to spend more time with her than necessary.

This is different. You’re married. You have to spend time together.

Primo shook his head at himself. He was being ridiculous. Thiswastotally different. He was married to Faye. He had to get to know her. Surely this was to be expected of a marriage? A shifting of priorities into the more personal sphere?

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