Page 70 of The Forgotten Wife

Nick looked on in amusement. “I think it’s fair to say Bertrand has missed you.”

“Oui, Madame,” Bertrand agreed. “And may I say how wonderful it is to have you back.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Bertrand,” she said.

“Merci, Madame.” With his usual efficiency, he took charge of their bags and disappeared down the hallway.

Looking around at the place she’d called home for six months, a bolt of shock went through her. Gone were the harsh chrome and black leather seats, the dark carpets, and the severe postmodernist paintings she’d felt very little affinity to. In their place, warm, comfortable sofas, bright scatter cushions, and expensive rugs covered the newly exposed and polished oak floor.

She turned to Nick. “You redecorated?”

He shrugged, but she noticed the quick look cast her way. “You hated the previous décor. You likened it to a playboy’s shag pad, or was it the devil’s bathroom? Something along those lines anyway,” he teased with a smile.

“I don’t recall the exact words, but you may be right,” the imp in her couldn’t resist saying.

He came to stand in front of her, a decidedly nervous look in his expression. “So, do you like it?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On if it’s just this room or the whole apartment,” she said.

“Why don’t you come in and see for yourself?” He held out a hand to her.

He showed her similarly decorated rooms, all done with comfort rather than ostentation in mind. It would’ve pleased her had it not been for memories associated with the master bedroom, the place they’d had that last, almighty row, prior to her walking out.

The room that Nick now led her to.

Her heart skittered, and her legs trembled as she entered, only to stop and gasp in surprise.

The bed was gone; so were the antique bedside furniture and the elegant tallboy which had graced the opposite wall. Gone were the heavy silk curtains that had adorned the floor-to-ceiling windows.

In their place, row after row of exercise equipment stood on a newly varnished floor just like that in the living room. In the exact place where their bed used to be hung the largest punching bag Belle had ever seen. Reaching out, she pushed it, bemused as it swung to and fro.

“Why?” She turned to Nick who had followed her across the room.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t enter this room without thinking of our last argument. I tried to, but I couldn’t sleep here without you.

This is a much better use for it.”

She walked forward and touched a cold dumb bell. “So where will we sleep?”

“Come, I’ll show you.”

The last two bedrooms had been converted into one master suite, complete with giant fireplace, luxurious royal blue carpet, and twin dressing rooms. But what thrilled Belle most was the brand new four-poster bed, similar to the one they’d slept on inAlthea, with its sheer curtains, countless pillows, and a similar blue-and-gold throw gracing the enormous bed.

“Oh, Nick, it’s beautiful,” she exclaimed, turning full circle in the room.

He slid his arms around her, sealed her lips with a lingering kiss, before murmuring, “Only beautiful things will do for my beautiful wife.” He continued to kiss her until they heard Bertrand’s discreet knock.

“Lunch will be served in an hour. And then,Madame, if you please, I will go over the menu for tomorrow’s dinner party with you.” The butler left.

She turned to Nick. “You organized a dinner party without telling me?”

A tinge of colour splashed his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I got a little ahead of myself. In my defence, I put this in place because I

wanted your parents and friends to see you’re all right.”

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