Page 39 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

She pulled away from him, pushing him off her at the same time she jack-knifed off the bed, her face pale, her expression mutinous.

‘How dare you throw insults at me after what we just shared?’ she demanded through teeth that were chattering.

‘We just shared sex,’ he said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Albeit fantastic sex, but it doesn’t change who you are.’

Abby shifted away from him, her eyes seeking her clothes, needing, desperately, to shield herself from him. ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she said, finding her underpants first and sliding them up her shaking legs, grateful for the modesty they afforded.

His short, sharp laugh was a dismissal that twisted her heart painfully in her chest. ‘I know everything I need to know,’ he corrected.

‘Oh? Enlighten me,’ she demanded, finding her jeans and turning them so they were the right side out.

‘I don’t need to enlighten you. You’re not stupid.’

‘Oh, I’m so glad that’s not something you can fault me for.’

Gabe frowned, his expression one of true bemusement. ‘After the way we met, I cannot change how I feel about you, nor what I think you are. But this—’ he gestured to the bed ‘—this is a silver lining.’

‘God—’ she reached for her jumper, holding it in the palm of her hand ‘—you’re such a bastard! You’re cold and ruthless and heartless and so, so cruel. How can you think this marriage will ever work when you speak to me like that?’

‘Have I said anything that’s not true?’

‘You don’t know me,’ she said, frustrated. ‘You don’t even try to know me!’

‘You conned me into bed. Took photos of highly guarded, top-secret blueprints. You planned to pass them off to my competition…’

‘I know all that,’ she said on a small sob. ‘But if you took a second to understand my relationship with my dad…’

‘We all have a history.’ Determination fired his veins. ‘We all have baggage. You allowed yours to control you.’

He was right and she knew it. That angered her even further. She ripped the jumper through the air, shaking it pre-emptively and pulling it on, so she didn’t see the way his face shifted, the way guilt momentarily glanced across his features. Regret too. The way he looked as if he hated that they were arguing and wasn’t sure how to defuse it—to wind back his careless remark so that they were still entwined. Two bodies post-passion.

The sleeve of the jumper flew wide and as Abby jerked it over her head she heard a delicate, unmistakable breaking noise that mirrored the breaking of her heart.

‘Oh, no!’ For she knew immediately what had happened.

She spun around and, sure enough, one of the decorations had crashed to the ground, the other balancing precariously. She pushed it back to safety and then fell to her knees, her fingertips reaching for the tiny, fragile shards.

‘Stop it.’ Gabe swore, jumping from the bed and crouching beside her. But Abby didn’t hear him. She blinked back tears that threatened to fall.

‘Now look what you made me do,’ she snapped, but the words lacked conviction.

‘What is it?’ He batted her hands away as she tried to pick up the pieces but she refused to comply, her fingertips seeking each shard as though she could somehow put them back together again.

‘Stop,’ he said softly, urgently. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself.’

Just as he said it, a piece of glass punctured her skin and a perfect droplet of crimson blood fell to the floor.

‘Damn it.’ He gripped her wrists and pulled her to standing. ‘Sit here.’

He arranged her on the edge of the bed and disappeared into her bathroom. He returned with a wad of tissues, handing them to her. ‘Press them to your skin.’

She pulled a face at his retreating back, refusing to watch while he cleaned up the vandalism of the perfect little decoration.

Only once the floor was clear of glass, the tiny bell resting on the edge of the dressing table, did he come back to Abby. He crouched down in front of her, his eyes holding hers.

‘What was that?’

She sniffed, refusing to meet his eyes.

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