His face contorted. He held up his forefinger as if to gesticulate before shaking his head. ‘I will not be made a fool of in my own home, Flora.’
And then he stalked away, leaving Flora staring at his retreating figure in shock.
How was she supposed to have made a fool of him? If anyone had been made a fool of it was her. There was no way Ramos would return four days early from a work trip and not inform the household. No one, including him, had seen fit to tell her, his so-called wife.
Once they were both dry, she took Benjamin to the kitchen for some lunch. She’d recently started weaning him, something he’d taken well to, but today he kept his mouth tightly closed and shook his head so wildly she couldn’t get the spoon near his mouth, never mind in it.
Flora understood his fractiousness. She felt it herself, her own fractiousness rising when she heard footsteps approach.
‘Shall I try?’
She took a deep breath before jutting her chin and acknowledging Ramos’s presence.
He’d changed out of his business suit, now wearing a pair of tan canvas shorts and a short-sleeved black shirt opened at the neck. He looked and smelled as fresh and gorgeous as if he were about to step into a photoshoot for a magazine specially featuring hunky, virile men, and her senses were totally overwhelmed with the potency of the whole Ramos package.
It only made her more conscious of her changed figure, and she thought miserably of the Vegas showgirls and other beautiful women he’d have just been surrounded by.
She wished she’d brought some clothes down with her and used the outside changing rooms to change into them. She wouldn’t feel at such a disadvantage now, with only a beach towel hiding her ugliness.
Ramos’s features were more relaxed than they’d been by the pool but his stare was still dark with anger when he trained it on her. It softened when he turned to their son.
Perching himself onto a stool next to Benjamin’s high chair by the huge kitchen island, he chucked their son under the chin and spoke to him in Spanish before reaching for the plastic bowl with the mashed banana in it.
Benjamin opened his mouth and let the spoon go in.
Flora didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Ramos lifted his gaze to her and dismissively said, ‘I will finish feeding him. Go and put some clothes on.’
As Benjamin’s back was to her she had no compunction in hitting Ramos with her most lethal stare, then sucked it away to kiss her son’s cheek before finding even more venom to throw at the man who called himself her husband.
Fury propelled her up the stairs and to the sanctuary of her room.
How the hell did Ramos have the nerve to talk to her like that? To treat her like that?
He thought he wanted to talk toher? Oh, he’d better wait. It was nothing on what she wanted to say tohim.
Wriggling her way out of her swimsuit, she stomped past the rolltop bath and into her shower room without looking at her naked reflection. She hated looking at herself nude. Hated it.
When she’d been pregnant, she’d loved the changes pregnancy had made to her body. Even when she’d been at her biggest with permanently swollen feet and ankles she’d seen it as a rite of passage, leading to the day she met her child.
Now, whenever she caught sight of her post-pregnancy body, her stupid brain conjured up the women she’d seen pictured on Ramos’s arm over the years, a parade of beauties with perfect complexions and perfect curves. Imagined Miranda, the impossibly beautiful woman who’d hung on his every word over that excruciating—for Flora—breakfast eleven years ago.
She wished she didn’t care that he’d seen her nearly naked. Wished she didn’t care how repelled he must have been to see the changes pregnancy had wrought.
And she wished she knew what had made him so angry.
She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
She was in her dressing room wearing only her knickers and bra, dithering over which dress to wear, when her bedroom door opened.
Her room was similar in design to Ramos’s. Off the main sleeping area were two archways set at a right angle. One was the gateway to her bathrooms, the other to her dressing room. Heavy drapes could be closed to give privacy if wanted. Flora had never needed to close the drapes because Ramos rarely came in her room and when he did, he always knocked first and waited permission.
Whipping around, she saw the tall figure emerge. She yanked the closest item to hand off the rail to cover herself with, and scurried to the wall hidden from his view.
‘Get out!’ she half squealed, half shouted.
A deep, disembodied voice called back in a grim tone. ‘After we have talked.’