To do it again would be a catastrophic mistake.
“I want it back,” she clipped, barely controlling her careening emotions.
“It’s not coming back. It’s gone. New furniture will be delivered tomorrow.”
“On a Sunday?” she hissed in disbelief. Hardly anyone did anything on a Sunday in England, except eat a Sunday roast and, perhaps, do a touch of gardening.
Nate shrugged.
Of course, the omnipotent Nate McAllister with his seven million pounds could get anyone to do anything he wanted.
She lost control of her careening emotions and what’s more, she didn’t care.
“I want you out of my house,” she ordered, her eyes blazing, her body rigid with fury.
“We’re going to dinner,” Nate stated matter-of-factly as if she’d just stop, deflate, give in and say, “Oh, okay, whatever you wish.”
At this she lost her mind.
“We are not going to dinner. You may take Tash to dinner but we are not doing anything,” she yelled.
“I already told Natasha we’re all going to dinner. She’s looking forward to it.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d moved in the barest inch. She remained exactly where she is.
“Well, then, I guess you’re going to learn the painful lesson of telling your daughter she can’t have something she desperately wants because I’m not going to dinner with you.”
His eyes flashed at her words, reading correctly that Lily had, over the years, been forced to learn the excruciating lesson of disappointing their daughter.
His hand reached up and she stared in shock at it until it moved out of her eyesight. It then traced her hair at her temple, pushed its heavy weight back and tucked it behind her ear.
His eyes watched the progress of his hand then they moved to hers. He spoke gently, reacting to what her words had meant but obviously he was still not to be denied.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
He leaned in again, his hand dropping to her shoulder, this time his movement could not be missed or mistaken.
“Yes, Lily, you are.”
It was then, she moved in, going up on her toes to put her face so close to his so that it was barely an inch away.
“If you think you can stroll into our lives and turn them upside down with your money and power and… whatever, and… and…” She couldn’t find the words. She was too angry to speak.
“And what?”
“I don’t know!” she shouted in his face.
“I’ll not have you sleeping in that room the way it was,” he declared.
Again, her mouth dropped open at his nerve and sheer arrogance.
“It isn’t your choice!” she raged.
His hand moved to cup her jaw.
“I’ve never seen you this angry.” His voice was soft, contemplative. He was watching her with a warmth in his dark eyes that very nearly, but not quite, stole her breath.
“We barely knew one another,” she snapped. “You’ve never seen me a lot of things.”
Then he remarked quietly, “You’re incredibly beautiful when you’re angry.”
Again, she gawped at him, so stunned at his unexpected compliment, she was unable to react when he stepped forward, forcing her back the step it took to pin her against the door. His warm body came up against hers and his hand tightened at her jaw, his other hand settled on the door beside her head.
“You’re incredibly beautiful always, but angry, you’re magnificent,” he murmured softly, his eyes had dropped to her mouth. The mood had shifted and she was most definitely not prepared for it.
“Get away from me,” she breathed, half-frightened at what she would do, half-angry at what he was doing.
“Come to dinner with me,” he coaxed, his deep voice like velvet.
“No,” she denied stubbornly, refusing to give into that voice and tried to jerk her head away but in her current position, it was impossible.
“Come to dinner with me,” he repeated, as if the exchange of words they’d just shared hadn’t happened at all.
“I… said… no!” She didn’t wait for him to ask again, she rushed on. “You need to step away right now. You may take Natasha to dinner and bring her home. Then your solicitors need to agree with Alistair a schedule for you to see Tash. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want you in this house. I don’t want –”
“We’re getting married,” he stated flatly, his voice again smooth and silky and the gymnastics team in her belly started to do their warm up stretches.
She put her hands on his abdomen and shoved with all her might.
He didn’t move away, instead, his arm closed around her like a vice, crushing her against his body. His other hand dropped, also coming around her, higher on her back so her br**sts were pressed against him. His head was bent so that his eyes looked into hers, his hard, beautiful mouth a breath away.
And then he spoke and his voice was no longer smooth and silky, nor was it gentle and nor was it coaxing. It was hard, low and full of steel and it surged through her like it was alive and breathing.
“I’ve lost eight years of you. Eight years. I don’t know what you’ve suffered in those years but you’ve got the rest of our lives to tell me and I have that time to make it up to you,” he stated firmly then went on. “This, Lily, I assure you I’ll do.”
It took every bit of willpower she had not to let his words penetrate her armour. Her hands had been forced away from his stomach when he pulled her to him and now she clutched the fabric of his shirt at his waist, pushing it back as hard as she could.
“You’ve made me promises before, Nate,” she reminded him heatedly.
“I know,” he ground out, his eyes still drilling into hers.
“You broke those promises.”
He didn’t hesitate and he didn’t deny it. “I know.”
She glared, waiting for him to go on, to say something, anything that would make it better.
He didn’t.
“We’re over!” she yelled hysterically, she couldn’t take much more.
“We haven’t even begun,” he promised.
“I’m not going through it again!” she cried, lost in her panic, lost in her fears. Her anger had flashed and as usual was quickly gone and now she only wished for escape.
Her life may not have been the heaven it had seemed to be when she’d been with Nate so long ago, but it was a good life, a contented life and she wanted it back.