Yes, he wanted his child, but part of him recognized he had wanted her, too, and he had wanted to have exclusive rights to her.
He hated the power she seemed to have over him, and that was part of why he’d agreed to give her a period to get used to the marriage and living together. He needed to prove to himself he wasn’t weak for her and the unchecked lust he felt could be contained. In the time since they broke up, trying to prove any woman would do had been difficult. The physical ache that had encumbered his body since May was for this woman alone, and his efforts to prove otherwise had resulted in unsatisfactory hookups.
She walked toward them and smiled at Roarke, who rose to his feet.
“Welcome to the family. One more hug.” Roarke embraced his new sister-in-law. “I promise that’s the last one for a while.” To Derrick, he said, “We’ll talk later.”
Derrick nodded, though he had no intention of discussing his marriage any further.
Within minutes, he and Eva sat in a hired limo, on their way to start their new life together.
Chapter Seven
The next day, Eva awoke after a surprisingly restful night. She turned over onto her back and stared up at the silk canopy above the bed. She must have been more tired than she realized because as soon as her head hit the pillow, she had fallen asleep.
The mansion was located in Buckhead, an affluent part of the city. Last night they had driven past a number of stately homes, with bright lights bringing attention to immaculate landscaping, as if they all competed for neighborhood bragging rights.
Some of the homes sat at the end of long driveways, so far back they were hidden from street view. The driver had stopped at one of those homes, and the black iron gates swung slowly inward. The car had crawled along the stretch of pavement that bisected acres and acres of the parklike wooded property of her new home. When they rounded a bend, the sprawling estate had come into full view.
She’d visited Derrick in Atlanta before, but they’d stayed at his condo in the middle of the city. This place was an enormous Georgian-style manor that bespoke the wealth Derrick’s father had accrued over the years. In the fountain out front, water poured from the open mouths of two stone fish.
The driver stopped the car in the circular cobblestoned driveway. To her surprise, Derrick had lifted her up and carried her across the threshold, claiming tradition as the reason for doing so. For a moment she forgot how ruthless he could be and enjoyed being held by him. Too much, in fact, practically melting against the sturdiness of his chest. His unique male scent and cologne had surrounded her, making her dizzy with unexpected longing.
Inside, he had made the introductions to the team of staff members present at that hour: Saunders, the property manager, an older black man with a kind face; Svana, the tall, portly Icelandic housekeeper; and a weekend cook who was available any time of the day or night. The personnel not present included the family driver, head landscaper and the gardeners, maids, a chef on call during the week, and two personal assistants—one for Derrick and one for her.
Then they’d made their way up to their suite of rooms, and he’d taken her to her bedroom. Her bedroom.
Bemused, Eva had looked at him. “I don’t understand. Why do we have separate rooms? We’re married.” Was this how rich people lived?
“My parents had separate rooms when they were both alive. I think it’s a good idea for us to do the same. Sometimes I work late, and I don’t want to disturb you when I come in. Plus, I like my own space.”
She’d swallowed the bitter pill of disappointment and a few minutes later watched him walk through the connecting door to his own room.