She told herself her undeniable attraction to him was because he was her first and only lover. She’d waited much longer than most to explore sex because she’d been focused on academic achievements. She’d continued to hold out, despite the ribbing incurred from friends and the unrelenting efforts of boyfriends to wear her down over the years. But she’d had her eyes on the prize of success, and nothing—especially not a man—would deter her from achieving her goals. In her own home she’d seen the result of dreams deferred, and she’d decided years ago she would not fall prey to the unrealistic romantic ideas of happily ever after.
Yet she’d been intensely attracted to him from their first introduction. Unnervingly so. Who wouldn’t be? Indecently good looking, he carried himself with a level of confidence she’d never encountered in any other man. It wasn’t only the way he walked or his movements. It was the sound of his voice, the beauty of his smooth, dark brown skin, his full lips, and the intense way he always looked at her as if no one else was around. But at the time she’d been involved with someone else, Roland Dubois, though it hadn’t been a love match. She’d told Cyrus about her relationship, beating back his aggressive tactics to win her over—which hadn’t been easy.
Even with her lack of experience, she knew her body’s response to him had less to do with him being her first and more to do with his skills as a lover. Sex with him had transcended mere physical pleasure, bordering on the spiritual, and had always left her spent and in a euphoric state afterward.
To hide the truth from his probing gaze, Daniella stared down at her hands. Noting the stranglehold on her purse, she loosened her grip. She had to make him understand they couldn’t possibly bring a child into the world and then simply divorce.
To prove her own fortitude in the face of his unyielding strength, she edged forward, her thighs touching his desk. “What you’re suggesting is unconscionable. Why are you doing this?”
“Shouldn’t I get something out of this marriage?” he asked roughly.
His question surprised her. It meant he believed he had been shortchanged—that she had not held up her end of the marriage deal, which was untrue. She’d done her part. He was the one who’d changed the rules and expected her to fall in line with his plans.
“You expect me to have a baby with you and then walk away?” She couldn’t quell the note of hysteria in her voice.
“I’ve told you what I want.”
“And what about what I want? Can’t you find someone else to do this for you?” There were numerous women who would gladly give birth to a Johnson heir. During the brief time they dated, she’d seen how mothers and fathers practically tossed their daughters at his feet. Even after they married, the same behavior continued, though not as flagrantly. The parents at least took into account if she was standing beside him.
“I’m not going to keep arguing with you about the same thing. I won’t change. If all you want to do is argue, you can leave now.”
He sat down and returned his eyes to the screen, effectively dismissing her. For him, the conversation was over, because that’s how he operated. He’d laid out what he wanted and expected her to simply fall in line with his plans.
His gaze remained on the laptop. She stared at his profile, his hard, clean-shaven jaw and hair cut low on his head. He wore a Brioni suit in the darkest black with a navy blue tie and matching handkerchief sticking out the left pocket. Immaculate. Always.
He didn’t look at her, and his lack of interest pushed her over the edge. She wanted to unsettle him, the same as he’d done to her. Short of smashing one of the desk organizers over his head, she couldn’t think of any nonviolent way to disturb him except one.
She cast her eyes across his neatly arranged desk. Everything in its place. He was obsessive about it, a man of routine and discipline. Three pens were lined up across the top, perpendicular to the edge of the desk. One black. One blue. One red. A cylindrical container held his letter opener, highlighters, a pencil, and two more pens. A leather bound notepad sat in the middle of the desk.
She snatched up the blue pen from the desk and his eyes snapped to her. She had his attention now.
“What are you doing, Dani? Put that down.”