The Rings that Bind

Other than the usual business talk, it seemed he had barely noticed her existence in months. He might not have cared that she had slept with someone else, but she had been a fool to hope he would give her a divorce without putting up a fight.

She should have known better. If there was one thing she knew about her husband it was that he did not like to lose. At anything.

She had known Butterfly Island would be a problem—after all, he seemed to spend the majority of their limited time together bitching about the latest unfortunate to be appointed the role of his PA—but she had put that down to his being miffed that she had refused the job. Her husband’s success and power had put him in the unfortunate position of seldom being denied anything he wanted. He had not taken her refusal to continue working for him well—had taken it as a personal slight. Which, of course, it had been—but not in the way he assumed.

By the time her contract with Baranski Mining had expired Rosa’s feelings towards him had become far too complicated for her even to consider staying on. She had fervently hoped some distance from him would settle the weird hormones unleashed by their working so closely together. It hadn’t worked. She had been left rattling round their huge home alone while he travelled the globe, rarely spending more than a couple of nights in London at any one time.

She had missed him. God help her, she had missed him.

She was wedging the vacuum back in the cupboard when Nico came out of the downstairs bathroom, where he had been washing shards of glass off his hand. Somehow the shattered glass hadn’t even nicked him. The man must be made of Teflon.

She had no idea what he had done to his hair, but even taking into account its usual messiness it was sticking up as if he’d rubbed a balloon on it.

For some reason this tugged at her.

The cool façade had definitely cracked.

His features were arranged in their usual indifference, but the pulse in his jaw was working double-time. This was the closest to angry she had ever seen him.

Closing the cupboard, she took a deep breath. ‘In answer to your question, I’m going to stay at a hotel until the lease on my flat expires.’ Thank God she’d had the foresight to grant her tenants only a short-term lease. She missed her cosy flat dreadfully. But at least in a hotel she wouldn’t be alone, and in the meantime she could start hunting for a new flatmate to share with.

If there was one thing she hated it was living alone. Marrying Nico had, at the time, been a godsend. With Stephen gone, she had been trying to find a flatmate—someone who was happy to share a home with her without wanting to spend every evening drinking wine and having girly chats.

Nico’s mad idea had been the answer to every prayer she’d had. He wouldn’t expect anything from her other than intellectual stimulation. In return she would have his name and a ring on her finger. Symbols that she belonged to someone. And he wore her ring. A metaphorical symbol that he belonged to her too.

‘I think not.’ His green eyes had darkened into an almost sinister gleam. ‘You see, Rosa, under no circumstances will I allow you to leave. I do not want a divorce. Go up to your room and unpack—you’re not going anywhere.’

Rosa reared back and stared at him. Surely he hadn’t just said what she thought he had? ‘You won’t allow me to leave?’

His mouth formed a thin, grim line. ‘You are my wife.’

‘Exactly. I am your wife—not your possession.’

‘In certain cultures that is one and the same thing.’

‘Well, luckily for me we’re in the UK, and not some backwards country where women have no voice.’

‘I will never agree to a divorce.’

She studied him carefully, half expecting him to crack a smile and say he was joking. Surely he could not be serious? However, she did have one more ace up her sleeve—no one could ever accuse her of being anything but thorough. ‘If you won’t agree to a divorce I will apply for an annulment. This marriage was never consummated. Therefore it is void.’

Not bothering to wait for a response, Rosa walked away. Determined to keep a cool head, she walked steadily up the stairs to her suite, placing a hand to her chest in a futile attempt to temper her thundering heart.

Thankfully she’d had the foresight to pack earlier—a job that had taken less than an hour.

Heavy footsteps neared her and mentally she braced herself.

Nico crossed the threshold into her bedroom, his features so taut he might have been carved from ice. His eyes, though…His eyes shimmered with fury.

‘You do realise you can’t stop me?’ she said coldly.

He folded his arms across his chest, accentuating the breadth of his physique. Nico really was a mountain of a man, filling the space around him, dwarfing everything in the vicinity. ‘I think you’ll find I can.’

‘By using force?’ She didn’t believe he would do that. Not for a second. He might be over a foot taller than her, and packed full of solid muscle, but she knew perfectly well he would never use that to his advantage.

His lips curved into a cold smile. ‘I don’t need to use physical force, Rosa. I have other advantages to stop you leaving.’

‘Why are you being like this?’ She forced her voice to remain calm. ‘Why can’t you just accept I want out?’

‘I’ll tell you why,’ he said, stalking towards her, his eyes glittering. ‘You see, daragaya, I have just learned that not only have I been cuckolded but, to add insult to injury, you want to humiliate me too.’

It was the casual, almost sneering way he called her his darling wife that did it. Something inside of her snapped. Gazing up at him, mere feet away, close enough for her to feel the heat emanating from his powerful body, she said, ‘Cuckolded? Humiliated? What planet are you on? How many women have you slept with since we married?’

Oh, he had been discreet. She would give him that. But there was no way a man as overtly masculine as Nico would go eleven months without sex.

‘Do not try to twist the subject. We are not talking about me. We are talking about you and the fact you want to advertise to the world that we never have consummated our marriage.’

‘You know damn well I won’t be doing anything of the sort.’

‘You think the press won’t leap on a nugget like that? You think I want to be the butt of everyone’s gossip? To know friends and business acquaintances will speculate over the reasons you and I never had sex?’

Rosa turned her face away, a slow burn crawling up her neck.

Lord, she did not want to think of them having sex. It was bad enough dreaming about his hard, naked body taking her passionately and then waking up in the morning with a burning need deep inside her, knowing there was nothing she could do about it other than take as cold a shower as she could bear and push it from her mind. At least she could control her conscious thoughts.

She took a step away from him—away from that citrusy, masculine scent that was starting to swirl around her senses. ‘I don’t relish that scenario any more than you, but if you refuse a divorce you will leave me no other option than to go down the annulment road.’

‘I will deny it,’ he said, staring at her unsmilingly. ‘I will tell the courts that you are a fantasist.’

‘You would lie under oath?’

The ring of shock in Rosa’s eyes was all too apparent.

In truth, Nico had shocked himself.

Would he really go that far? Under ordinary circumstances the answer would be a resounding no. But these were far from ordinary circumstances.

Her suitcases sat neatly by her bedroom door. A sign of her intent.

Of her defiance.

Without any pause for thought, he reached for the nearest, flicked the clips to spring it open and tipped the contents into a heap on the floor.

‘I will do whatever is necessary to uphold my reputation,’ he said, staring intently into her startled eyes. He clenched his hands into fists and held them tightly by his sides to prevent them doing the same to the other suitcase. He had made his point. ‘You are a Baranski and will remain a Baranski for as long as I deem necessary.’

Rosa backed away from him like a wary cat, tugging at her ponytail, loathing written all over her pretty face. ‘I’ll be a Carty again before you can blink,’ she said, her chest rising up and down with rapid motion. ‘I’ll change my name back by deed poll if necessary. And if you think upending my possessions is going to make me stay, then you are delusional.’

He would never have guessed his starchy wife was capable of anger. Irritation, yes. Mild annoyance on a bad day, maybe. But full-blown anger? No.