The Tycoon's Pregnant Mistress (The Anetakis Tycoons #1)(52)

“And where is here?” Marley asked.

“His house,” she explained patiently. “We’re about an hour from the city. It’s quieter here, more peaceful. He thought you’d prefer it.”

Tears blurred Marley’s vision. And she thought she hadn’t any more tears to shed. She hadn’t known he owned a house outside of the city, and like the island, it was one more place she’d never visited in all the time she’d been with Chrysander. Further proof that she’d never occupied an important place in his life.

“He’s been very worried about you,” Patrice said, her face softening in sympathy. “We all have been.”

Marley shook her head in denial. Chrysander hated her. He’d never loved her, and she’d been too stupid to realize it.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered to no one in particular. She’d been an idiot to give up her apartment, her job, every means she had of taking care of herself when she moved in with Chrysander. She’d been too blinded by her love and convinced that she had a future with him.

“Come out of the tub,” Patrice said gently. “You need to get dried off so you can go down to eat.”

Marley allowed Patrice to mother her. She was dried off and pampered then clothed in comfortable slacks and a maternity shirt. She rubbed a hand over her belly and whispered an apology to her unborn son.

She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Her child was depending on her.

Chrysander was waiting for her when she exited the bedroom. He said nothing, but he cupped her elbow and helped her down the stairs, and she let him, too numb to protest. Marley also remained silent, her emotions too much in turmoil to try and have a reasonable conversation.

They sat at a small table that overlooked a beautifully manicured garden. Bright morning sun shone through the glass doors, and she felt warmed by the sun’s rays.

Chrysander set a plate piled high with food in front of her then settled into a seat across from her. She piddled with her fork and toyed with the food, pushing it around the plate as she avoided his gaze.

He sighed, and she looked up to see him staring at her. His expression was somber, as though he was enduring the worst sort of hell. She nearly laughed at the absurdity. To her horror, she felt the prick of tears, and his face swam in her vision.

“We must talk, Marley. There is much I need to say to you.” His voice sounded oddly strangled. “But first you must eat so you can regain your strength. Your health and that of our child must come first.”

She bowed her head again, refusing to meet his stare any longer. She concentrated on eating, and once she started realized she was actually quite hungry.

As she was finishing the last of her juice, she heard a door slam in the distance, and then she heard the determined stride of someone walking across the floor. She turned to see Theron enter the room, a grim look on his face.

Before he could speak, Chrysander locked his gaze onto his brother and said in a steely voice, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until Marley has finished eating.”

Theron cast a concerned glance her way and nodded his understanding to Chrysander. Anger tightened her throat and made swallowing difficult. Whatever it was they wished to speak about, it was obvious they didn’t want to do so in front of her. But then why would they? She was someone they believed had stolen from them.

She stood abruptly and tossed down her napkin. Without a word to either man, she stalked away.

“Marley, don’t go,” Chrysander protested.

She turned and pinned him with the force of her glare. “By all means, have your conversation. I’d hate to intrude. After all, someone who has stolen from you and betrayed your trust isn’t someone you want around when you’re talking.”

“Theos, that is not the issue here. Marley? Wait, damn it!”

But she ignored him and continued walking.

Chrysander watched her leave and cursed. He felt strangled by helplessness. How could he ever hope to make things right between them? She hated him, and she had every right to.

He turned to Theron, who had also watched Marley go, a frown etched on his face. “What brought you here in such a hurry?” Chrysander demanded.

Theron reached into the jacket of his suit and pulled out a folded newspaper. He tossed it onto the table in front of Chrysander. “This did.”

Chrysander opened it and immediately cursed in four languages. On the front page was a picture of Marley being carried by Theron on the day she’d run from the apartment. Underneath were pictures of himself and of Roslyn with a story outlining the soap-opera saga that highlighted every single facet of his relationship with Marley.

He threw the paper across the room with vicious force. “It had to be Roslyn. None of my men would have spoken to the press.”

Theron nodded his agreement. “Since you had her arrested for her theft and her duplicity in keeping the ransom demands from you, she likely thought she had nothing to lose and everything to gain by giving the public her spin on your supposed relationship with her.”

Chrysander sank into the chair and rested his elbows on the table. “I curse the day I ever hired that woman. Marley could have died because of my stupidity.”

“You love her.”

It wasn’t a question, and Chrysander didn’t treat is as such. It was simply a statement of fact. He did love her. But he’d managed to kill her love for him not once, but twice.