Amanda Cinelli – Reunited For The Billionaire's Legacy (страница 4)

He closed his hand around her slim wrist. “I disagree,” he countered in a silky-soft tone. “This is a discussion we should have had twelve months ago. Why not have it now before you run off to prove to your father you have a mind of your own?”

“And you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she censored herself.

He watched dismay cloud them. “Yes, Di,” he bit out. “Exactly that.”

Ebony eyes bound to blue. Emotion, something he couldn’t remember seeing in her for the last interminably painful year they’d spent together, flared in the eyes staring back at him. It made something elemental fire inside him. This was his chance to scratch beneath the surface of his wife. And although that was the last thing he should be doing the night before they ended their relationship with a resoundingly civilized divorce settlement, it was a temptation his white-hot curiosity couldn’t resist.

“We’re leaving,” he muttered, wrapping his fingers firmer around her wrist and pulling her toward the French doors.

She tugged on his arm. “You’re making a scene.”

“Not as much as we’ve made already.” He directed her toward their hosts and the happy couple to say their goodbyes. Eyes followed them as they went, sending regret lancing through him. Tonight had once again proved his wife brought out the worst in him. It was time to put an end to it once and for all—an end that had nothing to do with paperwork.

CHAPTER TWO

DIANA TOOK THE glass of water her husband handed to her, closing her shaky fingers tight around the tumbler so he wouldn’t see how nervous she was. The tension that had been screaming through her ever since she’d entered Coburn’s beautifully decorated bachelor pad just a couple of blocks from the party was threatening to annihilate her composure.

She walked out onto the glazed concrete terrace while Coburn found a bottle of wine. The large open space with its comfortable lounge furniture scattered throughout was easily as big as the square footage of his trendy penthouse apartment on the top floor of the Chelsea low-rise—casual elegance that reflected her husband’s free-spirited need to be outdoors as much as possible.

Moving to the edge of the terrace that overlooked the tree-lined street, elegant with its neat little brick buildings and wrought iron fences, she rested her forearms on the railing. The hip neighborhood fit her husband’s persona to a T—notable, relaxed while still possessing enough individuality that he wouldn’t feel stifled as he had in their impossibly expensive, old-money East Side co-op.

A party was in full swing on the rooftop terrace of the building opposite, the loud dance music carrying on the air to where she stood. She set the glass down on the ledge before the water sloshed over the side. Why had she let her husband railroad her into coming here? Hadn’t they said all they needed to say in that final blowout that had put any of the ones before it to shame? Hadn’t she walked out on him because that night it had become crystal clear they weren’t going to make it together? That what they’d had had died and all they were doing was torturing each other?

She closed her eyes. She could still feel the force of her husband’s anger blanketing her even now. He had walked in from a party just as she had returned home from a shift at the hospital, the blood staining her wrists she’d missed in her final scrub a testament to her exhaustion. Coburn had been out for a fight from the minute he’d tossed his jacket on a chair and she’d known it, known she should just retreat into the shower and let him cool off. But his furious tirade had been off and running by then. People were starting to talk about her continued absence at social functions, he’d told her. Rumors were circulating about the state of their marriage. Questioning whether they would last... I’ve had enough of it, Di. Enough of this half-life with you.

She’d somehow found the energy to fight back because none of what he was saying was fair. Just because her husband enjoyed giving his older brother fits by taking off for a last-minute bicycle race in the French Riviera didn’t mean she had the same lack of loyalty to her job. People’s lives depended on her. She didn’t get to choose when and how long she was on duty. But Coburn in his stubborn arrogance had stated there were other doctors in the city of Manhattan, and he needed her by his side. Which had devolved into him suggesting she was using her work to avoid him and their issues. Which might have had some truth to it. But she had been too mad, too hurt to rein in her arsenal of similar complaints about his irresponsible behavior. Where had he been the night of the Taylor holiday party when she’d needed him by her side? Partying in Cannes with friends...

They’d traded barbs until she literally couldn’t stand on two feet anymore, then she’d showered and spent the night in the spare bedroom. The next day she’d moved into her parents’ guest room until she could find an apartment of her own. Coburn had been too angry to come after her. Maybe all there was to be said had been said.

Her father had gleefully offered an “I told you so” and beat Coburn’s shortcomings into her head until she was sufficiently brainwashed she knew she would never go back. But in the spirit of her newfound brutally honest outlook on life, as painful as it might be, she knew her father couldn’t be blamed for her and Coburn’s split. They had needed no assistance wrecking the good that they’d had.

The fact that Coburn had been with other women months after they’d parted had been the final nail in the coffin. The part of her that had held out hope they might work things out had died then.

The only mystery was why neither of them had filed the divorce papers sooner. It had been she, after signing her contract to work abroad, who had started the proceedings.

A chorus of excited giggles floated across the air to her as a group of girls horsed around with two attractive males. You aren’t fun anymore. Coburn’s words echoed through her head from that last night. What happened to you?

She thought about it. Had she ever been fun? Being a resident was not meant to be a joyride. It had been the most grueling five years of her life, meant to separate the weak from the strong. Why couldn’t her husband have accepted the early years were going to be like that? That it would change.

He joined her on the terrace then, as if she’d conjured him up to ask just that question. But of course she hadn’t. Not now when they were about to make their relationship history.

She eyed the bottle of champagne in his hands. “What are we celebrating?”

His sensuous mouth curved in a humorless smile. “How about our incredibly civilized divorce?”

Her mouth twisted. “Because the lawyers hashed out every clause for us.”

“Your decision.” His electric blue eyes lanced through her. “I was willing to sit down and act like two reasonable human beings for an hour. You for some reason were not. I’m very curious as to why that might be.”

She hadn’t let herself wonder that. Perhaps because she didn’t want to know the answer.

She watched the play of muscles in his forearms as he worked the cork out of the bottle. Exposed by his rolled-up sleeves, they were one of her favorite parts of him. Lean and muscular, he was all sinewy power without an excess centimeter of flesh on him. Potently strong enough to brace himself with as he flipped her from one sexual position to the next...

The cork flew into the air with a decisive pop. It jerked her back to reality. She couldn’t be thinking things like that. Thoughts like that had always gotten her into trouble when it came to Coburn. Because they inevitably led to sex and their erotic, spectacular love life that had become a crutch for their utterly dismal relationship skills.

Coburn filled two glasses and handed one to her, his gaze resting on her heated cheeks. “Disconcerting, isn’t it, probing at the real reasons why we do the things we do? Maybe you were scared that one hour in a boardroom would end up the way it always does with us... You would call me a selfish son of a bitch and I would make you eat your words, one orgasm at a time.”

The heat in her cheeks darkened into a full-out fire. “Perhaps my choice was the wiser one, then?”

“Or the coward’s way out.”

Her chin lifted. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of self-realization. In not repeating the same mistakes we’ve made in the past...”

“If you call that part of our relationship a mistake, yes.” The glitter in his gaze made her shift her weight to the other foot. Damn but this had been a colossal mistake.

He lifted his glass, his gaze holding hers. “To self-realization, then. And the dissolution of our hasty, ill-thought-out vows.”

A throb dug itself deep into her flesh, somewhere in the region of her heart. To hear him sum up their union like that without acknowledging the intense highs only they had offered each other didn’t seem right. “To greater self-realization,” she echoed, lifting the glass to her lips.

“What?” he murmured after he’d taken a sip. “You don’t agree we were a hasty, ill-thought-out union?”