To Wear His Ring Again (3 page)

From that moment his sole aim had been to take her to bed, a feat he'd achieved within the month. Discovering that he was her first lover had elicited emotions he had not believed himself capable of. The weekend they had spent together in Rome had been the best—and worst—of his life.

It had been the beginning of the nightmares that had haunted him ever since he'd woken in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking, and utterly appalled by the truth that his dream had revealed. He had looked at Isobel sleeping innocently beside him, and realised that for her safety he could not allow their relationship to continue.

CHAPTER TWO

T
HE
SUN
GLINTING
through the windows turned Isobel's hair to spun gold. A sensation he could not define tugged in Constantin's chest, but he ignored it and forced himself to study her objectively.

Her clothes bore the hallmarks of superb design; the close-fitting jeans drew his attention to her endlessly long legs and her tee shirt snugly moulded her firm breasts. A gold chain around her neck was her only item of jewellery. His mouth thinned as he glanced at her bare left hand and pictured her wedding ring and diamond engagement ring that she had left behind when she had abandoned their marriage to pursue her career.

Her physical appearance had changed little in two years. Her face, with its high cheekbones and firm jaw that gave a clue to her determined character, was as beautiful as he remembered, and her hazel eyes fringed with long lashes were clear and intelligent. Her natural blonde hair was sexily tousled, and the just-got-out-of-bed style made him want to run his fingers through the silky layers.

His eyes sought hers, and he was intrigued when she met his gaze with calm self-assurance where once she would have blushed and looked away. There was something very alluring about a woman who was comfortable in her own skin and Constantin felt an ache of desire in his groin, but, perversely he was irritated by the self-confidence that she had developed after she had left him.

‘I'm not the only one of us to have featured in the press,' he said abruptly. ‘The Stone Ladies' success has been meteoric and the band has won a raft of music awards. How does it feel to be a famous star?'

Isobel shrugged. ‘Frankly, it seems unreal. In two years the band has gone from playing small gigs in pubs to performing in huge arenas in front of thousands of people. Success is amazing, of course, but if I'm honest I find the media interest in my private life hard to deal with.'

‘Particularly as the paparazzi are fascinated by your relationship with one of the male band members,' Constantin said sardonically. ‘I'm guessing the record company want the band's image to be squeaky clean for your teenage fans, which is why your profile on social media sites makes no mention of the fact that you are married.'

Isobel sighed, sensing that they were heading towards an old argument. ‘I've explained that Ryan is just a friend. I'm close to everyone in the band. We grew up together and Ben, Carly and Ryan are like my family. You never understood how important they are to me and I know you resented my friendships, but the truth was that the more you pushed me away, the more I needed to be with people who cared about me, people I could trust.'

Constantin frowned. ‘I never gave you any reason not to trust me.'

‘I don't mean I suspected you of seeing other women behind my back.' In a way, if he had been unfaithful it would have been easier to understand, Isobel thought painfully. She would have been hurt, but she would have accepted that she'd made a mistake by marrying a notorious playboy, and eventually she would have got over him.

She stared at his handsome face and her heart clenched. She had written songs about falling in love at first sight but she'd never really believed it could happen—until she'd met Constantin.

When she had hurried into his office on her first day at her new job, her eyes had crashed with his cobalt-blue gaze, and the world had tilted on its axis. She had expected the CEO of a world-famous company to be older, possibly with thinning hair and a thickening waistline, but Constantin was a superb example of masculine perfection, with exotic film-star looks and the commanding presence of a world leader. She had felt intimidated by his height and powerful build, by his smouldering sensuality that made her acutely aware of her femininity. But then he had smiled and she had felt a yearning ache in the pit of her stomach that she had instinctively known only he could assuage.

Constantin put his coffee cup on the tray, and his eyes narrowed on Isobel's flushed face as he wondered what thoughts she was trying to hide behind the sweep of her long eyelashes. She looked amazing, he acknowledged. Following the miscarriage she had barely eaten and had lost weight dramatically, but now her slim figure was firm and toned. Did she have a lover? The thought oozed its poison into his head. She was a beautiful, sensual woman, and it was difficult to believe she had lived like a nun for the past two years.

He had seen her photograph on posters advertising the Stone Ladies' new album. There were pictures of her on giant billboards around London wearing a skirt that was barely more than a wide belt, which showed off her lissom thighs. She was a pin-up girl, a male fantasy, but he had no need of fantasies when he had X-rated memories of making love to her.

Those memories crowded his mind and his arousal became a potent, throbbing force. The atmosphere in the sitting room altered subtly. He heard the quickening sound of his breathing, or was it Isobel's? He looked into her eyes and watched them darken as her pupils dilated, and he knew she was remembering the white-hot hunger that had consumed them in the past and was simmering between them now.

Goosebumps prickled on the back of Isobel's neck when she saw the hard glitter in Constantin's eyes. The realisation that he still desired her filled her with panic and undeniable excitement. She tore her gaze from him and stared desperately at the empty teacup and saucer in her hand, suddenly realising that she was gripping the delicate bone china so tightly it was in danger of breaking. She took a step towards the coffee table, intending to put the cup and saucer on the tray, but her heel caught on the edge of the rug and she stumbled. Immediately two strong arms caught her, and when she regained her balance she found herself standing so close to Constantin that the tips of her breasts grazed his chest.

‘Thanks.' She groaned inwardly when her voice emerged as a husky whisper. Her throat felt dry and her senses were swamped by the evocative scent of the spicy aftershave that he always wore. Her common sense told her to move away from him but she seemed to have lost control of her limbs as her mind flew back to the first time he had kissed her.

He had given her a lift home from work. Sitting next to him in his sleek sports car, she had felt even more overwhelmed by him than she did at the office. Her position as an assistant to his PA meant that her conversations with him had been mainly work related, and she had assumed that he barely noticed her. His request as they drove across the city for her to tell him about herself had thrown her into a panic, but he was her boss so she had obediently related the unexciting details of her life growing up in a small Derbyshire village.

When he had finally parked outside her flat, he'd turned to her, and his smile had made her heart skip a beat. ‘You're very sweet,' he'd murmured.

His words had rankled. She hadn't wanted him to think she was a
sweet,
silly girl
;
she'd wanted him to think of her as a woman. Perhaps her feelings had shown in her eyes, because he had given a faint sigh before he'd lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

Her body had come alive instantly. It was as if he had pressed a switch and awoken her sensuality that had been untested until that moment. Constantin had kissed her as she had imagined a man would kiss a woman, as she had dreamed of being kissed. She had been intoxicated by his mastery, and responded to his passionate demands with a fervency that had made him groan.

‘Very soon I will make you mine, Isabella,' he'd warned her softly.

‘How soon?' she'd replied, not caring that her eagerness revealed her lack of sophistication.

Now Isobel was three years older, but she was trapped by Constantin's sexual magnetism and felt as though she had flown back in time to when she had been a shy junior secretary who had been kissed senseless by the most exciting man she had ever met. Her heart jerked against her ribs as she watched his head descend, but her stomach plummeted with disappointment when he halted with his lips centimetres from hers.

‘Why did you walk out on me?' he said harshly. ‘You didn't even have the decency to tell me to my face that you were clearing out. All I got was an insultingly brief note to say that
you
had decided we should end our marriage.'

Isobel swallowed. It was impossible to think properly when his lips were tantalisingly close, and even more impossible to believe that she had heard a note of hurt in his voice. She longed to close the gap between them, to slide her hand into the silky dark hair at his nape and urge his mouth down on hers. It took all her will power to step away from him.

‘Why did you marry me?' She countered his question with one of her own. ‘I've often wondered. Was it only because I was pregnant with your child? I believed our relationship was based on more than sexual attraction, but after I had the miscarriage you were so distant. I couldn't get close to you, and you never wanted to talk about...about what had happened. Your coldness seemed to indicate that you wished I wasn't your wife.'

Constantin had always been able to read the emotions on Isobel's expressive features and the pain reflected in her hazel eyes caused him a pang of guilt. He knew he had not given her the support she had needed when she'd lost the baby. He'd been unable to talk about it, and had dealt with his emotions the way he always did, by burying them deep inside and concentrating on running a global business empire. He could hardly blame her for turning to her friends, but he had felt jealous of her closeness to the other members of the band, and in particular her obvious affection for the guitarist, Ryan Fellows.

The cover of the Stone Ladies' new album was an arty black and white picture of the two most photogenic band members—Isobel and Fellows—riding a unicorn. No doubt the romantic image would appeal to the band's thousands of fans, but when Constantin had seen the album cover he'd felt an overwhelming desire to rearrange the guitarist's pretty-boy features with his fist.

The idea that Isobel and Fellows might be lovers evoked a corrosive acid burn in his gut. Isobel had accused him of resenting her friends, and he acknowledged it was the truth. He had been unable to control his possessive feelings, which in turn had made him afraid that he had inherited his father's dangerous jealousy.

He looked at her tense face. It must have taken a lot of guts for her to have come back to the house that he knew held poignant memories for her. He thought of the mural of farm animals that she had been painting on the walls of the nursery. The mural was unfinished and the room was empty. He'd sent the cot and nursery equipment back to the shop and never went into the room that had been destined for their daughter.

The miscarriage had broken Isobel, and it was a measure of her strength of will that she had recovered to be this beautiful, self-assured woman—although close scrutiny revealed faint shadows in her eyes that Constantin guessed would never completely fade. One thing was certain. She deserved his honesty.

‘Three years ago we were lovers briefly. The weekend we spent at my apartment in Rome was fun, but...' he shrugged ‘...I had no desire for a prolonged relationship—and I thought you understood that.' When he had ended the affair shortly after they had returned to London he had assured himself it was for the best to call a halt before things got out of hand. Isobel had needed to understand that the words long-term and commitment were not in his vocabulary.

He exhaled heavily. ‘But then fate dealt an unexpected card. When you told me you were pregnant you must have realised that I would not allow my child to be born illegitimate. Marriage was the only option. I could not neglect my duty to my child or to you.'

Isobel flinched.
Duty
was an ugly little word. The realisation that Constantin had proposed marriage because he had felt responsible for her evoked a bitter taste in her mouth. She had told Constantin she was pregnant with his baby because she'd believed he had the right to know. She had been stunned when he'd asked her to marry him. After all, it was the twenty-first century, and being a single mother was no longer regarded as unusual or shameful. When he had proposed, she had convinced herself that he must have some feelings for her. But the stark truth was that she had seen what she had wanted to see.

Yet her stubborn nature still refused to give up the idea that they had shared something meaningful. ‘We had some good times in the beginning,' she reminded him.

‘I don't deny it. We were going to be parents, and for our child's sake it was important to build an amicable relationship with each other, additional to our sexual compatibility.'

Isobel swallowed the golf ball that had become lodged in her throat. Had Constantin simply been building an
amicable
relationship with her when he had filled the house with yellow roses after she had mentioned that they were her favourite flower? Had she imagined the closeness between them that had grown stronger every day of their three-week honeymoon in the Seychelles?

She stared at his chiselled features and wondered why she had ever believed she had seen warmth in his eyes that glittered as hard and bright as sapphires. What a fool she had been. Despite everything that happened, his coldness to her in the last months of their marriage, deep down she had believed there was a chance that they might one day get back together. That fragile sense of hope had now gone and she was shocked by how badly it hurt.

She turned her head towards the window. The sun streaming through the glass was so bright, and surely it was the glare that was making her eyes water? As if she were looking through a kaleidoscope, she saw the fractured images of a woman pushing a pram through the park with a tall, handsome man at her side. But when she blinked, the vision disappeared, just as her dreams had done.

Somehow she marshalled her thoughts and emotions, and even managed a cool smile when she looked back at Constantin.