LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

      ‘In that case there’s nothing more to be said. I’ll wait to receive a new divorce petition from your solicitor, which I will sign and return immediately. I understand that the legal proceedings are straightforward in an uncontested divorce.’

      ‘I’ve instructed my lawyer to offer you a financial settlement.’ Constantin frowned when she shook her head. ‘I don’t understand why you insisted on signing a prenuptial agreement that awarded you absolutely nothing.’

      ‘Because I want nothing from you,’ Isobel told him fiercely. ‘I’m lucky to be able to earn a high income, but even if the band hadn’t become successful I wouldn’t have accepted a handout from you.’

      Impatience glittered in his eyes. ‘I see you’ve lost none of your prickly independence. You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who got annoyed if I bought you presents.’

      She hadn’t wanted expensive gifts. What she had wanted he had been unable or unwilling to give her—love, his heart in exchange for hers, a marriage that was a true partnership. Did such a thing even exist? She’d seen little evidence of it in her parents’ marriage, Isobel thought wryly. Perhaps her father had been right during one of their many rows about her doing homework rather than writing songs, when he had accused her of wasting her time chasing rainbows. Maybe happy-ever-after only happened in fairy tales.

      Of their own volition her eyes fixed on Constantin’s face as she committed his sculpted features to her memory. The faintly cynical curve of his lips evoked a visceral ache in her belly.

      She had to get out of the house now, before her wafer-thin composure cracked. Never had she been more thankful for the illusion of supreme confidence that performing with the band had given her. She walked unhurriedly across the room and glanced back at Constantin from the doorway. ‘I’ll instruct my lawyer to reject any financial offer from you.’

      ‘Per l’amor di Dio!’ He swore beneath his breath as he crossed the room with long strides. ‘Dammit, Isobel, you are entitled to receive a settlement from me. The music industry can be fickle, and, although the band is riding high at the moment, no one can say what the future holds.’

      Wasn’t that the truth? Isobel thought emotively as the image of her tiny baby daughter flashed into her mind. Coming back to the house where she had dreamed of living as a happy family with Constantin and their child, she felt as though a protective layer had been scraped away from the scar tissue surrounding her heart.

      ‘There’s no reason any more for you to feel responsible for me,’ she said tautly.

      Her eyes clashed with his, and something in his brilliant blue gaze sent a warning signal to her brain. She sensed that he was mentally stripping her naked, and she was furious with her treacherous body as heat stole through her veins. He had always had the ability to decimate her equilibrium with one killer glance.

      The sound of her phone ringing from the depths of her handbag was a welcome distraction. She retrieved the phone and glanced at the caller display before shooting an apologetic glance at Constantin. ‘Do you mind if I answer this? It’s Carly, probably calling to remind me that we’d arranged a shopping trip this afternoon.’

      Her friend’s cheerful voice greeted her. ‘The photographer from Rock Style magazine wants to do the shoot tomorrow instead of midweek. Does that suit you? Okay, I’ll let him know,’ Carly said when Isobel confirmed she was free the next day. She cut the call and was about to drop her phone into her bag when it rang again. Assuming it was Carly with a second message, she lifted the phone to her ear and her heart jumped when a frighteningly familiar voice spoke.

      ‘Hello, Izzy. It’s David, your darling. Remember you wrote “To my darling David” when you gave me your autograph? I know you are in London and I hoped we could have dinner together.’

      ‘How did you get my mobile number?’ The instant Isobel blurted out the question she cursed herself. The police had advised her to stay calm and not reveal any emotion or engage in conversation with the man who had been stalking her for the past two months, but hearing David’s voice filled her with panic. Her eyes jerked to the window

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