Blair jerked as if he’d slapped her.
“And tell me, Draco. Just when in your business schedule do you think you’ll have time to be a real father? I barely see you. So, what kind of parent will you be? You’re so quick to criticize my desire to have a successful career, but maybe you should look at yourself first.”
She was shaking with reaction, as first fury, then something else coursed through her body. She didn’t want to think about how she felt right now, but all that ran through her mind was the truth that he would never consider a long-term future with her. Her thoughts were backed up by his next words.
“My duty will always lie first and foremost with my family. Don’t ever doubt that. I will be there for this baby—far more than you—so before you start flinging rocks at me you should check you are not standing in a glass house. You’ve made it clear that your career is worth more to you than a relationship with your child or with me. Even now, every day, you work toward your goal of returning to your kitchen.”
Blair couldn’t deny it. Every day she took lessons with Cristiano, but the past couple of days her enthusiasm for translating the recipes into the menu at Carson’s had waned a little. In her nightly calls to her father, he’d gone to great lengths to say how he was coping brilliantly with the workload. In fact, she hadn’t heard him sound as happy and fulfilled in a long time. It still concerned her that he hadn’t yet appointed a new chef, but she consoled herself that it was only a matter of time.
“At least I have a goal,” she responded staunchly, grasping at straws to bolster her flagging self-esteem. “I’m not solely allowing myself to be defined by the man I’m with or by our children.”
Draco grew still, and Blair knew she’d gone too far.
“I pity you,” Draco said through gritted teeth. “I pity you that you can lower yourself to insult a woman who was a saint in comparison to you. A woman who gave her life for what she thought I wanted. Remember yourself, Blair. You chose this course of events. You chose to be no more than the vessel that will bring security to the Sandrelli name and happiness to my family, rather than be a part of it. And when you have delivered on that promise you will go back to your restaurant and our lives will continue as they have for centuries.”
Ice poured through Blair’s veins. He couldn’t have put it more bluntly. He and his family belonged here in a way she never could. They were a part of the land, a part of the people, a part of each other in a way she’d never known and never would. At least her baby would have that, be part of that.
She blinked back the tears that burned like embers against the back of her eyes. She’d been a fool to think she could come here and talk to Draco about a future together. It would never have worked anyway. She was probably just mushy-brained because of this pregnancy—wooed into the lifestyle and surroundings and dreams of what she could never have or be.
Summoning all the dignity she could muster, Blair rose from her seat. The soft folds of fabric of her nightgown and peignoir settled around her body like a lover’s caress, and she shuddered to think that, if things could have been different between herself and Draco, he would no doubt have been removing the garments by now.
But instead of making plans for a new future she clung to every last shred of what she had left. She lifted her chin and met Draco’s glittering gaze head on.
“Thank you for the reminder. You’re right. Of course. To be honest, I can’t wait for all this,” she gestured to her belly “to be over so I can get back to my life.”
She saw Draco’s jaw clench, noticed the muscle working on the side of his face. She’d struck him a blow, but she’d struck one equally as deep to her own heart.
She’d fallen in love with a man who would always put others—their child, his family—ahead of her. Just for once in her life, she’d ached to be first in a man’s life; but she could never hope to be that person with Draco.
She forced one foot in front of the other until she reached the door, then gripped the handle and turned it sharply. Every cell in her body urged her to stop, to turn and look back at Draco. To see if he showed one hint of softening toward her, one chance to change his mind about her and the baby. But men like Draco took their responsibilities too seriously to ever be that yielding.
With her back still to him she said bitterly, “I feel sorry for you, Draco. At least I’m moving on with my life. You? You’re still locked in the past…”
She pulled the door closed behind her and staggered to her bedroom, and once inside, she ripped off the peignoir and nightgown, hearing the fabric shred as she sought to rid herself of its softness, its sensuality—its reminder of all it was and all she wasn’t. With shaking hands she removed the diamond ear studs Draco had given her, and unsnapped the clasp on the charm bracelet. She needed none of it. They were trappings of someone else. Someone she could never be. She was Blair Carson, chef and restaurateur, and damned proud of it.