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“What?” Theo said.
The Spaniard lifted an amused eyebrow, his gaze focused just past Theo’s ear. “You have a wife.”
“So?” Turning, Theo saw Emmie, following their hostess through the crowded ballroom uncertainly.
Hmm, he thought. Never a good thing to have one’s wife comparing notes with one’s ex-mistress, even though his relationship with Celine had ended years before. He consoled himself with the thought that there wasn’t anything the Frenchwoman could say—that Theo was arrogant, that he was selfish—that Emmie didn’t already know. In spades.
His gaze lingered on his wife’s sexy shape in the red sparkling dress, at her lovely face as she bit her lower lip in consternation, wobbling a bit in her high heels. A smile traced his lips. Adorable.
“I could hardly believe it,” the Italian, Giovanni Orsini, drawled. He took a sip of scotch. “Such a choice.”
“I mean, honor is all verywell, in theory,” Carlos Mondragón agreed, “but a little goes a long way.”
The three tycoons, acquaintances who saw each other a few times a year, had been discussing sports, mostly cricket and tennis, in spite of Theo’s best efforts to work the conversation around to real-estate development in general and Harcourt’s property in particular. Now, he blinked at them in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
The other men glanced at each other.
“Your marriage,” said Giovanni.
“To your secretary,” said Carlos.
Theo stiffened. “What about it?”
“You were correct to support the child, and the mother, of course,” the Italian said. “Butmarriage? To a secretary?”
“I didn’t take you for a snob, Orsini.”
He shrugged with an easy smile. “Love affairs are all very well, and accidentswillhappen, if one isn’t careful. But marriage is a serious business for men of our station. And taking a mere secretary as your wife... It’s hardly the way to start a dynasty, is it?”
Theo was still stinging from Orsini’s casual criticism ofif one isn’t carefulwhen he was distracted by that insulting dismissal of Emmie. Hearing his wife, with all her beauty and gorgeously kind heart, described as amere secretaryfilled Theo with sudden, breathless rage. His hands clenched, and he nearly punched his friend.
But why? Why would Orsini’s words make him so angry, when they were obviously true?
What the hell was wrong with him?
Cold, Theo ordered himself. Ice-cold.
He forced himself to turn to the Spaniard, who’d gone quiet. “And you, Mondragón? You agree with this?”
The man shrugged. “As someone who nearly was caught myself recently, all I can say is I was lucky to escape.” Gulping down the rest of his scotch, he gave a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Only a fool marries for love.”
Love?Even the word seemed like a judgment to Theo. Love was the worst kind of weakness. “It’s not a question oflove,” he defended. “Emmie’s pregnant with my son. He must have the protection of my name, and so will she.”
“Very noble.”
“Very,” said Carlos Mondragón, signaling for another drink.
Theo set his jaw, growing more annoyed by the moment. “If it ever happens to you, you’ll understand.”
“No accidental children for me. I make sure.”
“I makeverysure,” Giovanni Orsini added smugly.
“Talk to me if you become a father. Until then, remain silent about what you don’t understand,” Theo bit out. “If a man does not take care of his own child, he is not a man.”
The other two looked at each other.
“True enough,” the Italian was forced to concede.
