Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement (44 page)

She pulled the lid off the first box and smiled. “Perfect. She’ll be pleased.”

Thor dropped a hand to her waist. “How about pleasing me?” He nuzzled the nape of her neck. “I’ve missed you these past few days. If there isn’t some emergency at work to keep you away, there’s one at Thorsen’s needing my attention.”

She hesitated, suggesting tentatively, “Too bad we have two businesses to worry about. It certainly would be simpler with one.”

“But not as interesting.” He turned her around and pulled her more fully into his arms. “Nor as profitable. You’re exhausted, I can tell. You’ve been overdoing.”

She leaned her cheek on his chest and let the moment slip away. More than anything, she wanted to cry again. Instead, she laughed. “I’ve been overdoing? You’re the dynamo running two places. How do you do it?”

“It’s the blue tights and red cape. Works every time.” His lips lingered on the pulse at her throat. She shivered and he whispered urgently, “Let’s go home.”

“Yes, take me home.” She remembered Constantine’s at the last minute. Pulling away, she gripped his arm. “Wait! I—I have to tell you something first.”

His smile was indulgent. “Tell me what?”

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t say the words that would turn the warmth and gentle tenderness in those electric blue eyes to cold anger. She lowered her gaze. “I wanted to say thanks for all you’ve done. The suppliers and the ordering and the organization.” She shrugged. “All of it.”

“You’re welcome.” His hand ruffled the golden curls tumbling across her brow. “Come on. Let’s go.”

One night, she decided in desperation. She’d give herself one last night before she told him what she’d done. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t honest. But she’d take the chance and never once regret it. “Yes, let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later they arrived home. Not home, she reminded herself fiercely on their way inside. Thor’s home. She twisted her hands together. She didn’t have a home anymore. Now that she’d sold Constantine’s, she wouldn’t even have the loft.

“Andrea? What is it?” He cupped her chin, staring at her in concern. “You look so strange. Are you feeling all right?”

Mutely she shook her head, sliding her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips to the strong sweep of his jaw, nibbling, dropping teasing little kisses along the corner of his mouth. She felt the tension building within him. A tension answered by her own. With a groan, he swept her into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom.

“I’ve decided something,” he muttered against her flushed skin.

“What?” She clung to him, drawing in the scent of him, reveling in the feel of him, losing herself in the power of his touch.

He lowered her to the bed. “I like being married.” His lips found hers. “I like it a lot.”

Her fingers curled into her palms. “I like it, too,” she choked out. She moved beneath him, afraid he’d say the wrong thing and destroy their final moments together. Words meant danger. Words brought loss. She didn’t want words.

“Maybe—”

“Shh.” She covered his mouth with hers. “Later. We’ll talk later. Love me for now.”

“Like you’ve never been before.”

The darkness became a protective cloak, their embrace a brilliant warmth. She savored each instant in his arms, and tucked the memories away to be cherished and treasured when he’d gone from her life.

He’d given her so much these past months. Tonight, she’d give in return. She’d give him one last special moment to remember. She’d give him all she had left.

She gave him her heart.

T
he next morning Andrea slipped from the bed and quietly dressed. She stood for a long moment, staring at Thor. Her husband. The man she loved more than life itself.

The man she was about to lose.

His face retained its toughness even in sleep. He appeared strong and powerful, despite his relaxed posture and sprawled position. Thick, tawny hair swept his brow and dark stubble clung to his jaw. She shivered, remembered the abrasive feel of it scraping her breasts.

She closed her eyes and summoned every ounce of determination. What lay ahead wouldn’t be easy. But it would be done.

In the kitchen, she brewed fresh coffee. He’d need it. Her lips trembled. She’d need it. There should be an hourglass somewhere, she thought with an edge of hysteria, where the sand slipped relentlessly through the narrow opening to mark the pitiful amount of time remaining of her marriage.

She heard Thor moving in the bedroom and poured his coffee. Placing it on the table, she retreated to the far corner of the kitchen and leaned against the counter.

“Morning,” he greeted with a warm intimate smile. Striding over, he enveloped her in a tight hug.

She held her breath, bracing for his kiss. Traitor! Hypocrite! Deceiver! She trembled. He felt it.

A single brow quirked upward. “You all right?”

“Sure.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine. The coffee’s poured.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Okay.” He took the hint and, with a tolerant smile, took a seat at the kitchen table. He leaned back in the chair, his long legs stretched in front of him. “So, what’s up?”

“I have to talk to you.”

“Okay.” He snatched a quick gulp of coffee. “Talk.”

“I’ve sold Constantine’s.”

His mug hit the table, the hot liquid sloshing over the rim and onto his hand. He didn’t say a word. Certainly not the words she expected. He didn’t ask her to repeat the bald statement. He didn’t rant and rave. He didn’t even ask the all important question, 
why?

Instead a cold smile touched his mouth, reflecting the wintry coolness of his gaze. “Brilliant move,” he acknowledged. “One I didn’t anticipate. Stupid of me, wasn’t it?”

She shook her head. “No! You say that as though I’d planned to sell from the beginning. You’re wrong.” She didn’t know why she bothered with the denial. He didn’t believe her. Not for one tiny second.

He grunted. “Yeah, right. Whatever you say.”

“Something unexpected came up and I was forced to sell,” she offered feebly. Pride kept her from telling him about the bank loan—line of credit, she amended. Pride, and the fact he didn’t care enough to ask.

“Who?” At her momentary confusion, he elaborated, “Who did you sell to?”

“Jack Maxwell.”

Thor nodded. “I know him.” He smiled cynically. “Should I even bother asking about the Milano account?”

“It goes with Constantine’s.” She wished she’d obtained the means to make it up to him, so she could offer something in its place. But with nothing definite, she was forced to remain silent. She couldn’t give him what she didn’t have.

“That’s it, then.” He took another gulp of coffee and stood. “I have work to do.”

Don’t you dare cry
!
she ordered sternly.
Don’t you dare.
“Wait.” She shrank from the look in his eyes. “We have one or two other matters to settle. Our marriage, for one.”

He laughed then. She almost covered her ears at the sound, but didn’t quite have the nerve. “What marriage? You’ve decided everything without consulting me. I’m sure you’ve decided how to handle that minor detail, as well.”

“We married because of the business . . .” she began.

His lips twisted. “And we’ll divorce because of it, too.”

So, their marriage ended. No discussion. No explanations. No angry exchanges. She slipped her wedding band from her finger and stared at it for a long time, tears blurring her eyes. With loving care, she placed it gently on the kitchen table.

“I guess there’s nothing more to be said,” she whispered.

“Not another word,” he concurred.

She tried to swallow and couldn’t. “It’ll only take me a minute to pack,” she offered. “Then I’ll go.”

Her voice almost broke. She couldn’t risk speaking again. Nor could she look at him. She was too much a coward to face the fury and disgust and condemnation in his eyes. It took every ounce of strength to move from the table and walk down the hallway to their room. Correction, his room.

She packed. The entire time, Thor stayed in the kitchen. Once done, she didn’t seek him out. There wasn’t any point. She hesitated by the front door.

Explain it to him! Tell him why you did it. He’ll understand. Tell him you love him. Maybe it will make a difference.

She turned the doorknob. He didn’t want her love. He wanted the one thing she couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—offer. Her business. She squared her shoulders and walked through the door and out of his life.

H
e waited until he heard the front door close behind her. Then he heaved his coffee mug across the room with all the strength he possessed. It crashed against the wall and shattered, a thousand and one pieces raining onto the floor to mingle with the black flood of coffee.

A muscle worked in his cheek. Five jerky steps carried him to the kitchen table. He picked up her ring. Slowly his fingers closed around it, crushing it in his fist. The edges cut deep into his skin, but he didn’t flinch. This pain was nothing. Nothing at all.

Had she ever taken off his ring? He opened his fingers and stared at the shiny piece of gold. His thumb stroked the delicate braiding. Had she ever guessed at the symbolism behind the braid, why he’d chosen that over a bland exterior? Had she ever noticed the words he’d had inscribed inside the band? He ran his index finger over the graceful flowing script.

Først kjærlighet . . .

He slipped off his own ring and read the rest of the phrase.

. . . deretter arbeid.

He’d been wrong to choose those words. His gaze grew bleak. Very wrong.

W
ith nowhere else to go, Andrea returned to Constantine’s. Knowing the loft was padlocked, she ordered Marco to bring bolt cutters. She climbed the stairs above the offices, and her head salesman followed, resembling nothing more than a whipped puppy.

Seconds later, the lock dropped to the ground with a thud, and she pushed open the door, stepping inside. Someone had stripped the room clean. Nothing remained, not even a single prism. She closed her eyes. Her prisms. Gone, like her hope for the future.

With her arrogance and her pride, she’d taken the best thing in her life and thrown it away. Oh, her reasons were sound enough, but they made for a very cold bedfellow. She’d gambled and lost everything—her father’s business, her husband, and her future.

She’d always believed in tomorrow offering new beginnings and new chances. She’d always tried to look for the bright side in the gloomiest of disasters. Why should today be any different? She groaned. She knew why. Because Thor was no longer a part of her life. And without him, it would be a very dull, gray life indeed.

“Anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Thorsen?”

She caught her breath, her eyes widening. Mrs. Thorsen, he’d said. Not Andrea. Not Ms. Constantine. But Mrs. Thorsen.

Her mouth firmed. She needed that reminder. Wasn’t her goal to stand on her own and not be dependent on Thor? Hadn’t she also wanted to take their relationship off a professional footing and put it squarely on a personal one? There’d been a reason for that. She’d wanted to eliminate Constantine’s as a thorn in their side. She’d hoped to work by her husband’s side as his equal, not as another burden. She’d achieved her independence, a little more thoroughly than she liked, true. So what should she do with it?