A tangle of shoes, silk and lace lay discarded on an armchair and the sound of clothes hangers rattling filled the air as he marched into the room. “What the hell are you doing?” Rianna’s head turned abruptly toward him. She knew her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were rimmed with pink, but she didn’t care anymore. Why should she worry about her appearance for his sake? “What does it bloody look like?” “I want to apologise for earlier,” he said quickly, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about your brother and his wife. It was wrong.” “It was,” she replied flatly and continued to rifle in the wardrobe, her back still turned to him. “I don’t want you to go, Rianna.” She stopped for a moment and the air was as still and thick as wet cement. “Well, you don’t always get what you want, Daniel,” she snapped. “It must be quite hard on you to have to face that.” “You’re talking to me as if I’m a spoiled brat.” “Aren’t you?”
