'But if we talk about what doesn't matter for long enough, I have more hope of getting my temper under control!' Stella frowned his confusion.
Was he blaming her for that scurrilous article? How could he? She asked him, certain she had to be wrong. 'Of course, I'm blasted well blaming you!' Dior launched back at her, his pent-up outrage unleashed by what he considered to be a very stupid question. Stella turned very pale.
'But why?' "The trail leads back to you, Stella. If I'm not very sympathetic, it's because your lack of discretion has brought this on us both!' he condemned with raw impatience.
'Lack of discretion?' Stella echoed blankly. 'Maxwell didn't even tell Chloe that you were pregnant! He knows she's a hopeless gossip. And now I know I've got a wife who makes his look as secretive as the CIA!' Dior bit out sardonically.
'How many people have you told that you're pregnant?' 'None!' Stella's temper rose as she finally grasped why he didn't feel she was entitled to sympathy. He fondly imagined, that all that data had leaked from her foolish lips! 'You must have told someone.
I would trust Maxwell with my life. The press couldn't have managed to put all this together so quickly without assistance from someone close to you!' Dior spelled out with emphasis. Stella then recalled telling Joshua Clark that she was expecting a baby, and she colored hotly.
Dior was watching her like a hawk eager to swoop on a tender prey. 'Who was it?' Stella was thinking at a frantic pace. Joshua might have known she was pregnant, but he hadn't known a single thing about her parentage.
Then she stilled, an expression of appalled comprehension slowly freezing her eloquent face. She could not believe what a fool she had been not to grasp who was behind such a vindictive attack on her. 'Stella...I want a full confession.
Then possibly I will calm down,' Dior contended, in not the most convincing of promises. Stella scrutinized him in agonized silence. She knew that he was likely to spontaneously combust if she spoke the name that already lay between them like a mine-filled stretch of enemy territory.
But at the same time, she had to defend herself. 'Stella...' Dior grated. 'You want to know who I think is likely to have been behind this newspaper stuff...?' Stella swallowed and tilted her chin. 'In my opinion, the most likely candidate is Aria Bailey .'
Boulders could have dropped soundlessly into the deep, deep silence that fell. She might as well have named a cartoon character. Dior stared at her with wondering hazel green eyes as if she was intellectually challenged.
'It has to be her,' Stella continued valiantly. 'She already knew about my background and she hates me—' 'Have you taken leave of your wits?' Dior demanded in an almost ragged plea. Stella jerked a slight shoulder.
'If it's any consolation, Aria has you taped too,' she added, no longer struggling to choose her words with care. 'She said that you were easily embarrassed, and she said that you'd turn on me." Dior swept a silencing hand through the air.
As a gesture, it was highly effective in its intimidating authority. 'You are so devoured by jealousy you can't see straight, never mind reason rationally—' 'Right at this moment, I am certainly not jealous, Dior.'