Baby By Accident: International Billionaires III: The Italians (22 page)

A string of sharp memories suddenly stung him. The
Princesse
holding court in his boardroom, all sophisticated refinement. Lise on his bed that first night, all sex and elegance and lace and beauty. His
mia dolce,
all class and charm even when she wore only her bathing suit.

“This!” she shrieked, waving a tabloid at him. “I won’t put up with this!”

His soon-to-be-ex-wife never shrieked.

She’d yelled at him a time or two. She’d occasionally snarled.

Still, never would Lise Helton Mattare shriek.

“Do it again and I won’t be responsible for my actions.” The woman shrieked once more. In a much louder tone.

Could this possibly be his Lise?

Not yours anymore.

The thought brought him up short and pulled him out of his stunned disbelief. His anger at her stupidity at traveling alone returned with a vengeance. “Are you mad?”

“Yes.” She strode to his desk and slapped the offending paper down with a crack. “As a matter of fact I am.”

Gritting his teeth, he leaned over to stick his face in hers. “I meant, are you crazy to travel all this way with no protection? What the hell were you thinking?”

Her gaze blazed a fierce blue. A blue he’d never seen before. This blue did not resemble ice in any way. Her eyes were a hot, fiery cerulean. A glittering, radiant sear of color that tore into his blood with astounding speed.

His erection was immediate. And so inappropriate.

“Never again, do you hear me?” She matched his lean, their noses almost touching. “I will forgive you this one time. But not one time more.”

Forgive him? She didn’t know the extent of his sins. How could she forgive him? The pain flared, burning at the edges of the death crouched around his heart and soul.

This was too much for him.

Vico sucked in a breath and paced away to stand by the window. Glaring out at the laden clouds, he absently noticed the rain starting to drip down the glass.

None of this made sense. Why was she here? Why had she followed him?

Maledizione.
The woman was eight months pregnant. She probably shouldn’t have been on a plane at all, much less alone without any security.

“You should not be here,” he intoned to the London landscape, trying to keep his voice even. “You should not have traveled in your condition.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He sensed her coming up behind him. “That isn’t even an issue compared to what we have to deal with.”

Frustration blistered in him. He’d thought he’d left this behind. He’d thought any remaining contact would be through their solicitors. He’d thought he’d never have to see her again, talk to her again, want her again.

“I’ll give you what you want.” His jaw hurt from the tight clench. “I won’t contest the divorce.”

Her huff was filled with disgust. “So you think that absolves you of your behavior?”

She wanted the last ounce of his blood. The last slip of his pride. Yet this was fair. Her demand was even worthy. The Italian in him understood—an eye for an eye. “No, nothing will absolve me of my behavior.”

A short, sharp silence fell.

He felt her breath, the beat of her heart like it was his own. Crippling pain at the loss of her torched at the deadness, the emptiness. Now, now he was no longer terrified of the numb blanket covering his emotions. Now he wanted it to stay until she left. Protect him until she’d finally left his life for good.

She sighed behind him. “Okay. I accept you were very upset when you arrived in London last night and that was my fault. So, you did something stupid. We’ll put it behind us.”

Last night? Her fault?

“What?” He jerked around and stared at her in complete bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

Her mouth was firm and resolved, but her eyes were no longer crystal clear. They were muddy with disappointment. At him. Obviously. He accepted that. However, he wasn’t following her conversation, didn’t understand how last night’s drunken dissolution had anything to do with her.

“Let’s not play games.” Her mouth tightened even more before she turned and walked across the room to the paper she’d slapped on his desk. Taking the tabloid in her hand, she started to drop it into his wastebasket. “It’s not important anymore.”

A tabloid.

“Wait.” He stomped over and grabbed it from her. There he was on the cover, a silly grin of anguish on his face, a woman he had no recollection of on his arm.

Trouble in paradise for Vico and his bride
?

“
Dio.
” He stared at the headline and then swung his head around to meet her saddened gaze. “This? This is what you’re talking about?”

“I saw it the minute I landed.” Her hands twisted in front of her. “It hurt, Vico. It hurt.”

His heart pumped. Jerked. Broke free of the dead clutching at it. “I don’t—”

“I know I hurt you, too, though.” Tears welled in her crystalline eyes. “So I’m willing to forgive and forget.”

“Lise.” He slapped the tabloid down. “I was a fool and got drunk. But I slept on my couch. Alone.”

“You did?” Hope swept across her face.

“
Si.
”

Why did it matter to her what he’d done last night? And if she’d seen the damn tabloid only after she landed, why had she left the villa for London? Why was she here?

Why was she here
?

He stared at her. Confusion mixed with lust inside him. The simmering brew kept bubbling on the edge of his numb soul, kept curling around the spirit that somehow had found a way back into his being.

“So there wasn’t anything to it, then?” Her voice was soft, trusting.

He swept frustrated hands through his hair. “I have plenty of sins to claim, but being a playboy is not one of them. Never has been.”

“Really?”

“
Si
, really.” What did this matter? His foolish heart was trying to change this tiny part of his reputation in her eyes, when there were huge boulders of sins waiting for her inspection.

“I believe you,” she said. Then, she smiled. A brilliant smile that lit her face.

His soul broke free of the deadness, jumping to life and whirling around his fast-beating heart. But his brain clutched at it and pushed it down. Reminded it of the divorce papers she’d ordered, her mother’s words she’d agreed with.

Reminded his soul of his intrinsic unworthiness.

“None of this matters.” He turned away from that smile.

“It doesn’t matter that your wife believes you?” Her voice iced.

“No.” He paced across the room. Stuck his hands in his pockets. Kept his lust entrapped. “Because soon you won’t be my wife.”

The silence chilled his spine; a shudder of loss ran through him as he heard his own words. But he needed to force them into his soul so it would shrink back. He tried to find the edge of the dead numbness inside him so he could pull it over his aching emotions.

“Look at me.”

Her words were not sharp and dismissive as he’d expected. They were warm and giving. Still, a thread of steel, the part of his Lise he knew well, laced through each word.

Vico stared at the wall in front of him.
Dio
. He could not turn around to find whatever was there. He could not face whatever she had in store for him. The welter of pain, lust, confusion, love was too much to control in her presence.

“Look at me.”

His breath rasped in his chest. “Go away.”

“Never.”

The words hit him between the shoulders like a punch. Without thinking, he jerked around. “What?”

His wife stood in the middle of his office, looking like a round, fragile waif. Except her eyes were that radiant blue once more and her smile was wide. “I love you.”

The soul inside him soared, breaking free of his pain, lifting into his love and pulling it into a dance in the center of his chest.

However, his spirit knew. Knew it was hopeless. “No.”

Her smile faltered. “What do you mean, no? I know what I feel.”

“No, you can’t love me.”

A frown bladed her brow. “I can and I do.”

“You can’t.” A light film of sweat broke on his neck.

“I do.” His determined ex-CFO gave him a fierce glare. “And I always will.”

“I can’t—”

“Fine.” She took a deep breath in and crossed her arms over her chest as if protecting herself. “I can accept you don’t feel the same.”

“That’s not—”

“But I have enough love for both of us and our child,” she snapped. “So I’m not letting you go.”

A fury, born of the dead hope shattered in Italy only yesterday, reared its head. This must be a wicked payback for what he’d done to her. It was too much, too cruel of her to play with him as if he were some sort of terrible toy. “Don’t take me for a fool. I read those divorce papers.”

“My mother.”

The words stunned him. For some reason, Esther Helton had never entered his mind. The intelligent, incisive brain he’d depended on had immediately jumped the rails the moment he’d started to read the email. He’d only focused on one thing. His wife.

“Your mother?” he muttered.

“You have to believe me. I had nothing to do with it. She forged my signature.”

He gave her a blank stare, the facts churning in his head.

She glared at him. “I believed you. You have to believe me.”

Her mother had said those words. Not Lise. Her mother had hired the solicitors. Not Lise.

Her mother hated him. Not…

I’m not letting you go. I believe you.

I love you.

The words buzzed in his head and for a moment, he wanted to believe in the dream. He wanted to take this chance and hope he’d somehow make this work, that somehow he wouldn’t screw up.

Yet he loved her and his unborn son. Too much to take the chance.

“I believe you,” he said, turning to face her. And his fate. “But I still want this divorce.”

I
still want this divorce
.

Lise’s heart stuttered, then broke into a panicked beat. The realization was hard to accept: Vico didn’t love her. She was willing to stick with it, though, willing to continue to hope that someday—

Did he hate her this much?

The whole change made no sense. The man who’d demanded marriage, demanded his son, demanded everything from her—now wanted nothing?

“Why?” she gasped through her pain. Pride was long gone.

He stood as far from her as possible. His stance was taut, tense and his gaze was completely cold as he surveyed her. “You heard what I said.”

“But I don’t—”

“I won’t contest the money your mother asked for.”

“I don’t want—”

“I won’t contest your full custody either.”

She looked at him. Stared at him. She’d given him everything, everything in her. The new Lise had been born only because he’d come into her life. If she didn’t have him, she wouldn’t exist. Not as the fully-realized woman she’d found being with him.

I love you
.

She’d given him the words. The precious words she’d been too afraid to say for too long. Because the three simple words included so much more than an emotion. They included her hopes and dreams. Her need, her want. The simple words included herself, her essence.

Her everything.

“I’ll call security and have them meet you in the lobby to escort you back to Italy.” Her husband, the man who didn’t want to be her husband, walked to his desk and glanced down at his computer.

Dismissing her.

For a moment, for a moment the new Lise shook inside her. The old Lise urged, begged her to leave with her dignity and any remaining pride. The struggle broke inside her, making her sway for a moment.

Her husband ignored her.

Her son kicked her. Hard.

A boom of thunder rumbled outside. And in.

The new Lise won.

“No.” She stepped to the edge of his desk and poked a trembling finger into his chest. “I won’t agree to it, Vico. I’ll fight you.”

His mouth tightened and he glanced at her. “Drop this. I’m not changing my mind.”

Again, she noticed how dead his eyes were. There wasn’t a glint of the love of life in them she usually saw. But now, instead of hurting her, they stopped her and gave her courage.

What was going on here?

What was really going on?

His rejection had struck her with a hard, cold slug, but now her brain worked again. This didn’t jive with what she saw, what she knew, what she felt.

The man who smiled and laughed with her was a man who loved her. She saw it.

The man who cared for her and her baby with tenderness loved her. She knew it.

The man who held her in his arms in bed was a man who loved. She felt it.

For the first time in her life, she trusted her gut, not her head. She didn’t hear the words he spoke, she heard the song of his soul. If she was going to go down in the flame of defeat, she’d deal with it later. For right now, she was going to jump into the frenzy and fight him for this love they both shared.

This love they both shared.

“You changed your mind before,” she pointed out. “No divorce, you said. Ever.”

“Things change—”

“So you can change your mind again.”

“
Dio santo
.” He wrenched his hand through his curls. “Don’t you ever give up?”

A slight smile crossed her lips, although she shook inside. “No. You should know that by now.”

Instead of joining her in the attempt at humor, his expression flattened. Then incongruously, he laughed. A hollow, short laugh. A laugh filled with agony. She knew instantly this laugh had nothing to do with her humor. This horrible laugh was tied to something far worse.

“Vico.” She reached for him, but he stepped away. Instead of letting her touch him, he strode to the window and stared out. The boom of thunder rattled through the silent room. A crack of lightning lit the grey sky then shot apart.

“You ask for everything, don’t you,
mia dolce
?” His voice was tired and defeated.

“I’m only asking for what you promised,” she whispered. “I promise not to ask for your love.”

Another hollow laugh accompanied another boom of thunder. The air stilled around her. The shaking inside her escalated until the shivers of fear and waiting and hope ran down her skin in waves. “Vico?”

“
Il mio l’amore.
” The words were choked, filled with an emotion she couldn’t define.

But it didn’t matter.

What mattered was these were the words she’d needed to hear. She thanked the stars for her Italian studies. She wanted no more misunderstanding between them. His foreign words poured through her heart with a pure elation she’d never experienced before. Stepping toward him, she touched his shoulder, smiling through her happy tears. “I love you too and that’s all that matters.”

“No.” He jerked from her touch. His hand slapped onto the window as if he couldn’t keep himself upright without it.

“You love me.” She tried to understand, yet couldn’t. “I love you. What else is there?”

He breathed heavily, the sound echoing in the office.

“Vico?”

“Don’t you see?” He twirled in a sudden, impatient rage.

She sucked in a breath when she saw his face, contorted in awful pain. “I don’t,” she said, desperate to comfort him. “Tell me.”

His eyes flared with disgust. Self-disgust. “I love you enough to let you go. I love my son enough to let him go.”

“Why?”

The question hung in the air, hovering between them.

Then, she watched as his dead eyes blazed with complete life. But it wasn’t the life she’d fallen in love with, eyes blazing with intelligence and joy and humor. These eyes held an awful life of shame and torment.

Without thinking, she stepped near his body and encircled him in her embrace. Even as he tried to step away. Even as his arms hung at his side. Even as he moaned, “no.”

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.” The scent of almonds mixed with sweat filled her nostrils as she snuggled deeper into his chest.

“It matters.” He stopped struggling, but his words were completely certain.

She peered into his face. “What is it?”

“Why won’t you just take my word for it? Why won’t you believe me in this and walk away?”

The old Lise would have. The old Lise would have dragged her pride around her and walked out of his life. But the new Lise now knew what it was to think with your heart, not your mind. The new Lise knew in her heart that whatever was tormenting her husband could be overcome with their mutual love.

“No, Vico. I won’t. You’ll have to tell me.”

His chest heaved, pressing on her breasts. She kept her eyes on his. Her arms around him. Her hands smoothing along his back in an attempt to comfort him.

Finally, his eyes closed, long, dark lashes fanning on his pale cheeks.

“I’m not worthy of you,
Princesse
. You or my son.”

Pure shock ran through her at his strangled confession. This man believed…believed he wasn’t good enough for her?

“You heard my mother that day, didn’t you?” She should have confronted him and stopped this train of thought immediately.

“She’s right.” He kept his eyes closed, as if he couldn’t face her.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m merely facing the truth.” His eyes popped open and he glared at her as if he hated, not loved. “I knew this long before I met your mother. I knew it the moment we met. I’ve known for years I’m not capable of keeping anyone I love safe.”

“Safe?” She frowned. “You take care of your entire family. I assume if they ever needed anything, you’d take care of it, right?”

He shook his head. “That’s not—”

“You take care of me all the time.” Her frown deepened. “You took care of me in Paris, when I was in the hospital, and in Italy.”

“It was my fault you were in the hospital.” He leaned in, yelling the words into her face.

“No, it wasn’t.” She kept her place, not backing down. “I told you that.”

His breath landed on her cheek, hot and harsh.

“I think you take on too much responsibility.” She fisted her hand and nudged him in the back. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”

“And I’m sure that if I stay near you and our son, someday, somehow, I’ll screw everything up.” He tried to pull away, but Lise was having none of it.

There was something deeper going on here than she’d initially thought. How could this man—a loving family man, a man who’d conquered the business world, a man who loved life with a passion—how could he think this abomination?

“I have never respected a man more than I do you,” she stated, with complete and utter belief.

He closed his eyes once more. In resignation, not acceptance.

“I’ve never seen a man more loving to his family than you.”

His mouth twisted in rejection.

“I have never, ever known a man who’s more honorable than you.”

His bitter laugh filled the room as he finally opened his eyes and looked at her. The tawny colors flamed in fierce disbelief. Big, warm hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

Thunder rumbled as the slash of rain splattered on the window.

“Honorable?” He said the word as if it were a curse. “Was it honorable to take you back to my place? Put you in my bed?”

“We’ve also been through this before.” She met his savage gaze with a steady one of her own. “I had as much to do with that night as you did.”

“Not true,” he snarled. “If I hadn’t initiated it, if I hadn’t impulsively taken you, it would have never happened.”

“True.” She ran her hand down his shaking back. “But then we wouldn’t have fallen in love with each other and we wouldn’t have a child on the way.”

“You don’t unders—”

“So I’m glad you were impulsive.” He shook his head, rejecting her words and she had to reach a hand up to grab his chin, yanking his gaze back to her own. “Glad. Did you hear me? I’m glad that night happened.”

His harsh breath filled the room, clashing with the crack of lightning and boom of thunder.

“I’m happy I’m in love with you,” she continued, trying to reach inside his pain and heal him. “I’m happy I’m pregnant. What you started that night turned into something wonderful.”

“You don’t understand.” His big hands grasped her hips, pushing her away.

She stepped back into his personal space, reaching up to pull him down. Perhaps she could reach him physically. The kiss started and stopped when he pulled away.

“No,” he muttered.

“All right.” She whispered her lips across his sweating neck, slipping her hands across his shaking shoulders. “Then tell me. Make me understand.”

“Maybe…” He trailed off into a sigh. “Maybe some good did come from that night. But I act impulsively all the time and most of the time it turns out badly.”

Jerking her head up at his confession, she stared at him in disbelief. “Vico. You rarely act with anything other than complete confidence and complete understanding.”

“No, I—”

“Look at what you’ve done for this company.” She waved her hand around the office. “You came in with a brilliant plan and you executed it flawlessly.”

His mouth quirked in wry amusement, even though his gaze stayed dull with defeat. “Much to your regret.”

“Yes.” A smile was something, something to build on. “And that says another thing you need to remember. I can behave impulsively, stupidly, too. I jumped to all the wrong conclusions about you and your plans. That wasn’t smart.”

“It isn’t the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing. Everyone acts impulsively, sometimes.”

“Not like me.” The smile turned into a grimace. “I do far worse.”

The way he looked at her told her this wasn’t just about their first night. There was something ugly still buried inside him, something that flared in his eyes like blasting volcanos of pain and regret.

She straightened in his arms, bracing herself. “Tell me. Tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

“No.” He yanked out of her grasp and paced to the window. The storm swirled outside, sheets of rain slashing down.

“You can tell me anything.” She kept her place, determination running through her. They were not going to leave this office until everything was said, every secret revealed. She wouldn’t let him or herself off the hook. “I love you. Tell me.”

He swung back to scowl at her. “Can’t you leave me with some dignity,
Princesse
? Some piece of pride?”

“I’m not leaving you, period.”

With a grunt of rejection, he lurched back to stare out the window. His shoulders were tense as if he waited for her to crack her whip at him. And if she needed to, she would. Her instincts told her this confession needed to be said by him. He needed to pull this painful stiletto of a memory out of him and make peace with it before she’d have a chance to heal him and love him like he deserved.

“No matter what you’ve done, I will always love you.” Lise stated the words with precision and with her whole heart. “You will always be the most honorable man I know.”

A brilliant crack of lightning split the sky, brightening the room. With it came a deep boom of thunder that shook the windowpane. It lit a rage inside her husband. She could tell because he swung around, his body tight with anger, his hands fisted, his face filled with contorted fury. “Was it honorable to lure a kid into a gang? Was it honorable to get him killed? Is that what you call honorable?”

The old story.

The tale none of his family touched.

The crime he never talked about.

“Tell me what happened.” She braved his temper and walked right up to him. Lifting her hand, she brushed the sudden tears off his cheeks.

“It was my fault.” Agony stretched his skin taut over the slash of his cheekbones. “He was my friend. He was only a kid.”

“Vico.” Drawing closer, her hand smoothed along his spine, feeling the hard breath moving in and out of his lungs.

“I was stupid. Ran around with the wrong crowd. Thought I was some kind of hero because I had my own gang. Guys who followed me.” The words tumbled from him in rapid fire, as he if he were trying to pull them out of his soul like painful blades of cutting memories.