The Blackmail Baby (3 page)

She didn’t belong here—not like this.

The anger that had gripped Lorenzo suddenly dissipated. He had to get her away from this place. It was impossible to talk to her in the churchyard.

‘We’ll go together—just to pick up what you need,’ he said. ‘Then you’re coming with me.’

Chloe stared up at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to start issuing orders—although that was exactly how Lorenzo was used to behaving with most people in his life. And it was how he had been with her too, back before they became personally involved.

‘I know you’re angry with me,’ she said, ‘but you can’t just sweep in here and boss me about. I don’t work for you any more.’

‘No. You’re my wife,’ Lorenzo grated, the tone of his voice telling her that he was far from happy about that. ‘And you are coming with me.’

‘But I have Emma now,’ she protested, tightening her hold on the infant protectively.

‘What about her father?’ Lorenzo asked, studying the crying baby with a crease between his brows.

‘He never wanted anything to do with her,’ Chloe said. ‘I’m the only one she has now.’

Lorenzo lifted his eyes to Chloe’s face, and an expression she couldn’t read passed across his features.

‘Let’s go.’ He reached out and took her arm before she realised what he intended.

As his hand made contact it was as if a jolt of energy surged through Chloe. She gasped and looked down automatically, staring as his strong fingers closed around her upper arm, tanned and vital next to the dull grey fabric of her jacket.

Her heart started to beat faster, and at that moment she felt the numbness that had deadened her over recent days start to thaw.

Lorenzo was only holding her arm, but suddenly she was fully aware of him physically—aware of his sheer size and strength. And shockingly aware of the body heat radiating from his powerful, athletic form.

She found herself drawn towards him, like a flower turning towards the sun.

She’d been so cold and lonely. All at once she found herself longing to feel his strong arms around her—to press herself against the solid masculine expanse of his chest.

Suddenly she realised that Lorenzo had stopped moving. He was standing utterly still. And she knew, even without looking up at him, that he was taking in her reaction to his touch.

A flash of alarm shot through her. She couldn’t let Lorenzo see how vulnerable she was feeling, how in need of physical comfort. He’d always been able to read her like a book, and right at that moment her defences were lower than normal.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ Chloe said, trying to shrug out of his grip. But his fingers simply tightened, and with Emma in her arms it was impossible to struggle too much.

‘There are matters we must discuss,’ Lorenzo said, turning her round so once again they were facing each other.

Chloe shook her head, staring directly ahead—straight at his broad chest. She did not want to talk to him any more. And she definitely did not want to look into his perceptive eyes.

She had the terrible feeling she would reveal herself to him in some way—let him see how naked her emotions were, how much she craved his presence. The day had already been too painful. The thought of him driving away and leaving her alone again suddenly seemed unbearable—but there was no way she would admit that to him.

‘Your desertion on our wedding day made it clear that you are no longer happy with our arrangement,’
he said, cupping his free hand under her chin and lifting her face to his.

Her gaze was locked to his clear blue eyes again and the touch of his fingers against her skin made her shiver once more.

‘I didn’t think we had an
arrangement,
’ she replied, feeling a chill creep back around her heart. His words were a harsh reminder that she had been disastrously wrong about what their marriage meant to Lorenzo—about what
she’d
meant to him.

‘Yes, we did,’ Lorenzo said, ‘which is why we need to talk. There will be no further misunderstandings between us.’

C
HLOE
sat in the limousine with Lorenzo and Emma as it purred along the narrow lanes away from the village where she’d lived for the last three months. It was late in the afternoon but the sun was still shining brightly. Billowing drifts of frothy white cow parsley lined the roadside, and the hedgerows were a mass of lacy hawthorn blossom.

Chloe stared out at the passing countryside, hoping to calm her jangling nerves. She could not let herself look across at Lorenzo. She was still too unsettled and confused by her feelings towards him.

She’d spent the last few weeks desperately missing him, despite the fact that she knew she was yearning for something that did not really exist. Everything she’d believed to be true about their relationship had been false. Lorenzo did not love her. All he’d wanted was a convenient wife.

But now he had appeared out of the blue, and her body and soul had responded to him with an inten
sity that had knocked her off balance. It was as if her mind had no influence over what she was feeling towards him—or even as if the heartbreaking revelation on their wedding day had never really happened.

‘I gather that your friend had no immediate family.’ The sound of Lorenzo’s deep voice startled her. She turned to him, feeling her pulse crank up a notch once more the moment she met his steely blue gaze. ‘But where are the rest of her relatives?’

‘There aren’t any,’ she said, dragging her eyes away from his face with surprising difficulty to look down at Emma, who was asleep in the infant car seat beside her. ‘That will make the adoption more straightforward. It’s what Liz wanted—and what I want too.’

‘Adoption is a serious commitment. And a legally binding arrangement,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Did you not think it would be appropriate to discuss your intention with your husband?’

His voice was level and the tone neutral, but Chloe knew it was a pointed comment. She turned back to him and saw that he was staring at Emma. There was a deep crease between his black eyebrows and Chloe realised she’d never seen him in such close proximity to a baby before.

He was looking at Emma as if she were a tiny alien who had somehow sneaked into his car.

She knew that Lorenzo wanted children—they’d
discussed it after he asked her to marry him. At the time she assumed he’d be a wonderful father. But now, judging by his expression as he studied Emma, she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he just wanted children to inherit his legacy and carry on his family name.

Chloe had always wanted to be a mother and now she had a baby to care for. It wasn’t the way she would have wanted it to happen, but when she promised Liz that she would adopt Emma she’d known that the baby girl was the most precious parting gift her friend could have given her.

‘There’s no need for you to worry,’ she said, feeling instinctively protective towards Emma. ‘The adoption will not affect you.’

As soon as she’d spoken she felt his temper flare once more and a prickle passed across her skin. The limousine suddenly seemed too small, and she wished they were back in the open air again.

‘We are married,’ he grated. ‘I imagine that the adoption courts will be interested in that—even if you think you can act as if we are not.’

‘I’m not acting as if I’m not married!’ she snapped, meeting his gaze straight on. ‘I’m just trying to do the right thing for an orphaned baby. My promise to adopt Emma has nothing to do with you.’

His piercing gaze held hers and the air between them seemed to vibrate with sudden tension.

Chloe swallowed reflexively as she realised how angry he was that she’d made this decision without
him. He was probably thinking about how the adoption would affect him legally, and whether he would have unwanted responsibilities towards somebody else’s child.

‘You won’t stop me doing this,’ she said. ‘Nothing will stop me taking care of Emma. No one will ever take this baby away from me.’

But at that moment she realised that Lorenzo
was
involved. Until they were divorced, he might have some influence over the adoption procedure.

‘I
will
fight for Emma,’ she added, still staring straight into his hard eyes. Her heart was beating quickly and she felt the muscles of her face grow taut as she continued to maintain eye contact. But she wouldn’t look away. She couldn’t cave in so easily. There was too much at stake.

‘We’re here.’

Lorenzo’s voice broke the silence and Chloe let out a shuddering sigh, turning away to see where he’d brought them. He’d told her he had somewhere private near by where they would be able to talk, and she hadn’t asked any more questions.

The idea of somewhere different, away from the cottage that held such sadness, had been very appealing. She’d quickly packed a few things, telling herself that he was right—they did still have issues that needed to be resolved. But deep down she’d known that she didn’t really want to be alone at the cottage that night.

‘Where are we?’ she asked as they drove through an impressive brick arch. Wrought-iron gates swung silently closed behind them, then she caught her first glimpse of a sleek modern house, set in the most beautiful grounds. ‘What is this place?’

If this was where Lorenzo was staying, no wonder it hadn’t taken long for the limousine to come out to the village, bringing an additional driver to return with Lorenzo’s convertible.

‘It was your wedding present,’ Lorenzo said shortly as the limo purred along the sweeping driveway up to the front door. ‘You left before I had a chance to give it to you.’

Chloe blinked in surprise, totally lost for words. She knew she ought to say something, but her mind had gone completely blank.

She realised Lorenzo was already out of the car, waiting for her to join him, so she leant across to release the safety belt that held the infant car seat securely in place. Then before she had a chance to move Lorenzo reached in and lifted the portable seat, complete with sleeping baby, out of the car.

Chloe followed him into the house with a very strange feeling running through her as she watched him carrying Emma. It was clear that he was taking care, but even so it looked more as if he were carrying a basket of groceries at the supermarket than a little baby. All of a sudden that thought struck her as absurdly funny—she just couldn’t imagine
Lorenzo Valente carrying a basket of food around a shop—and she bit her lip to stop herself smiling.

But then as quickly as the flash of humour had struck her, it vanished again. And she found herself trailing behind him through a beautiful house into an incredible glass-walled living room, which overlooked a stunning landscaped garden.

Lorenzo placed Emma’s carrier carefully onto a cream rug and turned to speak to her.

‘Chloe, this is Mrs Gill Guest, the housekeeper,’ he said, gesturing a middle-aged lady forward from a doorway at the side of the room. ‘Mrs Guest, I would appreciate it if you would assist my wife. Help her and the infant to settle in, and discuss any particular requirements she may have, especially regarding the baby.’

Then, without another glance in her direction, Lorenzo turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his leather-soled shoes making no sound on the natural wood floor.

Lorenzo marched through the house to his study, tension screaming in every muscle of his body. He shut the door behind him, flung off his jacket and tugged at his tie, suddenly feeling unbearably constrained.

Just a couple of hours in Chloe’s company and already he was reaching the edge of his control.

He had come to England to bring his marriage to Chloe to a decisive end—but not until he’d sought
retribution for what she’d done. She would not get away with walking out on him.

In theory it should be easy to take the situation back into his own hands. He’d seen how Chloe responded to him when he touched her, and he knew that she was desperate for him to give her the comfort she’d needed.

That was exactly what he intended to do. Then afterwards, once he had made her realise what she had walked away from, what could have been hers for life, he would ruthlessly sever the relationship.

His plan was perfect with its elegant simplicity.

But he had wanted her with a fierceness that had taken him by surprise—a need so overpowering that it had threatened his rational command.

Even now the fire was burning in him, making his throbbing body ache for her relentlessly, despite the fact she was now out of his sight. Three months was a long time and, although he’d considered their marriage over in all but name, he had not taken another woman to his bed.

No one had caught his eye—not one woman had stirred the same magnitude of desire within him.

When he’d looked down at her standing beside him in the churchyard, the urge to drag her against him and crush her soft pink lips with his mouth had been almost irresistible. Passion had pulsed through his veins like molten lava, until the only thing he could think about was making love to Chloe.

He could not let it go on. He would not let his physical desire cloud his mind any longer. Chloe had already caused enough disruption in his life. He would take her to bed and get her out of his system. Once and for all.

But, deep in the dark recesses of his mind, he knew once would not be enough.

Chloe stood in the bedroom, by the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window, staring out at the stunning view across the rolling green hills. It was a beautiful place, and exactly the type of house she’d once dreamed of living in. It reminded her of a property she’d visited and fallen in love with as a child, and she was certain that Lorenzo must remember her telling him about it.

The building was modern, with clean, simple lines and wonderful airy living spaces with masses of huge windows that made it feel continuous with the garden and the lush green countryside that surrounded the house.

It was an incredible wedding gift. Not because of its value, but because it had been chosen personally for her, in answer to a childhood dream that she’d never expected to have fulfilled.

But now she was there she almost wished Lorenzo had taken her to an impersonal country hotel, because she didn’t know how to interpret his purchase of this house. It was so close to Liz’s
village that it could not be a coincidence. And, if he had given it to her before the wedding, she would have seen him buying a place near her best friend’s home as a sign of his love. Now she was just horribly confused.

She lifted her chin and shook her hair back from her face—pushing those thoughts firmly from her mind. All she should be thinking about was how to secure her future as Emma’s adoptive mother. From Lorenzo’s reaction it was clear he was angry that she hadn’t kept him informed about her intention. She knew that she would have to tread carefully, because she could not—
would not
—let anything stop her adopting Emma.

A gentle tap on the door pulled her out of her thoughts, and she realised it was Mrs Guest returning to babysit while she went down to talk to Lorenzo in his study. A knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach, but she did her best to ignore it and smiled at the older lady.

‘Thank you for staying with Emma.’ Chloe glanced over at the baby sleeping in the cot that Mrs Guest’s husband had set up earlier that evening. ‘She doesn’t normally wake once she’s down for the night, but it’s such a big house I was worried I wouldn’t hear her if she does.’

‘It’s my pleasure,’ Mrs Guest said. ‘The baby-monitoring equipment will be delivered tomorrow, but I’ll always be happy to sit with her.’

‘Thank you,’ Chloe said, wondering how long Mrs Guest expected her to be staying there at that house—whether Lorenzo had given his staff any indication. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

She left the bedroom and walked slowly down to Lorenzo’s study, butterflies crashing in her stomach and her heart beating apprehensively.

In the past she’d always looked forward to seeing him. During the two years that she’d been his PA she’d eagerly awaited business arrangements that would bring him to his London offices. Then, once their relationship had moved on to a personal level, she’d spent every minute they were apart daydreaming about when they would be together again.

But now she knew he was angry with her. And the enforced wait to see him had made her nervous. She smoothed her hands down over her clothes, wishing that she hadn’t changed into her jeans and a T-shirt. But the grey suit had been borrowed from Liz’s wardrobe, and it had been too upsetting to wear it any longer.

She walked down the curved staircase with her gaze fixed on the open door of his study, realising that he would be able to see her coming. She started to tread as quietly as possible, thankful that her flat ballerina pumps made virtually no sound.

Suddenly Lorenzo appeared in the doorway. His blue eyes locked on to Chloe instantly, sending a
rush of nerves skittering through her, which was quickly followed by a heated jolt of sensual awareness.

He looked absolutely magnificent—the epitome of masculine good looks and animal magnetism. Tall and powerfully built, his broad-shouldered athletic form would make heads turn wherever he went. But it was so much more than his physical presence that made an impact—the sheer force of his personality emanated from him, despite the fact he was standing absolutely still, wearing an unreadable expression.

Chloe took a steadying breath and forced herself to keep walking down the stairs.

‘Come into my study,’ Lorenzo said, standing aside just enough to let her brush past him. ‘We still have a lot to discuss.’

It was another impressive glass-walled room with sliding doors that opened directly onto a wide decking area next to a large fishpond edged with a mass of flowering purple irises.

But Chloe was only conscious of Lorenzo as she slipped through the narrow gap he’d left for her, feeling the heat of his body even in the brief moment it took to slip past. She felt tiny next to him, especially in her flat shoes. For an instant she wished again she hadn’t changed out of the formal grey suit—but then she pushed the thought aside.

She might be small, but she was a strong woman.
She would not let herself be overwhelmed by Lorenzo. She’d been through such a lot over the last three months, and this conversation with Lorenzo was just another hurdle to get over. She might as well get on with it—on her own terms.