The Italian's Love-Child (8 page)

And with those damning and insulting words ringing in her ears, Eve listened in disbelief as his footsteps echoed down the corridor and the front door slammed shut behind him.

This was getting to be something of a habit, she thought tiredly. But once he had gone, she felt oddly lighter—as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and until it had gone she hadn’t realised just how much she had been dreading telling Luca.

His reaction had been even worse than her worst imaginings, but at least now it was over. The obstacle had been faced and overcome. Whatever happened now, nothing could be as bad as that had been, surely.

And then she remembered the cold anger on his beautiful face and she bit her lip, tears threatening to well up in her eyes, but she swallowed them down.
There was no point in thinking about it, or him. It was over.

She heard a protesting rumble in her stomach, and for the first time since she had found out the news, she felt hungry.

You’ve got a baby to feed, Eve Peters, she told herself sternly as she opened the fridge door.

‘T
HERE
has been no phone call?’

The lawyer shook his head. ‘Nothing,
signore
.’

‘And you telephoned her, as I instructed?’

‘I have attempted to telephone Signorina Peters on four occasions, and on each occasion she has steadfastly refused to take my call.’

Beneath his breath, Luca swore. He turned to the window, his mind turning over the facts in his cool, clear-headed way.

But for once, he was perplexed.

This had been the last thing he had expected. Her words of protest he had naturally assumed to be false, her declaration that she never wished to see him again he had thought was the defiant words of a woman who meant no such thing but was simply playing a clever game. He hadn’t been sure what it was she had wanted—him or his money, or both—but he had been certain that he would find out soon enough.

But indeed it seemed that she
had
severed all contact.

He continued to stare unseeing as the midday sun illuminated the magnificent spectacle of Roman rooftops, and then his heart clenched in fear.

Unless…unless there was a very good reason why she
hadn’t
contacted him. Inside the pockets of his trousers, his fingers clenched themselves into tight fists.

What if…what if there was no longer any reason for her to do so? What if the pregnancy no longer existed?

For a moment Luca felt physically sick, and, for a man who had rarely known a day’s sickness in his life, it was an unwelcome sensation. But then, he was getting quite used to those.

‘Signor Cardelli?’

Luca turned around, surprising the look of concern on the face of his lawyer.

‘You are sick,
signore
?’

Resolve returned to fill his blood with the fire of determination and Luca shook his head. ‘No, my friend. Not sick at all,’ he said grimly. It was time to take matters into his own hands. Something that he should have done weeks ago.

Eve cheerily said goodbye to the crew, but once she was headed for her car and her driver her smile faded. It was hard work trying to pretend that nothing was wrong, and she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to keep it up.

Sooner or later she was going to have to tell Clare, her editor, and it had better be sooner rather than later, before she, or someone else on the show, guessed her secret. And it wouldn’t take a member of the regional crime squad to do that.

Twice this morning she had had to leave the set, trying not to rush out to the bathroom, where she had been violently sick. She had stood before the mirror, trembling, before rubbing some blusher into her cheeks and hoping she looked halfway decent. She wasn’t going to be much use as a breakfast presenter if she spent all her time throwing up.

But even if, as the doctor had suggested, the sickness passed—and, infuriatingly, by the end of the show all the nausea
had
passed—the fact remained that she was soon going to become very obviously pregnant.

No. She was going to have to make an appointment to speak to Clare.

She walked out into the bracing air, glad of the welcoming coolness after the stifling atmosphere of the studio, and as she looked around for her car her heart missed a beat.

For there, leaning against an unfamiliar silver car, stood a figure, as still and as all-seeing as if he had been hewn from a deep, dark marble. He was dressed all in black, and it made his hair and eyes look like the night. For one wild and crazy moment she thought about running inside, like a woman seeking refuge from the storm, but she knew that she could not.

She had to face him.

He studied her almost obsessively, searching for signs. Any signs. But the thick, sheepskin coat she wore enveloped her like a big, warm cloud and all he could see was her pale face and the green-grey eyes which glittered so warily at him.

He began to walk towards her.

‘Hello, Eve.’

‘I don’t want to talk to you.’ Desperately, she looked around the car park, deserted save for the swish silver car he had been standing beside. Where the hell was her driver? He was
never
late.

‘I think we need to talk,’ he said steadily. Last time he had been caught off guard in all kinds of ways. He had flown off the handle and raged in a
manner which was guaranteed to achieve nothing. And Luca had always been an achiever.

She turned to him, unprepared for the effect he had on her. The way her heart crashed against her ribcage. The way her legs felt weak. She should feel nothing but contempt for him, the same as he so obviously did for her—so why wasn’t it that easy? Why did she still feel outrageously attracted to him? But that was purely physical, she reminded herself. And she was more than just a physical person. Much more.

‘I don’t think you understand, Luca,’ she said quietly. ‘In a minute my driver will be here and I will get in the car and go home. Without you.’

‘I am afraid that is where you are wrong.’

She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

‘Your driver has gone. I sent him away.’

‘You
sent him away
?’ she repeated disbelievingly.

He pointed to the long, low silver machine. ‘I have a car and I will take you anywhere you want to go, but I need to talk to you and I
will
talk to you. You owe me that.’

She hugged her coat tighter around her. ‘I owe you nothing after the despicable things you accused me of.’

Again, he nodded, sucking in a deep, dry breath. ‘I had no right to make those accusations, but I was…’

Her eyes were curious. ‘What?’

He sighed. ‘I felt as though my whole world had been detonated.’

‘So the thought of fatherhood didn’t appeal?’ she said flippantly, because that seemed the only sure
fire way to hide her hurt. She shrugged. ‘Then there’s nothing left to say, really, is there?’

He froze. ‘Are you telling me that there is no baby?’

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to dawn on her and, when they did, it was once again like being hit by a hammer-blow. Did he think…did he really think…?

‘God, Luca,’ she gasped, as if he really had struck her. ‘Could your opinion of me get any lower?’

‘What am I supposed to think?’ he demanded heatedly. ‘When you refused to take my calls!’

‘Your lawyer’s calls,’ she corrected him. ‘Because I didn’t want to do
business
, that’s why I didn’t take them.’

‘So?’

‘Yes, there is still a baby,’ she said slowly. ‘But don’t worry your head about it—it’s
my
baby and it won’t have anything to do with you.’

He could see her teeth beginning to chatter. ‘Get in the car,’ he said.

‘No.’

‘Please.’

The voice was deceptively soft and Eve felt so weak from the flurry of emotions he had provoked and simply from the impact of seeing him again that she could not have possibly refused. ‘Oh, damn you,’ she said indistinctly, but she did not walk away.

He opened the passenger door, but she shook off his arm as he attempted to guide her into the seat.

‘I am
not
an invalid! Just pregnant!’ And then, terrified that someone from the crew might be lurking around, she cast her eyes around anxiously, but there
was no one except for them, and she expelled a sigh of relief.

He noted her reaction and it told him a great deal. So no one knew; of that he was certain. She had kept the pregnancy hidden. Why?

He started the engine. ‘Where do you want to go?’

‘Home.’ She leaned her head back against the rest and closed her eyes, daring him to talk to her, to accuse her and harangue her, but to her surprise he didn’t. The warmth and movement of the car lulled her, reminding her of just how tired she was. But tiredness came in great strong and powerful waves these days.

He glanced over at her, watching as her breathing became deeper and steadier. She was asleep. Around the steering wheel of the car, his leather-covered hands relaxed a little.

The sheepskin coat had fallen open, and her thighs were indolently apart and relaxed in sleep and he felt an unexpected and unwelcome shaft of arousal. Damn her! he thought. Damn her and her unstudied sensuality. He fixed his eyes on the road ahead.

The car drew to a halt and Eve snapped her eyes open, momentarily disorientated. She was outside her cottage, with Luca in the driving seat beside her.

She fumbled for the handle. ‘Thank you for the lift.’

‘I’m coming in.’

‘No, you’re—’ But she heard the note of determination in his voice and knew that she was fighting a losing battle. And besides, had she really thought that he would come all this way, drop her off and then just go off again with a little wave goodbye?
She would hear what he had to say, and then he could go.

The cottage felt cold. Stiffly, Eve took her coat off and didn’t protest when he took it from her fingers and hung it up in the hall. She shivered. ‘I’m going to light a fire.’

‘Let me do it.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Do you know how?’

He actually laughed. ‘Of course I do. There are many things you do not know about me,
cara
.’

‘I’m going to make some tea,’ she said. Anything to get away from his presence, which, in the small, dim hall, seemed to overwhelm her.

When she returned with the tray he had managed to produce a roaring blaze. She put the tray down on a small table and watched him. ‘I wouldn’t have thought there would be much cause for fire-making in your fancy apartment.’

‘No,’ he agreed as he threw a final log on. ‘But we had a place out in the country where we used to holiday when I was a little boy. Very basic. That’s where I learned.’

It was odd to think of this assured, arrogant man as a little boy. Would she have a boy, she wondered, and, if she did, would he look like Luca? A beautifully handsome little boy, a permanent reminder of passion and its folly.

He moved from the fire to the tea-tray and poured them both a cup, and while part of her felt slightly resentful that he had walked into her house and now seemed to be taking over, the other part was so tired that she was glad to let him.

But it was dangerous to be passive. He had told her quite clearly what he thought of her and she
could not and should not forget that. ‘You’d better say what it is that you want to say, and then go—I’m very tired.’

Yes, he could see that for himself. Beneath her fine grey-green eyes were the blue-dark traces of shadows.

‘Are you sleeping?’

‘In fits and starts. And, of course, I have to get up very early.’

His mouth thinned. She should have handed her notice in immediately! ‘You didn’t contact my lawyer,’ he observed slowly.

‘Did you really expect me to?’

What would she say if he told her yes, of course he had expected her to. A lifetime of experience had made him cynical. His vast wealth had set him apart from the moment he had attained it. And that he would have considered it perfectly normal for her to have attempted to make a huge claim on his fortune. She, above all others, was surely entitled to?

‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I did.’

‘Well, rest assured—I didn’t and I don’t intend to. Your money is safe. Was there anything else?’

She was being so cold, so distant, as if ice were running through her veins instead of blood. And could that be good for the baby?

‘I want you to have everything you need, Eve.’

‘But I do! I have a house and I have a job, a good job.’

He remembered the way she had looked around her, as if worried her words would be overheard. He was pretty certain that her pregnancy was still a secret and his killer instinct moved in; he couldn’t help himself. ‘But for how long?’

She stared at him. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Have you told them you’re pregnant?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘I think it is.’ A spark spat in the grate with all the force of a gunshot. ‘You may not be employable as a pregnant woman.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘There are laws governing that kind of discrimination,’ she returned. ‘So please don’t worry on my account.’

This was going neither the way that Luca wanted, nor had expected. He had expected a little…what? Gratitude? That the past few weeks might have given her time to calm down and see sense. Surely she must realise that his money could make all the difference to her life as a mother?

‘I do not want you to struggle for money—not when I have enough, more than enough.’

‘But it isn’t going to
be
a struggle. I’ll manage—’

‘I don’t want you to
manage
, I want you to be comfortable!’

‘What you want is not really what counts, Luca! It is what I say that does!’

‘But it is my baby, too,’ he pointed out.

‘Oh?’ She feigned surprise. ‘So you’re no longer disputing paternity? What happened? Did you have someone run a DNA test on me, while I was asleep?’

‘Eve!’ Proud, stubborn woman! ‘Let me help you,’ he said suddenly.

She was still hurting from the things he had said; it was hard to imagine a time when she would not. ‘You think your money can buy you anything, don’t you?’

His black eyes glittered. ‘Would you deny me my child, then, Eve?’ he questioned simply.

And something in the way he said it cut through all her defences.

Up until that very moment she had been able to think of the baby almost as an abstract concept—as if it hadn’t been real and, even if it had been, it was nothing now to do with Luca. But she was fast discovering that she had been very naïve. By telling him she had involved him, and someone like Luca wouldn’t take that involvement lightly.

Oh, why hadn’t she kept it secret? He had never intended theirs to be anything other than a short-term love affair. He wasn’t the kind of man who would ever settle down, he just wasn’t. The affair would have burnt out after a few heady weeks, or months—he would have moved on to the next conquest, the way that men like this always did.

But could she honestly have kept it secret from him? Wasn’t it his right to know that his seed had borne fruit? She bit her lip at the irony of it. Because he had never meant it to.