The Untouchable (16 page)

Chapter Thirty

The baby lay on its back, large blue-grey eyes wide open, its mouth a rosebud in an angelic face—Marco’s face. It had his colouring, his hair, and eyelashes, and the promise of dark brows brushing its little forehead. While Rosy stared, one tiny fist broke free from the blanket and waved about.

Marco came to stand beside her. “Who is this, Marco?” she asked.

“Mine. Apparently Lily’s baby was mine. Is mine. The appropriate tests have been done. I’ve seen the results and the baby’s mine.”

Rosy pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “
What?
”

“Lily got her dates wrong, whatever that means, and the baby was conceived—” He broke off, overcome. A few moments passed before he could go on. “The baby was conceived last time we were together, in March. When it was born, the Russian took one look at it and realised it couldn’t be his. He insisted on tests although Lily was confident the baby was theirs. The tests were conclusive. It looks like me. Even I can see that.”

“But Marco, if Lily was...was sleeping with you
and
the Russian, you could...I mean, you could, depending on his sexual habits, you could have contracted—”

“I had tests. I’m clean.” Their eyes met over the basket. “Lucky,” he said, his face pinched.

Rosy, in shock herself, reached out and stroked the baby’s cheek with her fingertip. “Girl or boy?”

“It’s a boy.”

“He. Stop calling him it.”

“I have total custody. It’s—he’s, mine. Lily handed him over.” He shook his head, disbelief brimming in his eyes.

“I saw a car arrive earlier. Was that her?”

“Henri Albert,” he answered, his voice unsteady. “He had to do her dirty work. The Russian doesn’t want anything to do with a child that’s not his.”

Of course he wouldn’t, but Rosy kept the commotion of thoughts to herself. For God’s sake, what sort of woman would sleep with two men at the same time and risk getting pregnant? What woman wouldn’t stand up for her child, first and foremost, and face her responsibility, be accountable for her mistake, if it had been a mistake. She thought carefully before she spoke. “Did Lily plan this baby?”

“
Christ
no. It was the last thing she wanted. She never wanted kids, ever.”

Rosy couldn’t help herself. “Then she should have taken better precautions!”

“She’s allergic to oral contraceptives. She says they make her fat and mess up her skin. For a model who doesn’t get out of bed for less than a million Euros, that’s not on. She had some kind of implant to prevent pregnancy. Even so I had to take precautions every time. This baby is an all-round mistake.”

Rosy, angry, fought for self-control. “Didn’t you ever think about that? About her not wanting children? Wouldn’t you want children one day?”

“No. I don’t. They wouldn’t fit into my lifestyle. I’m a racer who lives on a racetrack God knows where in the world for eight months of the year. How would children fit into that scenario?”

Rosy frowned. “What happens when you get too old to race?”

“I’m not too old to race!”

“I didn’t say you were. But what happens in a few years when age or injury, or,” she indicated his arms, “your hobby, ends your career? I’m not an expert on the sport, but that race I watched with you last night didn’t have any competitors much over thirty.”

Marco glared at her, his eyes a mixture of confusion and doubt.

“What are you going to do?” Rosy asked. “Sit in your big old tumbledown villa, alone with your piles of money?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” he snapped. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

“My father abandoned me. Don’t do it to your son. Your ex doesn’t want this baby, so you
have
to. Or what’s going to happen to him?”

“Someone else will look after him.”

Rosy closed her eyes briefly, shook her head. “Oh, Marco, how can you say that? This is
your
child, your son. I can’t believe how Lily could have done this.”

He turned his back, going to the window. “Maybe,” he said, after a while, his voice bleak, “she did it for love.”

Rosy, a complex tangle of concerns, stood and leaned over the basket. “Hello little one,” she murmured. “What a beautiful boy you are. He’s the image of you, Marco. Just the eyes are enough to prove you’re his dad. Have you touched him yet? Held him?”

“How?” He lifted his arms.

“Come here.”

She waited. He turned to face her. “Rosemary, I don’t want—”

She beckoned. He came, reluctant. “Stand here and lay your arm next to him, along the side of his body, so he can reach your fingers.” She turned the basket sideways and guided Marco’s arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you hold hands.” She took the baby’s hand and wrapped his delicate fingers around the tip of Marco’s forefinger. “Look, he’s holding you with all his tiny might. He knows his daddy. What do you think?”

A smile pushed at Marco’s mouth. “He’s strong.”

“Of course. He’s your son.” She turned her head and smiled at him. “What’s his name?”

“I…he doesn’t have a name.”

“What are you going to call him?”

“What am I going to call him?”

“Yes. It’s up to you to choose a name.”

“How do I do that?”

“The usual way. Think of a name you like, or the name of one of your parents, or grandparents, or good friends. Is there someone you want to honour by calling your child after them?”

“It’s a big ask.”

“Everything is, where a baby’s concerned. This is the beginning of a lifetime’s commitment.”

“Jesus, Rosemary, I can’t.” Marco, alarmed, stood up. The baby, feeling Marco’s finger pull from his grasp gave a small, stuttering cry. “Now what?” He looked from Rosy to the baby and back again. “I can’t do this.”

“You must.”

“A child needs a stable home. I can’t give him that. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Did your parents give you a stable, loving home?”

“Yes, until my mother died.”

“Do you want your son to have that same stability and love? I suspect you do.”

“Well…yes, of course.”

“Is there someone who could help you? I mean, if your mother had been alive, she probably would have been the one to step in and help, so do you have anyone else? A married sister, say, or…”

His face closed. “I have a sister. We don’t speak.”

“Oh dear.”

“She knew. She knew Lily was unfaithful, but she didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head. “Leave it.” He wouldn’t meet her eye.

“In that case Marco, it looks like it’s up to you. One parent is better than none.” She raised her voice above the baby’s cries. “Is there any baby food?”

“Lydia said there was a bag of stuff in the hall. God, he’s noisy.”

“He’s beautiful.” Rosy leaned into the basket, picked him up, put him on the table and rewrapped his soft blanket, tucking his hands inside. “And he’s starving.”

“So, now what?”

“You sit there.” She inclined her head toward the armchair in the corner of the room and carried the baby over.

“I’m not—”

“You are. He wants to be held. I can’t make formula and heat the bottle unless you hold him for me. Come here and sit down.”

He obeyed, and sat in the chair, his arms resting on either side of his body. Rosy leaned down and placed the baby across his lap. “Put your arms around him as best you can. Here, let me.” She helped him lift his arms and moved the baby so its head rested in the crook of his elbow. The cries stopped. The baby stared up at his father, apparently intrigued.

“What do I do now?” Marco peered into the little face.

“Bond. Talk to him while I find a bottle and warm it. Be fascinating, because he won’t be put off for long.”

“What should I talk about?”

“Anything. He has everything to learn. Why don’t you start by discussing his name?”

Rosy located the bag in the hall and brought it through to the kitchen, first retrieving a small bottle of formula, already mixed. Fingers crossed it was fresh enough because no alternative existed. She placed the bottle in the microwave for a few seconds and turned her attention back to the bag. Apart from a few nappies and a change of clothes, there was little else.

“Someone will have to go on a pretty extensive shopping spree on this young man’s behalf. There’s nothing here.”

“That’s where Lydia and Ricky have gone. To get it some food and clothes.”

“
Him
.” Rosy retrieved the bottle and shook a few drops of milk onto her inner wrist. Perfect.

Marco watched her. “How do you know what to do?”

“I have friends with babies.”

“Is that it?”

“More or less. Have you made any progress on a name?”

“Yes. I used to spend all my school holidays with my grandfather, on his little farm in Tuscany. His name was Leonardo and...” Marco’s voice thickened, “I really loved him. I’d like to call him that. Leonardo. Leo for short.”

Rosy reflected for a moment. “It suits him. It’s a lovely name. And you can tell him when he’s bigger that he’s named for someone special. What about a second name?”

“Xavier, after Zavi.”

“That’s a big name for a little boy, Leonardo Xavier Dallariva, but it’s perfect.” She blinked away sentimental tears. What sort of life would this little one have? Would he travel the world with his famous father or be left at home with a successive string of nannies and
au pairs
until Marco found someone to love again, until he married some beautiful, adoring woman, who bore him more children, a string of lovely dark-haired, blue-eyed children? The thought squeezed her heart and she pushed it from her mind.

“Do you want to take him?” Marco asked, eager for release.

“More than anything, but I’m not going to. You’re doing this.” She pulled a chair close to Marco’s legs and sat, stroking the teat of the bottle across the baby’s lips. He caught on in a second, grasped the teat and pulled it into his mouth, drinking hard until he choked and Rosy had to lift him onto her shoulder and burp him.

“Hell,” Marco said, aghast. “How often does that happen?”

“Several times during a feed.”

“How much does he feed?”

“About six times in twenty-four hours at first.”

“Six times in...”

Rosy laughed at reality dawning on Marco’s face.

“Yes, Marco, that means night feeds, too, at this age.” She settled the baby across his arms and carried on feeding for some time until the bottle was empty, and he released the teat with a gurgle and pop. Rosy wiped his milky mouth. He squirmed and she lifted him, burped him again, and gave him back to Marco.

“Bond more,” she told him. “Let him feel your warmth, smell your smell and hear your voice. It’s really important, especially as he’s probably been passed around quite a bit. He needs to settle, and know you.”

Marco’s eyes flooded with misgiving, but he turned his face to the little head resting on his shoulder and kissed the soft, dark hair while Rosy sat by his side. This is how Lydia and Ricky found them when they returned from their impromptu shopping trip to Cannes.

Rosy stood up. “I’ll help you upstairs with that stuff, Lydia. Ricky can you keep an eye on things here, please.” All three of them looked down at Marco and the baby. “They’re getting to know each other.” Rosy said. “Make sure he doesn’t slip off, because Marco can’t grab him.”

Marco raised his head. “He has a name. Leo. Leonardo Xavier, after my grandfather and Zavi.”

“Oh,” Lydia gasped, her eyes misting. She put a hand on her heart, dropping a jumbo pack of nappies.

“And Ricky, in a minute, perhaps you could hook Marco up to this.” Rosy
handed over Marco’s mobile phone and hands-free attachment. “He needs to call people. His father first, I’d suggest, and whoever else needs to know about Leo.”

“Sure thing.”

“Lydia and I will go sort out a bedroom for Leonardo.” She left the room, too aware of the sudden apprehension in Lydia’s eyes.

Upstairs, in the one remaining empty bedroom, Lydia ran a duster over furniture that was already spotless.

“We have a full house,” she said. “It’s wonderful. There’s a real sense of family.”

Rosy unpacked and unfolded the new changing mat, spreading it on a table they’d carried in from the passage.

“What sort of woman gives up her baby just like that?” Lydia clicked her fingers in the air. “What woman doesn’t know who the father of her child is?”

“Did you know her?”

“No, but I know what the newspapers said about her and Marco, and they had plenty to say. They referred to Marco as ‘just a pretty face’. Inferred he was ineffective in the bedroom. She moved on to Lasarev and his billions, supposedly with Lasarev’s child in her womb. Well, it’s come back to bite her now.”