It had been more than fifteen years since Lanzo had enjoyed Christmas with his parents and Cristina. He was glad he had not known at the time that it would be the last Christmas he would ever spend with them.
He pushed the memories to the back of his mind and smiled at Gina. ‘I’d love to come,’ he said softly. ‘Does your father drink wine? I’ve got six bottles of a rather excellent burgundy in the boot of my car.’
CHAPTER NINE
GINA had fallen asleep on the sofa. It was hardly surprising after an enormous lunch and a noisy afternoon playing with her nephews and nieces, Lanzo mused. Christmas with her family had been as hectic as she had warned, but after an initial few minutes of awkwardness on all sides he had been surprised by how warmly he had been received by her father, stepmother, and stepsisters.
He stretched out his long legs and watched the twinkling fairy lights on the tree Gina had put up in the lounge at Ocean View. He never bothered with tinsel and baubles and all the other tacky decorations that came with the festive season. Whether he spent Christmas at his villa in Positano or at his apartment in Rome, the day meant nothing to him. It was a time of celebration, of families coming together, but he had no family.
He thought again of how welcome he had been made to feel by Gina’s family. This time next year the baby would be here, but he would not come to England to spend Christmas with his child. It wouldn’t be fair when he could not be a proper, loving father—like Gina’s stepsisters’ husbands were to their children. When he had watched Richard Melton cradling his infant son he had felt guilty, because he knew he would not love his child. Since he had lost Cristina he had hardened his heart and shunned any relationship that might involve his emotions. Nothing touched him, or moved him, and he liked the fact that his life was uncomplicated, he reminded himself.
Gina stirred and turned her head towards Lanzo, but she remained asleep, her long lashes lying against her cheeks and her chest rising and falling steadily. She had always been delightfully curvaceous, but pregnancy had made her breasts fuller—big and rounded beneath her soft woollen dress. The temptation to touch them and feel their weight was so strong that he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as desire corkscrewed through him.
He had been too long without sex, he though grimly. It was months since he had made love to Gina, but he had no inclination to take another mistress. It did not seem right to sleep with another woman when his child was growing inside Gina. Perhaps when the child was born he would find it easier to distance himself from her. But right now all he could think of was peeling her dress down and baring those big, firm breasts. He wondered if her nipples were bigger too, and he shifted his position to try and ease the discomfort of his rock hard erection as he imagined sucking on each dusky crest.
‘Lanzo … I’m sorry, I must have dropped off for a few minutes.’ Gina opened her eyes, blushing when she realised that she had slid down the sofa so that her head had practically been resting on Lanzo’s shoulder. ‘You must be bored stiff, sitting here in the dark,’ she mumbled, glancing around the shadowed room that was lit only by the colourful lights on the Christmas tree and the flickering flames of the fire.
One area of his anatomy was certainly stiff, he acknowledged derisively. ‘I’m not bored, cara.’ She was like a small soft kitten, snuggled up against him, and his heart gave a curious jerk as he lifted his hand to smooth her hair back from her face. ‘It’s peaceful, sitting here with you.’
After she had left Positano he had focused on work to prevent himself from thinking about her or the child she carried. Fifteen-hour days and constant travel around the world for Di Cosimo Holdings had allowed him little time to think about anything but business. But despite his self-imposed punishing schedule she had always been on his mind, and their long conversations when he phoned her from one faceless hotel or another had become addictive.
His desire for her had not faded in the months they had been apart. Memories of her gorgeous body had plagued his dreams, and now pregnancy had made her even more voluptuous and desirable.
The tick-tock of the clock on the mantelpiece was the only sound to break the silence. In the dusky dark of the barely lit room Lanzo’s eyes gleamed with sensual intent, and Gina caught her breath when he slowly lowered his head. She knew he was going to kiss her, and she knew she should not let him, but she could not move.
Her lips parted.
‘Cara …’ His breath whispered across her skin, and that first brush of his mouth over hers was so sweetly beguiling that tears burned her eyes.
She could not resist him. And that, she thought ruefully, was the problem. She had fallen in love with him when she was eighteen, and deep down she knew that she had never fallen out of love with him.
He had missed her, Lanzo acknowledged, sliding his hand to her nape and angling her head so that he could deepen the kiss. Her lips were soft and moist, opening obediently to the firm probing of his tongue so that he could taste her. Heat flared inside him, and he groaned as hunger clawed in his gut, his body shaking with need. He cupped her breast and stroked his finger over the hard peak of her nipple, jutting beneath her dress, smiling against her lips when he heard her gasp.
Her need was as great as his. She had never been able to hide her intensely passionate nature from him, and her eager response increased his impatience to slide his throbbing shaft between her soft thighs. He moved his hand down and traced the curve of her stomach—and stiffened with shock when he felt a fluttering sensation beneath his fingertips.
‘The baby is saying hello,’ Gina murmured, feeling another, stronger flutter deep inside her. The sensation of her baby kicking was indescribably beautiful, and she held her hand over Lanzo’s so that he could feel it again. ‘Maybe he or she recognises their daddy,’ she whispered. Her smile faltered when she saw his tense face. ‘It’s okay. It’s quite normal for the baby to kick,’ she assured him, thinking that he was worried something was wrong.
Lanzo jerked away from her as if he had been burned. The unguarded hope in her eyes had brought him crashing back to reality, and he raked his hand impatiently through his hair, cursing himself for allowing the situation to get out of hand. He should not have kissed her. But he had never been able to resist her.
‘I’ve told you—I can’t be the kind of father you want me to be,’ he said harshly. ‘I saw you watching your brother-in-law with his baby today, and I knew what you were thinking. But I will feel nothing for the child you are carrying when it is born—just as I feel nothing for anyone.’
‘How can you be so certain?’ Gina cried. ‘When the baby is here you might feel differently.’
‘I won’t.’ He stood up and snapped on one of the table lamps, the bright light it emitted throwing his hard features into sharp relief. He saw the hurt in her eyes and guilt gnawed at him. But there was no point in giving her false hope. ‘I don’t want to care for anyone,’ he admitted.
‘But why?’ Gina ignored the painful tug on her heart. She had never realistically expected him to fall in love with her, but her baby would need its father to nurture and protect it, and most important of all to love it. She caught hold of his arm and clung to him when he would have pulled away.
‘I know the way you feel is linked with losing your fiancée and your parents,’ she said urgently. ‘Daphne told me there had been an accident, but she won’t talk about it.’ She stared at him, willing him to talk to her and explain why he was so sure he could not love their child. But his expression was shuttered, and after a tense few seconds she allowed her hand to fall helplessly to her side and stepped back from him.
‘I have to go,’ he said roughly.
With stunned eyes she watched him stride over to the door. His jacket was lying on the back of a chair, and when he slung it over his shoulder the realisation sunk in that he was actually leaving.
‘Where are you going? It’s Christmas Day.’ A day that had begun with such joy and hope and was ending in bleak despair. ‘Surely there won’t
be any transport?’
‘My private jet is on standby. I’ll make a brief stop-over in Rome, before flying to Canada.’ Work, as ever, would fill the void inside him. Discussions to open a new restaurant in Toronto would keep his mind occupied for several days.
Gina stumbled after him into the hall. His holdall was still there, where he had dropped it before they had gone to lunch with her family. He picked it up and opened the front door, so that a blast of icy air blew in.
She could not believe he was going. Surely he would turn back to her? Say something? He stepped out into the porch, and as he began to pull the door shut behind him her muscles unlocked and she ran forward.
‘Lanzo!’ She let out a shaky breath when he slowly turned his head, but the dull, dead expression in his eyes tore at her heart. ‘Our baby needs you,’ she whispered. She swallowed her pride and stared at him pleadingly. ‘I need you.’
He shook his head, as if to dismiss her words. ‘I’m sorry, cara,’ he said quietly, and strode down the steps to his car without looking back.
January brought snow to Dorset. Gina opened the curtains one morning to find that the garden had been transformed into a winter wonderland, and the sight of a red-breasted robin hopping over the white lawn brought a faint smile to her lips for the first time in weeks.
She told Lanzo about the snow when he phoned that evening. It was only the third time he had called since his abrupt departure on Christmas Day, and apart from his warning her not to drive the car if the roads were at all icy their conversation was stilted and painfully polite. She ended the call with the excuse that Daphne was about to serve dinner.
It was frightening how distant he had become, she thought dismally. The easy friendship they had once shared had disappeared, and it seemed as though they were strangers rather than two people who would become parents in a few short months. But Lanzo had been adamant that he would not be a father to their child. His only input would be to send regular cheques—presumably to appease his conscience, she thought bitterly.
The snow did not last for more than a few days before it turned to slush, and winter continued as grey and miserable as Gina’s mood. And then one morning she woke to find that the bed was wet. Puzzled, she threw back the sheet—and for a moment her heart stopped beating, before she screamed for Daphne to come quickly.
‘Explain to me exactly what placenta previa means?’ Lanzo demanded, his jaw rigid with tension as spoke to the doctor in the hospital corridor outside the ward where Gina had been brought by ambulance earlier in the day.
‘You are Miss Bailey’s partner, I understand?’ the doctor said, glancing down at his notes.
‘Si.’ Lanzo could not hide him impatience. ‘I am the father of her child.’ A father who had been hundreds of miles away in Rome when he had received Daphne’s urgent phone call to tell him that Gina had been rushed into hospital because she was bleeding heavily, he thought grimly. He swallowed, and found that for some reason it hurt his throat to do so. ‘There is no danger that Gina could lose the baby?’
‘Fortunately the bleeding has stopped. But an ultrasound scan has revealed that your partner’s placenta is lying partially across the cervix, which means that Miss Bailey will be unable to give birth naturally because of the risk of her haemorrhaging. She will need to have a Caesarean section,’ the doctor continued. ‘If there is no further bleeding, and Miss Bailey has bedrest for the next few weeks, I would hope that she can reach thirty-seven or thirty-eight weeks before the baby needs to be delivered.’
‘I see.’ Lanzo paused with his hand on the door to the ward. ‘Will it be safe for her to fly to Italy by private jet, accompanied by a full medical team? I wish to take her to Rome to ensure that she rests properly, and I have arranged for her be cared for at a private hospital by one of Italy’s top obstetricians.’
The doctor looked faintly startled, but nodded. ‘Yes.
Ordinarily I would not allow her to fly, but with the arrangements you have organised for her care I think it should be okay. She can be discharged from here in the morning.’
‘Then we will drive straight to the airport tomorrow,’ Lanzo said in a determined voice.
Gina’s eyes were swollen with crying, and at the totally unexpected sight of Lanzo striding down the ward more tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
‘Tesoro …’ His voice shook as he dropped down on the edge of the bed and drew her into his arms.
Gina did not know why he had come; she was still in shock from the nightmare events of the past few hours. All that mattered was that Lanzo was here. The horrible stilted phone calls of the past few weeks no longer seemed important as she clung to him and wept.
‘I was so scared I was going to lose the baby. At first the doctor thought they would have to deliver early, but it’s too soon—the baby is too small,’ she sobbed.
‘Shh, cara,’ he soothed her, stroking her hair. ‘You must stay calm for the baby’s sake. Tomorrow I am taking you to Rome, so that you can be cared for by the best obstetrician in Italy.’
Gina eased away from him, suddenly conscious that she had cried all over the front of his no doubt exorbitantly expensive silk shirt. ‘You don’t have to do that. You don’t need to be involved.’ She fumbled for a tissue and blew her nose. ‘My face puffs up like a frog when I cry,’ she muttered.
Lanzo had never seen her cry like that before. To witness his strong, proud, beautiful Gina fall apart so utterly had evoked a terrible ache inside him, and his voice was gruff as he said, ‘I’ve always liked frogs.’
Only Lanzo could make her smile when moments ago she had been in the depths of despair. She needed his strength, but she dared not let him see how vulnerable she felt. ‘I’ll be okay. You don’t need to take care of me out of some misplaced sense of duty,’ she told him stiffly.
He winced, the familiar feeling of guilt clawing at his insides. ‘Not because of duty,’ he said. ‘But because I want to.’ She had told him that conceiving this baby had been a miracle—maybe her one chance to be a mother. ‘I know how desperately you want this baby, cara, and I will do everything in my power to ensure you give birth safely,’ he promised.
The last time Gina had been in Rome it had been stiflingly hot, but in February, although the sun was shining, the sky was a crisp, clear blue, and the temperature was twenty degrees lower than in the summer. Not that she had had much chance to walk outside. Her first two nights in the city had been spent at a private maternity hospital, where she had met the obstetrician who was to oversee her care.
‘Strict bedrest, and I am afraid no sex,’ Signor Bartolli had murmured when he’d come to her room to tell her that she could be discharged back to the apartment.
Agonisingly conscious of Lanzo’s presence, Gina had blushed and carefully avoided his gaze, but she had felt a sharp pang of sadness that she was unlikely ever to make love with him again. He did not want to be a father to their child, and although he had surprised her by being involved now, her relationship with him would end once the baby was born.
‘I don’t think the doctor meant that I should spend every minute of the next few weeks actually in bed,’ she’d argued the following day, after Lanzo had carried her through the apartment and deposited her as carefully as if she were made of spun glass onto the bed in one of the guestrooms.
‘He meant precisely that—and so do I,’ he said grimly, recognising the light of battle in her eyes. ‘You are not to move out of this room, cara, and I plan to work from home to make sure you follow orders.’
‘What about all your business trips?’ Gina asked him.
‘I have delegated them to my executives.’ He sighed. ‘Once again I am without a PA. Luisa has decided not to return to work after having her son,’ he explained, ‘and Raphaella only works part-time because she looks after her granddaughter two days a week.’
Granddaughter! So the exotic-sounding Raphaella was not some gorgeous young thing. The thought cheered Gina up no end. ‘Why don’t I fill in
on the days Raphaella cares for her granddaughter?’ she suggested. ‘I can sit in bed with a laptop—that’s hardly strenuous,’ she pressed when Lanzo shook his head. ‘I’m going to do as the doctor has told me—I’m certainly not going to do anything that might harm the baby—but I’ll go mad if all I do is read magazines and watch daytime TV.’
‘There are a couple of reports I need typed up,’ Lanzo said slowly. ‘I suppose it will be okay—as long as you promise to call it a day if you feel tired.’
For the first hour he trekked back and forth from his study to her room with various files, but eventually he brought his own laptop in and settled himself in the armchair near her bed. They worked in companionable silence.
‘So, you’re going ahead with the new restaurant in Toronto?’ Gina commented, glancing down at the notes he had given her.
‘Mmm—with a few changes to the menu. The chef wants to serve moose burgers.’
‘Really?’ She gave him a suspicious look when she saw his lips twitch. ‘Are you kidding me?’ she demanded, unable to hold back a smile when he grinned.
It was good to laugh with him again, she mused, tearing her eyes from the teasing warmth in his and staring at her computer screen. She had missed their friendship since they had argued on Christmas Day about his insistence that he did not want to be involved with their child.
The memory of his coldness when he had walked out of the house at Sandbanks caused her smile to fade, and she focused on the report in front of her.
With Lanzo and Daphne in constant attendance, Gina began to relax, and the trauma of being rushed into hospital in Poole, terrified that she was losing the baby, gradually faded. But two weeks later she woke in the early hours to find that she was bleeding heavily again. Her scream for Lanzo brought him hurtling into her room, and after that everything became a blur of paramedics, the wail of the ambulance siren, and nurses preparing her for surgery.
The Ultimate Risk Page 14
