by Abby Green
He lashed out at finding himself here, with her, and gave a brief harsh laugh. ‘You didn’t even have to come find me—I came to you. A little convenient, wouldn’t you say?’
Cara’s hands clutched the back of the seat, her whole body tense. ‘I only found out I was pregnant a week ago. Then I saw the report in the paper saying that you were coming to Dublin.’
Arrogant derision marked his features. ‘But undoubtedly you would have informed me of my impending fatherhood sooner or later?’
Cara went very still inside as she had to question herself. What would she have done if he hadn’t come to Dublin? She looked into the middle distance and spoke faintly, almost to herself, as if she couldn’t deny the deep-felt instinct within her. ‘Yes…I would have told you.’
Vicenzo’s eyes glittered fiercely. ‘Of course you would.’
She focused on him again, and saw from his expression that his interpretation of her words was the polar opposite of what she had meant. She would have told him because—again—she felt that no matter what had happened he had a right to know. Not because she wanted to profit from his largesse. But he wouldn’t believe that, so she said nothing and hitched up her chin.
Vicenzo regarded her, saw the determined tilt to her small chin and the steely glint in her dark green eyes. She was not going to back down, and not going to admit that this baby was anyone else’s but his. It left him with no option. As much as he hated to say it, he had to. ‘Well, then, we have no choice. I cannot leave here without you.’
Cara looked at Vicenzo warily. A muscle pulsed in his jaw, which she’d just noticed was dark with stubble. His raw masculine virility reached out to grab her and she had to fight it.
‘What do you mean?’
Why couldn’t he just walk out of here right now? Cara wished again for a desperate moment that she could pretend that she’d lied, that the baby wasn’t his. But she couldn’t. Her moral backbone and her respect for her unborn child wouldn’t let her.
‘What I mean is this.’
An icy finger of apprehension traced its way down Cara’s spine.
‘You could have slept with someone after me, but let’s assume that you are pregnant with my child. That changes everything. I won’t have you attempt to threaten or blackmail me with this.’
Cara’s fists clenched and she gritted out, ‘It is your baby. And you can walk away. I’m sorry I even told you.’
Vicenzo laughed harshly, belying the fact that her assertion again that the baby was his had struck home like an unwelcome arrow.
‘Walk away? Oh, I just bet I can. And the minute you’re left to your own devices your story will be sold and splashed all over the tabloids in an attempt to manipulate me into a corner. If I’m not seen to acknowledge you or the baby you can sue me for millions and drag my family name into the gutter.’ He shook his head grimly. ‘No way, no how.’
Cara flinched minutely, and her hands tightened on the back of the chair which was offering little protection against the man in front of her. Fear trickled through her veins. A felling of déjà vu gripped her. It was like the moment when he’d revealed his full name.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘My father has seen the news reports. He is from old stock—traditional.’ Vicenzo’s mouth twisted in distaste. ‘He wants to meet the mother of my child—the woman who managed to make his son change his ways. He is recovering from a stroke; you and your brother have caused enough chaos and heartache in his life. I won’t have you cause even more by not granting him his wish to meet you. Needless to say he is unaware that the woman who was instrumental in causing his daughter’s death is now purporting to be the mother of his grandchild.’
His words flayed Cara, but she stood strong even when he flicked a searing glance up and down her body. ‘If you carry my child, as you state emphatically that you do, there is only one course of action. In half an hour we will leave for Rome, and as soon as possible we will be married. Much as the thought of marrying you turns my insides, it’s not an institution I’ve ever held in any esteem. So it won’t cost me any emotion. It’ll ensure legitimacy from the outset for the Valentini heir, and I can keep an eye on your every move. It’ll also save my reputation; our shares have already been dropping in value on the back of this potential scandal.’
Cara felt the colour draining from her face as she struggled to take this in. ‘Never. I’d never marry someone like you,’ she breathed with horror.
Vicenzo went ominously still and said silkily, ‘Then are you willing to sign a legal document to renounce all claims that this child is mine, and to vow that you will have no further contact with me for the rest of your life? Because that is the only alternative to marriage.’
Cara’s mouth opened and closed ineffectually as the full weight of this man’s power sank in. The lengths he would go to. She longed to be able to say yes so badly. But in an instant she saw a future in which she would be denying her child the right to know its father and she couldn’t do that. Grimly, she shook her head, knowing that she was sealing her fate.
A look of intense cynicism crossed Vicenzo’s face. He’d expected that response. ‘I didn’t think so.’ His voice became brisk. ‘You will be recompensed for bearing a Valentini heir, and in due course you will be sent on your way. I will take full custody of the child.’
Cara’s legs nearly buckled. She forced out through numb lips, ‘But…you can’t do that. I’m having this baby. It’s my baby.’ She put her hand on her belly, as if to protect the child within. The true catastrophe of inviting him back into her life struck home like a wrecking ball.
Vicenzo gave a small half smile. ‘I think you’ll find that I can do whatever I want, Miss Brosnan. I don’t doubt that with the right incentive you can be persuaded to walk away when the time comes.’
Vicenzo watched as the colour left Cara’s cheeks. Saw out of the corner of his eyes the way her hands tightened on the back of the chair. Inwardly he had to hand it to her. She used her expressive features well, no doubt aware of how she could manipulate people with them. But not him.
‘I’ll allow you half an hour to pack up your things and walk out of here with me as if we’re happily reconciled and embarking on the rest of our lives together.’
The way his mouth thinned at that left Cara in no doubt as to how he felt about that image. Her head throbbed unmercifully as she tried to take in everything that had just happened. She’d had no idea what confronting him would amount to.
The fact that he didn’t know the full truth of her life with Cormac was neither here nor there. He probably never would. Something had died in Cara that morning when she’d discovered how far this man was prepared to go to seek vengeance. She knew now that she could never, ever be vulnerable in any way in front of him again.
She took in the way he stood in that wide-legged stance, feet planted firmly on the ground. He was an opponent she didn’t have the strength or resources to fight. She knew that with sickening inevitability. She also knew for certain that if she refused to go with him now he wouldn’t hesitate to cart her out of here bodily. The fact that his father was ill pulled on her heartstrings. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for bringing more pain into that man’s life. She could only imagine how awful it had been for him to bury his daughter—the natural order of life and death out of sync.
A moment of intensely unwelcome vulnerability washed over Cara as she had to face how precarious her situation was, how ill equipped she was to be dealing with this pregnancy on her own. That sense of maternal responsibility flooded her. Whichever way she looked at this, right now she had no choice.
She tilted up her chin slightly and said, with as much dignity as she could muster, ‘Very well.’
There was also the knowledge that he would hate every minute he was forced to endure her company. It was small comfort, but there nonetheless.
Nothing altered in Vicenzo’s expression. He stood back and held out an arm. ‘Then you have h
alf an hour.’
Cara had to hold back a bubble of near hysteria. It wouldn’t take her more than ten minutes to pack up her paltry belongings, but he didn’t have to know that. She forced herself to walk as nonchalantly as possible to her room, but he caught her by the arm as she was about to pass him. His touch burned her through her clothes. She held herself rigid and wouldn’t look at him.
‘Don’t think for a second that I won’t expect you to sign a pre-nuptial agreement. There will be a clause which will allow for DNA testing once the baby is born, to confirm it’s mine. And if it’s not, Cara…you will pay dearly for this deception.’
She looked up and focused on those dark cold eyes, even though it cost her. ‘The only deception I’m aware of was when you hid your real identity from me in London.’
As she pulled free from Vicenzo her words stung him, reminding him of his own rare moment of weakness, the carnal level of attraction that had led them here. As much as he blamed her, he had to take responsibility for his actions. He was taking responsibility for his actions. But God help her if she was lying.
CHAPTER SIX
VICENZO finally let out the breath he’d been holding in. He’d just done the one thing he’d never contemplated doing: told a woman he’d marry her. But, annoyingly, all he could think about was how Cara’s scent had tantalised him as she’d walked past. Making him remember things he wanted to forget—like how pale she was all over, the freckles that covered her skin from top to toe, the silky smoothness of that skin and how her secret inner muscles had gripped him so tightly… She’d been a virgin.
Inferno! He would not let her bewitch him again—and why was it that the disgust he felt for this attraction couldn’t dampen his libido? Everything in him rebelled at being forced into a situation he’d never wanted to deal with. Marriage and a baby. The very prospect of becoming a father had always been such anathema to him that he just hadn’t been able to envisage it. Seeing his father humiliated and broken, becoming a shadow of his former self, had made Vicenzo determined above all else not to put any child of his at risk of going through the same thing. His life was about taking pleasure with women who knew the score and didn’t make demands. If they did, they were gone.
The idea now of such domesticity, of the inherent sham of creating such a family unit, made his insides roil. An edge of panic made him exert ruthless control over his emotions. He could deal with this because his emotions weren’t invested. This was business, pure and simple. He would have an heir. He’d had to accept the possibility after Allegra’s death that he would have to deal with that issue sooner or later. It was happening far sooner than he liked or was comfortable with, and with a woman who would not have been of his choosing, but in the end, Cara wouldn’t be part of the equation—because he knew that with enough of an enticement she’d walk away… He simply could not imagine a different scenario and didn’t want to.
Vicenzo turned abruptly from glowering at the closed bedroom door and sat on the couch. He knew that Cara must believe she was in control of the situation, but something in her demeanour just now told him that he’d rattled her composure. The fact that that thought didn’t make him feel triumphant was disturbing. Sebastian Mortimer’s letter of blackmail caught his eye again and, making a split-second decision, he took out his mobile phone and made a call.
When Cara emerged back into the living room warily, Vicenzo was on the phone speaking in rapid Italian. Her belly constricted. She’d changed out of her job-hunting clothes into jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back severely. Everything felt unreal, surreal.
His eyes ran over her coldly, taking in her small suitcase, and then he terminated the conversation and put the phone back in his pocket before saying ominously, ‘That’s sorted.’
‘What do you mean, that’s sorted?’ Cara asked warily. She was sure she didn’t want to know. Vicenzo looked far too smug.
‘Within twenty-four hours that debt is going to be cleared by me on your behalf. And if Mortimer puts up a fight we have his letter as handy evidence.’
‘But…’ Cara struggled to try and make sense of what this meant. ‘That just means I’m going to owe you.’ The momentary relief of knowing Mortimer would have no more hold over her was rapidly diminishing in the face of a much more potent threat. She looked at Vicenzo. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Because I have to admit that the thought of every penny you earn being owed to me for some considerable amount of time is quite enticing. And I could do without the potential scandal of my wife being connected to an account that hid the spoils of rogue trading.’
The full enormity of what he had just done sank in. It would take her years of double-jobbing to be able to pay off the interest on the debt, never mind the debt proper.
Suddenly, despite the fact that the debt and its potential to ruin her reputation was written off, the ordeal ahead looked like a holiday theme park in light of fact that Vicenzo Valentini’s revenge at this very moment was devastatingly absolute. No wonder he looked smug.
‘Let’s go.’ He picked up her suitcase and gestured for her to precede him out of the flat.
Everything in Cara wanted to resist his domineering, marauding manner, but she had to remind herself that she was the one who had invited him back into her life. And now she had to deal with the consequences. She would focus on the fact that she hated Vicenzo Valentini and try to forget that for a very brief moment she’d felt something altogether the opposite.
Vicenzo threw her suitcase into the boot of a sleek car and then gestured for her to get into the front passenger seat, holding the door open. Cara took a deep breath as he shut the door on her and came around the front. When he started the car and pulled out onto the road, a car coming in the opposite direction made Cara flinch back into her seat reflexively.
Vicenzo slowed down and shot her a look. ‘What is it?’
Cara shook her head, feeling clammy and shaky. ‘Noth… nothing. I just got a fright, that’s all.’ She stared straight ahead.
‘We weren’t even close.’
‘I know,’ Cara said quickly, horrified that she’d reacted so strongly. ‘It’s just…it’s my first time in the front of a car since…’
She couldn’t finish. Her reaction wasn’t even rational. She’d been sitting in the back of the car the night of the accident. She was dismayed that the crash was still so vivid in her mind, and sensed Vicenzo tense beside her. But he didn’t speak. No doubt she’d just reminded him of why he hated her so much. Miserable, Cara turned her head and looked unseeingly out of the window.
Vicenzo wasted no time getting her out of the country and onto his turf. They were airborne in a small private plane within the hour, and landing in Rome into the dark night just a few short hours later. Not a word was exchanged between them, and the journey to a sleek penthouse apartment in the centre of the city was over in what seemed like minutes.
Vicenzo showed Cara where the kitchen was, telling her perfunctorily that she could help herself to what she wanted, and then he took her to a massive guest bedroom. After taking a shower, Cara felt a wave of tiredness wash over her, and she slipped between the most deliciously soft Egyptian cotton sheets, falling into an instant dreamless sleep for the first time in a long time.
The following morning Cara woke, and was amazed to see what she hadn’t noticed the previous night. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city. A little bubble of excitement bloomed in her chest. She hadn’t ever really travelled anywhere. Not since her parents had died and she’d moved to London to live with Cormac. Growing up, they’d always taken holidays around Ireland, not having the finances to go elsewhere. But now… She found herself climbing out of the huge bed and going to stand at the window, awe-struck. The beauty of the city laid out below her was breathtaking, and in the distance she could make out the iconically familiar shape of the Collosseum.
Just then she heard a noise and whirled around, her heart in her mouth as reality rushed back, mocking her. She
was hardly on holiday. Vicenzo stood in the doorway, tall and powerful, dressed in dark trousers and a steel-grey shirt. She couldn’t make out the expression in his eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest, feeling self-conscious in nothing but an oversized T-shirt with pictures of scampering sheep racing across its surface.
‘I trust you slept well?’ he asked, for all the world a solicitous host.
Cara nodded, determined to play along. ‘Yes, thank you. The bed was…most comfortable.’
He inclined his head. ‘When you’re ready come and join me in the dining room. We have things to discuss.’
He stepped back and shut the door. Cara stuck her tongue out at it briefly—not that the childish gesture made her feel any better.
Vicenzo tried to focus on his newspaper, but the image of Cara standing silhouetted against the window in nothing but a T-shirt, with sleep-mussed hair over one shoulder, was burned onto his retina. Her long and slender pale legs called to mind the way she’d wrapped them around his back, holding him to her as he’d embedded himself deep within her. The urgency of that night, the overwhelming desire to bed her, despite knowing who she was, was something that Vicenzo still couldn’t forgive himself for.
A sound came from the door and he looked up, his jaw locked hard against his unwelcome thoughts. Cara stood on the threshold in the same clothes she’d had on yesterday. It made irritation flare through Vicenzo. The fact that she stood there so hesitantly, with her hair pulled back, made irritation prickle even more.
He stood jerkily. ‘Sit down and help yourself—and give up the act, Cara. You’re here now, and I’ve been nothing but honest about what you can expect to happen, nothing will change that now.’
Cara was feeling seriously intimidated in the face of his overwhelming good-looks against this backdrop, with all of Rome laid out as if for his pleasure only. He looked like something out of a magazine for the quintessential modern-day tycoon. Although she had to admit his look wasn’t pretty enough for a model. He was more like a modern-day pirate.
