His gaze sharpened, the smile turning his mouth vanishing. ‘What’s wrong?’
Damn. He’d noticed.
‘Nothing,’ she said thickly.
And then her legs gave out.
Dante moved, lightning-fast, and strong arms were suddenly around her, catching her before she hit the floor. Then she was being lifted as the man she was supposed to have killed gathered her tight against his hard, warm chest and kicked shut the door behind him.
Humiliation caught at her and she struggled, but he only murmured, ‘Hush.’ And, strangely, the will to protest faded, her energy dwindling away to nothing.
As if her body had simply been waiting for him to arrive and take charge.
Shame grabbed her by the throat, but the past few days had been a nightmare of exhaustion, illness and shock, and she just didn’t have any strength left with which to fight.
Instead, she found herself relaxing against him and shutting her eyes, conscious of nothing but the warmth of him seeping into her and the iron strength of his body. For some reason there was something reassuring about it which should have concerned her if she’d had the energy for it.
What are you doing? What do you think is going to happen when he finds out?
Ice penetrated the warmth of his hold.
She couldn’t handle this right now. It had only been two days since she’d finally forced herself to spend the last of her cash on a pregnancy test, and she hadn’t had time to come to terms with the result herself.
She’d been halfway to figuring out a new plan but now that plan was in ruins as the consequences of her failure that night in the hotel room returned to haunt her.
It hadn’t been a simple failure. It had been a failure of catastrophic proportions and she still hadn’t figured out what she was doing to do.
But now you’ll have to.
Yes, she would.
Dante put her down on the ratty couch in one corner of the living area and she found herself almost reaching out to hold onto him as the warmth of his body withdrew. God, she must be even weaker than she’d first thought.
Managing to stop herself at the last minute, Stella gripped her forearms instead as he stepped back, looming over her like a building, his arms folded over his broad chest, his gaze narrowed.
There was a moment’s dense, heavy silence.
She steeled herself, ignoring the frantic beating of her heart and the nausea sitting in her gut, lifting her chin and arching a brow at him. She couldn’t afford to show him any further weakness. She wouldn’t. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.
‘What just happened?’ he asked finally.
‘Nothing.’ She was pleased her voice was so steady.
‘Nothing,’ he echoed, disbelief dripping from his tone. ‘Darling, you collapsed right in front of me.’
Stella gripped her forearms tighter. ‘I’m tired. And I’m not your darling.’
‘You look more than tired.’ He studied her, his gaze uncomfortably sharp. ‘You look exhausted.’
She decided to ignore that. ‘So, are the police coming? Isn’t that why you’re here? To arrest me?’
There was another heavy silence.
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I think not. I’ll handle you myself.’
And despite her exhaustion and sickness a small, traitorous thrill shot through her, memories tugging at her again of his rock-hard body beneath hers and the length of him inside her, the intense, rhythmic thrust of his hips and how good that had felt...
What would it feel like if he actually had his hands free to ‘handle’ her properly?
Her mouth dried, her pulse accelerating.
Stop thinking about that. Focus.
Stella gritted her teeth, forcing away the memory, ignoring the throb between her legs that, given how sick she was feeling, shouldn’t be there.
‘How wonderful for me.’ She tried for cool and managed to hit it. Mostly. ‘And how did you find me?’
‘Money. And a lot of people looking for you.’
He must have paid them a lot of money then, because she’d been very careful.
He really wanted to find you.
Of course he had. She’d tried to kill him.
‘I see. In that case, congratulations, you’ve found me.’ She gripped her forearms tighter. ‘What exactly does the “handling” involve?’
Gold glimmered briefly in his eyes, a glimpse of the heat she remembered the night she’d tried and failed to kill him. ‘You know, I hadn’t really thought about it. But I’m sure we can work something out.’ One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile that held a whole world of sensual promise. ‘Can’t we, kitten?’
Something inside her glowed hot in response, another helpless surge of desire.
No. She couldn’t allow herself to feel this. She’d already made one catastrophic mistake. She wasn’t going to make another.
Pressing her nails hard into her skin, she used the slight pain to chase away the heat lingering in her veins. ‘I’ll leave you my number then. Once you’ve decided how you want to “work that out” you can contact me. Until then...’ she tried an icy smile ‘...perhaps you might want to leave?’
‘Darling,’ Dante purred. ‘You really think that I’m going to simply leave now I’ve found you? After you tried to kill me? Who’s to say you’re not going to try it again?’
Stella swallowed, her mouth dry, the nausea roiling yet again. She should have eaten something that morning but she hadn’t been able to face it. And now hunger was making the nausea worse. Her own stupid fault.
The fainting spell was bad enough, but throwing up in front of him would be ten thousand times worse.
‘How about if I promise I won’t do it again? Will that do?’ She let go the grip she had on her arms, and tried to push herself to her feet, desperate for him to leave. But her legs were still wobbly and she swayed on her feet, dizzy.
Dante’s sensual smile vanished and he reached out, putting his hands under her elbows to steady her, looking down into her face, his dark gaze sharp. ‘You’re not well. Kitten, what’s wrong?’
She gritted her teeth against the sick feeling and the strange urge the concern in his voice had prompted, the urge to tell him everything, to let him deal with it. Because now it was his problem too.
But she couldn’t. She had her plans and, though they might be in ruins now, there was a chance she could still salvage something from them. And if he knew that she was pregnant he might... Well, she had no idea what he’d do. She only knew that she couldn’t risk him finding out.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘It’s not nothing. You can barely stand.’
His palms were warm against her skin and there was a part of her that wanted simply to stand there and rest, let him hold her up. A part of her she’d very purposefully excised from her soul years ago.
How ridiculous. What was he doing to her?
Forcing down the urge, she tried to pull away, only to have his fingers tighten, keeping her where she stood. Probably a good thing, now she thought about it, because she had a horrible feeling she wouldn’t be able to stand upright if he didn’t.
The physical weakness made a hot, sharp anger wind through her. At herself for being so weak, and perversely at him, for being stronger than she was and making her so aware of that fact.
She knew she looked fragile, but she’d worked hard to overcome that by being emotionally strong. And the way he was holding her, with his palms resting under her elbows in support, made that strength feel brittle somehow. As if taking that support away from her would shatter her.
She hated the feeling.
‘I’m fine.’ She tried to gather enough strength to pull away from him. ‘And I don’t know why you’re so concerned with my health. Don’t forget I tried to kill you a month ago.’ Might as well name it
, as it wasn’t likely he’d forgotten that particular aspect of their night together.
If he found that uncomfortable, he didn’t show it, his gaze narrowing as he searched her face. Then his hold tightened and he eased her back down so she was sitting once more on the couch. ‘Stay there,’ he ordered.
Stella wanted to protest, but the sheer relief of not having to hold herself upright took all her energy, so she simply sat there as he turned and strode through the doorway that led to the tiny kitchen area.
Damn him. The last thing she needed was for him to be nice to her.
She leaned back against the couch and let her eyes close, exhaustion overwhelming her for a second. Part of her wanted to curl up and go to sleep, pretend the last couple of days had never happened. Pretend she hadn’t slept with the man she was supposed to kill and wasn’t now pregnant with his child.
Pretend he hadn’t found her and that her plans weren’t in ruins.
But that would be futile. All those things had happened—no point trying to convince herself otherwise.
The back of her neck prickled.
Her eyes snapped open.
Dante was standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at her. He was holding a glass of water in one hand and there was a curiously intense expression on his face.
A premonition gripped her.
He knows.
No, that was ridiculous. There was no way he could, not if she hadn’t told him.
‘What is it now?’ She tried to keep her voice level.
Deep in his dark eyes, golden fire leapt, his jaw tight, his beautiful mouth gone hard. ‘So were you going to tell me? Or were you simply going to get rid of it?’
All the air vanished from her lungs as shock washed over her.
‘And in case you were wondering...’ Dante raised his other hand, a piece of paper in it. ‘You left this on the counter.’
It was one of the pregnancy pamphlets she’d collected from the pharmacy where she’d bought the test.
Ice collected in her gut, making her feel even sicker, and for the briefest second she debated pretending not to understand what he was talking about. Telling him that those pamphlets weren’t hers, but a friend’s. Because if he knew the child was his...
It might not be the disaster you’re anticipating. This could be the perfect moment to get close to him.
Stella held herself very still, examining the idea. Another attempt on his life was impossible now, because, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, if she hadn’t been able to pull the trigger while he’d been lying there bound and helpless she wasn’t going to be able to pull it at all.
But there might be another way to salvage her mission. A way to save herself from the failures of the past month and avenge Matteo’s death. Redeem herself in her father’s eyes, too.
Revenge. Make him hurt somehow, take away something he loved so he could feel the same pain as her family had at the loss of Matteo. It wasn’t what her father wanted, but it was still something.
In fact, in many ways, having him remain alive yet broken could be even more satisfying than his death.
However, for that to work she would need to get close to him in order to find out who or what he cared most about.
So...perhaps she shouldn’t deny she was pregnant after all.
Perhaps she needed to admit it.
And what about the child?
No, she couldn’t think about the child just yet. Not making another mistake was the most important thing for her right now. She would think about the implications of her pregnancy later, when she’d completed her mission.
Stella forced herself to hold his furious gaze. ‘I...hadn’t decided.’ She tried to keep her voice level. ‘I only found out a couple of days ago.’
He said nothing for a long moment, but then he didn’t have to. There was no trace of the charming smile she remembered. Or the warmth. Or the kindness. There was only anger burning in his eyes.
He’s right to be angry with you. It’s your fault, after all.
And it was. Her failure. She’d been the one who’d so given herself over to physical pleasure and wanting to prove something to him that she hadn’t even thought about a condom. In fact, it hadn’t been until she’d realised how late her period was that she’d even remembered she hadn’t used one.
Despite her new resolution to finish what she’d started, heat rose in her cheeks, shame returning under the pressure of his black-velvet gaze.
He didn’t say anything, moving over to the couch and stopping in front of her, holding out the water glass. ‘Drink it,’ he ordered flatly.
His tone made her hackles rise and instantly she wanted to argue. But there was no point risking antagonising him right now. He might actually decide to leave and then she’d have to start all over again with a new plan, the opportunity she had now lost.
In fact, given how angry he was, that might still happen. He was, after all, a notorious playboy and an unexpected child wasn’t exactly conducive to the kind of life he led.
No, she needed to be careful here.
Stella took the glass and sipped, the water cool in her dry mouth easing the nagging sickness in her gut.
He watched her, the look in his eyes burning. ‘Well?’ he demanded, the current of his anger running underneath the rich timbre of his voice like lava. ‘Were you going to tell me you’re pregnant? Answer me.’
‘Yes, of course I was going to tell you,’ she said coolly. ‘Once the danger period was over.’
‘So you’re not planning on getting rid of it?’
The question set off a little shock inside her and she answered instinctively before she’d even had a chance to think. ‘No. Of course not. Obviously I’m going to have it.’
‘Obviously, you are.’ The words were flat, the look on his face starkly uncompromising. ‘Since that baby is mine.’
That little shock reverberated, stronger this time, reacting to something in his voice. He sounded...possessive, almost. As if he actually wanted the baby.
A hollow feeling opened up inside her, a kind of longing. But it didn’t make any sense to her so she ignored it. ‘How do you know the baby is yours?’ she asked. ‘It might not be.’
He snorted. ‘Darling, you were a virgin. And, unless you went straight to another man’s bed after our little interlude, it’s pretty much guaranteed that the child is mine.’ Intention blazed suddenly in his eyes. ‘But of course, if you require a paternity test, then by all means let’s take one.’
The way he looked at her made her tremble, though she didn’t understand why, and she had to glance away to cover the momentary weakness.
What on earth was wrong with her? So it seemed as though he wanted the baby. So what? It wasn’t going to make any difference. He was still a mistake she had to correct and she would. As soon as she’d figured him out.
‘No,’ she said. ‘That won’t be necessary.’
‘Of course it won’t,’ he echoed, something hard and certain in his voice. ‘Then again, it’ll probably be one of the things I’ll have to organise once we get back to my hotel, anyway.’
Stella frowned. ‘What? What do you mean “when we get back to my hotel”?’
Dante’s dark gaze was steely and utterly sure. ‘I mean that I’m leaving in five minutes and I’m taking you and my child with me.’
CHAPTER FOUR
SHOCK WAS WRITTEN all over Stella Montefiore’s lovely face, but Dante didn’t care. He wasn’t staying here longer than five minutes, not given the pallor of her skin or the dark circles under her eyes.
She needed rest and she needed it somewhere safe and that wasn’t here.
She was carrying his child.
His child.
The reality of the fact was still echoing inside him like a bell being struck.
He’d seen the
pamphlets on the kitchen counter as he’d got her a glass of water. Pamphlets with information on pregnancy.
And he’d felt something yawn wide inside him.
They’d only had sex once that night but... Dio. They hadn’t used a condom. How was that even possible? He was fanatical about always using protection, but that night... He’d been drugged, had woken to find himself handcuffed to a bed with a gun in his face, only to be blindsided by desire for the very woman who’d threatened him. And she’d been so hot and he’d wanted her so very badly that it hadn’t even entered his head to tell her that he had condoms in his wallet.
You fool.
She’d been a virgin. The onus had been on him and he hadn’t even thought about it. And now look what had happened.
He hadn’t been able to move for long moments, staring at those pamphlets, the realisation that she was pregnant and that the child was his slowly settling down inside him.
After the disaster that was his own childhood, he’d never wanted children for himself. Everything in life was transitory and painful so why not take as much pleasure as you could while you could get it? He couldn’t do that with children and a family. In fact, the only family he’d allowed himself was Enzo—mainly because his brother refused to let Dante distance him—but that was it.
He didn’t want anything else. He didn’t need it.
So where the intense possessiveness came from that wrapped its fingers around his throat, almost choking the life out of him, he had no idea. But it was there, the need to grab Stella and take her away, keep her and his baby safe, impossible to deny.
It made sense in a way, since the woman had tried to kill him, which meant he couldn’t trust her, let alone trust her with his child. Taking her somewhere where he could keep an eye on her seemed logical.
He was aware that he was trying to rationalise it, but right now he didn’t care. There was an unexpected biological imperative he was responding to and he simply couldn’t stop himself.
Claiming His One-Night Child Page 5
