‘Why?’ He ignored the pain, reaching for his anger instead. ‘Why can’t you be happy with what we have now? I’ll give you everything you want. Every damn thing, Stella.’
‘I know you will,’ she said sadly. ‘And maybe that would have been enough for me a week or so ago. But it’s not enough for me now.’
‘Why not?’ He’d taken a step towards her before he realised what he was doing, his hands in fists at his sides. ‘Why can’t that be enough?’
She was framed by the window, the green of the view behind her, and there was something about it that made her seem very isolated and alone, yet at the same time it highlighted her quiet strength.
He didn’t understand how she could ever have thought herself weak.
‘Because I’m not the same person I was a week ago. You changed me, Dante. You made me want more. You made me think I deserve more. And I...don’t want to live the rest of my life simply being content with whatever you choose to give me.’ Her shoulders straightened, her jaw firmed. ‘I need to be loved. I need it. And I don’t want to have to earn it or be forever trying to change your mind to get it. I did that with my father and I don’t want to do it again.’
Of course she had. And the fact that he understood her made everything worse somehow.
He felt as though he was trying to hold onto something precious that was slipping through his fingers and it took every atom of will he possessed not to go to her and take her in his arms again, to physically hold onto her so she didn’t disappear. ‘You’ll have the baby,’ he forced out through gritted teeth. ‘You don’t need love from me.’
But she only shook her head slowly. ‘No, I won’t put that on our baby. It’s not fair.’ Another tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Dante. I can’t do this. I can’t spend my life waiting for love from another man who’ll never give it to me. I don’t want that for our child either.’
Everything was slipping out of his grasp and he had no idea how to get it back. Because to get it back would mean admitting that he cared, and he didn’t. He just damn well didn’t.
He couldn’t afford to.
He had nothing more of his heart left to give anyway.
Not even for your son or daughter?
But anger raged inside him like a bonfire, scorching everything in sight, and he didn’t want to think about his child right now. What he wanted was to tell her all this was her fault, that she was the one ruining everything, that he expected better from her than ultimatums.
But he locked the furious words safely away. Smothered the bonfire with indifference. Deprived it of oxygen by slamming the door on every single feeling he had.
And it was easy. Easier than he’d expected.
‘Fine.’ He tried to sound lazy and casual, the way he always did. ‘It’s up to you, of course. But this is turning out to be more trouble than it’s worth, so you’ll forgive me if perhaps we put this marriage situation on hold for the time being.’
Pain flashed across her face; she knew what that tone of his meant as much as he did. And it hurt him. It flayed him alive.
But he ignored that too. Because did she seriously expect him to cave in to her demands simply because she loved him? Ridiculous.
‘I understand.’ Her voice was level and yet he could hear the hurt laced through it like a crack in a perfect windowpane. ‘And the baby?’
‘I’ll buy this palazzo.’ He gestured at the empty room, taking care not to look too closely at it as he took a hammer to the fantasies he’d been constructing about it in his head. ‘You can live here until the child is born. Then we’ll have to work out some other arrangements.’
Her mouth trembled as if her strength was coming to an end. ‘I thought you wanted two parents for our child, Dante. I thought you wanted to live with us.’
‘So did I.’ He held her gaze, let her see the utter indifference in his. Because she was right about one thing: his child was better off without him. ‘Seems I was mistaken.’
Sadness filled her eyes. ‘So that’s your response? You’re going to walk away from us? Oh, Dante...’
The disappointment and hurt in her voice made him want to howl in agony. Instead, he gave a hollow laugh. ‘What? You really thought I’d do anything different? Come now, kitten. You know what kind of man I am. As you’ve already pointed out, my child is going to suffer having me for a father anyway. Might as well live the part.’ He forced himself to turn away, because he wasn’t going to stand there looking at the pain on Stella’s face a second longer. ‘I’ll get a car back to Milan. I think I’ll stay there a couple of days, in fact. You can stay in Rome until the purchase of this house comes through.’ He began to walk towards the exit, having to force himself to take every step. ‘Don’t worry, everything will be taken care of.’
‘I do know what kind of man you are, Dante Cardinali,’ Stella said from behind him, her voice echoing in the empty room. ‘I only wish you did too.’
Pain reverberated through him, but he didn’t turn. ‘I’m sorry, kitten. That man doesn’t exist.’
He didn’t expect her to call after him as he walked through the door and, when she didn’t, he tried not to tell himself he was disappointed.
CHAPTER TEN
DANTE SAT IN the rooftop garden of his newly bought penthouse in Milan, where he’d once envisaged putting a luxurious day-bed so he and Stella could spend some ‘adult’ time in any spare moments they might have while looking after their child.
But as he lolled on one of the white couches under the pergola, yet another glass of wine on the table at his elbow as the sun set over Milan, he decided that perhaps one wasn’t enough. He’d get in two. After all, he’d need more than one for all the lovely women he’d be bringing up here, because of course he’d be bringing lots of women up here.
Since he wasn’t getting married now, he wouldn’t need to be faithful, which meant he could sleep around the way he always had.
It would have been a reassuring thought if it also hadn’t filled him with a weary kind of distaste. Perhaps it meant he was getting old.
Or perhaps it means you only want her.
No, that would be ridiculous. Why would he? Stella was gone anyway, back to Rome and the penthouse suite they’d stayed at initially, just as he’d told her to. She was, after all, still pregnant with his child and the palazzo wasn’t quite ready to accommodate her just yet.
Pain shifted in his chest so he lifted his wine glass and took another sip. Sometimes alcohol helped and sometimes it didn’t.
Looked like it was going to be another day where it didn’t.
A footstep made him look up from his contemplation of the view and he frowned as the tall figure of his brother stepped out from the living area and onto the rooftop.
‘How did you get in?’ Dante demanded.
‘The front door was open.’ Enzo casually strolled over and sat down on the chair opposite him.
‘Nonsense. The front door has a keypad and a lock that automatically engages.’
‘Fine. I had someone dismantle the lock.’ There was not one ounce of shame in Enzo’s expression. ‘You weren’t answering the door.’
Dante took a sip of his wine and scowled. ‘Seems like overkill.’
‘It’s been five days, Dante. I was worried.’
‘Why? I’m fine.’ He gestured with his glass at the rooftop around them. ‘As you can see.’
Enzo’s golden eyes narrowed. ‘You are not fine. You look like you haven’t slept in days.’
‘I haven’t.’ Dante shrugged. ‘A small bout of insomnia. It’s nothing.’
But his brother’s gaze was sharp and Dante had the uncomfortable sensation that Enzo could read every thought in his head.
‘I had a call,’ Enzo said after a moment. ‘From a woman.’
Dante went very still, something clutching tightly in his chest. �
��What woman?’
‘I think you know which woman I mean.’ His brother looked steadily at him. ‘The woman expecting your child. Who’s been very worried about you, regardless of the way you walked out on her.’
A spike of pain welled up inside him, leaking through the cracks in the denial he’d laid over the top of it. A denial that had been working very well the whole of the past week until now.
Probably meant he needed to drink some more.
‘I don’t know what woman you’re talking about,’ he said flatly, taking another sip.
Enzo’s expression darkened. ‘I thought you were a man, Dante. Not a coward.’
The denial cracked a little more and this time it was anger leaking out, a hot wave of it. And suddenly Dante lifted his glass and threw it hard against the stone wall of the parapet that bounded the garden.
It shattered, wine dripping onto the stone floor.
There was a silence, broken only by the sound of his breathing, fast and hard, as though he’d been running for days. Which he had been.
Running from the sound of Stella’s voice telling him she knew what kind of man he was.
Running from the sound of his own cowardice as he’d told her that man didn’t exist.
‘Feel better?’ Enzo asked mildly.
‘No,’ Dante said.
‘Well.’ His brother leaned back in his chair and eyed him. ‘This is familiar.’
Oh, yes, he supposed it was. He remembered having a talk with Enzo just like this one when his brother had nearly lost the woman he loved. How ironic that it should be Enzo coming to talk to him now.
‘Best to go away, brother mine,’ Dante growled. ‘I’m not in the mood.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Enzo said, ignoring him. ‘Stella is going to have your child and you’re here sulking like Simon does when he’s having one of his tantrums. I thought you’d at least behave better than my five-year-old.’
The sound of her name reverberated through him, striking sparks of pain through his entire body. ‘Don’t,’ he said dangerously. ‘Don’t you dare say her name.’
‘Why? Because it hurts you?’ Enzo ignored the warning. ‘You’re a fool, little brother. She told me what went on—and don’t worry, she only told me after I demanded she tell me everything. And I can read between the lines. You fell in love with her, and you didn’t know how to deal with it, so you pushed her away.’
You fell in love with her...
The words dropped into a quiet space in Dante’s head, echoing.
‘You’re wrong,’ he forced out. ‘I’m not in love with her. I’m indifferent to her.’
‘Is that right? So why did you walk away? Why are you sitting here in an apparently unfurnished apartment, drinking by yourself and refusing to answer the door?’ Enzo shook his head. ‘You told me once that Mama had her own issues. And I can guess what they might be.’ Something in his face flickered. ‘I will never forgive myself for the fact that you had to deal with them alone, that I didn’t come after you when Mama dragged you away.’
Another crack ran through Dante’s denial, jagged and raw. ‘You were young. And I coped. I was fine—’
‘No,’ Enzo said forcefully. ‘You didn’t cope. And you’re not fine. If you were fine, you would be with the woman you loved and readying yourself for the birth of your first child. Instead, you’re sitting here drinking, pretending you don’t care when any fool can see that you care so deeply you can’t deal with it.’
Dante didn’t know what to say. He sat there staring at his brother, feeling the denial start to break apart inside him, and he could do nothing at all to stop it.
‘She died, Enzo,’ he heard himself say. ‘And I couldn’t save her. I walked away and let her die.’
Enzo didn’t ask who he was talking about. ‘Mama chose her own path and you know it. So don’t let her choices dictate yours.’ He paused, his golden gaze steady and sure. ‘You’re doing exactly what she used to do, you know that, don’t you? Drowning your own pain with alcohol and pushing away the people who love you.’
Dante stared at his brother, conscious of a trickle of ice water dripping down his back. A trickle that became a flood as understanding broke over him.
Because of course Enzo was right. He was doing exactly what his mother had done. Drinking away the pain, refusing help. Denying the people who loved him. Hurting them, blaming them...
The way he’d hurt and blamed Stella for the simple crime of loving him and wanting to be loved in return. Dio, would he do the same thing to his child too?
Shame swept over him.
‘I hurt her,’ he said, hoarse and a bit desperate. ‘I told her not to care about me and then I...blamed her for wanting more. I blamed her for ruining what we had.’ He took a breath. ‘It’s not her fault. It’s mine.’
His brother’s gaze softened. ‘That’s a start. So what are you going to do about it?’
Dante’s whole body felt tight. All he could see was the pain in Stella’s lovely blue eyes and the tears on her cheeks. Tears he’d put there. ‘What can I do? I walked away from her. I pretended I didn’t care and then just left.’
‘There’s one thing you can do,’ Enzo said. ‘Accept that you do care and then spend every second of your life showing her exactly how much.’
Dante stared at his brother, into the face of the only other person in his life he’d ever cared about. ‘How did you do it with Matilda?’ he asked. ‘How did you just...put everything aside and make that decision?’
Enzo lifted a shoulder. ‘It was easy. I finally understood that I loved her. That her pain was more important than my own.’
‘Easy.’ Dante echoed mirthlessly.
But Enzo only shook his head. ‘It’s about acceptance, brother. Not that river in Egypt.’
It was a lame joke, but then his brother had never been very good at humour.
Just as Dante had never been very good at acceptance.
‘All I ever wanted was for someone to put their arms around me and tell me I was loved...’
She’d told him that and it was such a simple thing to give her. Only his heart. And what did his heart matter anyway? Who was he holding onto it for? There was no one else he wanted to give it to but her and, if she took it and ripped it into shreds, what of it? There would be pain and he’d had pain before.
Besides, he owed it to her for the way he’d walked out. He owed her an apology. And if she threw it back in his face it wouldn’t be anything he didn’t deserve.
And, apart from anything else, he wanted to see her shattered sky eyes just once more.
‘I think,’ he said. ‘That I suddenly need to be in Rome. Urgently.’
Enzo eyed him. ‘It’s nearly midnight.’
Dante surged up out of his chair. The denial had cracked apart and melted away as if it had never been, leaving nothing but an intense, aching hunger he knew was never going to go away. ‘I don’t care. I have to go now.’
Enzo snorted. ‘Good thing I got the helicopter ready to go, then, isn’t it?’
* * *
Stella was asleep and dreaming. It was one of the lovely and yet terribly painful dreams that had been plaguing her for the past week, where she would feel strong arms around her and a muscular, powerful body at her back keeping her warm. And a rich, dark voice would whisper in her ear, except she could never hear the words. There were too indistinct.
The dream hurt and always ended the same way, with her waking up alone, a deep, intense yearning in her heart for something she was never going to have.
She hated those dreams.
In fact, as she lay curled up in the bed she’d once shared with Dante, she thought she was having one now, because warm arms slid around her, drawing her against an achingly familiar body. Hot, muscular and smelling of sandalwood, folding around her and keeping her safe.
<
br /> She gave a little moan of resistance and shivered as she felt lips nuzzle her ear, her whole body falling into longing as that dark voice began to whisper the words she never seemed to hear.
Except right now, alone in her bed, she heard them.
‘Stella Montefiore,’ the dream said. ‘I have something to tell you.’ Those arms tightened around her, holding her fast. ‘You are wanted. You are loved. And you are loved by me.’
Stella trembled. Was she awake? Or was this still a dream? Because, if it was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.
But the voice was still speaking, that familiar voice that made her want to cry. ‘I’m sorry, kitten,’ Dante murmured. ‘I’m so sorry for the way I left you. For all the terrible things I said to you. I’ve got no excuse for them other than the one you probably already know. I was afraid. I didn’t want to feel anything, I didn’t want to care. But I did care. I cared about you.’
She shuddered, not wanting move or speak in case the dream disappeared, a sob collecting in her throat.
‘You told me you knew what kind of man I am,’ he went on, ‘but all I knew was that I was the man who’d walked out on his mother because she wouldn’t give me even one single sign that she loved me. And then she died. And maybe if I hadn’t walked out, if I hadn’t wanted to be loved so badly, I might have been there to save her.’
Stella couldn’t keep still any more.
She turned over, heart bursting in her chest, half-terrified of what she would see—that it wouldn’t be the man she wanted, just that awful dream again, and she’d be left with nothing.
But it wasn’t a dream.
Dante was lying in the bed, his eyes gleaming and black in the dim room, his expression stripped bare. He was in his usual suit trousers and shirt, yet his shirt was creased and had clearly seen better days, and his normally clean-shaven jaw was dark with stubble.
He looked tired and worn and desperate, and still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
‘You’re here,’ she croaked, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his beloved face. ‘How did you get here?’
Claiming His One-Night Child Page 16
