by Dani Collins
‘Because you are the father, of course.’
That silence again, before he slowly turned. His gaze, when it met hers, fierce enough to leave marks. Emma refused to blink, refused to swallow. She was not going to be cowed.
‘And why should I believe you? After all...’ his voice dropped to an almost conversational burr ‘...you have done nothing but lie to me since the moment we met.’
‘I made a mistake and I have apologised for it.’ Emma felt her nails dig into her palms. ‘But, trust me, on this matter there is no mistake. You are the father.’
‘And how can you be so sure?’
Deep breaths, Emma, deep breaths.
‘Because I have never slept with anyone else.’ She spoke slowly, deliberately, scratching around for every bit of control she possessed. ‘You are the only person I have ever had sex with.’
Leo forced his lungs to start working, his mind scrabbling to take in this shocking news. Pregnant. Was that possible? He had used a condom every time they had made love, hadn’t he? Every time? Now his tortured mind tried to recall, he couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure. How many times had he taken her that night? His desire refusing to be sated, sleep evading him in favour of nestling up against her soft curves, sliding his hands between her thighs, pressing the hard length of him against her back, hooking his leg over her hip. And every time she had responded he had experienced the same surge of exhilaration, the thrill of possessing her anew never diminishing. Something about the sweetly naive way she had given herself to him had called to his most basic instincts. If he’d had a cave, he would have slung her over his shoulder and carried her off there, made her his and his alone.
But he didn’t have a cave, just a ridiculously huge penthouse hotel suite. And in the morning, when he had realised his mistake, berating himself for taking advantage of such an innocent, he had left. For her own good. The flowers had been an ill-judged afterthought when the memory of her had plagued him throughout the day.
The irony was that while he was being racked with guilt, agonising over his behaviour, even whether or not he should have sent her flowers, Emma Quinn had been doing a hatchet job on him. Writing a vicious exposé that the most seasoned tabloid hack would have been proud of. Maybe she had submitted that article by mistake. He didn’t care. None of that mattered any more. Except he now had an insight into exactly what she thought of him. Which could prove useful for future negotiations.
Seeing her standing there outside Raven Enterprises, all wide eyes beneath that brown fringe, had sent a bolt of shock right through him. Like he had conjured her up just by thinking about her. Because he had thought about her, way too much. Not only that, but his usual appetite for female company had deserted him. He had told himself it was all about pride. Being duped by Emma Quinn had made him question his judgement. It was no wonder he was in no rush to date again. No wonder he couldn’t get the woman out of his mind.
And now here she was, back again. Ready to rock the very foundations of his carefully constructed world. Not with some stupid article, that seemed insignificant now. But with a pregnancy. A baby. His child.
If it was true. Leo sat down again. He needed to think this through calmly. Who was to say she was really pregnant? He already knew he couldn’t trust her. This might be some scam to try and get money out of him. And even if she was, the baby wasn’t necessarily his. Denial started to force its way to the surface. She could have hooked up with anyone in the past few weeks, found she was pregnant, then decided to say it was his because of his wealth. He had no idea what she was capable of. After all, he barely knew her, as he had discovered to his cost.
And hadn’t he himself been the victim of just such heinous subterfuge? His own mother had concealed from her husband the true paternity of her elder son, to further her own ends. Leo had no intention of being taken in by Emma Quinn the way Alberto had been tricked by his mother.
Fixing her with a punishing stare, he hardened his voice.
‘You will forgive me if I need further proof.’ She didn’t look as if she would forgive him. She looked like she wanted to hit him over the head with something hard and sharp. ‘How do I know you are pregnant? You might be making the whole thing up.’
There was a brief, angry silence. ‘And why on earth would I do that?’
Leo had to admit she did look genuinely nonplussed, as if she had no idea what he was talking about. With flushed cheeks and too-bright eyes, her hair falling over her shoulders, he was forced to remember how attractive she was. But then if you were trying to trick a man into raising a kid that wasn’t his, you would make the effort to look appealing. Except she didn’t appear to have made any effort. Wearing skinny jeans and a baggy check shirt, well-worn sneakers on her feet, she gave the appearance of someone who had thrown on the first things she could find. So why was he so drawn to her?
He shrugged, affecting an insouciance he was far from feeling. ‘You wouldn’t be the first gold-digger out to trap a wealthy man.’
Her look was one of utter disgust, but there was hurt there, too, like she had been verbally slapped. Well, so be it. He knew he sounded cruel, but the brute in him had taken over. If she was messing with him, she needed to be put straight.
‘For your information...’ she dealt him a vicious stare ‘...I have no desire to trap any man, least of all an arrogant, narcissistic one like you.’
On her feet now, she picked up her canvas holdall and slung it over the crook of her arm, snatching up her handbag.
‘I came here to tell you that you are going to be a father, because, like I said, I thought you had a right to know. If I’d had any idea you would react in such an insulting, barbaric manner, I wouldn’t have bothered. But at least I can go back to London with a clear conscience, knowing I have done my duty. And when my child is old enough to ask about his father, I will be sure to tell him, or her, that he was such a paranoid egotist he refused to believe in their existence. Goodbye, Leo. Have a nice life.’
She swung violently around, her bag catching on the arm of her chair, sending it toppling sideways. She hesitated, looking as if she was about to pick it up, then changed her mind and headed towards the door.
‘Aspetta! Wait!’ Leo was behind her in a couple of seconds, his hand on her arm. He could feel the resistance there, but eventually she turned to face him again. And the brute in him started to subside. Because the colour had dramatically drained from her face, her eyes wild. ‘Come and sit down. We need to discuss this rationally.’
‘If by rationally you mean you insulting me by telling me I am either lying about you being the father or that I have made the whole thing up, then I won’t bother, thank you very much.’
‘You need to calm yourself.’ So did he, come to that. Leo pulled in a breath. ‘Getting hysterical is not going to help the situation.’
‘And neither is you behaving like a barbarian.’ Emma glared at him, making his jaw clench. His composure was wearing dangerously thin.
Picking up her chair, he lowered her into it again, then went back to his position on the other side of the desk. He looked at down at his hands, clasped tight, the knuckles pulled white. This was one hell of a mess. How could he have been so stupidly, recklessly careless?
‘Assuming everything you say is correct...’ he saw her start to speak but cut her off with a raised hand ‘...we need to find a way to proceed.’ Somehow, he had to minimise the damage. He just didn’t know how yet.
Think, Leo. Think.
‘You have been to see a doctor?’
She nodded stiffly. ‘She confirmed that I was eight weeks pregnant. Nearly nine now. I am booked in for a scan at twelve weeks.’
‘Very well.’ His decisiveness returned in a crazy rush. ‘You will have the scan here in Milan. I will find the best obstetrician.’
She was looking at him with a mixture of surprise and alarm, but he didn’t have the
capacity to work out what either emotion meant or how he should read them. It made no difference anyway. They would be playing by his rules.
‘In the meantime, you will move into my villa.’
Emma raised her chin, all pulled-tight defiance. ‘Actually, I plan to return to London, tonight if possible.’
‘No, Emma. That won’t be happening.’ The calm in his voice was getting harder and harder to find.
‘You don’t get to tell me what to do, Leo. I came here to tell you that I am pregnant, not to have you take over my life.’
‘The fact that you are pregnant means inevitably our lives are going to change.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘No buts.’
He heard her sigh. Caught the flicker of unease behind the hard blue stare she wanted him to see.
‘Leo...’ She tried again. ‘I think you have misunderstood my motives. I’m not looking for any sort of commitment from you. I’m not asking for anything. Rest assured...’ she folded her arms across her chest ‘...I am quite prepared to raise the child alone if necessary.’
Leo felt his temper inching up by steady degrees. Emma Quinn had a lot to learn about him.
‘And you misunderstand me if you think I would ever consider the idea of allowing my child to be raised anywhere other than with me.’
My child. Leo furrowed his brow. Where had that come from? Five minutes ago he had been prepared to deny its very existence, now he wouldn’t countenance the idea of it being raised anywhere other than here, with him.
‘So you accept the baby is yours?’ Her words, deliberately aimed, were nevertheless spoken gently, inching their way towards a conscience he didn’t want them to find.
Leo frowned deeply. ‘Sì, yes, I do.’
Roughly raking a hand through his hair, he let out a breath. Deep down he knew the child was his. He had known right from the start.
His initial stunned disbelief had quickly given way to stark acceptance. And with that had come the compulsion to take control of the situation—right away. Because Leo Ravenino had a reputation for thinking on his feet, making quick decisions and acting upon them. It had stood him in good stead in the world of business. It was his only option now. He had to bring some order to this chaos.
There was a moment of stillness, time holding its breath. It was Emma who eventually broke it.
‘We don’t need to make any decisions yet.’ Her tone was more conciliatory now. ‘The baby won’t be born for another seven months after all. I can always come back in a few months, or you could come to London?’
‘No. You will stay here, in Italy.’ He was not going to be beaten on this one. He wasn’t sure himself why he was so certain she shouldn’t leave the country, only that the more she pushed against it, the more he was determined that she stay in Italy. Close by, where he could keep an eye on her. Before the board got wind of this fiasco and tried to use it against him. Or this woman went to the press. Or disappeared. Or all of these things. Like a spreading stain, he had to contain this situation as fast as he could.
From nowhere, a thought rushed into his head. As obvious as it was startling, it crowded his mind. Leo tried to let it settle, to test how it felt. Tried to work out if he had found the answer or totally lost the plot. Yes, it was the right decision. He allowed his gaze to travel over Emma’s heated face, his conviction solidifying. This was the only course of action. Marriage. And the sooner the better.
A small chink of light glimmered through the black clouds. By marrying Emma he could keep a close eye on her, make sure there were no more unfortunate disclosures to the press, intentionally or otherwise. And there was another advantage. It would silence his critics on the board. That wretched article in the Paladin hadn’t gone unnoticed. Comments had been made; whispers heard from behind closed doors. Raven Enterprises was riding high, but confidence in any company could crash as fast as it rose. One wrong deal, one more scandal could see the board members and shareholders start to turn, investors get nervous. News that he had fathered a child would not be well received. But if he were to get married, that was different. Settling down, starting a family, that was exactly what they wanted to hear.
Decision made; Leo just had to work out when to drop his bombshell. And despite everything, a little frisson of satisfaction went through him. Emma Quinn didn’t know it yet, but she was about to be made an offer she couldn’t refuse.
CHAPTER SIX
EMMA STARED OUT of the window as Villa Magenta finally came into view, the lush green parkland doing nothing to ease the tension gripping her body. Sure, it was beautiful, the golden turreted edifice standing proud against a deep blue sky as her chauffeured car swept her up the long driveway. A fairy-tale castle, which was very fitting, as none of this felt real.
Cutting short their meeting, Leo had announced in that high-handed, autocratic manner of his that Luigi, his driver, would be taking her to his villa in the country. They had matters to discuss, he had informed her. He would join her there later that evening. Too weary to argue with him any more, Emma had accepted his order. He was right, they did have things to discuss. Perhaps it would be better to spend a few days here to get things settled before she made her escape back to London.
The woman waiting on the steps introduced herself as Maria, Signor Ravenino’s housekeeper. Removing Emma’s tatty old bag from Luigi’s hand, she showed her into a grand salon, all sky-high ceilings and modern chandeliers, and seated her on a designer leather sofa. Their eyes met as Emma thanked her for the proffered glass of water and Emma couldn’t help but wonder what this neat Italian woman must think of her, turning up like this out of the blue, dressed in her scruffy jeans and baggy shirt, hair all over the place and wearing not a scrap of make-up. No doubt she was very different from Leo’s usual female guests. But Maria was giving nothing away. She was way too professional for that.
Villa Magenta was every bit as beautiful as Emma had imagined. She had read about the sumptuous villa, recently purchased by Leo and completely restored at enormous expense. She had even seen aerial photos. But never had she imagined herself being here, especially under these circumstances—pregnant with the Italian magnate’s child. Surreal didn’t begin to describe it.
As she wandered from room to room, waiting for Leo to arrive, Emma tried to order her thoughts, bring some clarity to the mad situation she found herself in.
Her decision to come to Italy to tell Leo she was pregnant had not been a difficult one. Every man had the right to know he was going to be a father and every child the right to know his father had at least been informed. Morally it was a no-brainer. And that was how Emma had dealt with it. She had simply come here to state the facts, expecting nothing in return. Because life had taught her that expectation only led to disappointment. The only person she could rely on was herself.
Her own mother had shunned commitment in any form, preferring instead to not tie herself to any one man. Scarred by Emma’s father, who had deserted them when Emma had been just a toddler, moving to Ireland and severing all contact, Mary Behenna had decided never to rely on one man for her happiness, instead choosing a succession of casual relationships. And Emma had hated it. Hated the insecurity of having a parade of different men walking in and out of their lives. Hated one man in particular. One thing was for sure, no way was she ever going to subject her own child to such an upbringing. She was determined that her son or daughter would have the stability that she had craved so badly. She just didn’t know yet how to achieve it.
By seven p.m. she had driven herself half-crazy trying to figure out the best way forward, what to say to Leo when he finally deigned to show up. When there was still no sign of him by eight o’clock her anxiety had ratcheted up another notch, joined by simmering indignation. Maria had bustled in with a supper tray for her, but Emma had no appetite. Enquiring what time Signor Ravenino was expected home had produced no results, Maria looking
slightly nonplussed that Emma thought she might be privy to such information.
Eventually, she decided to go outside and take a walk around the grounds. It was still light, and a beautiful evening. But she had only descended the first few steps when she realised she wasn’t alone. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Luigi lurking behind her.
‘Buonasera...’ Emma spoke uncertainly.
‘Buonasera,’ Luigi replied politely.
She went down the rest of the steps, heading towards the corner of the villa, when she heard the crunch of gravel behind her. Luigi was following her! By the time she had reached the formal gardens he was just a few steps behind. Quickening her pace, Emma darted behind a perfectly sculpted yew hedge, reappearing by a classical fountain, only to find Luigi had beaten her to it. This was getting ridiculous!
She was about to stomp over to him, make it clear that his presence wasn’t wanted, that it was downright creepy, when it suddenly occurred to her. Luigi wasn’t pursuing her out of some dodgy interest of his own. He was obeying orders. Leo’s orders. He had been told to watch over her, make sure she didn’t escape. How insulting was that? No, worse than insulting—it was criminal. She was effectively being imprisoned. Well, they would see about that.
Silently seething, Emma turned on her heel, marching back towards the villa and stomping in through the open front door. And straight into a solid wall of tailored suit. Winded, she pulled back, but not before Leo’s hands had closed over her shoulders.
‘I need to speak to you.’ She shrugged off his hands, furious with the way her heart had done a traitorous little leap of welcome. ‘Right away.’
‘And I you.’ Coolly shrugging off his jacket, he handed it to a waiting Maria, issuing some instructions to her in Italian before picking up the leather attaché case at his feet. ‘If you would like to come into the salon.’
