Claiming His One-Night Baby

by Michelle Smart

  But he had already known it in his gut, his conscience insisted on reminding him. He’d known it from the second she’d appeared white-faced at the door with the positive pregnancy test in her hand, and had refused to acknowledge it for fear of what the truth would reveal.

  He put his eye to the spy hole and stepped back in shock. Maybe the alcohol had worked better than he’d thought.

  He took another look. No, there was his cousin Francesca and her fiancé, Felipe.

  Apart from one phone call in which she had called him every name under the sun, Francesca had cut him out of her life, just as Vanessa and Daniele had done. Was this the moment his hot-headed cousin had talked her fiancé into beating him up?

  Taking a deep breath first, he pulled the door open a couple of inches.

  There were no kicks to batter the door in and neither was there any of the expected acrimony on her face. After a moment of awkward silence, she gave a tentative smile. ‘Can we come in?’

  He pulled the door open to admit them, bracing himself for a punch in the ribs. But as they stepped into his suite he saw the puffy redness of her eyes.

  ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, concern immediately filling him.

  Felipe shut the door behind them as Francesca said, ‘Haven’t you seen the news today?’

  ‘I’ve been avoiding the media.’ No papers, no magazines and no internet. He didn’t need to read the world’s opinion of him. None of it could be worse than his own opinion, which had been getting steadily worse, although he couldn’t understand why.

  Blinking back tears, she handed him a newspaper that had been tucked under her arm.

  He took it from her. Before he opened it he knew what it was going to say.

  His instincts were right.

  Pieta’s secret was a secret no more.

  ‘I’ll get us all a drink,’ Felipe murmured, while Francesca flopped onto the nearest armchair and wiped away a tear.

  ‘Is it true?’ she asked him, her eyes pleading with him to deny it, to say that Alberto, Pieta’s right hand man for his foundation, the man now purporting to have been his secret lover for over ten years, was a liar.

  He dimly recalled Natasha saying Pieta hadn’t been free to be with the man he loved. At the time his head had been reeling too much with the magnitude of everything else she’d said to take that in too.

  Taking the seat opposite Francesca, wishing he wasn’t about to confirm something that was going to break her heart, he nodded.

  ‘How...?’

  ‘Natasha told me.’ Just saying her name hurt.

  Francesca’s face went white as Felipe appeared at her side. She snatched the glass of liquid from his hand and downed it without looking at it or asking what it was.

  She pulled the face of a woman with a burning throat then blew out a long puff of air. ‘Oh, my God. She knew. Poor Natasha.’ She began to cry in earnest. ‘Why didn’t he tell us? How could he keep such a thing secret? Did he think we wouldn’t love him any more? Or didn’t he love us enough to tell us? Didn’t he trust us?’ Then she leaned into Felipe, who’d handed Matteo a measure of Scotch too before squashing himself onto the single armchair with her, and sobbed into his chest.

  Felipe’s steady gaze met his. No lies, his look said.

  There would be no lies from his lips.

  It suddenly struck him that his promise to Natasha meant he was now guilty of lies by omission too.

  He would have kept that secret without making the promise.

  If Alberto hadn’t sold his story, he would have taken Pieta’s secret to the grave, not for his sake but for Francesca and Vanessa’s. Just as Natasha would have done.

  * * *

  Some hours later, when Francesca and Felipe had left, Matteo sat slumped in his hotel room’s armchair and stared at the thick carpet.

  He’d never been as mentally drained or as emotionally shattered in his life.

  But it wasn’t the talk of all the secrets and lies his head was full of, it was Natasha.

  She’d been with him every minute since he’d left her but saying her name out loud seemed to have opened a sluice in his brain and now he found she was all he could think of. He couldn’t rid himself of the urge to call her.

  He’d had this urge before, when Roberto had died, a need to hear the soft calming voice that had always had the power to make him feel better. He’d gone into medicine to heal people but in Natasha he’d found the one person who could heal him.

  He dragged a hand over his face and fought for breath.

  He’d thought everything was so clear but it wasn’t. He’d been swimming in the fog and now the fog was clearing and his entire life was flashing before him like a reel playing in his head. The happy early childhood ripped apart by the fire, the withdrawal of his parents’ affection, the guilt over his brother that had only eased when he’d found the one special person in his life who fully believed in him and who he’d refused to fight for...

  Why had that been?

  On and on it ran; qualifying as a surgeon, his brother’s shame at his scars and refusal to leave the house, his brother’s death, his father’s venomous words and hatred, changing his name to spite him, creating his empire, every hollow success, Pieta’s death, his child’s conception, everything forging together into a circle bound by the soft glow of the woman he’d let back into his heart, the woman who’d sucked up all the guilt and fixed all his broken parts without him even realising...

  He thought of Pieta and Alberto having to hide and deny their love.

  Even if Pieta had found the courage needed to be open and grab the happiness that could have been theirs, death had taken it away from them.

  It hit him like a punch in the gut. What he’d done. What his pride and terrified heart had done.

  He too had had a chance of happiness.

  Natasha had bared her heart and her soul to him and instead of embracing it he’d stamped on it.

  She hadn’t turned his heart into stone, she’d opened it and moved in.

  And he’d thrown it blindly in her face without a backward glance.

  * * *

  Natasha switched the light on in the dark kitchen and filled the kettle. Her early shift at the coffee shop started in an hour and she needed to wake up.

  Only a few weeks into her job and already she loved it. Right then, it was perfect for her. When the baby was born she intended to pursue interior design but for the time being this was just what she needed. It gave her the chance to be with people. She liked seeing shoppers pile into the shop laden with gifts for their loved ones. She liked the smiles, the little conversations conducted in her hesitant Italian, which over the last couple of weeks had suddenly improved by leaps and bounds. She liked the anonymity—if anyone recognised her from the press reports they would dismiss it as an uncanny likeness. She liked the constant smell of fresh coffee. She liked everything about it. She especially liked the reassurance that she wasn’t alone in the world. That there was a world out there beyond her parents and the Pellegrinis. And Matteo...

  Blinking his image away, she reached for a mug, then noticed her phone left on the counter overnight was flashing.

  In amazement, she saw she had thirty-three missed calls, forty-nine text messages and over one hundred new emails.

  What the heck was going on?

  She scanned the missed calls first but there was no number she recognised. It was the same with the text messages until she came to one sent by Alberto.

  What she read sent her reeling.

  I’m sorry it had to be this way. I couldn’t let them trash your reputation any longer. Forgive me for the pain I’ve caused you.

  Gathering her hair together at the nape of her neck, Natasha struggled to control her breathing. She’d avoided all media since her name had been exposed but a quick scan of the internet told her what the apology was for.

  She found she couldn’t be surprised at what she read. Pieta had once drunkenly confessed to one great love in hi
s life but had refused to name him.

  It made sense of the pity she’d often detected in Alberto’s eyes when he’d spoken to her through the years. It made sense of his weeping, ‘I’m sorry,’ when he’d clung to her as she’d said goodbye to him at the wake.

  Oh, Alberto, what have you done?

  Guilt at his and Pieta’s treatment of her had led him to out himself and their relationship. Now the whole world knew.

  Now Vanessa and Francesca must know too.

  Her eyes fuzzy, her heart sad, she put the phone on the table. She didn’t want to read any more. She didn’t want to feel that if only she could bounce off the satellites that sent all these calls and messages she would find Matteo and he would make everything better.

  Matteo had made his choice and he’d chosen to live without her.

  And then the tears she’d blocked for over three weeks burst open again and she laid her head on the table and wept, crying for the love she’d lost, for the love her husband had never allowed to be free and open, and for all the hearts that were breaking.

  It was the rap on the front door that cut through her tears.

  She hadn’t had a single visitor since she’d moved in.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  APPREHENSION SLOWING HER DOWN, Natasha walked to the door, pulled the chains off then unlocked it and opened the door a crack.

  And there he stood. Matteo. On her doorstep, a thin layer of snow falling onto his dark hair and long overcoat.

  She pushed the door open wider.

  For a long time, nothing was said.

  All she could hear was the sound of her frantically beating heart. All her eyes could see was him, as beautifully handsome as he’d been when she’d last seen him. His eyes were bloodshot, though, she noticed. And he needed a shave.

  She only just stopped her hand reaching out to touch his face.

  Heat rising on her cheeks, the memory of how she’d once given in to the same impulse when he’d turned up at her door the night of their child’s conception and then the fresher memory of how he’d cold-heartedly driven away all playing like a concerto in her head, she spun around and headed back to the kitchen.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice civil. However much she wanted to punch him in the face, she had to remember it was his child growing in her belly.

  ‘To make sure you’re okay. Have you seen the news?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sat herself at the table and looked at him, not inviting him to sit, making sure to keep her features stony and not betray the swirl of emotions rushing through her to see him again.

  ‘Can I sit down?’

  ‘If you want.’

  He took the chair on the far side of the kitchen table to her and rubbed at his temples.

  ‘Late night, was it?’ she asked in as uninterested tone as she could muster.

  ‘I haven’t been to bed yet.’

  ‘Been out partying?’

  He sighed. ‘No, I haven’t been partying. Would you mind if I made myself a coffee?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  He pushed his chair back. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I don’t have any. I have decaffeinated tea or herbal tea. Knock yourself out.’

  ‘You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?’

  ‘Make what easy? Just tell me what you came here for then you can go on your merry way. There’s a coffee shop round the corner you can get your caffeine fix from.’

  Matteo had known this visit to Natasha’s was going to be hard. After the way they’d parted he hadn’t expected her to make things easy for him and he couldn’t blame her for it.

  She’d laid her heart bare for him and he’d walked away from her.

  ‘I haven’t been to bed because I’ve been up all night, talking to Francesca.’

  ‘Francesca? You’ve seen her?’

  He nodded.

  The stoniness on her beautiful face softened a fraction. ‘How is she? She knows?’

  ‘She knows.’ He closed his eyes. ‘She’s devastated, just as you said she’d be.’

  ‘And Vanessa?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her yet but Francesca and Felipe came to me after they’d been with her.’ He swallowed the bile that had lodged in his throat. ‘She’s in a bad way. They went back to her villa after they left me.’

  ‘And Daniele?’

  ‘I don’t know about him. He could be with them too for all I know. I don’t imagine he’s in a better state than they are.’

  She covered her face with her hands and pushed them up to brush through her hair. ‘They must be going through hell.’

  What could he say to that? Everything Natasha had predicted had come true. She’d known the truth would rip them apart and it had.

  The man they’d loved and idolised all his life had not only lied about his sexuality but Alberto’s exposé had revealed the truth about his marriage too. They knew their son and brother had married Natasha on a lie so he could inherit the estate he’d so badly wanted.

  All their illusions had crumpled in the dust.

  To his surprise, Matteo had found himself defending Pieta to Francesca. ‘Remember how he was with you,’ he’d told her gently. ‘Remember the brother who was always there to give you advice and who encouraged you to fulfil your dreams when your parents were set on a different life for you. It isn’t black and white. He was still a human and he still loved you.’

  They had been so similar to the words Natasha had used to try and comfort him with that he’d almost choked saying them.

  Natasha had kept silent about the lie to protect those she loved when, in truth, she’d been the one hurt the most by it. Pieta had lied to his family but it was Natasha he had lied to and used and diminished for seven years without an ounce of conscience. Matteo could have forgiven him for not confiding the truth about his sexuality—with distance he even understood why Pieta had felt the need to hide it—but he could never forgive him for what he’d done to Natasha. He’d stolen her life.

  And he, Matteo, had condemned her for it.

  Moving from his seat, he knelt before her, only now taking in the soft white robe she was wearing. She looked different from the last time he’d seen her. Fuller. She looked like a woman on the cusp of blooming with pregnancy.

  Whether she would let him be there to witness the dazzling changes soon to come was something he couldn’t guess. This was no longer the Natasha who had lived her life wishing only to please the people she loved. That Natasha was still there but with a tougher shell. She’d grown a steely resolve that he couldn’t help but admire even though he knew it would make convincing her to take him back that much harder.

  But he had to try. He’d let her go twice without fighting for her and if he didn’t try now he would spend the rest of his life hating himself and filled with bitter regret.

  He took the stiff hand that was on the table and wrapped his fingers around it.

  She stilled, her jaw clenching, then inhaled deeply. She didn’t look at him.

  ‘When Francesca asked me if it was true about Pieta, I wanted so badly to lie to her and spare her the pain. I should never have condemned you for wanting to spare me and the others that pain, not for a second. I have been living with the truth for barely a month and it’s been like a noose around my neck. You’ve been living with it for so long I can hardly believe it didn’t crack out of you sooner. I condemned you for what I considered were your lies of omission when all along you were doing what you always do and protecting the people you love. You have the kindest, purest heart I have ever known and when you told me you loved me I should have got down on my knees as I am right now and thanked God himself for giving you to me.’

  Her face changed slightly. The eyes that met his glistened, her breaths deepening, but her mouth stayed tightly pinched closed.

  ‘Do you know what date it is? It’s Christmas Eve. Exactly eight years ago I saw you for the first time and something happened in me...it was like you san
g to me. I fell in love with you before I’d even heard your voice...’

  Now her throat moved and she tried to pull her hand away but he clasped it gently with his other hand too, forming an envelope around it.

  ‘You’ve always believed in me,’ he continued, knowing this was his one and only chance to make things right and that his entire future depended on his next words. ‘You’ve always seen something good in me that no one else could see but I never allowed myself to believe it. It wasn’t just my parents who couldn’t forgive me for Roberto—I couldn’t forgive myself. I knew in my head that the blame wasn’t with me but my heart never accepted it, and in my heart I felt I didn’t deserve happiness. It was easy to accept you chose Pieta over me when my own parents couldn’t stand to be in a room with me, rather than trust in my heart and fight for you because, bella, the issue wasn’t my trust in you but my trust in myself—can you understand that?

  ‘If I had trusted my heart I would have fought for you but my demons wouldn’t let me. There was a part of me that felt I didn’t deserve the happiness I knew we would have together. I think I was waiting for you to prove yourself a liar this time round so I could justify to myself how right I was in cutting you off all those years ago because I was too blind to see and accept the truth, not about Pieta but about you and me.’

  Her throat moved again and she inched her head forward a little. ‘I don’t want to hear any more,’ she whispered. ‘It’s too late.’

  His heart constricted. ‘Maybe it is too late for us. I have to hope that it’s not, but if it is then I will respect your decision but, please, let me finish what I came here to say. Let me have that and then I will leave.’

  Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply through her nose.

  Sliding his hand around her neck, he pressed his forehead to hers and breathed in the scent of her warm skin. ‘I knew something was wrong the night we first made love. I knew in my heart that I was your first but I refused to believe what every nerve and sense in my body was telling me. I was scared of what the truth would reveal, so you see, bella, I’m the one who’s really guilty of lies by omission because I was too scared to confront what my heart had already told me was the truth.’