The Surprise Conti Child

by Tara Pammi

  But she swallowed her own feelings and focused on what she needed to do. “I’m prepared to do anything to prove that she’s yours, yes.”

  “And, in return?”

  “Are you so afraid of what I would demand, Leandro?” The challenge escaped her before she could catch it, her femininity rearing its head.

  An almost imperceptible widening of those stormy eyes. Something she wouldn’t have even noticed if she wasn’t so greedy about every nuance on his face.

  “Do you have many to make then, Alexis? These demands?”

  Why was she taunting him? Why this reckless, dangerous urge to provoke him? She pulled out the envelope she’d stuffed into her handbag. “Here’s some pictures. Maybe you could visit us and meet Izzie a couple of times over the next couple of years so that you aren’t a complete stranger? I could bring her here for holiday, to meet Luca and Valentina, if they’re interested.

  “All I want is a promise that if anything were to happen to me, you’d...”

  Her words trailed away as Leandro became still. The muscles in his face pulled taut over his features, a white pallor to his olive skin.

  Her outstretched hand lay between them. And his gaze on the envelope, frozen.

  “Leandro?”

  The swath of his eyelashes flickered. His rough breath rattled loud in the room.

  With gut-wrenching clarity, Alex realized that he’d rather she was lying.

  From the moment she’d spoken Isabella’s name, it wasn’t the veracity of her claim he’d doubted. What had kept him silent, even as his grandfather had shredded her, was that Leandro needed her to be lying.

  “You wish Isabella didn’t exist.” Horror filled her, turning her voice into a whiplash. “Do you despise me that much?”

  He jerked around, pain streaking through his eyes. “What I feel about her has nothing to do with you.”

  That’s good, she told herself. She couldn’t bear it if he despised Isabella like he did her. She wouldn’t allow it.

  How much do you know of that man? Her mom’s question came back to her now.

  She didn’t know that much, really.

  Her intense attraction to him seven years ago, her fascination with him, the connection she’d felt with him, had been inexplicable. She stole another greedy glance at him, unable to stop herself. Lean and tall, he wore his power effortlessly and she wondered if that had been the draw for her.

  Hands shaking, she stuffed the envelope back into her handbag. She needed to leave. Before she made this about her. Before she asked any more of those stupid questions...

  Before she forgot that this man had crushed her tender heart in such a way that it hadn’t mended again.

  * * *

  “Show me the pictures,” Leandro finally forced himself to say.

  Alexis stilled with her back to him, her slender shoulders a tense line.

  His voice sounded as if he hadn’t used it in years, as if forming such simple words was beyond his capability. Told himself again and again that he was composed.

  If he acted like it, he hoped his rioting emotions would catch on that he was composed, that he would survive through this new development in his life like he always did.

  Giving in to the shame that he had behaved in a way he detested was only self-indulgent. Giving in to the guilt that clawed at him that he had abandoned his child...would only render him useless.

  His head jerked up, the realization that he believed Alexis stunning him anew.

  He believed that she was telling the truth, that her daughter was his?

  Antonio would call him a fool, their lawyers would tell him to demand a DNA test. The rational, sensible part of him, which had been born out of necessity at a young age, warned that he was being reckless. That Alexis’s poise, her self-sufficiency, her declaration that she wanted nothing from him, that they all could be lies.

  She could have waited all these years just so she could make a bigger splash, demand a bigger payoff.

  He wasn’t unaware of his draw for women. If they fell like flies for Luca’s charm, they went rabid because of how sacrosanct his privacy was to him, because the media, frequently and fervently, painted him as the perfect man, still mourning his wife.

  Yet that same instinct that had drawn him to her drowned out everything else. “Show me the pictures.”

  Knuckles turning white, her fingers tightened over the straps of her bag. Her reluctance now would have been comical, if not for the fierce churning in his gut. “I didn’t come to force you to be a father.”

  He moved closer, uncaring of the tremble in her lips, the slight widening of her eyes. Crowded her lithe body against the door, his self-discipline in tatters now. “You are afraid now? After you came all this way?”

  Something in his tone must have finally registered because she pulled out the envelope.

  He moved back toward the bed and spread them out on the dark cover.

  There were ten, different sizes and in different poses.

  His heart thundering, he picked up one eight-by-ten, a close-up. With jet-black hair that framed her face and serious gray eyes, and the cast of her features, drawn in chubbiness instead of sharp planes, the little girl was his mirror image.

  The girl, no, Isabella...was his daughter. His own flesh and blood.

  “There is nothing of me in her,” came Alexis’s reply behind him. Tentative and reverberating with a quiet joy. “Every morning, I look at her and I’m amazed that she’s mine.”

  Inhaling roughly, he turned.

  Raw emotion glittered in her eyes. Walking closer, unaware of her own actions, he was sure, she studied him avidly. He knew she was seeing her daughter, no, their daughter in his face.

  Still, her gaze was like a physical caress. Possessive and hungry and intent. And deeply disconcerting for the instant ache it evoked in him.

  He looked at the picture and then at Alex. “That determined chin, that’s you.”

  A smile curved her mouth, transforming her into a stunning beauty. “Really?”

  “Where is she now?” he asked, more to distract himself from the scent of her fluttering toward him. Subtle yet lingering. Like the woman herself.

  “With my parents. Isabella and I live with them. A friend of mine has a boy of Izzie’s age and she takes her during the day. You can keep the pictures.” She looked through her bag and extracted visiting cards and extended them to him. Like a salesgirl pushing a product. “These have all my numbers and email address. Just call me in advance, because after the accident and this trip, I can’t take off more—”

  “In advance for what?” he repeated.

  She shrugged but hurt shadowed her eyes. “Y’know...if you decide to see her.”

  He emerged from the emotional knockout, her intention in all the things she had told him tonight shaping into coherence. His gut tightened.

  When he made no move to take the cards, she put them on the small study table. “I’ll be in Milan for two more days if you have any questions.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “If you can arrange a car for me, I’ll be off.”

  A growl he couldn’t control emerged low in Leandro’s throat.

  She thought she would show him pictures of his daughter and then bid him goodbye? That he would call her and make an appointment like some distant relative?

  Did she think he had no honor, no sense of duty?

  Have you treated her like you have any?

  “Stay tonight,” he finally said, somehow managing to keep his tone smooth. A herculean feat seeing that his head was in a whirl, his world precariously tilted on its axis. And this woman, whom he’d tried to forget at all costs, suddenly was at the center of it. “You look like you’ll faint any minute.”

  “I don’t want to cause trouble—�
��

  “Little late for that, yes?” He slid the pictures back into the cover. “Someone from the staff will show you to a bedroom. Buenonotte, Alexis.”

  * * *

  Leandro paced inside his bedroom, the scent of a woman lingering inside the walls after so many years as disconcerting as the one who had left it behind. A million thoughts crowded him.

  He remembered his secretary telling him that Ms. Sharpe had called. Again and again. He remembered the self-disgust at the mere thought of that night, the poisonous thoughts that Alexis was making a nuisance of herself.

  Because he had had enough with his father’s mistresses and one-night stands making a spectacle of them.

  And the intervening years, if he focused too much on that, he would take it out on her.

  Despite everything, she had finally come to tell him of his daughter’s existence. The what if she hadn’t scenario didn’t bear thinking about...not if he wanted to remain sane.

  With control he had learned in his teens, because someone had had to be strong for his mother and Luca, he bottled away the anger.

  The Rossis would be waiting for an explanation, as would Antonio. His engagement to Sophia had been the biggest event of the summer among society and Salvatore wouldn’t react to this new development lightly.

  Leandro would have to make sure Salvatore didn’t poison anyone on the Conti board against him because of any decision he took now.

  He’d have to make sure Antonio didn’t interfere with Leandro’s intentions.

  He’d have to tread carefully so that his sheer arrogance in dismissing Alexis seven years ago didn’t ripple over anyone now. Like Valentina and Sophia. And now Isabella.

  She was his to protect, to cherish, to love. A shock or not, he could never neglect his duty as a father. A child needed both parents, he knew that better than anyone.

  He vowed in that minute that the next generation of Contis would be different, beginning with Isabella. Much as he’d tried, he’d failed Luca.

  He wouldn’t fail Isabella. He wouldn’t let his daughter spend a day without knowing that she was loved and wanted.

  If Alexis had other ideas, he would convince her otherwise.

  The weight of the world seemed to lie on his shoulders and yet, Leandro felt energized for the first time in years.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JUNE SUN SHONE bright when Alex stepped out of her room and reached the curving balcony. A vague sense of premonition hovered in her gut, intensified by her sleepless night.

  Something she had spied in Leandro’s eyes, she realized.

  “Alex, come have breakfast,” came Valentina’s voice from below.

  Bracing herself, Alex looked down. It was only Valentina.

  She went down the steps and walked across the courtyard to the perfectly landscaped gardens. Lushly scented air filled her nostrils, the sheer beauty of the surroundings relaxing her tautly stretched nerves.

  Dressed in chic jeans and a ruffled top in pink, her hair fashionably messy, Valentina was the epitome of a fashionista. Alex was suddenly glad she wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes.

  Plain cotton T-shirts, of the soft and screamingly expensive kind, and capri-style pants in various sizes and colors, even brand-new underwear had been left on the bed by the time she had returned from the shower.

  Knowing who she had to thank for it, she ran a self-conscious hand over her midriff and settled down.

  A bite of the rich, jam-filled cornetto the staff brought her righted her world, even if for a moment. The frothy cappuccino made her sigh.

  Feeling Valentina’s gaze on her, she lifted hers. “If I apologize for using you, it’ll be false.”

  Valentina nodded, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “I did not see Leandro again last night. Luca says he believes you.”

  Comforted by Luca’s easy acceptance, Alex clicked her cell on.

  Valentina looked at Izzie’s pic and let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry for what my grandfather said,” she offered, and Alex waved her away. The apology she wanted wasn’t Valentina’s. Not even Antonio’s, as insulting as he’d been.

  “Alex, you cannot...imagine how shocking this is for us—”

  “I do—”

  “No! That Leandro...was with you, and so soon after... That’s not like him.”

  “What, he doesn’t have sex like normal people?” Alex retorted, her skin prickling.

  Valentina made a face. “Gross...but si. You know what the media calls Leandro and Luca?”

  “What?”

  “The Conti Saint and the Conti Devil.”

  “Callously dismissing the woman you just slept with makes for a saint in your country?”

  “You do not understand—”

  “I don’t need to,” Alex cut her off bluntly and the curiosity within.

  She didn’t want to know about Leandro’s love life. Or why he had behaved so ruthlessly with her. Or that he was, apparently, the embodiment of the perfect man to the rest of the freaking world.

  “Your timing...sucks,” Valentina sounded sympathetic. “Seven years ago and last night.”

  How are you here, tonight of all nights...?

  “Wait, what was last night?”

  “Leandro’s engagement party.”

  Engagement...it landed like an invisible punch, jostling her insides. He could have married in the past seven years, could’ve had a string of lovers like her...

  Thoughts tripped one over the other.

  Was it that woman standing next to him? The woman on whose shoulder his hand had rested? Did he treat her better than he had Alex? Was it because Alex lacked...

  No!

  Nothing ever came out of berating herself that she wasn’t good enough or memorable enough to hold the attention of a man like Leandro Conti.

  Why would a stranger she’d built a fantasy around see anything special in her when her own parents didn’t?

  A besotted, naive novelty, that’s what she’d been.

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s engaged or has a string of playthings and mistresses spread out over the Italian coast, Valentina,” her words came out harsh. “I don’t care about Leandro.”

  “That heartens me,” a crisply smooth voice interfered from behind her, “so much. It’s almost saintly how uninterested you’re in the life of the man you share a daughter with.”

  Sarcasm dripped from Leandro’s every word. Sweet pastry instantly turned to ash in Alex’s mouth. “Maybe it’s time someone told you that you’re not the great prize every woman falls over for.”

  “You assume this is what I think of myself? Why?”

  “Your sheer disbelief that I’m not throwing myself at you, again,” she snapped back.

  With a wide-eyed grin, Valentina neatly slipped away.

  Clasping her quivering fingers in her lap, Alex looked up. The sun directly behind him delineated the broad shoulders and the tapering waist while the breeze drenched her in his crisp, masculine scent.

  The dark jeans and black shirt molded his lean frame. The impact of such sheer masculinity was nerve-racking after another sleepless night.

  Seven years hadn’t dimmed his appeal even a bit. If anything...

  Don’t go there, Alex!

  “Congratulations on your engagement.” Steady and serene, she almost believed it herself.

  He took her offered hand after a moment and clasped it.

  Rough and abrasive and large, his palm stroked a dart of heat through her.

  Alex jerked it back, like a frightened rabbit, heart pumping hard.

  “Grazie, Alexis.” Mockery laced with politeness. “Hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t introduce my fiancée to you. It might prove a little tacky after the shock she received on the eve of
her engagement.”

  Her cup rattled on the saucer loudly in the peaceful courtyard, his sickly sweet tone jarring her. “I didn’t know or I would’ve never—”

  “I know.”

  His instant accord took the sails away from under her. “Neither did I come here hoping for some fat payoff.”

  “So you will refuse if I set up a trust fund for Isabella then?”

  She quickly swallowed her shock. And the oily, uncomfortable feeling in her throat. “No. I...manage okay but I won’t refuse something that’ll surely help Izzie’s future.” It galled her to admit defeat in so many words, to recount her failure to a man who made everything he touched into gold. But for Izzie, she had to. “The accident, on top of some bad business decisions I made last year...everything’s been tight. College tuition when she’s ready is going to be astronomical.”

  His protracted look stung as she realized how he must view her ready answer. Defensive on top of feeling like a failure made her spine rigid and her tone caustic. “I have a six-year-old, a health store that’s afloat for now and aging parents. I’m practical, not a piranha.”

  “Did I imply otherwise?”

  “Whatever you decide, you can lock it up. I won’t touch it.”

  Their gazes held, his inscrutable and hers confused.

  If he believed that she hadn’t known about his engagement, and that she wasn’t looking for a retirement package in the name of Izzie, then why was there was a storm of fury beneath his smooth tone?

  Why such a distant, adversarial glint in his eyes when he looked at her?

  But asking meant getting personal. Asking meant allowing herself to examine why the news of his engagement sat like a jagged boulder on her chest. Asking meant learning how little of an impression she had left that night.

  For as long as she could remember, her mom and her own failures at everything remotely related to academia and a career had made Alex clearly aware of all her shortcomings. She’d been measured, again and again, first against Adrian and then against his ghost and had come up short every time.