Modern Romance September 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
asked you specifically to tell me if you were pregnant. I told you I wanted to be involved in my child’s life. And you chose to ignore me.’
‘You also booted me out of your bed,’ Allegra returned. ‘Is that the kind of man I want in my child’s life?’
‘Now you have no choice.’ Angry colour appeared in slashes on Rafael’s high cheekbones. ‘And no matter how I treated you on that night, Allegra, you had no right to deny me my child. There is a world of difference between ending a one-night stand rather abruptly and refusing me access to my son.’ His jaw was bunched, his mouth a hard line. ‘Even you should acknowledge that.’
Allegra stared at him, chilled to the very bone by the dangerous glitter in his eyes, the harsh, implacable certainty in the set of his features. The man who had treated her so tenderly, who had cradled her last night was gone. Vanished, as if he’d never been, and perhaps he hadn’t. Perhaps that Rafael had been no more than an expedient mirage. She knew what it was like for people to change. To show their true colours.
‘And yet you want me to marry you,’ she stated shakily. She felt sick and dizzy, her skin clammy and cold. All the relief at their son’s good health had drained away, leaving a dark-edged terror in its wake. The future loomed, menacing and more and more certain. Rafael would not be dissuaded.
‘Marrying me is the sensible option,’ Rafael answered. ‘The only option. I want to be involved in my son’s life, Allegra. Completely involved. He’s my heir—’
‘Your heir? It’s not as if you’re some king,’ she interjected. Rafael’s gaze narrowed.
‘I am CEO of a multi-billion-euro empire. I intend to pass that on to my son, raise him to follow me into what would become a family business. He is my heir, and he is going to be raised in Sicily by both his parents.’
Staring at him, seeing how utterly implacable he looked, Allegra realised how trapped she really was. Rafael had all the power, all the money. If he wanted to—and at this point she wouldn’t put it past him—he could use the force of his influence to take complete custody of their child. She could resist all she wanted or dared, but she’d still lose in the end. Maybe even lose her own child.
She pressed her hands to her temples, a crashing headache beginning its aching pulse. ‘I need to think,’ she muttered. ‘And I need to lie down. I’m tired, and not everything is certain, Rafael. The doctor said I’d have to undergo some tests later this week.’
She rose from the sofa, stumbling slightly, and in one quick, fluid movement, Rafael rose to grasp her arm and steady her.
‘Rest is a good idea,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll make you some herbal tea to help settle you. Chamomile is what you like, isn’t it?’
She glanced up at him in confused disbelief. Who was this man? ‘Don’t do this,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t be horrible one moment and kind the next. I don’t understand it. I can’t take it.’ Not again. With what felt like superhuman effort she shook off his arm and walked alone to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
* * *
Rafael stared at the closed door and swore under his breath. That had not gone as he’d hoped or wanted. Yet what else could he have done? He wasn’t going to negotiate, not about something as important as this. He certainly wasn’t going to settle for some custody arrangement. And trying to woo Allegra with false words and oozing sentiment had felt like a waste of time and, well, wrong.
When he’d learned their child would be healthy all his protective instincts had risen to a clamour inside him. He needed Allegra and their son with him. He needed to be in control. He needed to make sure nothing went wrong. Things would be different this time. He would be different. But first he had to get her to agree.
Impatient and yet resolute, Rafael stalked to the kitchen and switched on the electric kettle. He’d make her the promised cup of tea, at least, to show he wasn’t a complete boor.
But when he tapped on Allegra’s door and the quietly opened it, he found she was already fast asleep, her Titian hair spread across the pillow, one hand tucked under her cheek, golden-red lashes feathering her pale cheeks. She looks so vulnerable and lovely it made something in him twist and tighten, and he promised right then that he’d make it up to her, to them. They could make this work. They would.
* * *
Several hours later Allegra opened the door to her bedroom and appeared, yawning and sleepy. Rafael turned from where he’d been trying to do work on his laptop and mostly failing.
Now he tried for a neutral expression as he watched her stretch, the thin T-shirt pulling across her breasts. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, surprisingly. I didn’t realise quite how tired I was.’ She went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, her hair tumbling about her face in corkscrew curls, her face now set in serious lines. ‘You asked me what my life would look like if I stayed in New York,’ she said as she curled up on the sofa opposite him and took a sip of water. ‘So now I want to ask you the same thing. What would my—our—life look like if I come with you to Sicily?’
Relief and hope expanded in his chest, made his head light. She was going to agree. He kept his expression steady, his voice mild as he answered. ‘We would live on my estate in the mountains above Palermo. It is spacious and comfortable, with every luxury to hand. A large garden, a pool, every amusement for a growing little boy.’
Allegra nodded slowly, looking less impressed than Rafael had expected or wanted her to be. ‘And what about schooling?’ she asked. ‘When the time comes? And friends?’
‘Of course those as well,’ he answered. ‘There are plenty of good schools in the area and if we could not find one that was to our satisfaction, I would be willing to consider other options.’
She arched a delicate eyebrow. ‘Such as?’
Rafael shrugged, his mind racing. He felt that Allegra was looking for something from him and he didn’t know what it was. ‘We could relocate, within reason. To Rome or Milan, perhaps. I have offices in both cities.’
‘Or New York?’
He hesitated, sensing a test. ‘The majority of my business is in Europe,’ he said finally. ‘A relocation to New York is not out of the question for some time in the future, but not now.’
She nodded, her lips pursed, and Rafael waited. ‘What about me?’ she finally asked. ‘What would my life look like in Sicily, Rafael?’
He hesitated, wanting to say the right thing—but what was it? ‘You will need for nothing,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Clothes, jewels, whatever you like. They’re yours.’ Her mouth twisted and he realised he’d said the wrong thing. Allegra had not been particularly impressed or even interested in clothes or jewels, as far as he could see. So what did she want?
The women he’d dallied with in the past had been only interested in material possessions, a diamond bangle, a funded shopping spree in a designer boutique, but he knew Allegra was different. ‘And of course you can make the house your own. Decorate it as you wish. Garden...’ What else might she want to do? ‘Music,’ Rafael said at last. ‘You can have your own music room. Play as much as you want. Host concerts, even.’ He was practically babbling, and was irritated with himself for being so pathetically eager. She regarded him quietly, saying nothing, offering no encouragement.
‘Why don’t you tell me what you want?’ Rafael bit out. ‘Instead of looking disappointed because I can’t read your mind?’
She flinched at his tone and he silently cursed himself. What did she want from him? He could give her everything. Everything but love. Rafael stiffened, appalled at the thought. Was that what Allegra was holding out for? Some ridiculous, romantic fairy-tale? Surely not.
‘I don’t know what I want, Rafael,’ Allegra said quietly. ‘This is all so unexpected. I haven’t had time to process any of it properly. I’m still