her gone, more even than she’d wanted to go. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d walked out of her office, which was how she’d wanted it—and how Alessandro had seemed to want it, as well.
Sighing, she changed out of her work clothes into more comfy ones, anticipating another evening in front of the TV. She’d been invited out for drinks with some of her colleagues, but for the last few days Mia had been feeling a bit off, tired and nauseous. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with the stomach flu, and decided that a good night’s sleep, not to mention a healthy dose of Netflix, would knock whatever she was fighting off on its head.
The next morning she woke up with her stomach roiling, and she barely made it to the toilet in time before it emptied its contents. She called in sick, although by the afternoon she was feeling better again. When the same thing happened the next day, and then the next day after that, realisation sliced through her, as sharp as a knife, and just as shockingly painful, even though she’d known all along it had been an admittedly small risk.
She hadn’t had a period since she’d come to Los Angeles. Sick in the mornings, better in the afternoons, and so, so tired. She might have been a virgin, but she wasn’t completely naïve.
She’d missed two birth control pills, and even though she’d taken one later that day, Mia had read online that she’d opened herself up to a small risk of becoming pregnant. And a small risk was still a risk.
Yet even so, she had trouble believing it.
One night. Two pills. Surely not…
Her heart turned over, an unpleasant sensation, as realisation trickled icily through her.
She couldn’t be…
After work that day she went to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test, flushing in embarrassment as she paid for it, even though the pimply-faced teenaged boy ringing up her purchase looked completely bored and indifferent.
She took it home, unwrapping it with shaking fingers, staring at the slim white stick in disbelief that she was holding such a thing, needing it.
She couldn’t be…
She read the directions twice through, still in a haze of incredulity, and then she took the test, all the while telling herself this was crazy, impossible, nothing more than a needless precaution. The chances of falling pregnant after one time, and just two missed pills…
But she wasn’t stupid. She knew it could happen. She just couldn’t believe it could happen to her.
And then she turned the test over and stared down at the two blazing pink lines in disbelief.
She couldn’t be, but she was.
She spent an hour simply sitting on her sofa, staring into space, having no idea what to think, much less to do. Her mind felt fogged with incredulity, unable to think beyond the reality of those two lines. She couldn’t yet consider what they meant or would mean, or how she would respond to them.
Then, at some point, she roused herself from her stupor and made herself a cup of tea. Pregnant. She was pregnant. By Alessandro Costa, a man she barely knew and definitely didn’t like, a man known to be ruthless in both personal relationships and the business world. And he was going to be the father of her child.
Realisation slammed into her with that thought; this was her child. The family she’d never truly had. And she knew, no matter how inconvenient or unexpected, she was going to keep this baby, this child of her flesh and blood.
And Alessandro’s.
Armed with a cup of milky tea, Mia flipped open her laptop and did another internet search on Alessandro. She had deliberately not searched anything personal about him before. She hadn’t wanted to know, or to wonder.
Now she blinked as image after image came up on the screen of her laptop of Alessandro. The sight of his commanding profile, those steely eyes, that impressive form…it all battered her senses, made her remember far too many things. The lingering way he’d undone her zip. The press of his lips to the base of her spine…the sudden frenzy of passion they’d both felt, obliterating all thought and reason for those few crucial moments.
As she clicked through the photos, she noticed a common feature, and her expression hardened. In nearly every image, Alessandro was with a woman. A different woman. Over the last month he’d attended a variety of glittering events, in London, in Paris, in Rome, always with a sexy, pouting woman, and usually one who was poured into a dress, on his arm. Clearly he’d completely forgotten about her.
She pushed the laptop away and took a sip of her tea, feeling sick in a way that had nothing to do with the tiny being she nurtured in her womb. That man—that ruthless, arrogant, philandering man—was her baby’s father. And she knew she would have to tell him so.
She shuddered with dread at the thought of Alessandro’s reaction. Disbelief? Displeasure? He was not going to be pleased, of that Mia was completely certain. And, judging by the way he handled hostile takeovers, he was going to expect Mia to fall in with his plans, whatever they would be.
And what would they be? Would he want to, heaven forbid, get rid of their child, considering him or her an inconvenience he couldn’t abide? Or would he throw money at her, to make her go away? She knew he would want to do something, but she had no idea what it would be.
And what did she want? Never to see Alessandro Costa again, preferably. Perhaps he wanted the same thing. Hopefully they could come to an agreement, even if this wasn’t a scenario either of them had envisioned or wanted.
Of course, she had to get in touch with him first, and Mia didn’t really know how to do that. She’d never had his personal information and she certainly wasn’t going to find it online. The best she could hope for was to call the headquarters of Costa International and hope the message was passed on. After that…it was surely up to him. The thought comforted her. All she could do was try, surely.
The next morning, Mia made the call to Costa International in Rome, and got the switchboard.
‘I’d like to speak to Alessandro Costa, please.’ She tried to make her voice sound confident and firm, and had a feeling she failed.
‘I’m afraid he’s not available.’
‘This is important and personal. Is there another number on which I could reach him?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
Mia bit her lip, fighting both frustration and a treacherous relief. She’d tried… ‘Then may I leave a message?’ she asked, and the receptionist’s voice was toneless as she answered.
‘Of course.’
‘And can I be sure it will get to him?’ Mia pressed, determined to make a good effort. ‘It’s important.’
‘Of course.’
She left her name and number. ‘Please do give him the message,’ she said, knowing she was probably annoying the receptionist but needing, as a matter of principle, to communicate the urgency of the matter. ‘It’s important.’
‘He’ll get the message,’ the receptionist assured her in a bored voice, and then disconnected
