she slammed out of the room was the shock on his face as he ducked.
* * *
Ryan stared at the broken vase and the scattered flowers, and then at the now-closed door. Whoa! Had that crazy spitfire been the sweet and carefree Marianna? The girl who’d featured in his dreams for the last two months? The girl who’d shown up on the beach in Thailand and had blown him away with her laughter and sensuality?
No way!
He bent to retrieve the flowers and broken pieces of the vase. Pregnant? He tossed the debris into the waste-paper basket and stumbled across to the sofa. Pregnant? He dropped his head to his hands as wave after wave of shock rolled over him.
In the next moment he leapt up and paced the room in an attempt to control the fury coursing through him. She couldn’t be! A child did not figure in his future.
Ever.
Him a father? The very idea was laughable. Not to mention an utter disaster. No, no, this couldn’t be happening to him. He rested his hands on his knees and breathed in deeply until the panic unclamped his chest.
You can walk away.
He lurched back to the sofa. What kind of man would that make him?
A wise one?
He slumped, head in hands. What on earth could he offer a child? Given his background...
Money?
He straightened, recalling Marianna’s shock at finding him ensconced in the Executive Suite wearing a suit and tie. A groan rose up through him, but he ground it back. He’d played out a fantasy that week on the beach. He’d played at being the kind of man he could never be in the real world.
One thing was sure. Marianna hadn’t deliberately got pregnant in an attempt to go after his money. She hadn’t known he had any!
Did she, though? Have money? Enough to support a baby?
Why hadn’t he thought to check?
He passed a hand across his eyes. When he’d opened the door to find her standing on the other side, his heart had leapt with such force it had scared him witless. He’d retreated behind a veneer of professional remoteness, unsure how to handle the emotions pummelling him. He had no room for those kinds of emotions in his life. It was why he’d made sure they’d said their final farewells in Thailand. But...
Pregnant?
Think! He pressed his fingers to his forehead. She’d mentioned that her family owned a vineyard in Tuscany. It didn’t mean she herself would have a lot of spare cash to splash out on a baby, though, did it?
He strode to the window that overlooked the gardens and rooftops of Rome with the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica in the distance, but he didn’t notice the grandeur of the view. His hand balled to a fist. Had he really asked her if the baby was his? No wonder she’d lost her temper. It had been an inexcusable thing to say.
I’m pregnant.
She’d blurted it out with such brutal austerity. It had taken everything inside him to stay where he was rather than to turn and run. He’d wanted to do anything to make her words not be true. Who’d have thought such cowardice ran through his veins? It shouldn’t be a surprise, though, considering whose genes he carried.
He dragged a hand down his face. When she’d stood there staring at him with big, wounded eyes, he’d had to fight the urge to drag her into his arms and promise her the world. That wasn’t the answer. It wouldn’t work. And he’d hurt her enough as it was.
He let loose a sudden litany of curses. He should’ve taken her hand and asked her how she was, though. He should’ve hugged her and offered her a measure of comfort. Shame hit him.
Now I don’t even think you’re any kind of proper person.
He didn’t blame her. She might even have a point. He seized the room phone and punched in the number for Reception. ‘Do you have a guest by the name of Marianna Amatucci staying here at the moment?’
‘I’m sorry, Signor White, but no.’
Damn! With a curt thank-you, Ryan hung up. He flung open the door and started down the hallway, but his feet slowed before he reached the elevator. What did he think he was going to do? Walk the streets of Rome looking for Marianna? She’d be long gone. And if by some miracle he did catch up with her, what would he say?
He slammed back into his room to pace. With a start, he glanced at his watch. Damn it all to hell! Seizing his mobile, he ordered his PA to cancel his meetings for the rest of the morning.
He shook off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, feeling suffocated by the layers of clothing. His mind whirled, but one thought detached itself and slammed into him, making him flinch. You’re going to become a father. He didn’t want to become a father!
Too bad. Too late. The deed has been done.
He stilled. Marianna no longer expected his involvement. In fact, she’d told him she wanted him to forget they’d ever met. And she’d meant it. He ran a finger beneath his collar, perspiration prickling his scalp, his nape, his top lip. He could walk away.
Better still he could give her money, lots of money, and just...bow out.
His grandmother’s face suddenly rose in his mind. It made his shoulders sag. She’d saved him—from his parents and from himself—but it hadn’t stopped him from letting her down.
He fell onto the sofa. Why think of her now? He’d tried to make it up to her—had pulled himself back from the brink of delinquency. He’d buckled down and made something of himself. He glanced around at the opulence of the hotel room and knew he’d almost succeeded on that head. If he walked away now from Marianna and his child, though, instinct told him he’d be letting his grandmother down in a way he could never make up.
He’d vowed never to do that again.
You vowed to never have children...a family.
What kind of life would this child of his and Marianna’s have? He moistened his lips. Would it be loved? Would it feel secure? Or...
Or would it always feel like an outsider? When parenthood became too much for Marianna would this child be shunted to one side and—?
No! He shot to his feet, shaking from the force of emotions he didn’t understand. He would not let that happen. He didn’t want to be a father, but he had a duty to this child. He would not abandon it to a life of careless neglect. He would not allow it to be overlooked, pushed to one side and ignored.
He swallowed, his heart pounding. He didn’t have a clue about how to be a father—he didn’t know the first thing about parenting, but... He knew what it was like to be a child and unwanted. He remembered his parents separating. He remembered them remarrying new partners, embracing their new families. He remembered there being no place for him in that new order. He hadn’t fitted in and they’d resented this flaw in their otherwise perfect new lives. His lips twisted. His distrust and suspicion, his wariness
