on the Central Park West, right near the Natural History Museum. It’s a good area for children.’
‘You’ve only been in America for a week, haven’t you?’ Emma asked. ‘How did you manage to secure an apartment so quickly?’
‘Money talks.’
‘And even though the assets of Cavelli Enterprises are frozen, you have money?’
‘I had my own savings, which were released to me when the charges were cleared.’
She turned to give him a direct look. ‘Are you ever going to tell me the whole story, Larenzo?’
His hands tensed on the steering wheel and he stared straight ahead as he navigated the roundabout at Columbus Circle. ‘I’ve told you what you need to know, Emma.’ Perhaps it was foolish to keep the truth from her about Bertrano; it was shaming that he still felt a loyalty to a man who, despite years of shared history, of happy memories, had completely and utterly betrayed him. And he knew that telling Emma his part of the story, how he’d been duped and deceived, wouldn’t make much difference. Yet it would make a difference to him. He didn’t want to admit how naive he’d been, how hurt he’d been. Not to Emma. Not to anyone.
And maybe Emma sensed some of what he felt, for to Larenzo’s surprise she laid a hand on his arm, the touch of her fingers as light as a butterfly’s. ‘I hope you will be able to tell me someday, Larenzo. For your sake as much as mine.’
They didn’t talk after that until Larenzo had pulled up to the elegant brick building that faced Central Park. A valet came out to deal with the car, and a doorman went for their bags.
Larenzo turned to get Ava out of her car seat; she practically flung herself into his arms and Larenzo held his daughter to him, breathing in her clean baby scent as her dark hair tickled his face. His daughter. Even now he nearly reeled from the shock and force of that knowledge. He had a family.
‘Do you want me to take her?’ Emma asked, reaching for Ava, and Larenzo shook his head.
‘She’s okay with me.’ Although he wasn’t so sure about that when Ava began to flail, scrambling to get down.
Emma laughed and reached for her, and reluctantly Larenzo gave Ava over to her. ‘I guess she wants her mother.’
‘Actually, I think she just wants to crawl all over this marble floor and get really dirty,’ Emma answered lightly. She smiled at him, and he thought he saw sympathy in her eyes. ‘She’ll get used to you.’
He nodded, his throat too tight for words. He’d thought he had nothing left inside him; he’d been sure he was broken and empty inside. But knowing he had a daughter, knowing he could have someone to love and be loved by, filled him up to overflowing.
* * *
Emma followed Larenzo into the sumptuous foyer of the apartment building, all marble floors and glittering chandeliers. A doorman nodded respectfully to Larenzo as they passed, and then they stepped into a large wood-panelled lift, complete with a sofa and gilt mirror.
‘Fancy,’ Emma murmured as they soared upwards to the penthouse and then stepped into the huge foyer of Larenzo’s apartment.
‘This marble is a bit hard for a baby,’ she said, tapping the black and white chequered marble with one foot. ‘I wouldn’t want Ava to fall and hurt herself.’
‘I’ll arrange to have it carpeted immediately,’ Larenzo answered without missing a beat, and Emma wondered if she’d been challenging him. How far would Larenzo go to accommodate his daughter? Did she even want to answer that question?
She felt a churning mix of emotions as she stepped into the living room, its large windows overlooking Central Park, now ablaze in autumn colours. On one hand, she was grateful that Larenzo was interested in his daughter. How could she not be? And yet she was also afraid. Afraid of the darkness of his past, the secrets he wasn’t telling her. But more than that: she was afraid of feeling too much for him, of getting too used to this. To him. Of caring for a man who had no intention of reciprocating her feelings. Surely she wouldn’t be so weak. She wouldn’t let herself.
‘Would you like to come see the nursery?’ Larenzo asked, coming to stand behind her at the window, Ava in his arms.
Emma turned. ‘There’s a nursery?’
‘I had it all delivered yesterday.’
Wordlessly she nodded and followed Larenzo down the luxuriously carpeted hall to the bedrooms.
‘My bedroom is here,’ he said, indicating a door on the left. ‘And your bedroom is here.’ He pointed to a door directly across from his. ‘The nursery is adjoining yours. I thought you’d prefer that.’
‘I do,’ Emma said, although the thought of having her own bedroom after ten months of sharing cramped quarters with her daughter was a luxury she intended to enjoy. ‘Thank you,’ she added belatedly, and Larenzo just nodded as he opened the door to the nursery.
She’d been expecting something basic and expedient, ordered and set up in a hurry, but the room she stepped into looked as if it had taken months of planning. The walls were painted a pale lilac, and matching curtains framed the deep window that overlooked the park. Deeper purple accents were scattered around the room: a throw pillow on the rocking chair, a silk-patterned lampshade, a close-up photograph of a violet on the wall. It was a lovely, creative room that was perfect for a baby without being cloyingly sweet or infantile.
‘I thought you might like something other than the standard pink,’ Larenzo said, and Emma heard a surprising note of uncertainty, even vulnerability, in his voice. ‘But of course if you don’t like it, you must change it. You can redecorate anything in the apartment as you like.’
‘I don’t want to redecorate,’ Emma answered honestly. ‘I love it. It’s perfect, Larenzo. Thank you.’
‘Good.’
Emma set Ava down on the plush carpet and she crawled towards a purple rocking horse—actually, Emma saw, a unicorn with a glittery horn—set in the corner, reaching up to grasp the handles as she pulled herself to standing.
‘She’s clever, isn’t she?’ Larenzo said with pride. ‘She’ll be walking soon.’
‘And then there will really be no stopping her.’ Emma gazed round the room again, noting all the unique touches. ‘So did you hire an interior decorator?’ she asked, and Larenzo shook his head.
‘No, I did it myself. I enjoyed picking out all the things.’
‘It must have taken an age—’
‘No, just an afternoon. I hired painters to come and do the walls, and I put the furniture together myself.’ He paused and then added, ‘I told you I wanted to be involved, Emma.’
‘I know, but...’ She shook her head, overwhelmed by the thought and consideration Larenzo had clearly put into the nursery. She pictured him with an instruction leaflet and a set of tools, laboriously putting the crib and changing table together, and felt as if a fist had clenched around her heart. ‘I suppose I didn’t really think you’d be a hands-on dad,’ she confessed, and Larenzo raised his eyebrows.
‘Why
