gave it away?’
‘Yes, I gave it away. To a worthy cause—to children living in care. Not realising I was pregnant at the time and could have used the money myself. The journalist just happened to be in the shop and overheard—and naturally she was interested. She bought me a drink and I hadn’t eaten anything all day and...’ She shrugged. ‘I guess I told her more than I meant to.’
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. If her story was true it meant she hadn’t tried to grab some seedy publicity from their brief liaison. If it was true. Yet even if it was—did it really change anything? He was here only because her back was up against the wall and she had nowhere else to turn. His gaze swept over the too-tight jeans and baggy jumper. And this was the mother of his child, he thought, his lips curving with distaste.
He opened his mouth to speak but Santino chose that moment to start to whimper and Keira bent over the crib to scoop him up, whispering her lips against his hair and rocking him in her arms until he had grown quiet again. She looked over his head, straight into Matteo’s eyes. ‘Would you...would you like to hold him?’
Matteo went very still. He knew he should want that, but although he thought it, he still couldn’t feel it. There was nothing but an icy lump where his heart should have been and as he looked at his son he couldn’t shift that strange air of detachment.
His lack of emotional empathy had never mattered to him before—only his frustrated lovers had complained about it and that had never been reason enough to change, or even want to change. But now he felt like someone on a beach who had inadvertently stepped onto quicksand. As if matters were spinning beyond his control.
And he needed to assert control, just as he always did.
Of course he would hold his son when he’d got his head round the fact that he actually had a son. But it would be in conditions favourable to them both—not in some tiny bedroom of a strange house while Keira stood studying him with those big blue eyes.
‘Not now,’ he said abruptly. ‘There isn’t time. You need to pack your things while I call ahead and prepare for your arrival in Italy.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. He isn’t staying here. And since a child needs a mother, then I guess you will have to come, too.’
‘What are you talking about?’ She rocked the child against her breast. ‘I know it’s not perfect here but I can’t just walk out without making any plans. We can’t just go to Italy.’
‘You can’t put out a call for help and then ignore help when it comes. You telephoned me and now you must accept the consequences,’ he added grimly. ‘You’ve already implied that the atmosphere here is intolerable so I’m offering you an alternative. The only sensible alternative.’ He pulled a mobile phone from the pocket of his cashmere overcoat and began to scroll down the numbers. ‘For a start, you need a nursery nurse to help you.’
‘I don’t need a nurse,’ she contradicted fiercely. ‘Women like me don’t have nurses. They look after their babies themselves.’
‘Have you looked in the mirror recently?’
It was an underhand blow to someone who was already feeling acutely sensitive and once again Keira flushed. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to slap on a whole load of make-up and put on a party dress!’
He shook his head. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. You look as if you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks and I’m giving you the chance to get some rest.’ He forced himself to be gentle with her, even though his instinct was always to push for exactly what he wanted. And yet strangely, he felt another wave of compassion as he looked into her pale face. ‘Now, we can do this one of two ways. You can fight me or you can make the best of the situation and come willingly.’ His mouth flattened. ‘But if you choose the former, it will be fruitless because I want this, Keira. I want it very badly. And when I want something, I usually get it. Do you believe me?’
The mulish look which entered her eyes was there for only a second before she gave a reluctant nod. ‘Yes,’ she said grudgingly. ‘I believe you.’
‘Then pack what you need and I’ll wait downstairs.’ He turned away but was halted by the sound of her voice.
‘And when we get there, what happens then, Matteo?’ she whispered. ‘To Santino?’ There was a pause. ‘To us?’
He didn’t turn back. He didn’t want to look at her right then, or tell her he didn’t think there was an ‘us’. ‘I have no crystal ball,’ he ground out. ‘We’ll just have to make it up as we go along. Now pack your things.’
He went downstairs, and, despite telling himself that this was nothing more than a problem which needed solving, he could do nothing about the sudden and inexplicable wrench of pain in his heart. But years of practice meant he had composed himself long before he reached the tiny hallway and his face was as hard as granite as he let himself out into the rainy English day.
GOLDEN SUNLIGHT DANCED on her closed eyelids and warmed her skin as Keira nestled back into the comfortable lounger. The only sounds she could hear were birdsong and the buzz of bees and, in the far distance, the crowing of a cock—even though it was the middle of the day. Hard to believe she’d left behind a rain-washed English autumn to arrive in a country where it was still warm enough to sit outside in October. And even harder to believe that she was at Matteo Valenti’s Umbrian estate, with its acres of olive groves, award-winning vineyards and breathtaking views over mountains and lake. In his private jet, he’d announced he was bringing her here, to his holiday home, to ‘acclimatise’ herself before he introduced her to his real life in Rome. She hadn’t been sure what he meant by that but she’d been too exhausted to raise any objections. She’d been here a week and much of that time had been spent asleep, or making sure that Santino was content. It felt like being transplanted to a luxury spa cleverly hidden within a rustic setting—with countless people working quietly in the background to maintain the estate’s smooth running.
At first she’d been too preoccupied with the practical elements of settling in with her baby to worry about the emotional repercussions of being there. She’d worried about the little things, like how Matteo would react when he discovered she wasn’t feeding Santino herself. Whether he would judge her negatively, as the whole world seemed to do if a woman couldn’t manage to breastfeed. Was that why, in a rare moment of candour, she’d found herself explaining how ill she’d been after the birth—which meant breastfeeding hadn’t been possible? She thought she’d glimpsed a brief softening of the granite-like features before his rugged features resumed their usual implacable mask.
‘It will be easier that way,’ he’d said, with a shrug. ‘Easier for the nursery nurse.’
How cold he could be, she thought. Even if he was right. Because despite her earlier resistance, she was now hugely appreciative of the nursery nurse they’d employed. The very day after they’d arrived, he had produced three candidates for her to interview—top-notch women who had graduated from Italy’s finest training establishment and who all spoke fluent English. After asking them about a million questions—but more importantly watching to see how well they interacted with her baby—Keira had chosen Claudia, a serene woman in her mid-thirties whom she instinctively trusted. It meant Keira got all the best bits of being a mother—cuddling and bathing her adorable son and making goo-goo noises
