The Secret The Italian Claims. Jennie Lucas
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But he didn’t want to hear reasons he might be at fault. He wanted to blame only her. “We used protection,” he said accusingly. “How did this happen?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You are the one with all the experience. You tell me.”
He ground his teeth. “You should have tried harder to contact me.”
“After the way you treated me,” she said, “I shouldn’t have tried at all. Why give you the chance to reject our baby like you rejected me?”
His shoulders tightened as her shot hit home.
“So you were just going to walk out of here tonight.” His voice had a hard edge. His throat felt raw. “Once you had my check, you had no reason to tell me about my child. You were going to keep him a secret from me for the rest of my life, weren’t you?”
Not meeting his eyes, Hallie gave an unsteady nod.
His hands clenched at his sides. “Why?”
“I’ve never known what it was to hate someone, Cristiano,” she whispered. She lifted her gaze to his. “Not until you.”
He was shocked by the fury and hurt he saw in her eyes. “I could not have hurt you that badly,” he ground out. “We barely knew each other.”
“You were so seductive. So tender. You made me think you cared, just a little.” She ran an unsteady hand over her forehead. “But as soon as you got what you wanted, you showed me it was all a lie. You left me jobless, homeless. Pregnant and alone. I gave birth alone. I took care of him alone. Do you know how hard it is to look for a job when you have a newborn? I struggled to put a roof over Jack’s head while you pretended we didn’t exist.” She looked around the luxurious lobby. “While you drank champagne and went to parties.”
Her words made him feel oddly guilty. He didn’t like it. “You never told me—”
“I came here to beg you for money, Cristiano.” Her beautiful brown eyes were suddenly luminous. “To beg, so I wouldn’t have to stay at a homeless shelter tonight. Can you imagine how that feels, asking someone you hate for help?”
No. Cristiano couldn’t imagine lowering his pride to such an extent. Even when he’d been orphaned in Italy, desperately poor, he would have starved before he’d have done it.
But women were different, he told himself firmly. They didn’t have the same fierce pride as a man.
“Then I offered you the check,” he said, “and you decided to take the money and run.”
“I’m doing you a favor,” she said vehemently. “It’s not like you’d want to be a father. So just forget I came here. Forget he was ever born.”
Turning, Hallie started pushing the stroller away.
As he watched them go, the hotel’s marble floor became suddenly unsteady beneath Cristiano’s feet.
A flash went through him, memories of when he was six, when he was ten, of being dragged from one sagging apartment to the next, based on the preference of whichever useless new man his drunken mother had taken as her latest lover. He’d felt helpless as a child, lonely, never staying in one school long enough to make friends.
Most of the household’s scant money had gone to alcohol. There had been very little for food and none for Cristiano’s clothes, which the local priest quietly donated.
He’d never had a father, unless you counted Luigi Bennato, whom Cristiano assuredly did not. He’d never had a father to look out for him or protect him, even as a baby.
Without thinking, Cristiano stepped forward and grabbed Hallie’s shoulder.
“I won’t let you do this,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t let you take our baby away.”
“Why?” she said scornfully. “Because you want to be a father?” Her eyes glittered. “Don’t make me laugh. You’re a selfish playboy, Cristiano. An indecent excuse for a man. You couldn’t love someone if you tried, not even your own child. And now that I have enough money to support my baby, I don’t want any part of you.”
STANDING IN THE hotel’s glamorous lobby with her arms folded, Hallie glared up at Cristiano as if she weren’t in the least afraid. But the truth was her whole body was trembling with the effort it took to defy him.
She wished she’d followed her initial impulse when Cristiano had first come into the lobby, and turned and run.
But he’d have caught up with her before she’d even made it out the hotel’s revolving door. A single glance at his supremely masculine, muscular body and the cold ruthlessness in his hard gaze was enough to tell her that.
Everything about Cristiano was dark, Hallie thought with a shiver. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Dark tuxedo. A five-o’clock shadow that stroked his hard cheekbones to the slash of his jawline and, most of all, his dark fury as he came closer to her, his hand still on her shoulder, his hulking body almost threatening.
“So this is what you think of me.” His black eyes narrowed to slits. “That I’d coldly write you a check and abandon my child to your care.”
She was quivering but refused to be cowed. “Money is all you could ever offer as a father. Why don’t you just admit it?”
His grip on her shoulder tightened. “You lie to me, you take my money. Then you insult me to my face?”
He had a point, which made her want to throw the check back in that face. Her hand was already rising to do it when she remembered Lola’s harsh words. “Is pride going to feed your baby?”
With an intake of breath, Hallie clutched the check more tightly. This money would be her baby’s security and hope for the future. It would also give Hallie a chance to finally give up her stupid dream of becoming a singer and let her train for a real job, like an accountant or a nurse.
She wasn’t going to let pride ruin her life. Not anymore.
Or Cristiano Moretti.
“You should thank me,” she said.
He grew very still. “Thank you?”
“We both know, whatever you might say now, that you couldn’t truly commit to anyone, even a child.”
“How do you know?” he ground out.
“You, commit? For a lifetime?” She gave a choked laugh. “You couldn’t even commit for a night.” She tilted her head. “Were you that quickly bored, the night we were together? Or did you have another date afterward?”
His expression changed infinitesimally. “You think I sent you away because I was bored with you?”
Hallie thought of the glamorous supermodel she’d just seen on his arm. “What else?”
She