to my brother, when I next speak to him, but other than that—’
‘No,’ Eva Foster stated firmly as she stood up abruptly. ‘That simply isn’t good enough, Mr D’Angelo,’ she answered his questioningly raised brows. ‘I need to talk to him now,’ she insisted, ‘not after you next happen to speak to him.’
Michael had to give this woman credit for tenacity—all five feet and a dot of her!
That determined glitter in those violet-coloured eyes said she wasn’t about to back down any time soon either, not from him, or her demand that she speak to Rafe. ‘I’ve already said that isn’t possible.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Then I suggest you make it possible, Mr D’Angelo!’
‘I don’t care for your tone,’ he bit out harshly.
Eva shrugged. ‘Then maybe you should stop trying to prevent me from speaking with your brother.’
Michael bit back his own anger. ‘The twins are now six months old, so why this sudden urgency to speak to the man your sister told you was their father?’
‘He is their father,’ Eva insisted stubbornly.
And why the sudden urgency...? Because Eva, much as she had tried, much as she hated having to admit defeat, knew that she just couldn’t cope any more without help. Financially. Or emotionally.
Although she had no intention of admitting the latter to the aloofly controlled and ultra-self-confident Michael D’Angelo, a man who looked capable of dealing with any situation...
How could a man like him possibly understand the crippling heartache that washed over Eva like a dark and oppressive tide whenever she allowed herself to dwell on the death of her sister Rachel, let alone how inadequate Eva felt, no matter how much she might love the twins, for the task of caring for two rapidly growing babies?
And all of that was apart from the fact that she simply didn’t have enough money coming in to be able to afford the care the twins needed now, or in the future.
There was no way Eva could go away on photographic assignments any more, because she simply couldn’t leave the twins for any length of time. Even taking local assignments, going back to the well-paid but monotonous photography of weddings and christenings was becoming problematic as the twins grew older, making it increasingly difficult for Eva to take them with her; brides tended to frown at having the photographer’s twin babies scream at their wedding!
And even if Eva could manage to find a child-minder that she trusted it was going to cost yet more money, and so eat into any of the fees she might earn from her work.
No, Eva had thought long and hard before seeking out Rafe D’Angelo, considered her options carefully, and, unpalatable as this alternative might be, she couldn’t see any other way out of this problem other than asking the twins’ father for financial help.
It wasn’t as if she wanted anything else from him, just a way of being able to care for the twins without having to worry where the next penny was coming from. But that was all she wanted.
After meeting and speaking with Michael D’Angelo, Eva was convinced the less physical interaction any of the D’Angelo family had with the twins—and her!—the better she would like it!
She gave a shake of her head. ‘It’s your brother Rafe I need to speak to, Mr D’Angelo, not you.’
Michael had no idea as to the thoughts that had been going through Eva Foster’s head these past few moments, but he did know they hadn’t been pleasant ones. Her face was once again as pale as bone china, those deep shadows under her violet-coloured eyes more prominent, and the fullness of her mouth appeared to be trembling slightly, as further evidence of her vulnerability.
An air of vulnerability Michael had a feeling this woman would hate intensely if she was made aware of it!
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Have you eaten anything today?’
She gave him a startled look at this sudden change of subject. ‘Sorry?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s almost lunchtime, and you’re looking a little pale, so I wondered if you had eaten anything today.’
She blinked long sooty lashes. ‘I— Yes, I believe I did manage to grab a piece of toast while I was feeding the twins their breakfast.’
No doubt she only managed to grab something to eat a lot of the time with two small babies to care for! ‘At your hotel?’
She gave a slightly derisive smile. ‘I believe you would call it more of a pension than a hotel. It was the best I could afford, okay?’ she added defensively as Michael’s frown deepened. ‘We can’t all live in penthouse apartments in major cities around the world and fly about in private jets, you know!’
There was no denying that Michael did exactly that, as did his two brothers. Which was no doubt one of the reasons Eva Foster had decided to seek out the twins’ father and ask for his help... ‘And where is this pension?’
‘It’s in a back street just a short walk away from the Gare du Nord,’ she revealed reluctantly. ‘Look, if I could just speak to your brother—’
‘I take it you intend to ask him for financial help when you do speak with him?’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘It’s my intention to remind him of his financial responsibility towards his two children, yes— Don’t look at me like that!’ she snapped sharply, her slender hands clenched so tightly together her knuckles showed white.
‘How am I looking at you?’ Michael prompted evenly.
‘As if you still think I’m some sort of gold-digger out to fleece your brother out of some of his millions!’ She gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘It wasn’t easy for me to come here, you know.’ She began to pace the office restlessly. ‘The last thing I want is any contact with the twins’ obviously reluctant father—’
‘Are you saying that Rafe knows of the twins’ existence...?’ Michael looked at her through narrowed lids. If his brother had known of Rachel Foster’s pregnancy and not told him, or, more importantly, not told Nina...!
Eva Foster came to an abrupt halt. ‘I— No. I don’t think so.’
‘But you aren’t sure?’
‘Not absolutely, no.’ Eva grimaced. ‘But I’m assuming not. Rachel wasn’t exactly forthcoming on the subject, except to tell me the name of her lover, and that the relationship was over by the time she found out she was pregnant,’ she added heavily. ‘I was out of the country when Rachel first realised she was pregnant, and she never so much as mentioned it during our weekly telephone conversations. By the time I returned to England she was already five months pregnant and had been diagnosed with the cancer.’ She sighed. ‘Pressing Rachel for more details of the babies’ father, other than to tell me his name before she died, didn’t seem very important at the time.’
‘I imagine not.’ Michael nodded. ‘Returned from where?’ For some reason he found himself more than a little interested as to why Eva Foster should have been out of her native England for several months.
She frowned. ‘Does that matter?’
