knew that we could never be more than that one experience?’
The question floored him. But only for a moment—he was Antonio Herrera and he recovered quickly. ‘Do you want it to be more?’
She pulled a face and her answer dripped with sarcasm. ‘Yeah, right.’
He smirked to cover his irritation. He didn’t like the ease with which she rejected that suggestion. Hell, at that moment he could barely remember that she was a diSalvo, let alone muster enough enthusiasm for their rivalry to care. She was simply Amelia and he was hungry—starving—for her.
‘So you are not here to sell me your stake in Prim’Aqua,’ he said, straightening, pushing off the desk and taking a stride towards her. ‘And you say you are not here to rekindle what we shared that night.’ Another stride, bringing him level with her, and the sweetness of her scent almost had him reaching for her and kissing her. How he wanted to relive that experience!
But every line of her body was a warning and a rejection. She was mentally distancing herself from him and he hated that.
‘So why have you come?’
* * *
Amelia clamped her lips together and dug her fingernails into her palms and she stared at him and reminded herself that he was just a man! There was no need to feel so anxious! Besides, she was absolutely certain he wouldn’t want to be a part of her life—or her child’s.
‘You look pale,’ he added with a frown, and inwardly she groaned. She’d done her best to hide the evidence of the past few weeks, but apparently hadn’t succeeded.
Some women glowed when they were pregnant and it seemed Amelia wasn’t going to be one of them. This very recent bout of nausea combined with a sudden insomnia—no doubt brought on by the realisation she had to tell the father of her baby that she was pregnant—had left her looking drained.
‘How I look is hardly relevant,’ she murmured.
His frown was infinitesimal. ‘Are you sick?’
‘Yes, in a sense,’ she said, and an urge to laugh, maniacally, overcame her. She ignored it with effort and reached for her water glass once more.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, but she knew that once she spoke these words aloud, her world would change for ever. Up to this point, she hadn’t mentioned her state to a soul, and she’d been allowing herself time to absorb the news and make her own plans.
She had decided she would need to have her own wishes firmly in place before meeting Antonio. This was her baby, her body, her life and, while she knew she had a moral obligation to inform him of her pregnancy, she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him think he had any right to weigh in on the situation.
‘I don’t like you,’ she said, her eyes locking to his with a defiance that underscored her feelings. ‘I think you’re cold-hearted, ruthless and manipulative.’
He didn’t visibly react, save for a slight tightening around his jaw.
‘Go on.’
‘You’re a Herrera and I’m part of the diSalvo family, but this is hardly some real-life Romeo and Juliet situation. I have no interest in being dragged into a crazy feud that should have ended two generations ago.’
‘It is your brother who sought to ruin—’
She lifted a hand to silence him and though he obliged, closing his mouth, his eyes sparked with hers, his impatience obvious.
‘He did something. You did something back. What a waste of energy—for both of you!’ she denounced scathingly. ‘You could have stopped at shoring up your own business interests. But you didn’t. Instead of taking the high road, you’ve sought to ruin him right back. And there’s no way I will ever be a party to that.’
Antonio’s expression tightened further. There was a look of such ruthless determination in his features that many people might have been afraid. Not Amelia. She’d come up against arrogance and cold-hearted ruthlessness before. No, now, she was angry!
‘You made this position clear already,’ he said finally, the words cold and more heavily accented than usual.
‘True. But I feel the need to underscore it.’
‘For what purpose?’ he demanded. ‘Our business together was concluded six weeks ago. There is nothing to be gained from you being here now.’
Her eyes narrowed and for the briefest of moments she thought about leaving. How much easier it would all be if she were to turn on her heel and stalk out of his office, insisting that he never contact her again!
But how could she live with herself? A baby wasn’t something you could hide—she was living proof. To know that she’d spent twelve years being raised with her parentage a mystery, that her father had had no idea of her existence. What had they both been denied? Would she have had an actual family if her mother had made a different decision?
Memories and past hurts had her straightening her spine, staring at him with renewed intent.
‘I’ll go soon,’ she promised. ‘In fact, I’m booked on a flight in a few hours,’ she added for good measure, liking the safety and security that fact offered.
His frown was one of non-comprehension. ‘You’re flying commercial?’
At this, Amelia rolled her eyes. ‘As opposed to?’
‘DiSalvo Industries has many planes...’
She angled her face away from his. He was right. She could have flown in a private jet, but that wasn’t—and never had been—Amelia’s style. ‘What an environmental nightmare,’ she stated disapprovingly. ‘Any billionaire gets a whim to go here or there and they power up their own plane, when there are dozens of flights scheduled to that same destination every day.’
‘But then you have to fit in with someone else’s schedule,’ he pointed out with infuriating logic—and despicable arrogance.
‘Oh, heaven forbid a little inconvenience.’ They were getting off-topic and she didn’t particularly want to stand in Antonio’s office, arguing the merits of flight timetables with him.
‘My schedule allows very little room for flexibility,’ he said with an arrogant shrug of his shoulders.
And now Amelia did laugh, just a soft, panicked noise of utter disbelief. ‘You’re going to hate this, then.’ Babies were the very definition of inconvenience, and this one particularly so, given how little either of them could have expected her pregnancy.
‘Hate what?’ He was wary.
When it came to it, there was no need for any preamble. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she was simply going to tell him—to get it over with and then go home. With a deep breath and a voice that shook ever so slightly, she said into the silence: ‘I’m pregnant, Antonio. And you’re the father.’
