it and move on.’
With that, he stalked away, striding towards Luca and Grace, ready to tell them he was leaving.
‘Actually, it’s not the end of the matter.’
Something in the tone of her voice made him pause.
‘It’s impossible for me to “forget about it and move on”.’
A shiver of something that could be interpreted as fear crawled up his spine...
* * *
Cara watched Pepe’s back tense and all the muscles beneath his crisp pink shirt bunch together.
Only Pepe could get away with a pink linen shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, and snug-fitting navy chinos for his own niece’s christening. The shirt wasn’t even tucked in! Yet he still oozed masculinity. If she could, she’d rip all the testosterone from him—and there must be buckets of it—and flush it down the toilet. Standing next to him in the church, she had been acutely aware of how overdressed she looked in comparison, and had fumed at the unfairness of it all—he was the one underdressed for the occasion. With his long Roman nose, high cheekbones, trim black goatee covering his strong chin and his ebony hair quiffed at the front, Pepe looked as if he’d stepped off a catwalk.
She’d truly thought she’d been prepared. In her head she’d had everything planned out. She would be calm. She would politely ask for five minutes of his time, explain the situation and tell him what she wanted. Above all else, she would be calm.
Under no circumstances would she let him know of her devastation when she’d awoken alone in his hotel suite, or her terror when the stick in her hand had turned pink.
She would be calm.
All her good intentions had been thrown by the wayside when she’d taken one look at his handsome face and wanted to knock his perfect white teeth out.
The whole time she’d been next to him at the christening, even while they were making their respective promises as Lily’s godparents, all she could think was how much she wanted to cause him bodily harm. She’d even found herself gazing at the silver scar that ran down his cheek, wishing she could track the culprit down and shake his hand. Or her hand. She’d asked Pepe about the scar during their weekend together but he’d evaded the question with his customary ease. She hadn’t pushed the matter but it had tugged at her. All she’d wanted to do was trace a finger down it and make it magically disappear.
Who, she’d wondered, could have hated him enough to do such a thing? Pepe was charm personified. Everyone adored him. Or so she’d thought.
Now it wouldn’t surprise her in the least to discover a queue of people wishing to perform bodily harm on him.
The violence of her thoughts and emotions shocked her. She was a pacifist. She’d attended anti-war demos, for cripes’ sake!
She’d spent the past four months castigating herself for being stupid enough to fall for Pepe Mastrangelo’s seduction. She should have known it wasn’t her he was interested in. After all, he’d never displayed the slightest interest in her before. Not once.
On her frequent trips to Sicily to visit Grace, they would often make a foursome for evenings out. Luca had terrified her, had done from the moment she’d met him. Pepe, on the other hand, had been fun and charming. After a few dates she’d been able to converse with him as easily as she could with Grace. Tall and utterly gorgeous, he was the type of man females from all generations and all persuasions would pause to take a second look at.
However much she’d liked his irreverent company, she’d always known he tagged along on their evenings out as a favour to his big brother’s wife. He would flirt with Cara as much as the next woman, fix his gorgeous dark blue eyes on her and make her feel as if she were the only woman in the world—until he fixed those same eyes on another woman and made her feel exactly the same way. His blatancy had made her laugh. It had also made her feel safe. He was not a man any woman with a sane mind could take seriously.
Well, more fool her for falling for it. She would never make the same mistake again, not for him, not for anyone.
Hadn’t she always known that sex was nothing but a weapon? Hadn’t she witnessed it with her own eyes, the devastation that occurred when grown men and women allowed their hormones to dictate their actions? It ripped lives and families apart.
Pepe was a man who positively revelled in allowing his hormones to lead the way. He thrived on it. To him, she, Cara, had been nothing but a means to an end, the sex between them a perk of the task he had undertaken. His brother had wanted his wife back and Cara’s phone had contained the data with which to find her. The fact that she was a human being with real human feelings had meant nothing. When it came to his family, Pepe was a man without limits.
And that lack of limits had come at a price.
‘I can’t “forget about it and move on”, you feckless, irresponsible playboy, because I’m pregnant.’
CHAPTER TWO
CARA DIDN’T KNOW exactly how Pepe would react to her little statement, but when he finally turned to face her, his wide smile was still firmly in place.
‘Is this your idea of a joke?’
‘No. I’m sixteen weeks pregnant. Congratulations. You’re going to be a daddy.’
His eyes bored into hers but his smile didn’t dim, not by a single wattage. All around them gathered his family. She could feel their curious gazes resting on them. Resting on her.
It was too late to wish she could hide behind Grace as she had done so many times since her teenage years. Whenever she was in a new social situation she would let Grace hold court until her nerves were silenced and she felt capable of speaking without choking on her own tongue. Grace had understood. Grace had protected her.
But Grace had married and moved countries. Grace had also disappeared for the best part of a year, forcing Cara to get her own life in order. She couldn’t keep living her life through her best friend. She needed a life that was her own.
And she’d been getting there. She’d moved back to Ireland, landed a job she loved, albeit at the lowest rung, but it was a start, and even made some new friends. She had truly thought she’d found her own path to some kind of fulfilling life.
Pepe hadn’t just blocked the path, he’d driven a ruddy great bulldozer through it and churned it into rubble.
He’d left her alone, scared and pregnant, with a future that loomed terrifyingly opaque.
Eventually he inclined his head and nodded at the door. ‘Come with me.’
Relieved to get away from all the prying eyes, relieved to have a moment to gather her wits together, she followed him out and into the wide corridor.
Pepe leaned against the stone wall and ran a hand through his thick black hair.
A maid appeared carrying a fresh tray of canapés, which she took into the vast living room.
No sooner had the maid gone when a couple of elderly uncles came out of the same door, laughing between themselves. When they saw Pepe, they pulled
