In the Italian's Bed: Bedded for Pleasure, Purchased for Pregnancy / The Italian's Ruthless Baby Bargain / The Italian Count's Defiant Bride

Did Bella have any idea what she’d done?

‘Well, that was a lot easier.’ Blushing and uncomfortable, she attempted a smile as she closed his office door behind her. ‘Your assistant didn’t even ask me to take a seat.’

‘What are you doing here, Emma?’ His face was grey now rather than white.

‘You forgot your briefcase!’ she said brightly, dangling it on her finger. It was a pathetic excuse and they both knew it. ‘Damage control, too…’ she attempted. ‘I thought it might look better if I show my face.’

‘My staff knows better than to believe what they read in the newspaper—and, as I said, there will be a retraction and an apology printed tomorrow.’

‘Do they work?’ Emma sniffed. ‘Because if they do, I’d like to try…’

‘Let’s just leave it.’

‘I’m sorry for what I said this morning—about you not deserving children.’

‘Can we forget about that, please?’

‘Can we?’

‘I just did.’ He flashed a very on-off smile and Emma would have given anything to go back, anything to have him tease her or goad her—anything rather than this great aching distance that gaped between them.

‘I thought we could go for lunch—’

‘I have meetings.’ Zarios didn’t even let her finish. ‘Why don’t you go shopping…?’

‘I don’t want to go shopping.’ If she sounded petulant, it was from the embarrassment of having him politely refuse the olive branch she was offering.

‘You need an outfit for the ball next Saturday. Our company is the major sponsor, and we will both be in the spotlight—it is an important event!’

‘So what’s the charity?’

‘Scusi?’

He often did this, Emma had started to realise. If he was playing for time, his excellent English would curiously slip.

‘Che cosa è la carità?’ Emma said sweetly, in her phrasebook Italian, and Zarios raised an eyebrow. She then asked again. ‘What’s the ball in aid of?’

‘A children’s charity…’ Zarios answered evasively, but there was just a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips as she played him at his own game. ‘I assume. So, when did you start to learn Italian?’

‘This morning,’ Emma admitted. ‘I knew you had no idea what the ball was in aid of.’

‘Well, I will graciously concede the point.’ He picked up his pen, wordlessly dismissing her, but Emma couldn’t let it go.

‘I was thinking…’ she attempted. ‘Tonight, when you get home, maybe instead of going out we could stay in…’ She was blushing to her roots, as nervous as a teenager attempting her first flirt. ‘We could order something nice from room service…’

‘Sounds nice…’ she could hear the but coming even before he actually uttered it ‘…but I have to work late.’

‘Zarios, I’m trying to say sorry here—’

‘Emma, please…’ He stood up to conclude their meeting, just as he had done the first time she was there. ‘I have to get on.’

The only difference was that this time, when she walked through the foyer, the receptionist didn’t call her back.

CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_6ebd448a-dd9c-5727-b65d-0d40a5635106)

HE WAS driving way too fast.

For such a dangerous bend of road, Zarios should be crawling along, but instead he took each curve at breakneck speed, taking his hands off the wheel to fiddle with the radio station. Emma shrank back into the passenger seat, trying to tell herself that he did this every day, that he knew every last turn on the cliff road. She knew that every sharp breath she took just incensed him further, only she couldn’t stop herself.

‘You drive, then.’ Zarios slammed on the brakes so violently that the car screeched to a halt. ‘If you think you can do so much better…’ He held his hands up in a supremely Latin gesture then climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him, leaving Emma to take the wheel.

She could do this.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, checking the twins were safely strapped in, Emma gave Harriet and Conner a reassuring smile. ‘We’ll be there soon.’ They didn’t answer, just blinked back at her, their eyes huge and trusting.

She could do this, Emma told herself again, then gently pressed her foot on the accelerator—only Zarios’s car was way more powerful than her own, and she might just as well have stood on the pedal, because the car was lurching forward, shooting like a bullet from a gun, and there was nothing she could do. Her foot was jammed on the pedal as they shot over the edge and the salty ocean seemed to rise to claim them. The twins were screaming in terror and there was the sound of a baby crying, too. Emma attempted the same, only her voice was frozen within her, the building scream unable to get out…

‘Emma.’

As she sat bolt-upright, dragging in air, she felt his arms wrap around her, his deep voice reassuring her, telling her again, as he had these past nights over and over, that she was safe.

‘You’re dreaming.’ He pulled her back beside him, wrapped himself around her and stroked her arm. ‘It’s just a dream; you’re safe, go back to sleep.’

Except she couldn’t.

She hadn’t seen him since their strained meeting in his office, hadn’t even been aware of him climbing in bed beside her, but she was infinitely grateful that he was there. Her body trembled in the darkness as she wished that he would touch her, make love to her, take her away from her desperate thoughts for just a little while. But he’d been as good as his word and hadn’t pressured her.

Even if sometimes she wished he would.

‘You should see a doctor.’ It was the first time they’d discussed her nightmares—the first time he’d done anything other than hold her.

‘I don’t want to take tablets.’

‘Maybe just for a week or two,’ Zarios pushed. ‘You’re pale, you’re exhausted—please, just go to the doctor and tell him you’re not sleeping.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

Her heart was slowing down now, her breathing settling, and he lay spooned behind her, held her till he was sure that she was asleep, his fingers coiling and then releasing a strand of her hair. He was resisting the urge to bury his head in it, or to wake her and demand that she stop wasting her life.

It was none of his business, Zarios reminded himself.

Whatever mess she was in—well, it was hers. In a little less than a week they would both walk away and never have to see each other again.

It killed him to even think about it.

He held her fragile frame against his, wanted to wrap himself like a shield around her and discount everything he had learnt today.

What had that counsellor on the helpline he had rung said?