Italian Bachelors: Unforgotten Lovers: The Change in Di Navarra's Plan / Bound by the Italian's Contract / Visconti's Forgotten Heir

His jaw was a block of granite. “There are ways of remedying that,” he said, and her stomach dropped through the floor.

“No,” she choked out. “No. There’s nothing you can do to change it.”

She would fight him with every ounce of strength she had left in her body to prevent it. He would never take Nicky away. Never.

He was not the same man she’d spent the past few days with. This man was infinitely darker, more frightening. “Everyone has a price, Holly. Even you.”

She hugged her baby’s little body to her. “You’re wrong, Drago. I’m sorry if you had a bad childhood, and I’m sorry you think your mother traded you for money. But I love my son and I’m not giving him up. You don’t have enough money to even make me think about it, much less ever do it.”

His eyes glittered and she shivered. “We’ll see about that, cara.”

He didn’t say another word to her for the rest of the car trip. Instead, he got on the phone and started talking in rapid Italian. He made two or three calls before they reached the jet parked on the tarmac, and Holly’s nerves were scraped raw by that time.

She wondered who he was talking to, what he was saying and what he planned to do. Was he talking to his lawyers? To someone who would bar her from the plane while he took Nicky and jetted off for Europe?

She held her baby tighter. She would never let him take this child from her. She wouldn’t let anyone bar her from the plane and she would never accept money in exchange for Nicky.

There simply wasn’t enough money in the world to make it worth her while.

When they reached the jet, Drago told her to hand Nicky over to Sylvia, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, smiling warmly. Holly cradled her baby close and refused, her heart hammering in spite of Sylvia’s friendly greeting.

“You could fall on the steps,” he said sharply, and her stomach banged with fear.

“I won’t fall,” she said. And then she started up the steps, one arm around her son, the other holding the metal railing until she was at the top and walking onto the plane. Drago was right behind her, so close she could smell his scent over the lingering aroma of jet fuel and the new smell of the plane’s interior.

She could also smell the sharp scent of his anger, steely and cold. His body, however, was hot at her back, and she stepped away quickly, emerging into a spacious cabin.

The plane was much larger than the jet they’d flown on just a few days ago. This one was also incredibly luxurious. The interior gleamed with white leather, dark shiny wood finishes and chrome. There was a bar at one end, a couch with a television, and several other plush chairs.

“There are two bedrooms,” Drago informed her. “And several bathrooms.”

In the end, it turned out that one of the bathrooms was bigger than her entire bedroom had been in New Orleans. She knew Drago was wealthy—he was the head of a multinational corporation and heir to a cosmetics fortune—but she’d never quite realized the impact of all that money until this very moment, when she feared it was about to be arrayed against her. Yes, she’d signed a contract for half a million dollars, but she now realized how very tiny a drop in the ocean of wealth that was to a man like Drago di Navarra.

And it worried her. What if he did try to take Nicky away? She flinched as the door to the Jetway closed with a solid thump. Panic bloomed. She wanted off this plane. She wanted to take her baby—who she’d finally handed over to Sylvia now that they were firmly inside—and run down the stairs and into the terminal. Away from Drago. Away from the vessel that was about to take her across an ocean and put her somewhere she knew no one.

And had no power. Holly swallowed hard. She turned to go after Sylvia, to find her baby and at least be with him for the duration of the trip, since escape was now impossible.

But Drago was there, tall and commanding and so very distant as he gazed down at her, his handsome features set with disdain. An aching sadness unfolded itself within her as she thought back to last night and the Chinese food. She’d almost felt close to him then.

Almost.

“You will need to sit and buckle up,” Drago said. “We’ll be off the ground in a few minutes.”

“I want to be with Nicky.”

“Sylvia is taking care of him. That is what she is paid to do.”

Holly tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. She could not let him see that he intimidated her, no matter how much he did. “My idea of how to raise a child isn’t paying people to take care of him. Nicky needs me.”

His eyes narrowed and she had a sudden, visceral feeling that she’d crossed a line somewhere.

“He will have only the best from now on, Holly. Sylvia is the best.”

“And I am his mother,” she said, her heart stinging with pain. She’d given Nicky everything she had, but of course it wasn’t the best money could buy. She tilted her chin up. She had to be brave, assertive. “There’s more to taking care of a child than money. He needs love and attention, and I give him that.”

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Such as when you dropped him with your neighbor and went to work in a casino. I’m sure he had plenty of love and attention then.”

She felt as if he’d hit her. “I did the best I could,” she told him. “It wasn’t as if you were there to help. And you weren’t going to be there because I couldn’t get in touch with you. You made it very clear that I was never to do so.”

He shot up out of his seat and she took a step back instinctively. “To sell me perfume,” he thundered. “You were never to contact me about your damn perfume!”

Her breath razored in and out of her lungs. “And how was I supposed to make sure you knew the difference if you’d already ordered your secretary to deny my calls?” she yelled back. “Was I supposed to send you mental signals and hope that did the trick?” She picked up a pretend phone and held it to her ear. “Oh, look,” she mimicked, “it’s Holly Craig calling. But this time it’s important!”

His teeth ground together and anger clouded his features. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flight attendant moving carefully around them. That was when she realized they were making a spectacle.

She turned and flung herself down in a plush club chair and buckled her seat belt. Her cheeks sizzled with heat and her nerves snapped with tension. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the arms of the seat.

Drago dropped into a chair beside her, though there were plenty of other empty seats, and buckled himself in. Anger rolled off his body like fallout from a nuclear explosion.

“If you had wanted to tell me,” he snarled, “you would have found a way. Instead, you let me believe this baby belonged to another man. A married man who abandoned you and left you to starve in the cold. You lied to me, Holly. And you would have kept on lying if I hadn’t figured it out.”

“I didn’t say it was a married man. You assumed—”

“And you agreed!” he shot back. “What else was I to think, the way you acted?” His voice sliced into her. “You were worried about getting caught in your lies.”

She whipped around to face him. “Yes, I was worried, Drago! I was worried because you promised me a way out of my situation. And if you learned the truth, and reacted the way you had the last time, I’d be back at square one. Only, this time I had my son to think about. And no way in hell was I letting you hurt him.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. She realized then, looking at him, that the roiling surface of his anger went far, far deeper than she’d ever thought. He was civilized—but barely.