Bound By Their Christmas Baby

‘I asked them to do that,’ he admitted darkly. ‘I didn’t want to see you. I was so angry you’d come.’

‘I know.’ She lifted her chin, defiance radiating from her slender frame. ‘But don’t you dare accuse me of intentionally keeping Raf from you.’

He shook his head, as if to clear the memory. ‘I cannot believe I have a son.’

What could Abby say to that? It was the truth. She waited for something—perhaps an apology. A commendation of how well she’d done? An admission that she’d tried to do the right thing, to tell him the truth?

And got instead: ‘And you’re raising him here? Like this?’

Her spine straightened and she squared her shoulders. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ she said.

‘It is a hovel.’ He glared at her. ‘How can you live like this?’

Her jaw dropped. His assessment wasn’t wrong but how dare he?

‘It’s fine,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘And I’ll find something better before he’s big enough to notice. For now, this is fine,’ she amended.

‘This isn’t fine for a pack of rabid dogs, let alone my son.’

She stared at him as though he’d called her the worst name in the book. ‘I’m aware that it’s not ideal. I’m not blind. But it’s the best I could do at short notice and with very limited means.’

A muscle in his jaw throbbed and Abby stared at it, fascinated by the pulse point there. ‘So when your father discovered you were pregnant with my child, he turned you out of his home?’

She winced. ‘It was more complex than that. I mean, it proved that I’d lied about that night. That I’d let him down.’

‘Let him down?’ Gabe repeated incredulously. ‘Dio! He is unbelievable.’

‘I know that,’ she said. ‘I never thought he’d react like this. I mean, I thought he’d be angry, but not...’

‘To remove all financial support from his pregnant daughter, just because he hates me?’ Something in Gabe shifted and he was very still, his expression faraway, as though completely consumed by unpleasant thoughts.

Abby waited, her breath unconsciously held, for him to elaborate.

But in the end he shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. You are no longer his responsibility.’

‘I’m no one’s responsibility,’ she said stiffly, instantly rejecting that assessment.

‘Wrong, cara. You are mine.’

‘No.’ Abby’s denial was swift.

‘You are the mother of my child.’

Her hackles rose. ‘I’m a woman you spent one night with, a year ago.’

‘Sì. And you fell pregnant. I should have prevented that. I was experienced. This is my fault.’

‘Your fault?’ Now her maternal instincts roared to life. ‘I don’t consider Raf anyone’s fault. He’s a blessing.’

Gabe grimaced, uncharacteristically on the back foot. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’

But she wasn’t to be placated. She had to set the record straight while she had a chance—if she didn’t control this, the situation could quickly move beyond her control. ‘You don’t owe me anything, Gabe. I’m not asking for a handout.’

‘You live like this,’ he said slowly, gesturing around the room, ‘and you think I don’t owe you anything?’

Frustration burst through her. ‘I know this place isn’t...’

‘It’s a dump.’

The insult hurt. ‘It’s home, for now.’

He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression intractable.

‘You say you wanted to tell me about the baby?’

She nodded.

‘And what did you expect me to say?’

Abby frowned, but her silence only seemed to spur him on. He took a step closer, his expression grim.

‘What did you want from me?’

She swallowed, and tried to find the words of the speech she’d imagined she’d give him, if ever he learned the truth. ‘Raf is your child too, and I respect the fact you might want to be involved in his upbringing.’

‘Oh, yes?’ he murmured, but there was a sharpness to the response, an underlying firmness she didn’t understand.

‘Your life is in Italy and we live here, but I mean, you visit the States and I guess, when he’s older, he could come over...’

Her sentence tapered off into silence. His eyes held hers for a long, icy moment. Then, with a guttural sound of disgust, ‘Look at this place, Abigail!’ He glared at her. ‘Why is it so cold? Why is the heating off?’ He stalked into the kitchenette and ripped open the fridge. ‘What are you existing on? I see two apples and one bread roll. What did you have for dinner?’

She bit down on her lip and ridiculous tears moistened her eyes. She dashed at them angrily. ‘I’m not crying because I’m sad,’ she clarified. ‘I’m mad! And I’m tired! And you have no right turning up on my doorstep at midnight only to throw insults at my feet!’

‘What did you think I would do? How am I supposed to react?’

‘I...’ She glared at him. ‘I don’t know. I just had to tell you.’

He dipped his head forward in silent concession. ‘I’m grateful that you did. And for the fact you haven’t used our son to attempt to blackmail me.’

‘Blackmail you?’ she repeated, aghast, flicking her fair hair over one shoulder. ‘What would I blackmail you for?’

His laugh was short and sharp. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Money. Power. Calypso prototypes?’

Abby had never hit a man in her life—or anyone, for that matter, but her fingertips itched to strike his arrogant face. ‘You’re a jerk.’

‘I’m the father of your child and, like it or not, I’m in your life now.’

She was very still, waiting for that thought to make sense. But it didn’t. ‘In my life how?’