The Italian's Unwilling Wife

But the strange thing was that when he’d held her in his arms she had imagined that his feelings for her were different, that what they had shared had meant something. But of course she had been fooling herself. That had been quite clear when he’d walked away from her.

The memory hurt so much that she wanted to tell Damon that the little boy upstairs was not his, and that he had a father in his life—a wonderful, loving father, a man who also loved her. She opened her mouth but the words refused to come.

When it came right down to it, she couldn’t lie about something as important as that.

‘Of course having a father counts,’ she said shakily instead.

‘Right—which, of course, is why you came to me and told me you were pregnant?’ Damon’s tone was scathing.

‘And if I had would you have wanted to stay around and play happy families? I don’t think so. We had had a few weeks together of wild sex—it meant nothing.’ Even as she said the words, the memories that flared inside her made her hot, made her voice tremble with suppressed feeling. ‘You said as much yourself—you said…’ She shook her head and pulled herself together before the tears could gather in her voice. ‘Anyway, all that is in the past and irrelevant. The truth is that I didn’t find out I was pregnant until after you’d gone. I didn’t know how to get in touch with you. You hadn’t left your address or contact numbers. I didn’t know where you were.’

‘You are good at making excuses.’ Damon shook his head. ‘No, Abbie, you didn’t tell me because your father held the purse strings and you thought I had nothing. That was a more important consideration for you at the time.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘Like hell it’s not. You forget, Abbie, that I know you exactly for what you are.’ Damon’s eyes raked contemptuously over her, but as they did so he couldn’t help noticing the sensational curves of her figure beneath the silk of the dressing gown. How come her beauty could still blow his mind? he wondered hazily. How come when he looked at her now after all this time he could still remember exactly how she had felt when he touched her—how she had tasted, how she had moved beneath him?

Back then she had been firm and pert and he had wanted her like crazy—but he could excuse that because he hadn’t known the truth about her then.

How come he could feel the same stirrings now?

‘We’re wasting time,’ he grated, furious with himself for being sidetracked even momentarily like this. ‘And I’ve already wasted enough of that.’

To Abbie’s horror Damon started to head towards the stairs with a look of determination.

‘You can’t go up there.’ She hurried to stand in his path, tried to grab hold of his arm, but he brushed her away as if she were an annoying fly and swept past her.

‘Damon, you have no right!’ Her voice caught on a sob as she raced after him, but he didn’t break his stride.

‘Actually, as the child’s father, I think you will find I have lots of rights.’

The words brought a strange kind of helplessness washing over Abbie. It was the same feeling she used to get when dealing with her father. It was the knowledge that someone more powerful than you could dictate your life, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it, because if you didn’t comply the consequences would be more than you could bear.

She watched as he pushed doors open along the landing into deserted bedrooms.

‘Stop it!’ The anguished whisper made him halt in his tracks to look back at her.

‘Don’t bother to try and turn on the false tears, Abbie, because it’s not going to work,’ he told her acerbically. ‘I don’t care how you feel—in fact I couldn’t give that—’ he clicked his fingers softly ‘—for your emotions.’

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve always known that.’

Something about the way she said those words caught at him, and for a brief second he felt a tug of some long-forgotten emotion as he looked into the blue depths of her eyes. He remembered the first night that they had made love. He remembered the vulnerable way she had looked up at him as she’d allowed him to unfasten the buttons of her dress, almost as if she’d been afraid to trust her emotions to him.

The memory infuriated him. Abbie Newland was an actress—there had been nothing remotely vulnerable about her. She had been playing the part her father had set for her, and she had done it very well, and had enjoyed a little fun along the way.

His dark eyes hardened at the memory. ‘Well, at least we understand each other.’

‘Yes, at least there’s that,’ she whispered numbly. ‘But you should also understand that my child is more important to me than anything and if you upset him in any way I will make you pay for it.’

She tried to draw herself up as she said the words. It was probably a bit like facing down a lion without any real weapons, but she wanted him to know that she would fight to the death if necessary for her child.

‘Just because I don’t care about your feelings doesn’t mean I don’t care about him.’

The answer should have reassured her slightly, but it just stung at raw nerves. Still she held his gaze with determination. ‘He’s in the room at the far end of the corridor,’ she said quietly. ‘Let me go into the room first, just in case he’s awake. You are a stranger to him. I don’t want you scaring him.’

Damon considered her words for a second, and then stepped back to allow her to lead the way.

Her whole body felt as if it were shivering with reaction as she walked past him. She guessed she was in shock.

Why did Damon want to see his son? She couldn’t believe it was out of any paternal interest. Those sentiments didn’t fit with the man she knew him to be. Maybe this was just curiosity. Maybe he would take one look at his child, make a token pretence of being interested, before getting back into his car to get on with the real things in life that mattered to him, such as revenge and money and power… And, of course, womanizing.

Yes, that was probably what would happen, she told herself as she opened the door to Mario’s room.

She was relieved to see that the child was still sleeping. He was lying on his back, his face turned sideways against the pillow. He looked the perfect picture of peaceful innocence, his cherub mouth slightly parted, his long dark lashes resting against the satin-smooth skin.

She glanced back at Damon. ‘You can come in, but only for five minutes.’

‘I think your days of being in charge of this situation are over, Abbie,’ he said quietly as he stepped past her.

The words hit Abbie like a punch to the solar plexus. But the feeling was nothing compared to the reaction she felt, witnessing the powerful intensity on Damon’s features as he looked down at his sleeping child.

She felt her heart racing against her chest as the realization hit her that this was about far more than just idle curiosity, and to try and dismiss what was happening in such a way would be to vastly underestimate the situation.

For a long moment Damon just looked at his son. Then abruptly he turned and left the room.

For a second Abbie couldn’t move. Her mind was reeling with confusion—she couldn’t get a handle on this situation at all. What were Damon’s intentions? Why was he really here? Hastily Abbie followed him back out onto the landing.

He was already at the other end of the corridor. ‘So, now you’ve seen him,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Where do we go from here?’

He made no reply; he didn’t even look around at her, just headed down the stairs. The front door was still lying wide open, and he marched through it without closing it behind him.

‘Damon, where do we go from here?’ she asked again, a note of desperation in her voice. She needed to make some sense of tonight, needed to understand what Damon was thinking—and she couldn’t let him walk away without giving her some clue as to what was to happen next.

‘Damon?’ She followed him downstairs and out onto the porch. ‘Damon, please!’

His footsteps slowed and then he looked around. ‘That’s better.’ There was a gleam in his eyes as he looked over at her. ‘If you keep that tone in your voice, we just might get somewhere.’

The cold churning in the pit of her stomach intensified.

‘I agree that we need to talk rationally about this situation.’

He made no reply, and she thought he was going to climb into his car and drive away, but then to her surprise he went to the back of the vehicle and took out a small bag.

With the flick of a switch the car was locked again, and then he was heading back towards her with resolute strides.

Although there was a part of her that was glad he wasn’t just going to drive away, leaving her wondering what was going to happen next, she didn’t like the look of this latest development at all. Her heart thumped nervously against her ribs. ‘Where do you think you are going with that bag?’

‘I’m bringing it inside my house,’ he said curtly. ‘And then I’m going to have a drink and get into bed, because it has been a very long day and I’m tired.’