Claiming His One-Night Baby

She’d called and left dozens of messages but Matteo had never answered and he’d never responded. He’d cut her off as effectively as he’d wielded his scalpel.

If things had been different, though, would her life have been any happier? She’d long stopped believing that. Matteo wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. He wasn’t a man any woman with an ounce of sanity would consider spending her life with unless she was a masochist. It wasn’t just a love of wealth he’d developed since the days she’d fancied herself in love with him; he’d developed a hedonistic streak to match it. No man who had a new woman on his arm every week could ever be content to settle down with only one.

Daniele took control of the meeting, explaining where they were with the project and how he and Matteo were planning a trip to Caballeros in the next couple of weeks. It was hoped construction would begin soon after.

‘That quick?’ Natasha found the energy to ask.

‘It’s Caballeros, not Europe,’ Daniele answered with a shrug. ‘Bureaucracy doesn’t exist there in the way we know it.’

‘Have you had any publicity ideas?’ Francesca asked, reminding Natasha of the role she’d agreed to take in the project.

‘I’m sorry, but no.’ She stared at the polished surface of the table in her shame. All she’d done these past two weeks was drift. ‘I’ll get thinking and send you some ideas over the next few days.’ She rubbed her temples, hoping she wasn’t promising something she would fail to see through. The more publicity they had for it the more donations they would receive, the more donations they received the more staff they could employ.

Dull thuds pounded behind her eyes. As Pieta’s next of kin this was her responsibility. Everything concerning her husband’s foundation now rested on her shoulders and so far she’d abdicated all responsibility for it.

She would abdicate that responsibility for ever if it was in her power.

At some point soon she would have to think things through clearly but right now her head was so full yet so loose that she could hardly decide what she wanted to eat for her breakfast never mind make decisions that carried real importance.

She couldn’t carry on like this. She didn’t know if it was shock at Pieta’s death or what had happened with Matteo that had her like this but she had to get a grip on herself.

There was a whole new future out there waiting for her and sooner or later she needed to figure out what she wanted from it. So far, all she knew with any real certainty was that she would spend it alone. She would never remarry. She would never allow anyone, not a man, not her parents, to have control over her again.

Francesca raised a weary shoulder. ‘There’s no rush. The end of the week will be fine.’

Eventually the ordeal was over. Chairs were scraped back as her family by marriage rose to leave. Following suit, Natasha rose too but as she stood, a wave of dizziness crashed over her and she grabbed hold of the table for support.

Francesca, who’d been sitting next to her, was the first to spot something amiss and took hold of her wrist. ‘Are you okay?’

Natasha nodded, although she felt far from okay. ‘I’m just tired. I should probably eat something.’

Francesca studied her a while longer before letting her go. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’

Considering that Francesca looked as bad as Natasha felt, the suggestion was laughable, but it had come from her sister-in-law’s kind heart so she would never laugh at her even if she had the energy.

Burning under Matteo’s equally close scrutiny, she found she could only breathe normally when the front door closed behind them.

Needing to be alone, she sent the housekeeper out to do some errands and sent silent thanks to Pieta for agreeing with her request that their other staff not live in. How sad was it that she had to request such things, like a child asking a favour from a parent?

Everything about her marriage had been sad. Its ending was the least of it. She’d had no autonomy over any of it.

Now the dizziness had passed she realised she was famished. She’d felt a little nauseous when she’d woken and had skipped breakfast, which had saved her the worry of deciding what to eat, and had managed to forget to have any lunch.

Opening the fridge, she tried to think what she fancied to eat. The housekeeper had stocked up for her and there was choice. Too much choice. After much dithering she took a fresh block of cheese out, then found the biscuits to go with it.

Her stomach was growling by the time she unwrapped the cellophane from the cheese but when she took the knife to it, the smell it emitted turned the growl into a gurgle that flipped over violently.

She chucked the entire block of cheese into the bin then clutched her stomach with one hand and her mouth with the other, breathing deeply, willing the nausea away.

It had only just passed when the doorbell rang.

She stood frozen, hesitant over whether she should open it. Her house had been like Piccadilly Circus for the past two weeks and all she wanted was to be on her own.

It rang again.

What if it was her mother-in-law? Vanessa had been a frequent visitor since Natasha and Pieta had married, and had visited or called daily since his death. Whatever Natasha was going through was nothing compared to what Vanessa was living with.

And yet, even though she continued to tell herself it was bound to be her adorable mother-in-law at the door, she found she couldn’t draw the least bit of surprise to find Matteo there instead.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, tightening her hold on the door frame. There was no audience for them to pretend cordiality.

‘I want you to take this.’ He held up a long, thin rectangular box.

It was a pregnancy test.

CHAPTER THREE (#uee5e7a53-2ad3-5e37-b3fc-0929c3608c8e)

THE PALE FACE that had opened the door to Matteo turned whiter. ‘I’m not pregnant.’

‘Take the test and prove it. I’m not going anywhere until you do.’

Her gaze darted over his shoulder.

‘Expecting someone?’ he asked curtly. ‘Another lover, perhaps?’

Her lips tightened but she held her ground. ‘Vanessa likes to drop in.’

‘The grieving mother checking up on the grieving widow? How charming.’ It sickened him that his aunt—like the rest of the Pellegrinis—all thought the sun rose and set with Natasha. It had been Francesca’s worry and compassion towards the young widow that had set the wheels in motion for the events that had led him here today. ‘If you don’t want her to find me here and have to explain why I have this with me, I suggest you let me in.’

A long exhalation of breath and then she stepped aside.

For the second time that day he entered Pieta’s home with the same curdle of self-loathing as when he’d entered it the first time. Revulsion. At her. At himself. At what they’d done.

Until Pieta had died Matteo had been in this house only once, when Natasha had been in England, visiting her parents.

‘Have you had a period since...?’ He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.

Colour stained her white face at the intimacy of what he’d asked. ‘No,’ she whispered.

‘When are you due?’

Her throat moved before she answered. ‘A couple of days ago. But I’ve never been regular. It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘You’re tired. You have a backache. You used the bathroom three times during our two-hour meeting.’ He ticked her symptoms off his fingers dispassionately, although his head was pounding again. They’d made love at her most fertile time. ‘My flight back to Miami leaves in three hours. Take the test. If it’s negative I can leave Pisa and we can both forget anything happened between us.’

Neither of them said what would happen if the test proved positive.

He held the box out to her. She stared at it blankly for a moment before snatching it out of his hand and leaving the reception room they were still standing in. Her footsteps trod up the stairs, a door shut.