The Blackmail Baby

‘What kind of man do you think I am?’ he demanded angrily. ‘You truly think I’m so petty I would not pay for a funeral?’

Chloe stared up at him with wide eyes that seemed huge in her pale face, looking as startled as the baby by his loud outburst.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice sounding shaky and uncertain. ‘We might be married but it seems I don’t know you at all.’

Then she looked away, down at the baby in her arms.

‘I can’t do this now.’ She rocked Emma gently and murmured soothing words to her. ‘She’s probably hungry. It’s been a long afternoon and I need to get her back to the cottage.’

She looked small and awkward standing there, wearing an ill-fitting charcoal-grey suit that swamped her tiny frame and was pulled out of line by the baby in her arms. The unforgiving colour drained any speck of warmth from her fair complexion and her light blonde hair hung down in a shapeless curtain nearly to her shoulders.

Next to the fresh green grass and colourful pink blossom she looked starkly monochrome, almost as if she’d stepped out of a black-and-white movie—some old-fashioned, overblown melodrama.

She didn’t belong here—not like this.

The anger that had gripped Lorenzo suddenly dissipated. He had to get her away from this place. It was impossible to talk to her in the churchyard.

‘We’ll go together—just to pick up what you need,’ he said. ‘Then you’re coming with me.’

Chloe stared up at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to start issuing orders—although that was exactly how Lorenzo was used to behaving with most people in his life. And it was how he had been with her too, back before they became personally involved.

‘I know you’re angry with me,’ she said, ‘but you can’t just sweep in here and boss me about. I don’t work for you any more.’

‘No. You’re my wife,’ Lorenzo grated, the tone of his voice telling her that he was far from happy about that. ‘And you are coming with me.’

‘But I have Emma now,’ she protested, tightening her hold on the infant protectively.

‘What about her father?’ Lorenzo asked, studying the crying baby with a crease between his brows.

‘He never wanted anything to do with her,’ Chloe said. ‘I’m the only one she has now.’

Lorenzo lifted his eyes to Chloe’s face, and an expression she couldn’t read passed across his features.

‘Let’s go.’ He reached out and took her arm before she realised what he intended.

As his hand made contact it was as if a jolt of energy surged through Chloe. She gasped and looked down automatically, staring as his strong fingers closed around her upper arm, tanned and vital next to the dull grey fabric of her jacket.

Her heart started to beat faster, and at that moment she felt the numbness that had deadened her over recent days start to thaw.

Lorenzo was only holding her arm, but suddenly she was fully aware of him physically—aware of his sheer size and strength. And shockingly aware of the body heat radiating from his powerful, athletic form.

She found herself drawn towards him, like a flower turning towards the sun.

She’d been so cold and lonely. All at once she found herself longing to feel his strong arms around her—to press herself against the solid masculine expanse of his chest.

Suddenly she realised that Lorenzo had stopped moving. He was standing utterly still. And she knew, even without looking up at him, that he was taking in her reaction to his touch.

A flash of alarm shot through her. She couldn’t let Lorenzo see how vulnerable she was feeling, how in need of physical comfort. He’d always been able to read her like a book, and right at that moment her defences were lower than normal.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ Chloe said, trying to shrug out of his grip. But his fingers simply tightened, and with Emma in her arms it was impossible to struggle too much.

‘There are matters we must discuss,’ Lorenzo said, turning her round so once again they were facing each other.

Chloe shook her head, staring directly ahead—straight at his broad chest. She did not want to talk to him any more. And she definitely did not want to look into his perceptive eyes.

She had the terrible feeling she would reveal herself to him in some way—let him see how naked her emotions were, how much she craved his presence. The day had already been too painful. The thought of him driving away and leaving her alone again suddenly seemed unbearable—but there was no way she would admit that to him.

‘Your desertion on our wedding day made it clear that you are no longer happy with our arrangement,’ he said, cupping his free hand under her chin and lifting her face to his.

Her gaze was locked to his clear blue eyes again and the touch of his fingers against her skin made her shiver once more.

‘I didn’t think we had an arrangement,’ she replied, feeling a chill creep back around her heart. His words were a harsh reminder that she had been disastrously wrong about what their marriage meant to Lorenzo—about what she‘d meant to him.

‘Yes, we did,’ Lorenzo said, ‘which is why we need to talk. There will be no further misunderstandings between us.’

Chapter Three

CHLOE sat in the limousine with Lorenzo and Emma as it purred along the narrow lanes away from the village where she’d lived for the last three months. It was late in the afternoon but the sun was still shining brightly. Billowing drifts of frothy white cow parsley lined the roadside, and the hedgerows were a mass of lacy hawthorn blossom.

Chloe stared out at the passing countryside, hoping to calm her jangling nerves. She could not let herself look across at Lorenzo. She was still too unsettled and confused by her feelings towards him.

She’d spent the last few weeks desperately missing him, despite the fact that she knew she was yearning for something that did not really exist. Everything she’d believed to be true about their relationship had been false. Lorenzo did not love her. All he’d wanted was a convenient wife.

But now he had appeared out of the blue, and her body and soul had responded to him with an intensity that had knocked her off balance. It was as if her mind had no influence over what she was feeling towards him—or even as if the heartbreaking revelation on their wedding day had never really happened.

‘I gather that your friend had no immediate family.’ The sound of Lorenzo’s deep voice startled her. She turned to him, feeling her pulse crank up a notch once more the moment she met his steely blue gaze. ‘But where are the rest of her relatives?’

‘There aren’t any,’ she said, dragging her eyes away from his face with surprising difficulty to look down at Emma, who was asleep in the infant car seat beside her. ‘That will make the adoption more straightforward. It’s what Liz wanted—and what I want too.’

‘Adoption is a serious commitment. And a legally binding arrangement,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Did you not think it would be appropriate to discuss your intention with your husband?’

His voice was level and the tone neutral, but Chloe knew it was a pointed comment. She turned back to him and saw that he was staring at Emma. There was a deep crease between his black eyebrows and Chloe realised she’d never seen him in such close proximity to a baby before.

He was looking at Emma as if she were a tiny alien who had somehow sneaked into his car.

She knew that Lorenzo wanted children—they’d discussed it after he asked her to marry him. At the time she assumed he’d be a wonderful father. But now, judging by his expression as he studied Emma, she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he just wanted children to inherit his legacy and carry on his family name.

Chloe had always wanted to be a mother and now she had a baby to care for. It wasn’t the way she would have wanted it to happen, but when she promised Liz that she would adopt Emma she’d known that the baby girl was the most precious parting gift her friend could have given her.

‘There’s no need for you to worry,’ she said, feeling instinctively protective towards Emma. ‘The adoption will not affect you.’

As soon as she’d spoken she felt his temper flare once more and a prickle passed across her skin. The limousine suddenly seemed too small, and she wished they were back in the open air again.

‘We are married,’ he grated. ‘I imagine that the adoption courts will be interested in that—even if you think you can act as if we are not.’

‘I’m not acting as if I’m not married!’ she snapped, meeting his gaze straight on. ‘I’m just trying to do the right thing for an orphaned baby. My promise to adopt Emma has nothing to do with you.’

His piercing gaze held hers and the air between them seemed to vibrate with sudden tension.