Married For Revenge: Roccanti's Marriage Revenge / A Deal at the Altar / A Vow of Obligation. LYNNE GRAHAM
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with stormy self-loathing.
‘I can’t simply leave you like this,’ Vitale declared with a harsh edge to his deep drawl.
‘Why not?’ Zara gave him a deadened look, still too traumatised to think beyond what she had just learned about her own body. ‘Don’t you think you’ve already done enough?’
In the face of that unnecessary reminder, Vitale stood his ground. It was a bad moment but in almost thirty years he had lived through an awful lot of bad moments and he would not allow himself to flinch from anything unpleasant. But for him the worst aspect was that this was an event outside his control and he liked that reality least of all. ‘I’d like to deal with this before I leave.’
Zara folded her arms and lifted her chin, suspicious of that particular choice of wording. ‘Deal with it?’ she questioned, astonished by the current of protectiveness towards her unborn child that sprang into being inside her and stiffened every defensive muscle. ‘I should tell you now—I’m not prepared to have a termination—’
‘I’m not asking you to consider that option,’ Vitale countered, exasperated by her drama, craving a sensible solution even though he already knew there probably wasn’t one. ‘You don’t trust me but I assure you that I will only act in my child’s best interests.’
Zara was unimpressed. How could she trust anything he said? How did she know that getting her pregnant hadn’t been part of his revenge? Hadn’t he accused her father of getting his sister pregnant? How much faith could she put in Vitale’s promises now?
‘That’s quite a sudden change of attitude you’ve had,’ she remarked in a brittle voice.
His lips set in a firm line, his eyes flaring bright and forceful before he cloaked them. Even though she tried not to, she found herself staring because, regardless of her hatred and distrust, nothing could alter the reality that he was sleek and dark and beautiful as sin.
‘Whether I like it or not the fact that you’re going to have my child does change everything between us,’ he responded darkly.
Zara released a tart laugh of disagreement. ‘Even though you believe that my father is the equivalent of a murderer and hate me for being his daughter?’
Anger lent a feverish hint of colour to his exotic high cheekbones and gave Vitale’s appearance such striking strength and magnetism. ‘I do not hate you.’
Scorn crossed Zara’s heart-shaped face. ‘You’re not being honest with yourself. You hate me for the blood that runs in my veins. How else could you think it was acceptable to treat me so badly?’
Vitale did not think in the emotive terms that came so naturally to her. He was in a stormy mood, naturally resentful of the predicament they were in, but still logical enough to accept that anger would do nothing to solve the problems they faced. He saw even less sense in harking back to the past. ‘The day we learn that you are carrying my baby is not the time to discuss such issues,’ he told flatly. ‘We have more important matters to consider—’
‘The fact that I hate and distrust you tends to overpower every other impression,’ Zara shot back at him, furious at being targeted by that superior little speech and wishing that she knew exactly what he was thinking. Unfortunately that lean darkly handsome face was uniquely uninformative.
‘At the very least I would ask you to see a doctor for a check-up as soon as possible,’ Vitale advised.
‘When I can find the time.’ Zara glanced at her watch. ‘You really do have to leave. I have an appointment with a client in an hour and I’m not even dressed yet! Oh, my goodness, I forgot, what am I going to do about Fluffy?’
Vitale’s sculpted lips parted. ‘I’ll take her,’ he said, startling himself with that announcement almost as much as he startled his companion.
‘Are you serious?’ Zara stared back at him in stunned disbelief.
‘Why not?’ Having made the offer, Vitale refused to back down from the challenge. She had quite sufficient thoughts to occupy her without stressing about her pet’s impending homelessness. She needed peace of mind to concentrate on her own condition and if removing the wretched rabbit could deliver that he was willing to take care of the problem for her.
‘You can’t give her away to someone, you know,’ she warned him doubtfully. ‘Or have her put down or anything like that.’
Vitale dealt her a grimly comprehensive scrutiny, now fully acquainted with how low she feared he might sink even when it came to a dumb animal. ‘In this instance you can be confident that your pet will enjoy the best of care.’
Zara frowned, glancing worriedly at the little animal. ‘You’re not planning to just dump her in a pet-care place, are you? They’re always full of dogs and she’s terrified of dogs.’
As that was exactly what Vitale had planned to do with Fluffy, it was a tribute to his ability to think fast that he didn’t betray a shred of discomfiture. ‘Of course not,’ he insisted as though such a thought had not even occurred to him.
Vitale then learned a great deal more than he ever cared to know about bunny rabbits. Fluffy did not travel light either. Even with Zara helping it took two trips down to his car to transport all Fluffy’s possessions.
‘I’ll look after her,’ he asserted, challenged to retain his patience.
‘I’ll need your phone number,’ Zara told him. ‘I’ll ring you later to see how you’re getting on.’
If ever there was a moment when an unprecedented attack of benevolence on his part had paid off this was it, Vitale recognised with fearless self-honesty. Ironically the mother of his unborn child was more concerned about her pet than about herself, but an avenue of communication had at least opened again. He was going to be a father. The shock of that thought suddenly engulfed Vitale like an avalanche. A baby, he was thinking in a daze of lingering horror as he installed Fluffy in her three deck condo in the corner of his open plan lounge. The brightly coloured plastic rabbit version of a palace with all mod cons looked incongruous against his elegant décor.
On learning that the rabbit was there to stay for the foreseeable future, Vitale’s part-time housekeeper told him thinly that she was allergic to animal fur, and when he failed to offer an immediate solution she handed in her notice on the spot. Zara phoned briefly just to tell Vitale that Fluffy liked MTV for company, apparently being a bunny with a musical bent.
‘Tough luck, Fluff,’ Vitale breathed, switching on the business channel to catch the most recent stock figures. ‘The guy with the remote calls all the shots.’
Fluffy sidled into view like a bunny with a very good idea of how welcome a house guest she was. She slunk along the skirting and then settled down happily to munch at the corner of a very expensive rug. As Vitale rose to intervene and Fluffy took fright at the movement and fled back to her condo it occurred to him that a young child would, at times, be equally trying to his reserves of patience.
That was, if Zara Blake allowed him anywhere near their child. His blood ran cold with apprehension as he pictured that possible scenario of parental powerlessness. He cursed the situation he was in. He had several good friends supporting children they rarely, if ever, saw. He knew that a child’s mother generally controlled how much access a father might receive and he was well aware that some mothers preferred not to share. As an unmarried father he would have virtually no rights at all over his own flesh and blood. Vitale had been the son of an unstable mother and the defenceless victim of an abusive stepfather. That he might have little say in his own child’s upbringing was a prospect that Vitale could not bear to contemplate. How would he ever be able to protect his child from the risk of abuse? His appetite for work suddenly abating, Vitale shut down his laptop. He fed Fluffy, who had the fine taste of a gourmand, and then he paced the floor to consider his options with a new driving urgency.
In the meantime, Zara was having a very busy day. She spent an hour chatting to a potential client before checking out the current job that