Reunited by a Baby Secret. Michelle Douglas
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He pressed his fingers to his forehead. She’d mentioned that her family owned a vineyard in Tuscany. It didn’t mean she herself would have a lot of spare cash to splash out on a baby, though, did it?
He strode to the window that overlooked the gardens and rooftops of Rome with the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica in the distance, but he didn’t notice the grandeur of the view. His hand balled to a fist. Had he really asked her if the baby was his? No wonder she’d lost her temper. It had been an inexcusable thing to say.
I’m pregnant.
She’d blurted it out with such brutal austerity. It had taken everything inside him to stay where he was rather than to turn and run. He’d wanted to do anything to make her words not be true. Who’d have thought such cowardice ran through his veins? It shouldn’t be a surprise, though, considering whose genes he carried.
He dragged a hand down his face. When she’d stood there staring at him with big, wounded eyes, he’d had to fight the urge to drag her into his arms and promise her the world. That wasn’t the answer. It wouldn’t work. And he’d hurt her enough as it was.
He let loose a sudden litany of curses. He should’ve taken her hand and asked her how she was, though. He should’ve hugged her and offered her a measure of comfort. Shame hit him.
Now I don’t even think you’re any kind of proper person.
He didn’t blame her. She might even have a point. He seized the room phone and punched in the number for Reception. ‘Do you have a guest by the name of Marianna Amatucci staying here at the moment?’
‘I’m sorry, Signor White, but no.’
Damn! With a curt thank-you, Ryan hung up. He flung open the door and started down the hallway, but his feet slowed before he reached the elevator. What did he think he was going to do? Walk the streets of Rome looking for Marianna? She’d be long gone. And if by some miracle he did catch up with her, what would he say?
He slammed back into his room to pace. With a start, he glanced at his watch. Damn it all to hell! Seizing his mobile, he ordered his PA to cancel his meetings for the rest of the morning.
He shook off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, feeling suffocated by the layers of clothing. His mind whirled, but one thought detached itself and slammed into him, making him flinch. You’re going to become a father. He didn’t want to become a father!
Too bad. Too late. The deed has been done.
He stilled. Marianna no longer expected his involvement. In fact, she’d told him she wanted him to forget they’d ever met. And she’d meant it. He ran a finger beneath his collar, perspiration prickling his scalp, his nape, his top lip. He could walk away.
Better still he could give her money, lots of money, and just...bow out.
His grandmother’s face suddenly rose in his mind. It made his shoulders sag. She’d saved him—from his parents and from himself—but it hadn’t stopped him from letting her down.
He fell onto the sofa. Why think of her now? He’d tried to make it up to her—had pulled himself back from the brink of delinquency. He’d buckled down and made something of himself. He glanced around at the opulence of the hotel room and knew he’d almost succeeded on that head. If he walked away now from Marianna and his child, though, instinct told him he’d be letting his grandmother down in a way he could never make up.
He’d vowed never to do that again.
You vowed to never have children...a family.
What kind of life would this child of his and Marianna’s have? He moistened his lips. Would it be loved? Would it feel secure? Or...
Or would it always feel like an outsider? When parenthood became too much for Marianna would this child be shunted to one side and—?
No! He shot to his feet, shaking from the force of emotions he didn’t understand. He would not let that happen. He didn’t want to be a father, but he had a duty to this child. He would not abandon it to a life of careless neglect. He would not allow it to be overlooked, pushed to one side and ignored.
He swallowed, his heart pounding. He didn’t have a clue about how to be a father—he didn’t know the first thing about parenting, but... He knew what it was like to be a child and unwanted. He remembered his parents separating. He remembered them remarrying new partners, embracing their new families. He remembered there being no place for him in that new order. He hadn’t fitted in and they’d resented this flaw in their otherwise perfect new lives. His lips twisted. His distrust and suspicion, his wariness and hostility, had been a constant reminder of the mistake their first marriage had been. They’d moved on, and it had been easier to leave him behind. That was his experience of family.
He would not let it be his child’s.
He might not know what made a good father, but he knew what made a miserable childhood. No child of his was going to suffer that fate.
He slammed his hands to his hips. Right. He glanced at his watch and then rang his PA. ‘I’d like you to organise a car for me. I’m going to Monte Calanetti tomorrow. I’ll continue working remotely while I’m there so offer my clients new appointments via telephone conferencing or reschedule.’
‘Yes, sir, would you like me to organise that for this afternoon’s appointment as well?’
‘No. I’ll be meeting with Signor Conti as planned.’ This afternoon he worked. He wasn’t letting Marianna’s bombshell prevent him from sealing the biggest deal of his career. He’d worked too hard to let the Conti contract slip from his fingers now. Clinching this deal would launch him into the stratosphere.
Conti Industries, one of Italy’s leading car-parts manufacturers, were transitioning their company’s IT presence to cloud computing. It meant they’d be able to access all points in their production chain from a single system. Every car-part manufacturing company in the world was watching, assessing, waiting to see if Conti Industries could make the transition smoothly. Which meant every car-part manufacturing company in the world had their eyes on him. If he pulled this off, then he could handpick all future assignments, and name whatever price he wanted. His name would be synonymous with success.
Finally he’d prove that his grandmother’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.
In the meantime... He fired up his laptop and searched for the village of Monte Calanetti.
RYAN GLANCED DOWN at the address he’d scrawled on the back of a Grande Plaza envelope and then at the driveway in front of him, stretching through an avenue of grapevines to a series of buildings in the distance. A signpost proudly proclaimed Vigneto Calanetti—the Amatucci vineyard. This was the place.
With a tightening of his lips, he eased the car forward, glancing from left to right as he made his way down the avenue. Grapevines stretched in every direction, up and down hillsides in neat ordered rows. They glowed green and golden in the spring sunshine and Ryan lowered the windows of the car to breathe in the fragrant air. The warm scents and even warmer breeze tormented him with a holiday indolence he had no hope of assuming.
Pulling the car to a halt at the end of the driveway, he stared. This was Marianna’s home? Her heritage? All about him vines grew with ordered vigour. The outbuildings were all in good repair and the spick and span grounds gave off an air of quiet affluence. He turned his gaze to the villa with its welcoming charm and some of the tension drained from him.
Good. He pushed out of the car. He’d never doubted Marianna’s assertion that she could stand on her own two feet, but to have all of this behind her would make things that much easier for her.
And he wanted things to be as easy for her as they could be.
A nearby worker saluted him