The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty. Michelle Smart
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getting as much oxygen into her lungs as she could. ‘That’s one way to describe it.’
‘I have a solution that will suit us both.’
Her eyes narrowed.
‘It involves sacrifice on both our parts.’ He shot her a warning glance before displaying his white teeth. ‘But I can assure you that if I am the father of your child as you say, the sacrifice will be worth it.’
What the heck did Pepe Mastrangelo know about sacrifice? His whole life revolved around nothing but his pleasure.
She nodded tightly. ‘Go on.’
‘You will live with me until the child is born. Then we shall have a paternity test. If it proves positive, as you say it will, then I will buy you a home of your choice. And, of course, support you both financially.’
‘You want me to live with you until the baby’s born?’ she asked, certain she had misheard him.
‘Sì.’
‘Why?’ She couldn’t think of a single reason. ‘All I need from you at the moment is enough money to rent a decent flat in a nice area, and buy some essentials for the baby. Obviously you’ll have to pay child support when the baby’s born.’
‘Only if the baby proves to be mine. If it isn’t, I won’t have to pay you a single euro.’
Cara spoke through gritted teeth. ‘The baby is yours. But seeing as you’re proving to be such a disbeliever, I’m happy to sign a contract stating I have to repay any monies in the event the paternity test proves the Invisible Man is the father.’
He gave a quick shake of his head and turned his mouth down in a regretful fashion. ‘If only it were that simple. The problem, for me, is that there exists the possibility that the child you carry inside you is mine. I cannot take the risk of anything happening to it.’
‘I told you I delayed telling you about the baby so you couldn’t force me into an abortion. I’m four weeks too late for one in Sicily and it’s completely illegal in Ireland.’ She blinked rapidly, fighting with everything she had not to burst into angry tears. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She would not give him the power her mother had given her father.
She might have no choice but to throw her pride at his feet but she had to retain some kind of dignity.
‘I never said anything about an abortion,’ he pointed out. ‘What does concern me is your health. You’re clearly not taking care of yourself if your weight loss is anything to go by, and by your own admittance you don’t have enough money to support a child. Or so you say. For all I know, you could be on the make, using this pregnancy as a means to help yourself to my bank account.’
It was Cara’s turn to swear under her breath. ‘Do you have any idea how offensive you are?’
He shrugged, utterly nonchalant. He clearly couldn’t care less. ‘Finances aside, if that is my child growing inside you then I want to make damned sure you’re taking care of it properly.’
‘I am taking care of myself as best I can under the circumstances, but, I can promise you, our child’s welfare means more to me than anything.’ Her unborn child meant everything to her. Everything. Its well-being was the only reason she was here.
Did Pepe think she wanted to throw herself at his financial mercy?
He shook his head in a chiding fashion and stretched his arms out. ‘My conditions are non-negotiable. If you want me to support you during the rest of the pregnancy then I will. But I will not give you cash. All you have to do is move in with me, travel where I travel, and I will feed and clothe you, and buy anything else you may need. If paternity is established after the birth, then I will buy you a house in your name, anywhere you choose, and give you an allowance so large you will be set up for life.’
He made it sound so reasonable. He made it sound as if it were such a no-brainer she wouldn’t even need to think about it.
And there she’d been, worrying for months against telling him because she’d convinced herself he would demand an abortion.
‘You see, cucciola mia, I am not the baby-aborting monster you thought I would be,’ he said chidingly, reading her mind.
A sharp rap on the main door to the wing provided a moment’s relief for her poor, addled brain.
At Pepe’s invitation, a maid entered the room carrying a tray with a pot of coffee, a pot of tea covered by a tea cosy and two cups.
‘It’s decaf,’ he explained when it had been placed on the glass table and the maid left.
‘I told you I didn’t want anything.’
‘You need to keep your fluid levels up.’
‘Oh, so you’re a doctor now? Or have you an army of illegitimates scattered around the world that’s made you a pregnancy expert?’
He quelled her with a glance.
She refused to bow to its latent warning. ‘Sorry. Am I supposed to believe this is the first time you’ve had a paternity suit thrown at you?’
His eyes were unreadable. ‘I always use protection.’
‘And you’re expecting me to take you at your word for that?’
His features darkened before his lips gave a slight twitch and he bowed his head. ‘A fair comeback.’
He really was ridiculously handsome.
She castigated herself. As far as she was concerned, Pepe’s looks and masculinity were void. She would not let her hormones create any more havoc.
It was unfair that she was the one standing yet it still felt as if he, all chilled and relaxed on the sofa, had all the advantage.
A whorl of black hair poked through the top of his shirt. She remembered how that same hair covered his chest, thickening across his tightly defined pecs and down the middle towards his navel, and further down... She’d always assumed chest hair would be bristly, had been thrilled to find it as soft as silk. It was the only thing soft about him; everything else was hard...
She swallowed and pressed the tops of her thighs together to try to quash the heat bubbling within her.
Her throat had gone dry.
Damn him, she needed a drink.
Lips clamped together, she moved away from the wall and poured herself a cup of the steaming tea before carrying it to the sofa opposite him. She only intended to perch there but it was so soft and squidgy it almost swallowed her whole. She sank straight into it, her legs shooting out, the motion causing her to spill the tea all over her lap.
Cara cried out, kicking her legs as if the movement would stop the hot fluid seeping through her dress.
Immediately Pepe jumped to his feet and hurried over, snatching the cup from her hand. ‘Are you okay?’
In too much pain to do anything more than whimper, Cara grabbed the hem of her dress and bunched it up to her thighs, flapping it to cool her heated skin. Making sure to keep the dress up and away from the scald, she yanked the tops of her black hold-ups down.
‘Are you okay?’ he repeated. For some silly reason, the genuine concern she heard in his voice bothered her far more than the scald.
The milky white of her left thigh had turned a deep pink, as had a couple of patches on her right thigh. She took a deep breath. ‘It hurts.’
‘I’ll bet. Can you walk?’
‘Why?’
‘Because we should run cold water over it.’
Her thighs—especially her left one—were stinging something rotten, so much so she didn’t even think of arguing with him.
‘Come, we’ll run the shower on it.’
Wincing,