The Secret The Italian Claims. Jennie Lucas
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for his bodyguard. He had a similar penthouse in his flagship hotel in Rome and smaller private suites in his hotels in Tokyo, Sydney, Rio, London and Berlin. He could have rented out the space to paying guests when he was away for an exorbitant amount, but he kept them to himself. Life was about little indulgences, or what was the point of being rich? A man, particularly a wealthy playboy, needed privacy.
Hallie followed him anxiously into the penthouse, as if she feared he might drop the baby. It was insulting. Especially as Jack gave a soft whimper in Cristiano’s arms.
“Give him to me—now!” Hallie said.
Keeping his expression inscrutable and moving with deliberate slowness to show her that he was doing it as his own decision, not hers, he carefully handed her their son. Leaving the stroller in the foyer, she clung to the newborn as if they’d been separated for days.
“You bastard,” she choked out. “Dragging us up here. It’s practically kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping?” He looked down at her coldly. “How about trying to steal my son from me for the rest of my life?”
Some of the anger in her gaze faded. “If you cared so much, you should have taken my calls when I was pregnant!”
He hated that she was right. With a low, bitter laugh, he turned away. “You remember your way around, I presume?”
She followed him into the enormous room with its starkly modern furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a magnificent view of the city’s sparkling lights. To the left, an open-concept kitchen had all the latest appliances, none of which he’d ever used. There was a reason he chose to live in his own hotels.
He looked back at her. Hallie’s cheeks were pink. He wondered if she was remembering when she’d cleaned here, as the maid. Or if she was remembering, instead, the night she’d helped him mess everything up again, tangling the bedsheets in a night of passion so hot it had burned past all barriers to create a child. A night he could never forget.
“Have a seat,” he said coolly even as he fought the flash of heat at the memory. He indicated the white sofa that overlooked the spectacular view.
She tossed her head. “No, thanks. I don’t intend to be here long enough to—”
“Sit down,” he said more forcefully, and glaring at him, she obeyed, cradling the fussing baby in her arms.
Cristiano sat down in the white chair beside the sofa. He didn’t need to see the city view; he knew it so well by now it bored him. He looked only at her.
“If Jack is truly my son, he belongs with me.”
She set her jaw. “You’re only saying that because I insulted your pride. You don’t really care about him.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you know that, do you? Because I’m an indecent excuse for a man? Because I couldn’t love someone if I tried?”
She had the decency to blush. “I’m sorry if that was rude. But it’s true.”
He restrained himself from tossing a few insults back in her face, insults she richly deserved. “You don’t trust me? Fine. I don’t trust you, either.” He looked down at the baby in her arms. “So from now on, my son is staying here.”
“No.”
“I will not allow him to disappear from my life just on your word that you’ll take good care of him.”
“And I won’t let you turn our lives upside down, just because I injured your masculine pride!”
That was all she thought it was? Controlling his temper, he took a deep breath.
“I know from experience what it is like to grow up with no father and no name,” he said slowly. “To live in poverty, with a mother too distracted by her own concerns to worry about mine. She moved us to a new town every time she took a new lover. Men who inevitably despised me as a burden, who thought I deserved to be screamed at, punched, starved.”
The color drained from Hallie’s face.
“What?” she whispered. “She didn’t protect you?”
Cristiano shook his head. “She couldn’t even protect herself. When I was eighteen, her last lover beat her almost to death. When I tried to intervene, she kicked me out.” He gave a hard smile. “I learned my lesson. You can only look out for yourself.”
Her soft eyes looked horrified, as if she’d never imagined any family could go so wrong. “I’m so sorry.”
Cristiano hated the pity in her eyes. He regretted saying so much. He’d never spoken about his past to anyone. “I just wanted you to understand.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I can’t let you leave with him, then spend my life wondering if you’re taking good care of my son, if you’ve taken lovers into your house who might hate him for crying, who might pick him up out of the crib and shake him hard until the crying stops—”
“I would never let that happen!”
“I know,” he said grimly. “Because he’s staying with me.”
“But—”
“Did you give him my last name?” he interrupted.
“His last name is Hatfield, like mine.”
“Something else that our marriage will rectify,” he said.
Hallie looked down at her baby softly whimpering in her arms. Her voice was small as she said with visible reluctance, “I might be willing to talk about...about shared custody.”
Why was she continuing to argue? Repressing his rising anger, he shook his head. “Marriage.”
“But why?”
“I’ve given you the reasons.” Suddenly he was finished trying to reason with her, trying to explain. He’d been far more patient and open with her than she deserved. For all the good it had done. He narrowed his eyes. “The discussion is over. We will wed. The decision is made.”
“Made by you. But you’re not my boss. Not anymore.”
Cristiano tilted his head. He said in a deceptively casual voice, “You can refuse my proposal, of course.”
“Then I refuse.”
“Then our son stays with me.”
Wide-eyed, she breathed, “Just because you’re his biological father you think you have the right to take him from me? I’m his mother!”
“And I have an entire team of lawyers at my disposal. What do you have? Nothing. You’ve already indicated you’re a liar and a flight risk. I’d request an immediate injunction from a judge to prevent you from ever leaving New York.”
“Liar? When did I ever lie?”
“Just now. When you took a hundred thousand dollars from me under false pretenses, then tried to run away with my son without telling me he existed.”
Hallie’s face was deathly pale. The baby’s whimpers rose to soft wails.
“I am a liar,” she said suddenly. “You’re not Jack’s father, Cristiano. You never were. It was all a...a plot. To get money from you.”
“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”
“I slept with five men right after you!” Her voice rose desperately. “Any of them could be his father. Here—take your money back!”
Pulling the folded check from the pocket of her sundress, she held it out to him.
Cristiano’s lips curved.
“Why, Hallie,” he said, without moving to take it, “are you trying to bribe me to give up my parental rights?”
Stuffing the check back in her pocket, she rose trembling to her feet. “I wish I’d