She saw Vito shoot the pony-tailed designer a look of dislike.
‘I’m fine, Joe. Thanks for asking.’ But she didn’t introduce the two men, just opened the door a little wider and sent a pointed look at her ex-boss. ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’
‘At last!’ he snarled sarcastically.
Steeling himself against what he might find, Vito followed Flora into her ground-floor apartment, his heart sinking as he looked around. It was worse than he’d imagined. But then, he’d never been anywhere like this before. A tiny sitting room crammed with mismatched furniture which overlooked a busy street. A small table was pushed against a wall, a cheap television sat on a shelf and next to it, a bookcase sagged from the weight of all the books. And it was cold. Bitterly cold.
Turning to Flora, he looked at her properly for the first time, his gaze scanning over her, unable to prevent the arrow of shock which shot through him. Her face was as white as marble and there were shadows beneath her green-gold eyes. Her cheekbones were hollow and pinched and she looked as if she might have lost weight, though it was difficult to tell beneath that jumper. He felt the twist of something inexplicable in his heart but hot on the heels of guilt, came rage.
What was she trying to hide?
You know damned well what she’s trying to hide.
Part of him wanted to test her by prevaricating. To see how long it would take for her to admit the truth. But what was the point of trying to see if she would attempt to pull the wool over his eyes and fool him, just so he could gain some kind of moral advantage? This was way too serious. ‘Do you have something you want to tell me?’ he questioned coolly.
He saw her swallow, saw the sudden spring of tears to her eyes and he had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms. To comfort her, or to kiss her, he wasn’t quite sure. But kissing her would be sending out mixed messages and comforting her would confuse the hell out ofhim. Don’t fail her by letting her think you’re the kind of man you can never be, he told himself fiercely. Don’t start acting in a way you’ll be unable to sustain.
‘So,’ he said, while still she continued to look at him, her extraordinary eyes hooded and wary, her lips trembling as she drove her teeth into them. As if she were reluctant to say the words which would change everything.
‘I’m having a baby,’ she said at last.
CHAPTER EIGHT
VITO STARED INTOFlora’s eyes and even though deep down he had been expecting those words, her confirmation of her condition pained him all the same. ‘You think I don’t know that?’ he snapped.
Her eyes grew startled. ‘How?’ she whispered. ‘How can you possibly know I’m pregnant?’
‘I rang Dante.’
‘But… I don’t understand. Dante is my new boss, what does he have to do with anything?’
The emotion of this meeting had definitely impacted on her, because she was blinking at him, her feathery lashes suddenly sparkling with tears, and with a pang Vito remembered the last time he’d seen her cry. When he’d brought her pleasure so sweet that she had wept—and yet how far away such pleasure seemed right now.
‘How can he know?’ she whispered, her lashes batting up and down as she attempted to clear her vision. ‘Nobody does.’
‘Wipe your eyes,’ he commanded roughly, pulling a pristine handkerchief from his jacket and pressing it into her hand, flinching from the touch of her soft flesh as he recalled the recent nightmare escalation of events.
He had convinced himself it was nothing but mild curiosity which had compelled him to ring Verdenergia’s new CEO to enquire how Flora was getting along, though deep down he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He’d been dreaming about her every night, waking up rock-hard and frustrated and covered in sweat. Yet it wasn’t just sexual recall which had filled him with restlessness, but some insane yearning for the easy familiarity he had enjoyed with her, much to his surprise and irritation. He’d told himself that his mild obsession was merely a result of not having had time to grow tired of her. Latterly, he had convinced himself that news of her mundane comings and goings in the office would be enough to kill his desire for her, which surely would have been the most appropriate outcome all round.
And then there had been the shock of Dante’s words and his own horrified comprehension as their significance had sunk in.
He ran his thumb along the edge of his jaw, recognising with alarm that he had forgotten to shave. Such lack of attention to his usually immaculate appearance was unheard of, for Vito was fastidious about maintaining a cool carapace to present to the world. Had that been the reason his pilot had regarded him so oddly this morning, or had it been his sudden demand to fly to England as quickly as possible?
Throughout the flight he had been unable to process his thoughts and it wasn’t until his jet touched down that he became filled with one certainty—that he must be true to himself. For a man incapable of giving or receiving love, what choice did he have than to spare the feelings of others? Why inflict his emotional indifference on a wife or a child? Which was why he wasn’t going to offer Flora Greening anything he couldn’t deliver and in the long run, he would be doing her a favour. He had come here today to coolly inform her that he would have his lawyers draw up a watertight agreement, offering financial support for her and the child, but nothing else.
Nothing.
He stared into her green-gold eyes and suddenly he had to work very hard to remain cold and indifferent. ‘Dante wondered why you kept rushing from the office to be sick,’ he bit out. ‘He said you reminded him of one of his sisters when she was pregnant. And that he had no idea you were married—’
‘Married?’ she cut in. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘For someone who is the same age as me, he has some very old-fashioned ideas.’ His gaze scanned her belly again, as if by looking hard enough he would be able to see through the thick wool of her sweater. ‘How far gone are you, Flora?’
His words seemed to trigger something, because suddenly the linger of tears had been replaced by sparks of angry gold flashing from her green eyes. ‘Let’s skip the injured innocent act shall we, Vito? You know exactly how far gone I am! We had sex two days before Christmas which makes me three months pregnant. My baby is due in the middle of September.’
‘Yourbaby?’
She stared at him in sudden confusion. ‘I thought you’d be pleased at the let-out clause. You made your feelings on fatherhood clear,’ she said, but he heard the faint tremble in her voice. ‘You never want to get married, remember? You never want a family of your own.’
