He grimaced. ‘Not even if I was dying,’ he said dryly.
Peyton laughed. She actually laughed at the disdain on his face. ‘Snob.’ And then she tore some off her second croissant and devoured it. ‘God, this is good.’
She sighed deeply as she licked her fingers, Valentino’s gaze turning liquid hot as he stared at her mouth and the wet glide of her fingers. The heat poured over Peyton like a physical caress, which only seemed to make her hungrier.
‘Your appetite has returned, I see.’
‘I’msohungry,’ she admitted, around another mouthful.
‘Pleased I could be of service. I’ll bring more.’
Peyton should tell him not to, but she was too engrossed with the third croissant to really concentrate on what he was saying. Grabbing it off the plate, she brought it to her lips beforeabruptly realising it wasn’t hers to devour. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. This is yours.’ She placed it back on the plate.
He chuckled. ‘Take it.’
‘No, no.’ Peyton shook her head even as the flaky pastry called to her like a mermaid luring sailors onto the rocks.
Picking it up, he offered it with a smile. ‘I wouldn’t dream of depriving you,bella.’
Peyton was salivating so hard she gave him a pass on thebella. ‘I’m being super greedy, aren’t I?’
Valentino shook his head. ‘I could watch you eat all day,’ he murmured, and passed the croissant slowly beneath her nose. ‘Besides, you’re eating for two now, remember?’
Peyton made a grab for the pastry on his second pass. Not even the reminder of her predicament,theirpredicament, overrode her stomach’s demands.
Maybe the decision she’d made in the night made everything a little easier.
She sank her teeth into it, the flakes of soft, velvety pastry melting as they hit her tongue. She sighed again and shut her eyes. ‘Mmmm.’
When Peyton opened them again, it was to Valentino offering her some paper towel and saying, ‘We need to talk.’
Valentino almost groaned as her pink tongue ran thoroughly back and forth over her lips, swiping at the pastry flakes clinging to their wet contours before dabbing at her mouth with the towel like a proper society matron. Like she hadn’t just done a good impression of sexy cookie monster or licked her lips like a porn star.
How was he supposed to have a serious conversation when all he wanted to do was feed her the rest of the croissant with his teeth?
‘So,’ he said, trying to rest his thoughts and get the ruckus in his underpants back under control. ‘The baby. You said you needed time to think. I don’t know about you but I’ve thought of little else since yesterday afternoon.’
Nodding reluctantly, she murmured, ‘Same.’ Her gaze dropped to the paper towel she was fiddling with and Valentino got a very bad feeling. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually, her voice low as she lifted her gaze, finding his and locking. ‘I just don’t think I can have this baby.’
A white-hot spike stabbed into his temple, and Valentino opened his mouth to protest but she cut it off with a placating gesture of her hand. ‘Please, just hear me out, okay?’ She slipped off the stool. ‘I want to show you something.’
Valentino followed Peyton into the living room, his anger simmering. If she thought he would sit by and let her decide the outcome for their baby then she was sorely mistaken. He would not let another woman take another child away.
‘Sit,’ she ordered.
He sat and watched her, his thoughts swirling and brooding inside like a gathering storm. She opened a cupboard beneath some bookshelves and pulled out what appeared to be a photo album. Standing there for a moment, she ran her forefinger over the front cover before returning to sit by his side.
Her hands trembled as she passed him the album, her fingers lingering as if clearly reluctant to surrender the object. Her eyes found his once again. ‘I’ve never shown this to anyone before.’
Valentino nodded. He could see her qualms swirling like fog in her big grey eyes, and he felt her resistance when he tried to take the album. Her struggle was painful to watch and he could see it took a lot for her to finally let it go.
‘I’m honoured,’ he murmured.
His gaze fell on the window cut out of the cover. It was a close-up of a tiny baby with blue eyes and crisscrossed with tubes and wires. The only way to even tell the gender was from the tiny pink knitted cap. The little girl was clasping an adult finger in the foreground that dwarfed her hand.
‘This is Daisy?’
Peyton nodded. ‘Yes.’
