Long ago, he and Massimo had learned the lesson that though people told themselves they made important decisions with logic, it so often wasn’t true. They made decisions with their hearts. This was why he had earned the rightful place as the silver-tongued charmer. Because for all the pain his parents’ emotional manipulations and nastiness had caused him, they had given him skills that he had sharpened into a tool that was just as useful as Massimo’s strategic planning. Alessandro could sway people’s emotions. He would lead Ann-Sophie to the inescapable conclusion that marriage was the solution that her heart wanted, and he would enjoy the pleasures that this would entail.
But as he came to a stop in front of her doorway, Alessandro felt a twist in his gut. Was it guilt? It couldn’t be, not for showering his future wife with attention. This was nothing like the games his parents played with each other. Any misconceptions she might develop were issues for after marriage, and he was not going to consider them before their wedding. So he pushed away the discomfort, telling himself he would only listen to that feeling the moment he walked out of the church with rings on their fingers.
Then he turned the knob to the door of her room and walked in.
Ann-Sophie sat in an antique armchair next to the open French doors, and the warm, sweet breeze blew through her sun-drenched hair, making it shimmer in the light. She looked out the window as she sipped from an espresso cup, suggesting she hadn’t heard him open the door. He took a moment to study her. She wore the pajamas he had asked Olivia to find in town and lay out for her, and the silky material spilled over her lush, round body, giving him tempting hints of her new curves. On the table next to her was a tray of breakfast choices. In addition to the fresh pastries and fruit, he spotted thefilmjölkand granola she had kept in her kitchen, which he had sent his assistant to gather before they left Stockholm. Despite the late morning hour, she appeared to have awoken not so long before, as her cheeks were still flushed from sleep. Seeing her like this, enjoying a slow, indulgent morning, sent a surge of satisfaction through him.
He wanted to just watch her for a bit, search this peaceful scene for more clues about the woman he found so fascinating. He could admit this fascination to himself because it would act as fuel for the next two weeks of negotiations. But after another moment, he was not satisfied with just looking. He started across the room, and after a few steps, she turned, startled. She must have been expecting Olivia because her expression changed. Her eyes widened with surprise, then flashed with what he could have sworn was happiness before she schooled her features into something more guarded.
“I apologize for my absence,” he said, his voice low and graveled. “It was unavoidable, but I returned as quickly as I could.”
She wanted to believe that his absence was “unavoidable.” She wanted to believe him because everything would be so much easier if he had left because of some sort of emergency, some event that would likely never happen again. Because then she could relax into this life that he was spreading in front of her. She could let herself imagine everything that she wanted it to be.
Right now, Alessandro was looking at her the way he had in Nice, his eyes no longer guarded, the distance she had felt suddenly gone. He was looking at her again like there was no place on earth that he would rather be than right there with her. Ann-Sophie’s heart soared in her chest, and, oh, how she wanted all of this to be real. How she wanted to forget the way he had turned on her so quickly after the startling kiss in the library. Maybe she could have even put that aside if he hadn’t done the same thing back in Nice, so easily shutting her out of his life.
Now, he reappeared, as if he could slip in and out of her life when the whim struck him?
“How kind of you to return so quickly,” she said, letting a sharp bite leak into her voice. Ann-Sophie turned back to her coffee and took a sip, welcoming the familiar, bitter taste.
Alessandro moved closer, and when she didn’t look up, he kneeled in front of her. He was so inescapablythere. She had nowhere else to look except the hard line of his jaw and the shadows under his eyes. Ann-Sophie fought against the memory of the last time he was this close, in the library, when he kissed her with a magic that made her forget everything else.
“It was unavoidable,” he repeated, and the word grated on her nerves. Then he flashed her an indulgent smile. Did he think he could use her attraction to wave away her disappearance? The nerve of this man…
“You left yesterday without warning,” she snapped. “You said nothing about leaving to me.”
Alessandro managed to look a little contrite. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
He raised his eyebrows, as if he was waiting patiently for her to calm down. As if he wasindulgingher. Which only provoked her further.
“My father left, and he didn’t come back.” The words exploded out of her. “I will not be blindsided by you.”
Alessandro blinked, clearly unprepared for this burst of emotion. The last of his smile slid off his face. The room was silent, as if everything that surrounded her—the elegant furniture, the books, the extravagant paintings—was just as stunned that she had spoken these words as Ann-Sophie was.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t know that.”
“Disappearing is not okay for anyone,” she said, biting out the words. “I shouldn’t have to drag out my own baggage to make this point.”
“You’re right.” His voice was soft, conciliatory.
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. If he touched her right now, the frustration bubbling inside might turn into something rawer. But now that she had revealed this piece of her past, she found that she wasn’t ready to stop.
“I’ve never met my father,” she said, and her voice trembled a little. “He and my mother were assigned to the same team in Sri Lanka—he, a photographer and she, a journalist—and from then on, they often traveled together. They both loved the nomadic life of being on an international correspondence team and were passionate about making the world a better place through their work. They partnered so closely, so it was no surprise that their professional relationship drifted into something more.”
Ann-Sophie had known this story since she was a teenager, and yet she had never spoken aloud. Now, a strange feeling swept through her, as if she was a child again, her mother’s warnings of why she should never contact her father ringing in her head. She clung to every thread of anger because she would absolutely never cry over a man who couldn’t bother with her.
“My mother told him that she was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby. She had always wanted a child and this was their opportunity. She told my father she loved him and that they could have a family together, working and traveling.” Ann-Sophie fought to keep the armor of her anger up as she approached this next part. “He told her that he loved her, too, but he had no interest in a baby. He wanted nothing to do with the work of bringing up a child, nor did he want to drag a child along on assignments or take turns staying back. Basically, he gave her an ultimatum—him or the baby. And she chose me.”
Her voice wavered a little at these last words. Her mother had been forced to start over, to find a new team to work with rather than face this painful choice every day. She gave up a man she was in love with because Ann-Sophie came along. This was the sacrifice that Ann-Sophie could never forget.
She already felt so vulnerable with Alessandro, who could so easily brush off sudden disappearances. If he was incapable of understanding her position, then no amount of negotiations would make a marriage viable. Now, with that baby coming so soon between them and the trigger of his leaving such a direct hit, that raw feeling scraped inside her.
“We both have been thrown into this situation, but abandonment is not acceptable for me or for my child. My mother made that decision for me, that an uninterested father was worse for a child than no father at all. She did not want me to have to face that pain as a child, and I am grateful for it. The way you just…” She struggled for the words for what had triggered this earthquake inside her, one she was still feeling the aftershocks of. “The way you shut out whatever this is between us—that can’t happen. You can decide on your relationship with the baby, and I can’t control that decision. But if you want marriage, you should know that this is a nonstarter for me.”
“Ourbaby.” He was looking at her with a seriousness that she hadn’t seen before. He didn’t speak again for a long time, and when he did, his voice was low and grave. “First, I will never abandon a child of mine. Ever. On this, I swear on everything that I love.”
And she heard a deep resonance of truth in his voice, something that broke through her anger.
“Your parents weren’t there for you,” she whispered, almost to herself.
