Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
E DOARDO GROWLED, FRUSTRATED by her repeated rejections of his proposal. Not that he could blame her. He’d made a total mess of it—the words had slid out before he’d had a chance to prepare her properly. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking—it had been flippant as hell, but she’d just looked so damned luscious, and it had been his sex-drive talking. But, as they’d both agreed, that fire would fade.
Mentioning his wealth to convince her had been a worse move, but he’d thought he might get her to understand by telling her a fraction about Dante. Apparently not. So much for being a master of negotiation—of strategizing difficult deals and getting the win. He’d never failed more spectacularly than he had with Phoebe just now. He just couldn’t think clearly. He didn’t want to talk about family or friends or anything personal . All he wanted was to haul her close and kiss her until she said nothing but yes —repeatedly.
‘We should get a paternity test.’ She added insult to injury. ‘You’ll want to be absolutely certain the baby is yours before you commit yourself to something you really don’t want. Let’s not discuss the future until you’re sure.’
‘I’m already sure and so are you,’ he growled. Delaying this was pointless when they both knew the truth already. ‘Stop trying to slow things down, that’s not how things work with us.’
He was driven by an imperative, primal need to keep her close. For now he needed to know she was safe and that meant not letting her out of his sight. His world had tunnelled down to only that one thing. He would do almost anything to ensure her safety. And, yes, he’d swerved dangerously close to keeping her passport. But that would be abduction and he knew how destructive that was.
Which was why he needed to start over— ask her to stay. It was shocking to feel such an inhuman impulse to keep her with him whether she wanted it or not. But he wasn’t willing to compromise on them getting married. The more she resisted, the more he was convinced. Aside from social rights and legal privileges, marriage would project a unified exterior. He didn’t want her vulnerable and she was extremely so. Clearly she had no family to turn to. No money either—she needed her job for a reason. She was almost flat broke with mortgage payments eating most of her monthly pay. Having a few friends was not good enough. Her vulnerability would only increase once people knew about her association with him.
He would arrange it so if anything happened to him they would be cared for. Once married, there would be no question about her priority. Eventually he’d install them in a fortified home in London where there’d be the best security systems, bodyguards, secure schooling— not her flat. He just needed time to arrange all that. And he couldn’t arrange anything when he felt overwhelmed by this unrelenting need to know she was safe now .
‘It doesn’t need to be that big of a deal for us personally ,’ he pushed, increasingly desperate to recover his form. ‘But marriage will show the world that you have my protection.’
‘I don’t need your protection.’
He gritted his teeth. She still didn’t understand. He could respect that she wanted to keep her independence. Hell, he would support her to keep working if that was what she wished to do. He wasn’t a complete Neanderthal. But he needed her to understand just how serious the risk to her was. Instead she was looking at him like he’d gone off the deep end. He rolled his shoulder, unable to ease the tension. He didn’t talk about what had happened but maybe he should show her— shock her. He pulled out his phone and went into a file he never looked at.
‘This is Dante on his thirteenth birthday,’ he clipped unemotionally and flashed it at her.
Her face whitened. He steeled himself and swiped so another photo filled the screen and turned it back to her.
‘This is him when he was finally found.’
He didn’t need to see the photo. The image was branded in his mind. His already lanky brother had lost several kilos, leaving him almost skeletal by the time he’d been recovered. Starved and hurt, he’d still been wearing Edo’s jacket and that devastated Edo every time he thought about it.
‘Why did they take him?’ Phoebe whispered, stricken. ‘For a ransom?’
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because it hadn’t been Dante they’d wanted at all. It had been Edo. And it had been his fault they’d made the mistake. His fault his younger brother had suffered so much.
‘Is he okay now?’
Edo went hot and cold, unable to answer her. He never should have mentioned it. But then he steeled himself all over again because he needed to get her to agree to his protection. By whatever means necessary.
‘Won’t it be awkward to be back at work in London with everyone knowing you’re expecting my child?’ he muttered.
‘They don’t need to know.’
‘I’ll tell them,’ he said unemotionally. ‘I’ll tell everyone. How safe will you feel, knowing this is what happens to vulnerable members of my family?’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You wouldn’t—’
‘Can you imagine your vulnerability? Maybe now you can understand just a fraction of the fear I feel for you in this instant.’
Her breathing quickened. ‘Edo, this is emotional blackmail.’
‘Yes, and I’m not about to apologise. You’ll stay here where you are safe, where you can be cared for. You have the child. Once we’ve arranged proper security, you’ll both return to London.’
‘But all of that can be done without any need for us to marry —’
‘There will be no other child for me,’ he exploded. ‘No other heir. You carry the entire burden—’
‘What happened to your brother was terrible, but who’s to say it will ever happen again?’
‘Who’s to say it won’t?’ he shot back. ‘We have to take precautions.’
He didn’t like thinking of the baby. He felt guilty that he couldn’t be the kind of father any child deserved. He couldn’t be supportive. Strong. He wasn’t those things. He’d failed his brother. He’d been irresponsible and distracted and he had no right pretending that he could be anything otherwise. So he wouldn’t. Yet he didn’t want the child to feel he was entirely indifferent.
‘Wouldn’t it be nice for the child to believe it was created in a caring relationship?’ He hopelessly grasped at straws. ‘That it was wanted?’
‘It is wanted.’ Raw emotion—hurt—flickered on her face before she glanced away from him. ‘Regardless of our relationship at the time of conception.’
She wanted this baby. But he didn’t— couldn’t —want it in the same way, because he could never care for it in the way he realised she already did. But he didn’t want either of them to suffer. Frightening Phoebe wasn’t ideal. Kidnapping her completely not okay. Maybe appealing to her tender-heartedness towards the infant was the key.
‘Do you want it to think it’s the accidental product of a random sexual encounter or would it be better to believe it was born out of a grand passion between its parents?’ he asked.
For the first time she had no immediate comeback. He froze as he realised this mattered to her. This different sense of security.
She looked down at her hands and her hair fell forward, covering her face from him. ‘You would lie to our child?’
‘Is it so much of a lie?’ He brushed back her hair, quelling his rising adrenaline. He’d finally found the right pressure point to exploit. ‘Wasn’t it a desire that couldn’t be denied?’
He still wanted her, and if this morning had been anything to go by, she definitely still wanted him. ‘Wouldn’t it be better for the child to believe its parents couldn’t resist each other?’
Phoebe couldn’t look at him. What he’d just said made her crumble inside. To be wanted like that, madly—deeply—was such a tempting fantasy. It was the one thing she’d ached for all her life because neither of her parents had wanted her. She’d been an inconvenience, not a joy. She’d had to fit around them—not hold them back. All she’d wanted was to be the centre of their world—even just sometimes . She didn’t want her child to dream of that in the way that she had. It had left her with a constant weakness and because of it she’d made bad choices.
For all his doomsday predictions and fear mongering and showing her his poor brother’s picture, safety was something that could be arranged for them outside of marriage. But she did want this child to know it was wanted. She wanted that more than anything.
His attitude towards the baby confused her. He wanted the wedding, wanted to keep it ‘safe’, while at the same time he wanted to remain personally distanced from the child. Why? Didn’t he want to take on that responsibility? Was it that he didn’t believe he could ?
When she’d been a child, her parents hadn’t just insisted upon her being self-reliant, their absence had dictated it. She’d tried to be strong like them—to push through pain and carry on. And when she’d fallen and hurt herself, they’d not kissed it better. They’d not even been around. She’d learned to carry her own plasters.
The afternoon they’d collided, Edo had taken care of her. He’d been commanding and compassionate and yes, funny. Maybe it was only because he’d wanted to get into her pants that afternoon, but it showed her that he was capable of care. In his way he cared now—constantly feeding her, providing safe shelter—he nailed the basic necessities of life. She had no doubt that he could be a good father, the problem seemed to be that he didn’t want to be.
‘I want the baby to feel wanted,’ she breathed. ‘To believe in that fairy-tale.’
She wanted it to feel secure in that . Her parents were passionate—focused, driven extremists. They had their dreams and didn’t let anyone get in the way of them. Not even their child. Phoebe could understand it, but she didn’t want to be the same. Because she’d fallen into that extremism in her relationship with Ryan—submerged herself in a dream that wasn’t real. She couldn’t let that happen again. And she knew she couldn’t go to her parents for help with having this baby. They wouldn’t deviate from their path for their grandchild either. She would break that cycle . She would put her child first—ahead of her own discomfort. And she would take the time—the resources—that Edo was offering her to make a better plan for both her and the baby’s future.
And the child deserved its birthright as his heir—to have a connection with him. She did want it to think it had been conceived, if not in love, at least in passion. Its father wanted to do his best for it, even if his best wasn’t all she would desire from him, this wasn’t about her. Their marriage would only be for long enough to cement that security and that story.
‘Then let me arrange the fairy-tale,’ he said gently. ‘You can always back out at the last minute.’
‘What, jilt you at the altar?’ She glanced at him.
It was a mistake. His looks alone were stunningly seductive. How could he look intensely determined but tender at the same time? She didn’t want to sacrifice anything in her life to follow a husband who cared little for her, but this wasn’t that. There was no lie here, he wasn’t promising her the moon.
‘It’s not for ever, Phoebe, but it will create a solid foundation and give you both security on several levels. And me too.’
Maybe she shouldn’t make such a mountain out of the marriage molehill—it was another form of extremism, right? Maybe she could compromise. She just needed to be careful—not confuse lust for anything else. Not fall for him. But to make a sacrifice for her child? Then yes, she would consider that.
‘Okay, then. We marry. Briefly .’
He released a long breath. ‘Can I arrange ante-natal care for you while I’m at it?’
She should have known he wouldn’t stop there. ‘I’m the picture of health and you know it.’
‘Even so. You’re months along Phoebe, you need to be checked out. There are things you might need.’
‘You really worry that bad things might happen.’
‘Bad things do happen,’ he said calmly. ‘So we take precautions and alleviate as much risk as possible.’
‘Hence why you work in the insurance industry.’
He was all about preparedness…preparing for worst-case scenarios. He ensured he had the ability to cover all kinds of costs—even to pay a ransom.
‘You trying to figure me out, Phoebe?’
‘Maybe some things are falling into place.’
He shrugged. ‘You should have a check-up. Don’t you want the best for the baby?’
‘Don’t use that to get your way in everything.’
‘Don’t you want what’s best for you ? Your health matters,’ he growled. ‘At least let me do what I can. ’
There it was again, that implication that there were things he couldn’t do. But this was a shock to him too, right? Maybe, given time, he might want to do more than he currently thought he did. And he was right, her health did matter—even more so now. ‘Fine.’
He picked up his phone and tapped a brief message. Next second the car pulled into a side street, turned around and went back in their previous direction. Phoebe frowned and glanced out the window. Now she thought about it, it had been taking them for ever to leave Milan. It looked like they were still in the central city. Shouldn’t they be on some motorway by now?
‘You said we’re going to the estate, right?’ she asked.
‘We’re seeing a doctor first.’ He kept his focus on his phone. ‘Heading there now.’
She stared at him, anger blooming. ‘Have we been going in big circles this whole time?’
When had he made a doctor’s appointment—was it before he’d asked her? Before she’d said yes? And was this doctor happy for them to show up whenever Edo felt like it? She didn’t bother asking any of the questions. She already knew he’d done exactly that. All of it. And judging by the clenched tilt of his jaw, he wasn’t sorry.
Less than ten minutes later the car parked outside a sleek clinic. She unfastened her belt but before she could reach for the door handle Edo gripped her wrist.
‘You wait for them to check the area first.’
She stared at him, then at the bodyguard who’d exited the front passenger seat and was scanning the pavement. ‘There’s no one—’
‘You need to get used to them doing their job,’ Edo added firmly. ‘It will become normal.’
To have people monitoring her every move? To never have to open a car door for herself ever again? Phoebe’s tension grew as his bodyguards walked them to the door, went in first and then dropped back to wait and watch at the exit. It was only a moment before a nurse signalled for Phoebe and Edo to follow her. Which meant the doctor had indeed been happy to be flexible on time. Phoebe stepped into the large consulting room, blinking at the older woman who stepped forward to greet them—she was the ultimate in academic refinement with her tailored suit, perfectly styled hair and air of brilliance and assurance. She and Edo spoke in such fast Italian Phoebe had no hope of following along. She glanced at the framed certificates adorning the wall—the science degree, medical degree, surgical specialties, awards. Everything about this place—especially the doctor—was impressive and yes, reassuring. She did want to know everything was okay. Did want to know if there were things she ought to be doing.
‘Dr Di Lello would like to take your medical history.’ Edo interrupted her reverie. ‘I’ll give you privacy.’
He wasn’t staying in here to listen? She’d expected he’d want to be here for everything, what with being a control freak and all.
A cynical smile curved his mouth, as if he’d read her mind. ‘You can’t get out of here without my knowing, but I appreciate you’ll feel more comfortable without me breathing down your neck. Your health is the most important thing right now. I’ll have my cheek swab for the paternity test while you talk. Be honest with her and find out what you need to know.’
With perfect English, Dr Di Lello questioned Phoebe at length while she got her nurse to do a blood draw. She was calm and supportive. Phoebe relaxed, asked all her questions, gratefully took the pregnancy guide the doctor gave her, together with a prescription for pre-natal vitamins.
‘We will do a scan now,’ the doctor said with a smile.
A what now? Phoebe stared hard at the doctor. ‘You mean, see the baby?’
Her heart pounded. Suddenly this was very real. But what about Edo—she glanced at the door—would he want to see the baby too?
‘Shall I see if he wants to step in?’ the doctor asked.
‘Yes. Okay. Thank you,’ she babbled breathily, a chill sweeping across her skin. This was so awkward. Her stress grew as she waited for ages before Dr Di Lello returned—alone, her expression neutral.
‘He’s on a call.’ The doctor moved to the examination area. ‘We’ll go ahead without him this time.’
Phoebe stilled, tried to regulate her breathing. Edo couldn’t come see their baby for the first time because he was on a call? Giving her privacy in the doctor’s room wasn’t him being sensitive, he just had other more important things to do. She could understand that his work was more important than her , but to consider it more important than their baby? That angered her. He’d really meant it when he’d said both she and the baby would be better off without him in the long term.
She lay on the narrow bed and the doctor touched the sonogram wand across her belly. An amorphous grey mess appeared on screen at first, then very clearly a head emerged, a body. A baby .
‘There’s a really strong heartbeat,’ the doctor said in her measured, reassuring way.
Phoebe stared at the grey swirling outline on the screen and listened to the scurrying beats. Her heart raced too.
‘I’m just taking some measurements,’ the doctor murmured.
It seemed to take for ever, but Phoebe just stared at the screen, awed .
‘Everything is looking really good,’ the doctor said softly. ‘Do you want to know the gender?’
‘You can tell already?’ While Phoebe could see the head and body, identifying more tiny details seemed impossible, even if she squinted.
‘Yes, would you like to know?”
A lump blocked her throat, making it impossible to speak. She shook her head slightly. It didn’t matter as long as everything was okay.
The doctor smiled. ‘Then it shall be a surprise.’
* * *
Edo tried to concentrate on what Felipe was telling him, but he had to get him to repeat every other sentence because he kept zoning out, which meant the call had taken far longer than necessary. He couldn’t stop wondering about Phoebe. Had she had a blood draw? What had she told the doctor? Was she healthy—was she well and strong enough for this pregnancy? Uncertainty stressed him—he didn’t know the first thing about pregnancy or child birth and honestly didn’t want to. But nor did he want Phoebe suffering, didn’t want her unwell or at risk. There was risk with this and he just didn’t—
Someone coughed behind him and he turned. His focus arrowed to Phoebe but apparently she’d developed an obsession with the floor. He abruptly ended the call and addressed the doctor.
‘Is she okay?’ he asked in Italian as he stared at Phoebe.
Why wouldn’t she meet his eyes? What was wrong? He stilled, filled with strained energy. But the doctor assured him everything was as it should be—Phoebe was healthy, the foetus developing normally, its growth aligned with the possible conception date he’d given her. He fidgeted, impatient with her focus on the infant. He already knew it was his, he wanted to know more about Phoebe. But as the doctor promised to email through the test results urgently, Phoebe stalked to the door and pointedly glared at the waiting bodyguard. Edo jerked his chin and the bodyguard moved to escort her to the car. He shot a glance at the doctor, ignoring the cool hint of condemnation in her eyes as he thanked her, then swiftly followed his reluctant fiancée out. She was already strapped in and staring out the window by the time he got in.
‘You okay?’ he asked once they were underway and heading to the estate at last.
‘You mean the doctor didn’t tell you everything?’ Phoebe muttered icily. ‘Clearly you leaving the room was purely performative.’
‘She only told me about your health in relation to the foetus.’
Because he didn’t trust Phoebe to tell him if there were problems. But the doctor had confirmed that there were none—everything was exactly as it should be, and frankly the relief flooding him now obliterated the fact that she was angry with him. Volatile emotions were only to be expected, given this was a huge shock with huge ramifications. But Edo could now breathe more easily. He would leave her alone to process things and progress his own plans. He pulled out his laptop, determined to finally finish the reports he’d been stalled on since seeing her again in London.
‘Do you want to know if you’re having a son or daughter?’ Her icy voice sliced into the silence.
He froze. His mouth gummed.
‘Does it matter to you?’ she added when he didn’t—couldn’t—respond. ‘It doesn’t to me, so I didn’t find out, but you might be able to work it out if you study the picture.’ She placed a photograph over the laptop keyboard in his lap. ‘The doctor printed it, seeing you didn’t want to be present for the scan.’
Edo blinked but there was no avoiding the image—a head, a little body, even littler limbs. A baby. An indefinable emotion slammed into him. He tensed, rejecting it. He didn’t want to know this . He didn’t want to feel this . Whatever this was. It just made his blood run cold.
He picked up the photo and only just stopped himself from crumpling it in his fist, instead he shoved it into the front pocket of his laptop bag. He couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t consider what was coming. Not now. Not yet. Not ever. Cold sweat slicked because he knew it wasn’t good enough. And that was the problem he couldn’t overcome. He couldn’t give her the fairy-tale she really wanted. And he could never be all that child needed.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked huskily after a moment.
They’d not had lunch but honestly, he didn’t want to stop, he just wanted to get her to the estate. To where he knew they could be safe.
‘No.’ Her reply was brutal.
He glanced at her but she’d turned to look out the window and he couldn’t see her eyes. Didn’t need to. She was angrier than ever. She was right to be. But nothing he could say would make this better, he would focus on what he could do. That was plan—yes to the panic room, to the twenty-four-hour protection team, to the best medical care that could be bought. And he would ignore the photograph peeking out of his bag for as long as he could.
* * *
Phoebe stared out the window, stewing for hours. How could he not even look at the picture of their child? She shouldn’t have agreed to marry him. He obviously wasn’t interested the baby. Or her. Only in their security. It was shocking. And it hurt. She remained silent for the rest of the long drive. So did he. But the view—the countryside—changed. Just as dusk darkened the sky, it became recognisable.
‘This is your estate,’ she murmured.
He glanced up from whatever it was that had held his attention for so long and nodded. ‘I’m sorry I misled you that day in summer. I didn’t think it was important.’
He didn’t need to apologise about that . That wild, warm afternoon was supposed to have been a single moment—light, free, fun— neither of them had intended to get close for long. But now they were stuck with each other. Even if their marriage would be temporary, their lives would be permanently entwined because they were having a child and at some point he’d have to face that fact.
When they pulled into the estate, she dutifully— pointedly —remained in the car while the security team got out and checked the compound with alert experience. Two more hefty men came out of the main building to join them. How had she not noticed this insane security that day he’d brought her here? How had she not worked out that his running mates weren’t mercenaries but bodyguards—that, while there’d been banter between them, they were employees? Because Edo had seemed relaxed and fun, and she couldn’t reconcile the man she’d met then with the grimly distant one waiting by the car door for her now. But, as she took the hand he extended, that silky desire swept through her—as strong as it had been all those months ago, as unstoppable. It sent her pulse racing and her awareness sharpened. She needed to work that out as well. But Edo lacing his fingers through hers didn’t help.
‘Isabella runs the villa. She’ll provide anything, you only have to ask.’ He jerked his chin towards the middle-aged woman who now stood just outside the large doorway.
Phoebe smiled at the soft-eyed Isabella but didn’t get a chance to speak because Edo’s hold on her was tight and he kept walking. She’d not entered the main building back in summer but she didn’t get time to truly look around now because he pushed on too fast, clearly determined to get her…where?
Her breathing quickened. Did he want to get her alone? Want to explain? To her horror that treacherous part of her desperately wanted to be alone with him. Even when she was mad with him.
He led her up a flight of stairs, opened a door and drew her inside before releasing her hand. ‘We have admin to do.’
Phoebe stepped into the vast study and stared at the perfect piles of papers set out on a large table. Disappointment slammed, adding to her anger. He didn’t want to get her alone to ravish her, he wanted legal certainty.
‘Apparently so,’ she gritted.
Some poor assistant had been working hard to have printed and sorted all these forms and documents. She snatched up a pen and signed the first super-quickly in a pique of fury, barely scanning the text because she, who prided herself on paying attention to details, was utterly distracted—and appalled—by the overwhelming urge to touch him. Her anger only seemed to make it worse—hell, her want for him now was wilder than that afternoon they’d shared. It seemed she increasingly lost control of herself when she spent too long near him and spending several hours trapped in the back seat of a car with him was definitely too long.
They both silently, furiously, filled in and signed everything.
He set down his pen then glanced at her, his brow furrowed. ‘You need food. We shouldn’t have missed lunch.’
Food would be good. Food would be a distraction . She really needed that right now. He didn’t take her hand to lead the way again. Just silently escorted her. The dining room was sumptuous. The view from the window showed the pool, the verdant countryside. The table was laden—linen cloth, sparkling crystal and silverware, fresh flowers, so much food. Clearly Isabella was an extraordinary housekeeper. Her mouth watering, Phoebe sank into the chair Edo held for her, abandoning both anger and attraction in the need for sustenance. She didn’t speak, too engrossed in sampling every dish.
But Edo talked—about nothing of significance. Seemingly his mood had lifted now all those documents were done. He explained the history of the region, how the dishes they were eating were prepared, the kinds of grapes they grew. He was determinedly charming but Phoebe saw through the facade that it was. He didn’t want to discuss anything heavy or intimate.
But a refuelled Phoebe increasingly couldn’t think of anything else. She couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of today’s events. She rubbed her hand across her forehead. How had this happened? How had she ended up here? How was any of this possible ? How was she going to survive spending this time married to him for a while when she already liked him more than she should—and how was she going to manage the fact that he didn’t really want any of this at all? Because she couldn’t quite believe that last bit. Because she was a fool.
‘Phoebe?’
She glanced up at his soft change of tone and realised that she’d not heard a word he’d said in the last few minutes.
‘You’re tired.’ His eyes narrowed on her. ‘I’ll show you to your room.’
She tensed, trying to push away the instant knock of disappointment. But of course she would have her own room. They weren’t a couple. They were strangers who’d had wild sex a couple of times. He didn’t guide her physically. There was no hand on her back or across her shoulders, no fingers laced though hers.
‘I thought you’d want your own space.’ He led her into a large room that she couldn’t even look at, because he turned towards her. ‘No?’
She couldn’t break away from the scorching heat now filling his eyes. From the tempting smile curving his lips. The polite dinner facade dropped and she saw his desire. Oh, she was definitely a fool, but she couldn’t —
‘No?’ he repeated softly with a half-laugh.
She couldn’t . Not answer, not resist. When he put his hands on her waist she just curled her arm around his neck and pulled his head down to hers—hungry for the pure, fiery escape again.
‘Are you tired of talking?’ he teased, his mouth an inch from hers. ‘Thank God. So am I.’