CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER THREE
‘You’re sure you can’t at least eat before you go?’ Gen’s voice showed clear concern.
Eat? As if. Imogen felt as if her stomach was tied in so many knots it would never be able to accommodate food again.
‘I’ll grab something while I’m out,’ she lied, amazed that her voice emerged mostly normal sounding. She cleared her throat to conceal the slight tremor. Inwardly, she couldn’t stop shaking.
‘We will discuss this tonight, Imogen, and that is non-negotiable.’
He’d spoken in a tone she’d never heard, reminding her forcefully of how much she didn’t know about Luca. For all they’d spent a month together, three years ago, she had realised subsequently how much of himself he’d kept from her. She’d spoken freely about her life, her aspirations, her thoughts, her dreams and hopes, but he had revealed so very little, and what he had shared had been like pulling teeth.
She knew that he worked tirelessly, that he played to win, was super successful, and yes, she knew that he was ruthless. Even without the way he’d treated her, she’d understood that.
‘But you went to so much trouble and it smells so good,’ Gen said, eyeing the butter chicken, naan bread and pilaf.
‘So good.’ Aurora smacked her hand to the tray of her high chair. Genevieve smiled indulgently.
‘If I’m hungry, I’ll eat when I get home.’
‘I doubt Missy here will leave any leftovers,’ Gen quipped, and Imogen smiled, but it felt forced. She could hardly think straight.
‘Okay, call if you need anything. I won’t be late.’
‘Don’t rush back. We’ve got a scintillating marathon of Bluey awaiting us after dinner, and then an early night.’
‘You’re the best.’ She pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek and then to Aurora’s head, breathing in the little girl with a strange feeling in her chest. She knew what caused the sensation. As she pulled the front door of their flat closed, she admitted that she was hovering on a precipice. Behind her was the old world, the one with which she was familiar and comfortable, and which she’d made work for her. But with each step she took away from their flat, their home, from her sister and daughter, with each step she took closer to Luca’s, she acknowledged she was travelling further into something new and terrifying.
He knew about Aurora.
He knew that she’d had his baby, and that she hadn’t told him. He knew that they were parents. He knew the bare minimum at this stage, because he’d peppered her with questions once he’d realised, and she’d answered in a state of total shock.
What was her name? How old was she? Was she healthy? What was she like?
She had no clue what he’d do with that information, but at the very least, he wanted more answers than she could have given him standing on the footpath outside a busy café.
Her mind was every bit as knotted as her stomach. She rode the tube to Sloane Square, then walked the short distance to his house, her heart steadily palpitating its way to her throat with each step she took.
At the door, she could barely bring herself to press the buzzer. It would bring about the crossing of a line from which there was no return.
But she had to do it. There was no escaping this and she wasn’t a coward. She couldn’t hide from him indefinitely. Not now he knew. Not when he had all the resources he did at his disposal. There was nowhere she could go that he wouldn’t find her.
Fidgeting her fingers, she forced herself to ring his doorbell then took a sharp step backwards, as if to immediately put space between herself and the conversation that had to take place. She heard his footsteps, felt the whooshing inwards of the door, then saw him on the other side and wanted to throttle herself and her traitorous body for responding to him on a physical level. Just one sight of him and her pulse went thready for a whole other reason.
This was not the time to think about that.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus.
He gestured silently for her to enter. She did so, careful not to brush close to him as she crossed the threshold. He noticed and gave her a mocking arch of his brow.
She wanted to punch him.
‘So?’ She shrugged out of her coat, hanging it on a hook by the door, turning back to him in time to catch the last flicker of his gaze travelling the length of her body. She shivered. She’d worn a black blouse that was buttoned up to the throat with a frilly collar in a sort of turn-of-the-century bohemian vibe, tucked into tailored jeans, and ballet flats. Hardly seductive, but the way she caught him looking at her sent her pulse rate skyrocketing.
‘We need to talk,’ he muttered, gesturing towards the lounge room.
She eyed it suspiciously before stepping through the wide doors, remembering the last time she’d been here and they’d made love against the wall, unable to wait until his bedroom.
She studiously avoided that area of the room, choosing instead to focus on the plush leather armchairs. He moved past her, towards a sleek cabinet that housed a liquor cabinet and inbuilt fridge, opening it and removing the bottle of wine that she’d always loved.
Was that a thoughtful gesture or just a coincidence? Definitely the latter. He poured her a glass then walked back to her.
‘Drink this before you pass out.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look fine.’
Her heart dropped to her toes. Had he been looking at her with sympathy rather than admiration?
‘Well, whose fault is that?’
‘Do you really want to start talking about blame, Imogen?’ he demanded, so she felt the full force of his emotions rioting towards her. ‘I have a daughter I knew nothing about until today. A daughter I never would have found out about were it not for pure chance.’
She swallowed hard, fidgeting her spare hand and then taking a gulp of wine. Suddenly her nerves were in disarray and it was the only way she could think of to calm them.
‘I’m more than happy to talk about blame,’ she responded tautly. ‘What could I do, Luca? After the way things ended between us, when I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t even think of coming to you. You’d made it abundantly clear what I meant to you, and what you wanted from me. It definitely wasn’t to become parents together.’
A muscle jerked in his jaw; his eyes bore into hers. ‘That was about you and me,’ he said, slashing his hand through the air. ‘The moment you found out you were pregnant, I should have found out too.’
‘Why?’
‘Decency? Courtesy? Respect?’
‘All of which you showed me so much of, right?’
‘So, was this some sick kind of revenge? This is a child’s life, a parent’s place in their life. You toyed with both of us.’
‘How dare you?’ she shouted, quickly taking another gulp of wine and rejoicing in the fire it lit on its way down her throat. ‘You have no right to say that to me. I am a damned good mother. I give her everything . You stand there and act all holier-than-thou, when perhaps you should be asking yourself how many other kids you have out there.’
He put a hand on his hip. ‘I am always careful.’
‘Yeah? What’s your point? We were always careful, and I still got pregnant.’
‘You weren’t on the pill.’
‘So, you’re blaming me?’
He closed his eyes in a wave of visible frustration. ‘It’s an extra precaution I’d presumed was in place.’
‘Given that I’d never had sex, I’d had no need for contraception.’
His nostrils flared. ‘There’s no point discussing the “why” of this. It happened. You got pregnant. I’m more interested in how you justified your decision. Why keep it a secret from me?’
‘I didn’t keep it a secret from you,’ she hissed. ‘You weren’t in my life. You were nowhere.’ Her voice broke a little. She hated that. She hated the emotion he could still bring to the fore, even when she despised him. ‘But I knew you wouldn’t want her. I did you a favour, Luca.’
‘Do not—’ he spoke quietly, calmly, yet she could feel his anger pulsing towards her ‘—presume to tell me how I would have felt.’
‘Oh, come on,’ she said with a humourless laugh. ‘We were both there. You made it abundantly clear what your priorities were in life. As if you would have wanted to be a father.’
‘Whether I wished it or not, you were pregnant. I should have known that, and I should have known our daughter before today.’
Her stomach rolled. Was he right? Had she made the wrong decision?
Not when she considered the way he’d spoken to her. It hadn’t been about them as a couple; it hadn’t been about revenge, or wanting to hurt him or withhold their child from him. It had been about wanting to protect their daughter as much as anything.
‘I didn’t trust you,’ she admitted slowly. ‘I don’t trust you.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You’re cruel, Luca.’
He flinched a little, but concealed it quickly.
‘I was so caught up in you at first, I didn’t understand. I didn’t see it. I was overwhelmed by the whole sex thing. But you’re a bastard, cold and unfeeling and capable of using people for your own ends. Honestly, we were just…better off without you.’
She threw the words at him but didn’t feel any pleasure in saying them. They hurt to say, in fact. She blinked quickly, to clear the sting of tears.
His only reaction was to take a step closer, reach for her wine glass and take a sip before returning it to her.
‘I don’t disagree.’
Her eyes widened and she tamped down on an immediate reflexive response of contradiction.
‘Unfortunately, we’re stuck with one another now.’
She closed her eyes in a wave of uncertainty. A bad moon was rising, and she didn’t know how to deal with it.
‘What does that mean?’ It was her turn to sip.
He pressed a finger to her chin, tilting her face, and when she opened her eyes, she was staring right at him.
‘If I could choose, I would choose not to have children. I have never wanted that.’ His voice was cold, emotionless. ‘But she is here—a real person, my daughter.’ A hint of feeling darkened his words, but he smothered it quickly. ‘I have no choice but to be a part of her life.’
Imogen flinched.
It was her very worst nightmare. How could Luca be a part of Aurora’s life without being a part of her life too?
She groaned, shaking her head a little. ‘It’s not possible. It would be too confusing to her. She has no idea who you are.’
‘And why is that?’
Imogen’s knees felt wobbly. She gripped the wine glass harder.
‘You have one option here, though perhaps you cannot see that.’
Wariness crept along her spine.
‘I will tell you what I want, and you will agree. It would not be wise to fight me on this.’
Imogen blinked up at Luca, seeing the steel in his features, and she baulked. She knew he was cold, and she knew what he was capable of, but in her heart of hearts, she had still clung to the notion that there was some goodness in him, somewhere.
She had to believe that—he was a part of their daughter’s DNA, and darling Aurora was all sunshine and light.
‘Is that a threat?’
His eyes bore into hers, almost seeing through her. ‘Threats tend to be idle. What I am saying is not.’
She shivered. ‘And what exactly are you saying?’
He was so close she could feel his warm breath against her temple as he exhaled. ‘I want custody of her.’
Imogen gasped. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Not sole custody,’ he said, as though that made any difference. ‘But she is my daughter. I demand legal recognition of that fact.’
‘You demand ?’ she repeated, incensed. ‘You just said you don’t want to be a father—’
‘But I am.’
Imogen swallowed, shaking her head a little. Not because she was rejecting his demand, but because she couldn’t process it.
‘I have a daughter I knew nothing about,’ he said, the words flooded with a strange, almost far-away emotion.
‘I know.’ What more could she say?
‘I want her here, under my roof.’
Imogen gasped, her headshake becoming more determined. ‘She has a home, with me…’
‘And I recognise that it would be cruel to separate the two of you—at this stage, at least. Unfortunately, that means you will have to be a part of this.’
Her stomach clenched at the obvious displeasure he took in suggesting any such thing. He could not make it any clearer that having Imogen was the last thing he wanted. Why did that hurt so much, even now? She had to take back control of this conversation, to reassert her independence.
‘No.’ She shook her head quickly, dislodging his finger from her chin. ‘No way .’
‘You’re not listening to me,’ he interrupted. ‘She is our daughter, and we will raise her.’
‘If you want to be a part of her life, you can be, but I’m sure as hell not living with you.’ Her whole body felt as if it were filled with an electrical current at the very idea.
‘Let me say this more clearly. I would like us to come to an agreement, but if you will not be reasonable, I have a meeting with a lawyer tomorrow morning and you had better believe I’ll get access to our daughter through the courts. It will not be in her best interests, but I will fight you for what should always have been mine, Imogen.’
She was trembling so much she thought she might fall. She stepped backwards and backwards again, collapsing into one of the armchairs and clasping the wine glass in her lap. She stared straight ahead, her whole life flashing before her eyes, everything wonky and aching.
She couldn’t fight him.
She didn’t have the resources. While she and Gen were doing okay, and her parents were comfortable, no one was in a position to bankroll the kind of legal fight she had no doubt Luca would launch.
‘She’s my daughter,’ Imogen whispered.
She wasn’t even aware of the tears that were falling down her cheeks until Luca appeared at her side, holding a tissue. Instead of passing it to her, he wiped her cheeks with surprising gentleness.
‘Yes. I’m aware of that, and I have no interest in taking her away from you, even when I can see that would probably be fair retribution for the fact you took her away from me.’
Imogen tried to suck in air but struggled.
‘I am asking you to live here, with her, for a while. I am asking you to be reasonable and see this from my perspective. I have a daughter I just found out about. Don’t I deserve a chance to get to know her? And wouldn’t that be easier for her if you were a part of it?’
* * *
Luca stared at the wall without seeing. Their conversation was replaying in his mind like a film, every word, every sentence.
Every threat.
He dropped his head forward, staring at the floor, breath burning in his lungs.
Yes, he’d threatened her. He’d been so damned angry, so utterly shocked—at Imogen, as well as himself. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that she might be pregnant? They’d slept together for a month, and before that, she’d been innocent. Hadn’t it been foreseeable that there were consequences of their time together?
He clenched his teeth, trying to put himself back into the mind-set he’d had then. He’d been furious with her for loving him, furious with himself for letting it go so far, and he’d been missing her.
Missing her more than he’d allowed himself to admit…
Now, though, this wasn’t about Imogen. It wasn’t about his need for her, or her desire for him. None of that mattered any more. He was a father.
His gut rolled, and images of his own father populated his brain, almost driving him to despair. His own father had been the very best of men. He’d been a behemoth, a pillar of morality, intelligence, strength and good humour. He had stood like a beacon to Luca, a guide, always, as to how he should act—and Luca had failed him.
He couldn’t fail his daughter—if only because Luca could finally do something which might, in some small part, atone for the mistakes of his past.
But what if he did fail her? What if he made a mistake again? What if he hurt her?
Panic stole through him, a familiar heat flooding through his veins so he couldn’t think straight, and his breathing grew rushed.
He was not a twelve-year-old boy any more, though. The mistake of that night had been borne of his immaturity, his selfishness. Now Luca was a grown man, and he would give his life for Aurora’s, in a heartbeat. He would move heaven and earth to keep her safe, to protect her. Though he’d never wanted to be a father, now that he was, he had no choice but to be the best damned father that little girl could have. Even if it meant having Imogen in the mix as well…
A scowl marred his face as he imagined what that might look like. Imogen was the one woman who’d ever weakened his resolve and got under his skin; she was the one woman who’d made him stray from his commitment to a lonely life of constant self-flagellation to atone for his guilt. In the past, he’d been weak, but he couldn’t let that happen again.
He would keep her at arm’s length this time around, even if the effort nearly killed him.
* * *
‘You’re moving out ?’ Genevieve whispered over a steaming cup of tea later that night.
Imogen grimaced, nodding. ‘I can’t see an alternative.’
‘Run away,’ Genevieve muttered, only half joking. ‘Immi, listen. You didn’t tell me the gory details, but you didn’t need to. I know what this guy did to you. I saw what he did to you. I heard the goddamned songs you wrote. He broke you.’
Imogen closed her eyes on a wave of remembering. It had been bad. Very, very bad.
‘He’s her father. He has rights.’
‘To see her, sure. But not to make you move in with him. What kind of sick control move is that?’
‘Believe it or not, he’s trying to do what’s best for her. He wants to make up for lost time…’
Genevieve snorted, then placed her tea on the counter, her features rearranging themselves into a mask of serious contemplation. ‘Listen, Im. You cannot do that with this guy.’
‘Do what?’
‘See the best in him.’ Genevieve cupped Imogen’s hands and lifted them to her chest. ‘I know that’s your default position, but not with him. Don’t you dare let your guard down around this guy, or I’ll never forgive you.’
‘If I let my guard around him, I’ll never forgive myself.’ She squeezed Genevieve’s hands. ‘Try not to worry. We’ll see you all the time; I’m just a few tube stops away.’
* * *
When Luca arrived the next day to collect Imogen and Aurora, she realised he’d worked fast. Somehow he’d had a car seat installed in his Range Rover, and the back pockets were stuffed with nappies, kids’ books and rattles.
She tried not to let that endear him to her.
She was conscious, as she carried her suitcase to the door, of Genevieve’s disapproving, arctic scowl.
‘Im? Call me when you get there.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Imogen assured her sister. Then, belatedly, as Luca went to retrieve her luggage, she said, ‘Genevieve, this is Luca. Luca, my twin sister.’
Luca went to extend his hand to shake but Genevieve glared at it as though he was holding a slither of snakes.
‘Listen to me,’ she muttered, moving close enough that a nearby Aurora wouldn’t hear. ‘You had better be nice, or so help me God, I will…do something. You don’t deserve this,’ she gestured to Imogen and then Aurora.
His eyes darkened and Imogen felt his surprise, but it just made her love her sister all the more. She reached across and squeezed Genevieve’s arm. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ve got this.’ She could only pray that was true.
Genevieve nodded once, smiled at her sister, hugged her, then scooped Aurora off the ground. She kissed the toddler’s head, Genevieve’s eyes a little misty as she passed the girl to Imogen.
‘I can see my reputation precedes me,’ Luca drawled, as Imogen clipped Aurora into the car seat then took her own seat beside him.
‘What did you expect? A bed of roses?’
‘I didn’t expect anything,’ he returned, pulling the car into traffic. She sat back in her seat, staring moodily through her own window without really seeing. He drove the busy London streets expertly, as she suspected he did all things in his life—except for relationships.
‘Do you have any friends?’
He shifted a sidelong glance at her. ‘Why do you ask?’
Deflection. She hadn’t recognised his techniques three years ago—she’d been too mired in the fog of their chemistry to analyse anything very deeply—but she saw them now. He was nudging the conversation away, not answering her question but disguising that with interest in her. It had worked in the past. Now it frustrated her, but she didn’t show it.
‘Because you’re such a charmer, of course,’ she responded with a lift of one shoulder. Before turning back to her window, she saw the way his knuckles morphed into a shade of white, as if gripping the steering wheel very tightly.
They travelled the rest of the way in silence, except for Aurora’s occasional babbling sounds from the back seat. Happy babbling, because Aurora was almost always smiling and shining. Imogen hoped that would continue to be the case. She gnawed on her lower lip as they travelled, until he pulled into the familiar alley that provided rear access to his home, pressing a button so the garage door opened seamlessly, and the car slipped in. Briefly she was reminded of the other night, when they’d come to his home and passion had been thick in the air between them. Now it was tension, so awful that it could be cut with a knife.
He went to the rear door, to lift out Aurora, but Aurora glanced at him then Imogen. ‘Mama.’ She pointed at Imogen. ‘Want Mama.’
Imogen saw the accusing look in his eyes, but he took a step back, saying nothing to Aurora or Imogen. She felt what he would have said, though. She felt the blame and recriminations, and the certainty she’d once felt, that she had done the right thing by keeping Aurora from him, took a slight tumble.
With a reassuring smile at Aurora, she unclipped her and put their daughter on her hip, walking around the car towards the door. Luca had grabbed some luggage and was holding it, staring straight ahead, his shoulders tense. His whole body radiated stress. Anger?
Probably a whole host of emotions. This time yesterday, he’d had no idea about Aurora, and now he was moving her—and Imogen—in to live with him.
The moment they crossed the threshold from the garage to his home, she recognised just how busy he—or an army of minions—had been. The changes were subtle but noticeable to Imogen. All of the breakable artsy pieces had been moved from the coffee tables and low-lying shelves. Small plastic shapes had been added to coffee tables and sharp corners, in the event of a head bump from Aurora. A stylish wide basket was now in the living room, filled with brightly coloured toys and a tub of interlocking building blocks.
She glanced at him, not sure what to say now they were here.
Apparently, that was mutual. Imogen sighed softly, popping Aurora down on the floor and setting her free. The two parents stood back, a couple of feet apart, watching as Aurora went off, exploring her new environment. Toddlers learned by touching, and Aurora touched everything —his white sofas, his glass-topped coffee table—so she was sure Luca appreciated the wisdom of having moved anything fragile out of Aurora’s way. She cruised the lounge room for several minutes before discovering the basket, but when she saw it, she squealed delightedly and ran on those deliciously chubby little legs towards it, plonking herself down at the edge and half diving in to examine the contents.
She heard Luca’s sharp intake of breath and slanted a look at him.
Emotion.
She saw it on his face and felt it cut through her heart.
He was looking at Aurora as though she were the most incredible, fascinating, amazing thing in the world. He was looking at her with… love. A lump formed in Imogen’s throat, and she blinked quickly.
‘Mind if I make a cup of tea?’
He glanced across at her with obvious reluctance. Like he’d forgotten she was there. Imogen’s heart thumped in pain. ‘Make yourself at home.’
‘Would you like anything?’
‘Better not ask what I would like right now.’
She closed her eyes in a wave of desperation. ‘You’re never going to forgive me for this, are you?’ She asked the question quietly, but with an intensity that was drawn from deep in her chest.
‘Would you, if our situations were reversed?’
She glanced at Aurora and felt the reality of that sink inside of her like a stone. He was right, but he was also wrong. What he was missing was the very logical place Imogen had operated from: a certainty that a baby was the last thing Luca had wanted, or would be equipped to deal with.
‘Watch her a moment?’ Imogen asked, and Luca stared directly at her.
‘She’s my daughter,’ he said with palpable, raw emotion. ‘Of course I’ll watch her.’ And he turned his back on Imogen to do exactly that.
* * *
She was so like Angelica. Heartbreakingly similar, right down to their little voices. He watched Aurora and felt the slippage of time and place, of space and self, so he was a boy again, doting on the little sister who’d surprised them all with her arrival. Angelica had loved to be tickled, to have raspberries blown on her belly. She’d worshipped Luca and followed him like a puppy, but it had never occurred to him to mind. She had been the light in all their lives.
She’d shone, like Aurora shone.
He couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter, and he knew he would never let anything happen to her. This time, if he had to give his own life to save hers, he would, in a heartbeat, and heaven help anyone who got in his way.