Chapter Four #2
She’d looked at the mother who had betrayed her secret and saw the guilt in her eyes, but the fear in them too when she glanced at the husband who hadn’t been a husband for that same number of years.
In that moment, Maria had realised that although they had lived in separate houses since Maria was eight years old, they only really saw each other at family events, where they played the image of a happy family, despite the fact that the entire family knew they were anything but, her mother had never really escaped her husband’s rule or wallet.
Her mother would always defer to her husband, even at the cost to her daughter.
So, in the space of six weeks, Maria lost her job, her family and her home. And no one had said a single thing.
The only thing that had kept her father quiet about her pregnancy was shame.
And what had kept her quiet? Fear. Maybe she was more like her mother than she cared to be. But could she really afford to be that way? Especially now?
Maria thought back to that day when Ivy found her red eyed and shocked and forced her to tell her what was going on. At first, Maria had thought the reason her period was two months late was down to stress. But one pregnancy test after another had told her differently.
She was going to be a mother. The realisation had filled Maria with so much emotion, and so many thoughts, she hadn’t known where or how to begin sorting through them all.
In the meantime, she had sworn Ivy to secrecy, and she had only agreed because she—like Maria—knew that the first thing Antonio would do was to track Micha down and beat the living daylights out of him. But Ivy’s agreement had come with a two-month time limit and that time was running out.
Butterflies fluttered in Maria’s stomach and she once again soothed the slight swell of her abdomen.
At twelve weeks, she’d been told, the baby was now fully formed, and about the size of a lime.
Her baby. Her and Micha’s baby. And although it was probably hyperbole, she was convinced that they could feel everything, experience everything, vicariously.
And oh god, she didn’t want her child to grow up like she had, with a father who was mean and a mother who was a mouse.
She wanted…more. She wanted love, security, confidence.
She didn’t want them to grow up fighting for their place in the world, but sure of it. She wanted…
She felt the tear roll down her cheek and swept it away.
It didn’t matter what she wanted, Maria thought determinedly, sweeping aside foolish hopes and dreams just as easily as her tears.
She might have left Rome, she might have left Gallo Group, but she was still the practical, focused woman she had become.
That didn’t change just because she was going to be a mother. A single, unwed mother.
Zia Alessina had done it, after divorcing her husband to bring up Antonio on her own.
And this was decades later. It was the twenty-first century.
And although she firmly believed that she didn’t need a piece of paper to make herself socially acceptable, she was devastated that her child might bear the burden of that decision.
This was the problem with her thoughts. Back and forth they swung, like a pendulum, hovering a bare millimetre over the biggest emotional box there was; the one with Micha Rufina’s name scrawled on the side.
Oh, she would tell him—she’d never keep that secret either from her child or him.
But she needed to make a plan first. She needed to make sure that she had security and her independence.
Because if he found out that she was pregnant with his child…
If he had even the slightest inkling… He’d come in and take over.
Force them to do something inconceivably foolish like get married.
And then she’d never be free. And she just wanted so much to be free.
The thought rushed out of her on a sigh as she looked down at the large black bag of things she’d decided not to take with her into her future.
Wasn’t this part of her freedom? Not being weighed down with things that no longer served her?
She probably should have done it before she moved, but there hadn’t been time.
She’d thrown everything she had into the back of cars as her father hurled abuse at her for bringing shame on the family.
She dragged the bag out of the spare room, down the corridor that opened into the large open-plan living, dining and kitchen area, and up to the front door.
She’d throw this out and get rid of the bad energy of her thoughts at the same time.
No more business suits that she didn’t need, she decided as she put the bag down to open the door, no more thoughts of her father, she told herself as she unlocked the bolt at the top, pulling open the door, and no more…
Micha Rufina.
His hand raised to knock on the door, he was as surprised as Maria looked when she opened the door to find him standing there. But the last thing he expected was for her to slam it shut again.
He blinked.
Really? She was that childish.
He waited. And then waited some more, getting even more annoyed. And if things continued like this, he’d have a heart attack from sheer irritation.
‘Maria, per favore, open the door,’ he called. ‘It’s not like you can ignore me.’
Her silence objected to his statement.
‘Maria?’ He blew out a breath, ignoring the weight of the driver’s gaze from within the air-conditioned blacked-out-windowed town car.
‘Maria Aurora Guilia Gallo, open this door!’ he yelled.
‘I am not a child and you don’t get to talk to me like I am one, just because you are now officially the boss of everything,’ she fired back angrily through the door, in a—to his mind—very childish way.
‘Madonna mia, Maria, open the damn door,’ he said.
The way the alliteration rolled around his mouth was familiar; tasting like affection, frustration and grief all at the same time.
He was trying to parse his way through those feelings when she opened the door looking mutinous and absolutely glorious.
Dio, it was a punch to his chest that knocked the air from his lungs and he was thankful that he was at least wearing his sunglasses to hide behind.
Thick dark curls tumbled around her face, her cheeks flush with indignation, her eyes sparkling with fury and all he could think of was how she looked when she orgasmed and he forced himself to look away before he made a fool of himself.
‘Why are you here?’ she demanded, a large bin bag placed on the ground between them.
‘I’d rather not have this conversation on the doorstep.’
‘I’d rather not be having this conversation at all, but here we are,’ she shot back.
He slipped his thumb and forefinger beneath the frame of his glasses and pinched his nose again.
The tension headache that bracketed his temples was just getting worse and worse.
He really didn’t need this. He had very little time, maybe less than twenty-four hours to save the contract, and then get back to the rest of Gallo Group.
‘I need to speak to you about the Peterson account.’
‘Peterson? You need to… You’re here because…’ Her tongue swept out across her bottom lip before she pulled it beneath her teeth.
‘What did you think I’d be here for?’ Micha demanded, confused.
Maria huffed out a bitter laugh and honestly?
He didn’t know what was going on. Because she was the one who had quit after all.
He’d have willingly continued to work with her because she was excellent at her job.
And there was a small petty part of him that felt that Gallo Group might not have been in such a precarious position if she hadn’t quit.
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing,’ she said, answering his question, turning her back on him and disappearing into the house, leaving Micha to move the bag blocking the doorway so that he could follow her.
He walked into a large open-plan space that somehow managed to be both open and full of light, and yet cosy and calm. It was significantly different to the property she and her mother had lived in before Maria had left Rome.
That had been dark, cluttered with books, paintings and expensive trinkets. Old money, with no taste was how he’d once thought of it, when he’d been there for one of the family gatherings. He’d never visited it when he and Maria had…
He shut that thought down and followed her towards the kitchen, letting her put the long marble-top island between them for distance and safety.
She avoided his gaze, fussing with coffee cups and the sleek machine that vibrated at an impossibly quiet hum. He watched her choose decaf and frowned. He was about to say something when she interrupted his train of thought.
‘What did you do?’ she said, her tone accusing but curious, as if in spite of herself.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, confused.
‘To Peterson. That account was safe, the client was happy. And you can’t afford to lose Peterson right now.’
‘Why do you think I did something?’ he bit out, angry at the assumption that he had somehow messed up, and choosing to ignore the warning that he was already very much aware of.
‘Because Peterson was happy. And now he’s not.’
Micha rubbed his jaw. ‘He wants you to handle the contract renewal.’
‘I don’t work there any more,’ Maria said and he waved her statement aside with his hand.
She narrowed her gaze at him.
‘What did you do?’
‘It was an admin error,’ he explained.
‘What was?’
‘Contracts used an outdated template, and Peterson thought I was trying to pull a fast one. He says the trust is broken and the only person he’ll deal with is you.’
‘An admin error? And management didn’t think to check it?’
‘In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been a little busy in the last few months,’ he bit out angrily.
‘Poor you,’ Maria bit back as she plonked his espresso before him, barely managing to keep the coffee in the cup.
As he took a sip, she shook her head.
‘No.’