Chapter 4
HE HADN’T REALLY BELIEVED there’d been a mistake. He knew enough to know that modern pregnancy tests were generally considered infallible, and despite what he believed about women and trust, somehow, on some level, he did simply believe Elodie, when she told him she hadn’t slept with anyone else.
But was that by design?
Had she consented to coming home with him that second night because she had learned who he was, from one night to the next? Had she lied about being on the pill? Somehow sabotaged the condom?
No man in their right mind would believe that, based on the way she’d been with him—so open and artless—but then, Raf wasn’t in his right mind.
How could he be? Everything about their conversation had been like a bullet in his gut, reminding him of the lengths Marcia had gone to in order to trap him into marriage, when he’d always sworn that wasn’t for him.
Reminded him of the power a baby held over him—it was the one non-negotiable in his life.
He wouldn’t ever ignore his responsibilities as a father.
Something Marcia had known, all too well.
They’d discussed it, when his cousin had wound up in a situation where a partner of his had fallen pregnant unexpectedly.
Raf had made some off-the-cuff remark about the only right thing being to marry her—as Dante had insisted upon.
But Elodie Finch—whose full name he now knew, because of the hospital paperwork—had no idea about any of that.
To the best of his understanding, she didn’t even know who he was.
Or, if she was aware he was a member of the powerful Santoro family, she’d given no indication of that.
While his wealth was obvious, she could have no concept of just how wealthy he was, nor how many businesses his family owned, how widespread their influence.
And he had no reason to think she’d care, either.
He hadn’t really thought the pregnancy was a mistake, but as he sat across from an obstetrician at an impossible-to-get-into fertility clinic, and had the pregnancy confirmed, he felt the bottom fall out of his world—and not for the first time.
“The results of the NIPP won’t be available for another day or so.”
He vaguely recalled the NIPP being flagged as the test that would determine paternity. “Can that be sped up?”
“That turnaround is hugely accelerated,” the doctor said with a hint of a smile. “The usual wait time is more like a week.”
“You’re just going to have to cool your jets until then,” Elodie muttered from his left, so Raf glanced at her for the first time since they’d walked into this office together.
And something familiar and unwelcome churned through his gut.
Desire. Want. Need. An awareness of her he really wished he didn’t feel, especially now.
The same awareness he’d been feeling for eight long weeks.
She had grabbed a hold of him in a way he loathed and despised, in a way that had made him want to weaken and go to see her again.
But Raf refused to do second nights, he refused to weaken.
Even if not doing so was physically painful.
“I can call you with the results then, to save you from coming in person, Mr Santoro. I know how busy you are.”
He was still looking right at Elodie, so saw the way her spine straightened and eyes widened a little, the tell-tale fluttering of her fingers as she lifted them to her temple and pressed them there.
He stood abruptly, not sure how she was going to react but preferring it to be away from an audience.
“Thank you.”
“My assistant can organize a forward schedule of appointments,” the doctor said, following Raf’s lead and standing.
Raf put a hand under Elodie’s elbow, guiding her upwards even when he suspected she wanted to continue sitting there, staring catatonically at the wall opposite.
“I’ll be in touch, if that’s necessary.” He was already working out the best way to proceed, going on the basis this was more than likely his child.
True, he didn’t have categorical proof yet, but Elodie’s inexperience had been abundantly clear that night.
He doubted she’d bounced from his bed to someone else’s.
Elodie’s head whirled around, her eyes clashing with his, a thousand emotions swarming in their depths.
“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, doctor.” The tone of his voice was clear: not here.
“My pleasure, sir. If you have a moment, at any point, to talk about our expansion plans, and the funding requirements—,”
“Now is not the time,” Raf cut the doctor off. Then, with a quick exhalation, “I will have my assistant email you with our foundation’s details. Thank you.”
When they stepped into the tiled corridor, Elodie started to say something but Raf cut her short. “Wait, please, until we are in the privacy of my car.”
She yanked her elbow out of his grip but stayed silent, walking mutinously beside him into his waiting vehicle, sliding into the back seat and pushing over as far as she could go on the spacious leather seat.
“What exactly did you mean ‘if that’s necessary’?”
It took him a moment to recognize she was referring to the comment he’d delivered to the doctor, in response to offering future management of this pregnancy.
“If you think, for one second, that you can bully me into not having this baby, Rafaello—,”
He stared at her, the sentence hardly making sense at first, and then, when he saw it from a very literal perspective, ringing through him with clarity. “That was not my meaning.”
“Because that is one hundred per cent not your decision. And to so calmly suggest—,”
“I was not suggesting that,” he growled, reaching across her for her seatbelt, ignoring the way she flinched as his hand grazed her shoulder, ignoring how much he hated that.
“I am suggesting that London might not be the best place to go through your pregnancy, to have this baby. We clearly need to think this through.”
Her eyes narrowed, her skin pale. He sat back in his seat, mainly because if he stayed where he was any longer, he thought he might actually kiss her just to stop her from panic spiralling.
He was pretty sure just one kiss would drive the combative air from her body and leave her panting for him, just as she had that one delicious night…
“You’re a Santoro,” she said, accusation in her tone.
“So?” He understood her surprise, but instead of acknowledging it, his voice came out harshly dismissive.
As though it didn’t matter, when of course it did.
His wealth had the power to open doors, and shut them, too.
Their baby was being born into one of the wealthiest dynasties in the world—that changed things, on many levels.
Not least because they would always and forever live with the risk of being a target for kidnapping and extortion, which meant while Elodie was pregnant, she would face those same risks. It changed everything.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It didn’t seem to matter.”
She sat back in the seat, staring straight ahead as the car eased out into traffic and began to make its way back to his place.
“How can you even say that?” she asked, after a beat of silence so long he presumed she had let it drop. “You’re a Santoro,” she repeated, like he hadn’t heard of his last name. “You are—you are—,” She floundered.
“You knew I had money.”
“Yes,” she said, glancing across at him, a frown tugging at his lips. “But the Santoro money isn’t just money, it’s…you’re like…royalty.”
He shook his head once, thanking God that wasn’t true.
He was spared, at least, the ignominy of too much press intrusion into his life.
The occasional paparazzi photo, some interest in various business successes, but for the most part, Raf kept his private life private.
Salvatore’s accident had caused a heap of fuss, of course, but even that had died down now.
“We’re from completely different worlds.”
She was a waitress in a bar, who was still working out what to do with her life; he couldn’t really argue with her statement.
But deep down, he wanted to. Because on that night they’d shared, he hadn’t felt as though they were worlds apart.
There’d been a connection that had made the sex they’d shared even more mesmerizing.
He’d dismissed it, and run a thousand miles from her—literally—because trust was poison, and he’d already been through that once before.
“That’s no longer relevant.”
“Please, stop doing that,” she muttered. “Don’t dismiss my feelings.”
“There is no manual on how to handle something like this,” he pointed out. “I’m just trying to stick to the facts.”
“Well, don’t you think your last name was a relevant fact?”
“Would it have changed anything?”
She sat back in her seat, her gaze slipping to the window, hiding her features from him in a way he resented.
“I don’t know,” she answered, and he both felt and appreciated the raw honesty of that statement.
Marcia had lied like she’d breathed—something he hadn’t fully appreciated until the extent of her duplicity was revealed.
Elodie was open and honest, even when she didn’t know the answer.
But every cell in his body was warning him off trusting her completely. She might seem honest but looks could—and often were—deceiving.
“I think it probably would have,” she whispered then, shifting her gaze back to his face and raking it over his features with a deep frown. “You on your own were intimidating enough. Knowing you were a Santoro probably would have scared me half to death.”
“There is nothing scary about my family.” Imagining anyone fearing Gianni Santoro, Raf’s uncle, and his penchant for truly bizarre pizza experimentation, had him shaking his head dismissively.