Cinderella's Scandalous Secret (Secret Heirs 0f Billionaires) Page 4

  Isla hugged her arms around her middle, trying to keep control of her escalating emotions. ‘I was worried you might pressure me into having a termination and—’

  His frown was so deep it closed the space between his eyes. ‘Do you really think I would do something like that? For God’s sake, Isla. Surely you know me better than that?’ His ragged tone contained deep notes of anguish along with the chord of anger.

  Guilt rained down on her like hail, making her huddle further into herself, her gaze lowered from his. Had she made a mistake? Had she seriously misjudged him? Would it have been better to be honest with him from the outset? Hindsight was all very well, but she had thought she was doing the right thing at the time. The shock of finding out she was pregnant had thrown her completely. In her panicked state, it had felt safer to leave than have him send her away.

  Hadn’t she been sent away too many times in her childhood to count?

  ‘I didn’t know what to think,’ Isla said, slowly raising her gaze back to his. ‘I wasn’t prepared to hang around long enough to risk you doing something radical like asking me to marry you or—’

  ‘Well, at least you do know that much about me, because that’s exactly what I plan to do.’ The stridency in his voice was matched by the glint of determination in his gaze. ‘I’m not having any child of mine grow up illegitimate. I want it to have my name and my protection. I can’t—won’t—accept any other alternative. We will be married as soon as it can be arranged.’

  Isla’s mouth dropped open and her stomach turned over. ‘You can’t be serious? We’re practically strangers who—’

  ‘We spent two months living and sleeping together. That’s hardly what I’d call the action of strangers. We’ve made a child together. That’s not something that I can approach in a casual manner. Formalising our relationship is the next step. The only step.’ He walked over to the minibar and took out a bottle of mineral water, holding it up. ‘Drink?’

  Isla nodded; her mouth was so dry it felt like she had been licking the plush carpet at her feet. ‘I can’t marry you, Rafe. I won’t marry you.’

  ‘You can and you will.’ His mouth had a stubborn set to it, his eyes now as hard as lichen-covered stones. ‘I am not taking no for an answer.’ He unscrewed the top of the mineral water with a loud hiss of released effervescence and poured it into two glasses and then turned back to hand her one.

  Isla took the glass from him with a hand that was visibly trembling. ‘Rafe...be sensible about this. Marriage between us would never work.’

  Lingerie waitress weds Sicilian hotel billionaire? How would she cope with the shame of her past splashed over every paper and news outlet?

  ‘We will make it work for the sake of our child.’ His jaw was set in an intractable line. ‘How far along are you? Are you feeling well?’ His tone softened a fraction, his eyes losing their hard glitter to be replaced by a shadow of concern. ‘I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.’

  Isla put her glass down on a nearby table and then placed a hand on her small baby bump. ‘I am now... I was more or less constantly sick for a couple of months. I’m five months into the pregnancy. I’m due around Christmas.’

  His eyes went to where her hand was resting, his throat moving up and down over another swallow. He stepped closer, coming to stand in front of her. ‘Can you feel the baby moving?’

  ‘I started feeling it moving around the sixteen-week mark. Here—’ She reached for his hand and laid it on the swell of her abdomen, watching his face as their baby gave tiny kicks. ‘Can you feel it kicking? There—feel that?’

  Rafe was standing so close she could see the dark and generous spray of stubble around his mouth and jaw. She could smell the sharp notes of citrus in his aftershave, redolent of sun-warmed lemons. She could feel the magnetic pull of his body making her ache to close the small distance to mesh her body to his—thigh to thigh, pelvis to pelvis. Why couldn’t she be immune to him? Why did her body have to betray her? Could he sense the storm of hungry need he caused in her flesh? A need he had awakened.

  His gaze softened in wonder as the baby moved against the press of his hand. ‘That’s amazing...’ His voice became husky. ‘Do you know the sex?’

  ‘No. I didn’t want to find out until the birth.’

  The baby quietened and Rafe removed his hand and stepped back, his expression hardening once more. ‘Were you ever going to tell me?’ The note of accusation in his voice was sobering.

  Isla moved to a little distance away so he wouldn’t see how much she ached for him to hold her, to comfort her, to reassure her. I was only trying to protect you. The words were assembled like soldiers on the back of her tongue but she couldn’t give the command for them to march forward. What good would it do? The less he knew about her reasons for not telling him the better. ‘I decided it was better for both of us if I just quietly disappeared from your life.’

  ‘You decided.’ He spat the words out like bullets. ‘You had no right to decide for me.’ He thumped his fist against his chest for emphasis. ‘I had a right to know I was to become a father. And my child has a right to know me. To have me in its life.’ He swung away with a muttered curse, his hand scraping through the thickness of his hair so roughly she was surprised some of it didn’t come out at the roots. He turned back and glared at her. ‘For God’s sake, Isla. Do you know how it feels for me to find out like this?’

  Isla bit her lip, the tension in her head now feeling like needles poking into the back of her eyeballs. ‘Look, I know it must be upsetting but—’

  ‘Upsetting?’ He gave a rough humourless laugh. ‘Now that’s an understatement. You denied me knowledge of my child. You planned to keep my child away from me indefinitely. Don’t you think I have the right to be a little upset?’

  Isla closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to quell the stabbing pain behind her eyes. ‘I was worried you would do exactly what you’re doing. Barking commands at me as if I have no will of my own.’ She dropped her hand from her face and sent him a defiant look. ‘I will not marry you just because you insist on it. Lots of couples have babies together without marrying. And yes, even couples who are no longer together.’

  His eyes clashed with hers in a battle she fought not to lose, but in the end, Isla was the first to look away. She couldn’t cope with him when she was feeling so fragile. She couldn’t cope with him, full stop. He was too commanding. Too directive. Too everything.

  ‘You will marry me, Isla.’ His voice had a steely thread that sent a chill rolling down her spine like a runaway ice cube. ‘For, believe me, you might not like the alternative. If there were to be a custody battle between us, I can assure you I will win it.’

  The pain behind Isla’s eyes intensified to a piercing drill that felt like it was burrowing deep into her brain. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. He was threatening to take her baby off her once it was born? He would be able to do it too. It wouldn’t take too much digging into her background to cast doubt on her suitability as a mother. Those topless photos she’d stupidly been talked into doing for her ‘portfolio’, for instance. Who would ever believe she hadn’t done them willingly? That she had been duped into making those shamelessly provocative poses, never realising how they might come back to haunt her. The photos alone might not be enough in a court of law to take her baby off her, but the thought of having those lewd photos out in public, splashed over newspapers and gossip magazines, was too much to bear.

  Rafe’s veiled threat only confirmed why she hadn’t told him she was pregnant in the first place. He could be coldly ruthless when he needed to be. How else had he accumulated the amount of wealth he owned?

  Her vision became blurred and the room began to tilt and sway as if gravity had been removed. She reached out her hand for the nearest solid object to stabilise herself but misjudged the distance. Her hand patted at mid-air and then a tide of nausea swept ov
er her in an icy wave that prickled her scalp and sent pins and needles to her fingertips.

  ‘Isla?’

  She was vaguely conscious of Rafe’s concerned tone but she couldn’t get her voice to do anything much past a mumble. And then she folded like a ragdoll and slumped to the floor and everything faded to black...

  * * *

  Rafe rushed to Isla’s slumped figure on the floor, his heart thumping in dread. ‘Isla? Are you okay?’ He was shocked at her pallid complexion—shocked and shamed that he had caused her to drop down in a faint.

  He put her in the recovery position and then took her pulse, finding it more or less normal. A tornado of guilt assailed him, hammering into him with the force of knockout blows. He brushed the hair back from her clammy forehead, willing her to open her eyes. ‘Come on, cara. Talk to me.’

  What sort of man had he become in the last hour? It was unforgivable to harangue a pregnant woman into a state of collapse. Sweat broke out over his own forehead, remorse like bitter bile in his mouth. He was disgusted with himself, furious he had been so intent on communicating his ire that he hadn’t considered her mental and physical state. She was pregnant, for God’s sake—with his child.

  He realised with a jolt of remorse that he hadn’t even asked her how she felt about being pregnant. Whether or not the news had pleased her or shocked her. Had she considered other options? He would not have criticised her for considering a termination. He would not have criticised her for having one because he firmly believed it was a woman’s choice what she did with her body. But there was a place deep inside his heart that felt relieved she hadn’t chosen that path. He was going to be a father. It was still hard to get his head around but the evidence had kicked against his hand only minutes ago. ‘Come on, mio piccolo. Talk to me.’

  Isla slowly opened her eyes and groaned. ‘My head aches...’

  Rafe gently placed his palm on her forehead. ‘I’ll call an ambulance. I need to get you to hospital.’ He reached for his phone in his trouser pocket but she placed a hand on his arm.

  ‘No, please don’t. It’s just a tension headache. I’ve been getting them now and again. I don’t need to go to hospital... I think it’s because my blood sugar is a bit low.’

  He helped her into a sitting position, cradling her around the shoulders with his arm, his other hand gently stroking the red-gold curls of her hair off her forehead. ‘When did you last have something to eat?’

  She gave a weary-sounding sigh. ‘I don’t know...a few hours ago. I skipped lunch as I was running late and—’

  ‘Right, well, that makes me all the more determined you’re coming back with me to Italy,’ Rafe said. ‘You have to think about the baby. You can’t go skipping meals and working long hours in a physically demanding job. Not when I can more than adequately provide for you.’

  Isla gave him one of her combative looks but it didn’t have its normal heat and fire. ‘Must you be so bull-headed? I’ve told you I don’t want to marry you.’

  Rafe bit back a retort about her obeying his orders. He would raise the issue of marriage when she wasn’t feeling so poorly. But he wasn’t giving up. It wasn’t in his nature to step back from a decision he’d made. He would never countenance walking away from his own flesh and blood. His own child. ‘Let’s leave the topic of marriage for later. For now, I’d like to see you with a bit more colour in your cheeks.’ He brushed his fingers against the pale creaminess of her cheek. ‘Do you think you can stand up? I’ll help you to the bed so you can lie down for a bit. And I’ll organise some food for you from Room Service.’

  She looked like she was going to argue the point, but then sighed again and took hold of his proffered hand and he helped her into a standing position. She glanced up at him briefly, her teeth sinking into the fullness of her lower lip. ‘I’m sorry for being such a nuisance...’

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ Rafe said, leading her to the bed with his arm around her waist. ‘I’m the one who should be apologising.’

  Not just for upsetting her but for getting her pregnant. It took two to tango and how well they had tangoed. They had created a new life and it was up to him to make sure that new life was protected from now on. Protected and nurtured and provided for in every way a decent father could.

  It still shocked him how slow he had been to realise Isla’s condition. Why hadn’t he noticed her slightly swollen tummy when he had first encountered her in his suite? Her uniform with its frilly apron had covered it reasonably well, so too the way she’d used towels and the trolley to hide her tell-tale shape. His only excuse for not noticing was that pregnancy had been the last thing on his mind when he’d found her in his room, standing next to his bed. He had been too intent on staring at her gorgeous mouth and breasts, recalling all the times he had sought pleasure from them.

  Even now, with his arm around her waist, his body reacted to her closeness. Even the most casual touch produced a torrent of need within him. He had never experienced such fiery physical chemistry with anyone else. Her body fitted so perfectly against him as if they were two pieces of a complicated puzzle. He could smell the light flowery fragrance of her perfume and it evoked a host of memories—both good and bad. He had smelt that perfume for weeks in his villa after she’d left him. It had haunted him, tortured him.

  Rafe helped Isla onto the bed and gently drew the cashmere throw rug over her curled up form. She looked so young and vulnerable and it sent another wave of guilt thrashing and crashing through him. Now was not the time for bitter recriminations and accusations. She clearly needed rest and better nutrition and it was up to him as her baby’s father to provide it—regularly and consistently.

  Her baby’s father.

  How strange to say those words. To have them applied to him. He had not thought of fatherhood in any detail before. It was something he’d thought he might look into one day in the future, but it certainly hadn’t been on his to-do-soon list. His own father had not been the best role model, although in the early days his father had made Rafe feel special and loved. But then, at the age of thirteen, he’d found out that was nothing but a lie.

  Rafe picked up the phone on the bedside table and ordered a nutritious meal and freshly squeezed fruit juice. Once the meal was ordered, he put the phone back in its cradle and sat on the edge of the bed next to Isla, taking one of her hands, and began stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. ‘It shouldn’t be too long. Do you want a mineral water or lemonade or something in the meantime?’

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze. ‘Why haven’t you insisted on a paternity test?’

  Rafe was ashamed to admit he had thought of doing exactly that, but something had stopped him. He wasn’t one to hand out his trust too easily but, for some reason, he knew on a cellular level she was telling the truth. ‘I figured I didn’t need to confirm the baby is mine. You wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to avoid telling me if it was someone else’s.’

  Her gaze drifted to their joined hands, her teeth doing that lip-nibbling thing that always made him want to kiss her lip back into its soft, ripe shape. ‘I won’t stop you getting one if you want one.’

  He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. ‘It won’t be necessary.’ He waited a beat before asking, ‘When did you first suspect you were pregnant?’

  ‘Just before you went to New York. I thought it was another stomach bug like in Paris, but then I realised I was a few days late...’

  ‘It must have come as a shock.’

  She glanced at him again, worry clouding her beautiful periwinkle-blue eyes. ‘I was shocked and terrified. I didn’t know what to do. Where to turn...’

  If only she had turned to him. Why hadn’t she? But he was reluctant to drill her with questions that might upset her in her current state. ‘Did you consider...ending the pregnancy?’

  She pulled her hand out of his as if his touch burned her. ‘No. I’m sorry if
you think I should’ve got rid of it but I couldn’t. I have no problem with other women choosing that option but I didn’t feel it was the right choice for me.’

  Rafe took her hand again, holding it gently within his. ‘I’m glad you didn’t have a termination.’ His voice came out rusty as he thought about the tiny life they had created. It felt surreal to be talking about a baby and yet it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Their baby. Created out of passion unlike any other he had experienced. It might not be love in the truest sense but surely it counted for something.

  She looked at him with wide eyes. ‘You are?’

  Rafe stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. ‘Like you, I believe it’s a woman’s choice what to do with her body but, while I can’t deny I’m shocked at the news and still getting my head around becoming a father, I’m glad you chose to go ahead with the pregnancy. We will be good parents to our child, cara.’

  A flicker of something passed through her gaze before it fell away from his. ‘I’m sorry you found out the way you did.’ Her forehead puckered in a frown. ‘I should have told you at the beginning but I didn’t feel I could take the risk.’

  Rafe placed a finger over her lips to halt her speech. ‘Hush now. You’re supposed to be resting. What’s done is done. It won’t help either of us move forward if we keep rehashing the past. It’s time to think of the future. The baby’s future and ours.’

  He lifted his finger from her petal-soft mouth, fighting to stop himself leaning down and covering her lips with his own. The fierce hunger he’d always felt for her was as stunning now as it had been in the beginning, when he had first locked gazes with her across a crowded bar. His blood heated to boiling, racing through his veins at rocket-force speed. He could feel the stirring of his groin—the hard swell of his flesh an erotic reminder of the heart-racing pleasure he had experienced so many times with her. Two months of phenomenal sex. Sizzling hot sex that he hadn’t forgotten. He hadn’t been able to erase it from his mind or his body. It had left echoes in his flesh he felt to this day. Being near her sent him into a frenzy of longing. It was all he could do to stop himself drawing her into his arms and reminding her of the red-hot passion they had shared.