The Italian's Unexpected Baby

by Kate Hewitt

  When Alessandro had to work at his office in Florence, Mia had pottered about the villa, taking over some of the duties from Alyssa, as well as learning Italian and attending a local mums and babies group. She’d been surprised how easy and pleasant it was to fill her days in this way, to simply enjoy being.

  And as for her nights...those were filled as well, with a pleasure and intimacy she’d never expected or dared to dream of. Every night she and Alessandro explored each other’s bodies, learning the maps of their very selves, and offering themselves to each other in a way that felt like the purest form of communication.

  Each night left Mia both sated and shaken, as if she’d flown close to the sun, and been engulfed in its brilliance. It warmed her right through, but she also knew it had the danger to burn her right up.

  Because, a month on from their marriage, she knew she was falling in love with her husband. She might have fought against it at the start, had worried all along that it would happen, and now she knew it was.

  And she had no idea how her husband felt about her. At night she’d swear on her soul that he loved her, and he showed her he did in a thousand ways. But during the day...

  Mia hadn’t been able to fault him, at least not until recently. He’d been kind, affectionate, humorous, gentle with Ella. Yet all along she had never been able to escape the sense that he was still keeping some private yet essential part of himself from her. Whenever the conversation turned a little too personal, she felt a distance open up between them, a cool remoteness in Alessandro, as if he had picketed off part of himself and it absolutely wasn’t up for grabs.

  When she was alone, she told herself she must be imagining it. How on earth could she not be satisfied with all Alessandro gave her? It was such a vague notion, after all. Then, when they were together again, she felt it, like a part of her rubbed raw, always chafing. The words he’d never say, the sense that he wasn’t hers, not in the way that she knew she was his. The remoteness was real...and it hurt.

  And it had grown worse over the last few days, with Alessandro barely spending any time with her at all. He’d worked late, missing dinner as well as Ella’s bedtime, coming to bed when Mia had already succumbed to a restless, unhappy sleep.

  She hadn’t asked him about his withdrawal; she hadn’t, she acknowledged unhappily, been brave enough. Maybe he had some important deal at work. Maybe something else was going on.

  But then, why couldn’t he tell her about it?

  And, more importantly, why couldn’t she ask?

  Now, with Ella settled in her bouncy chair as Mia prepared dinner, she could pretend, at least, they were just like any other family, any other loving couple. Alessandro had told her this morning he would be home for dinner, and hopefully they would sit and eat, talk and laugh, and everything so easy and simple...at least on the surface.

  And when they went up to bed a little while later, it would be even simpler, because between the sheets Mia felt she had all of Alessandro to herself...body and soul.

  There Alessandro never became a tiny bit repressive, a little tight-lipped. In bed, she never saw the flash of something in his eyes that reminded her of the man she’d met back in London, cold and autocratic, ruthless and remote. Not the man she married. Not the man she was beginning, to her own wonder and fear, to love.

  Alyssa bustled into the kitchen, chucking Ella under her chin before turning to Mia. ‘Something smells molto delizioso!’

  Mia smiled wryly. ‘I hope so. That is...lo spero.’

  Alyssa beamed her approval. ‘Molto buona! Your lessons are coming on, si?’

  ‘Si.’ She’d been having several hours’ tuition every day, and she hoped eventually to be fluent, to help Ella be fluent as well. Alessandro already talked to his daughter in Italian, something that made Mia melt inside. At moments like that, she could let herself believe in the fairy tale. She could be carried away by it.

  ‘Is Signor Costa eating at home tonight?’ Alyssa asked, and Mia nodded.

  ‘Yes...that is, I hope so. Lo spero.’ She smiled wryly again. ‘He said he would before he left this morning.’ Even though he hadn’t for the few nights before, with no real explanation.

  She was just setting the table, Ella bathed and gurgling in her bouncy chair, when her phone beeped with a text from Alessandro.

  Working late.

  Two measly words when she’d already prepared dinner, had everything ready. Mia’s stomach swirled with disappointment and a far deeper hurt. This was the fourth night in a row. Feeling a bit reckless, she swiped her phone’s screen to dial his number.

  ‘Mia?’ His voice was terse. ‘Didn’t you get my message?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s so late, Alessandro. I’ve already made dinner...’

  ‘It will keep, won’t it?’

  Mia blinked at his brusque tone. No explanations, no apologies, just that edge of impatience to his voice, as if she was wasting his time.

  ‘That’s not the point, Alessandro,’ she said, trying to keep her voice even. ‘This is the fourth night you’ve missed dinner—’

  ‘I’m working.’ There was no mistaking the edge now. ‘Surely you can understand that, Mia. I shouldn’t have to justify it to you.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to justify it,’ she protested, startled by the definite coolness in his voice. ‘Alessandro...what’s going on?’

  ‘What do you mean by that? Nothing is going on.’

  ‘You’ve been so distant...’

  ‘I’m working.’

  Gone was even the pretence of the gentle, kind and attentive lover Mia had grown to know and love these last few weeks, making her wonder if it had all been a mirage.

  ‘I know that,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Then there’s no problem,’ Alessandro answered, his voice clipped, and before Mia could say another word he disconnected the call.

  She stood there for a moment, stunned by what had just happened, and yet somehow not surprised at all. Hadn’t some part of her been waiting for this? For the mask to fall away, the true man to be revealed? All her fears to be realised?

  She hadn’t had the courage to confront Alessandro, and when she’d tried, he’d put her in her place, brushing off her concerns as if they were of no importance. The same way her father had.

  It didn’t have to be a big deal, Mia told herself. It was one phone conversation. All couples had arguments. She was overreacting, she knew that. And yet...

  But she knew it wasn’t one conversation; it was everything that had and hadn’t happened in the last month. On their wedding day—and night—she’d felt so wonderfully close to him, and the last month had been a sliding away from that, inch by infinitesimal inch.

  Alessandro had been becoming more remote, and, worse, she had become more needy. More desperate. She’d heard it in her voice; she felt it in herself.

  Drawing in a ragged breath, Mia reached for the pan of sauce simmering on the stove and recklessly she scraped it all into the bin.

  She didn’t want it to keep. Alessandro would most likely come home late tomorrow night as well. And the night after that...the night after that...

  She couldn’t live this way.

  The realisation came suddenly, starkly, and was completely overwhelming, every fear she’d ever had rising restlessly to the fore. Here she was, just like her mother, miserable and alone, having just been told off by the man she was coming to love.

  In her seat, Ella let out a happy gurgle, startling Mia out of her unhappy thoughts. She picked Ella up, pacing the kitchen, before she decided she couldn’t stay in this villa for another moment. It felt like a mausoleum—a mausoleum of her fragile, fledgling hopes and dreams. As melodramatic as she knew that sounded, even in her own head, she also knew she needed some space.

  Quickly Mia went upstairs and packed a case for both her and Ella. She needed to get out of here, ge
t some perspective. And, she acknowledged, she wanted to show Alessandro that he wasn’t the only one who could change plans.

  It didn’t take long to pack what she needed and ring a taxi. While waiting for the car to arrive, she’d checked out a family-friendly hotel in nearby Assisi. She’d go there for the night, she decided. Perhaps in the morning, things would feel and look better, and she’d know what to do. How to feel.

  As the taxi sped away from the villa, Ella dozing in her car seat by her side, Mia glanced down at her phone. Alessandro hadn’t called or texted again, but she knew he deserved at least some explanation as to her absence.

  Needed to think, she texted,

  And then waited for a reply that never came.

  * * *

  Alessandro glanced moodily at his phone. Needed to think? What was that supposed to mean? He hadn’t bothered to reply, because he didn’t know what to say. In truth, he hadn’t known what to say for weeks now, as he fought the feeling that had been growing between them, stronger every day, and more alarming.

  After the soul-changing encounter on their wedding night, when he’d realised just how far he’d fallen, he’d found himself inexorably withdrawing, trying to create a safe distance between him and Mia while pretending to her that it wasn’t there.

  It had been easy at night, when their bodies took over, and yet he knew that those earth-shattering nights were actually drawing them closer together. Making him want even more from Mia—and for her to want more than he was able to give.

  Because during the day, when she asked about his family, or looked at him with so much expectation in her eyes, when he felt a welling of need inside him, a need that felt overwhelming and consuming...he started to freeze. To fear.

  He was falling in love with Mia; hell, he was already in love with her, and he knew what happened when you loved someone. They rejected you. Eventually, always, they rejected you.

  In his mind’s eye he could see his mother’s haggard face, the weary resignation in her face giving truth to her words.

  ‘I wish I’d never had you.’

  His own mother had wished him out of existence. His father hadn’t wanted to know him at all. How on earth could he expect Mia to love him the way he knew he loved her...especially when she’d said she’d never wanted to love anyone at all? That had suited him admirably...once.

  Now the only choice he felt he had was to keep himself safe. Separate. But the result was this restless ache, this impossible anxiety.

  Needed to think?

  He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  Snatching up his phone and his coat, Alessandro decided he’d confront Mia directly, ask her just what she needed to think about. Even if he didn’t like the answer, it was surely better to know.

  It took an hour to drive back to the villa, and with each minute Alessandro felt his insides coil tighter and tighter, till everything in him was ready to snap and break. What did Mia need to think about? What was going on?

  He’d tell her he loved her, he decided recklessly. He’d admit the truth he’d been trying to hide from himself, even if the thought made his stomach cramp even more. Did he dare be that vulnerable? Open himself up to that much pain?

  But what was the alternative? To live in this welter of frustration and fear, walking a tightrope between staying safe and being real? Gaining nothing or risking everything?

  He’d always been willing to take a risk in business, and here was the biggest risk of all. He would be man enough to take it.

  Filled with determination, powered by adrenalin, he drove up the sweeping lane to the villa, only to find it darkened and empty.

  Perhaps she’d gone to bed already, he thought as he hurried upstairs.

  ‘Mia...?’ he called softly as he opened the door to their bedroom. It was empty, the bed still made up and untouched. Frowning, Alessandro walked down the hall to Ella’s nursery, his blood freezing to ice in his veins at the sight of the empty cot, the open drawers, the missing clothes. Back to the master bedroom, and he saw that a suitcase was gone, along with some of Mia’s clothes.

  She’d left him, he realised hollowly. She’d actually left him. And she’d taken his daughter with him.

  He sank onto the bed, caught between grief and rage. So this was why Mia had needed to think? To think about whether she was leaving him—for a night, or perhaps, heaven help him, even for good? He couldn’t see any other possibility. Memories of his childhood, of empty apartments, lonely nights and constant uncertainty, tormented him, and made him unable to think clearly, or even at all. All he knew was he was alone, and he hated it.

  Alessandro dropped his head into his hands, overcome with emotion. Thank heaven he hadn’t told her he loved her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A NIGHT AWAY hadn’t given Mia much rest. The hotel had been small and noisy, and Ella had had an unsettled night. Mia had, as well, missed the strong, solid presence of her husband in her bed. She’d gone away hoping to order her own thoughts, gain a bit of her independence back, but the time apart had only made her realise how much she missed Alessandro—and, yes, loved him.

  The truth was stark and real, and she couldn’t hide it from herself any longer. As she climbed in the taxi to head home the next morning, she let that realisation rest and then grow inside her, filling up all the empty space.

  She loved him.

  She hadn’t meant to, hadn’t wanted to, but she’d fallen in love with a man who most likely didn’t feel the same way about her.

  The realisation thudded dully inside her. This was the exact scenario she’d once feared, the one thing she’d never wanted to come to pass, and yet here she was, knowing it was true and having to deal with it.

  How?

  By telling Alessandro she loved him? The thought filled Mia with frightened panic, and yet she also knew, intrinsically and instinctively, that it was the right thing to do. What kind of love was it if she couldn’t even admit to it? And if he was horrified, if he told her flat out he didn’t love her back...well, then at least she’d know.

  As the taxi came up the villa’s drive, hope warred with icy terror. Could she really do this? What if, improbably, impossibly, Alessandro told her he loved her back? Dared she even dream...?

  Mia held on to that hope as she climbed out of the taxi, Ella in her arms. She’d just paid the driver and started towards the steps when the front door was thrown open.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  Mia froze at the sound of Alessandro’s condemning voice, the cold rage she heard in it, as he strode towards her, everything about his taut form and angry voice catapulting her back to her childhood.

  ‘I told you...’ she began, faltering at the sight of the thunderous look on her husband’s face.

  ‘You told me you needed to think! And then I came home to an empty house, no explanation, my daughter gone...’

  ‘I went away for a night, that’s all...’

  ‘Without telling me so. Without telling me where.’ Alessandro shook his head, his eyes dark, his lips compressed. ‘How could you, Mia? How could you do such a thing?’ He shook his head again before she could form a reply. ‘I don’t care. No reason is good enough.’

  ‘Then I won’t bother giving you one,’ Mia snapped, goaded into her own rage by his high-handed manner. To think she’d been about to tell him she loved him! ‘It seems you can come and go as you please, but I can’t.’

  ‘That’s completely different. I was working.’

  ‘While I was playing with the fairies? Never mind.’ Anger and hurt choked her voice. ‘I don’t care. I’m going inside.’ She pushed past him, only to have him reach for her arm.

  ‘Mia—’

  ‘Leave me alone.’ She shrugged off his hand, her eyes blinded by tears, and hurried inside. It was, she realised as she headed upstairs, the first argument they’d h
ad since they’d been married, and it felt as if it might be the last one as well. How had everything gone so disastrously wrong so quickly? Except it hadn’t been quick at all. It had been happening all month. This was just the result.

  Ella was fussing, so Mia fed and changed her before putting her down for a nap. Then she had a shower, hoping it might make her feel better, but everything only made her feel worse. She thought of going in search of Alessandro, but couldn’t bear the thought of another argument, or, worse, a freezing silence.

  How had it got this bad between them? Was there any way to make it better?

  ‘Mia.’ Alessandro stood in the doorway of the bedroom as she came out of the bathroom, finger-combing her damp hair. She stilled as she saw him, everything in her poised for flight.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked warily.

  He shook his head slowly. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

  That didn’t sound good. ‘Thinking? About what?’

  ‘About us.’

  Her hands stilled and she turned to face him fully, lowering her hands from her hair. ‘Alessandro...?’

  ‘I never gave you a choice, Mia.’

  What...?

  ‘You did,’ she protested, scanning his face for clues to what he was feeling.

  ‘Not really. I as good as sent you to California, and then I took you from there, without you being able to do much about it. I practically forced you to marry me...’

  Mia gazed at him, trying to figure out where he was going with this. ‘But you asked me to choose, Alessandro. I was the one who proposed, after all—’

  ‘Do you really think that was any choice at all? If you’d said no, I would have seduced you. I would have had my way. I was always determined about that. There was absolutely no way you weren’t going to marry me, Mia.’ He met her gaze bleakly, and Mia shook her head.

  ‘Why are you telling me this now?’

  ‘Because I realise I can’t do this any more. I can’t give you what you need, what you deserve.’