Gypsy shivered inwardly. He was as ruthless as her father had said. ‘But you ruined that woman’s reputation, dragging her through the courts.’
His face was stony. ‘She brought it all on herself. She was convinced I wouldn’t want to risk the publicity to prove I wasn’t the father. I gave her an opportunity to avoid it and she refused, believing I’d be an easy target and pay her off to keep her quiet. Within weeks of the court case she’d admitted who the real father was and was forced to make do with his meagre million euro fortune. Believe me, she does not merit your sympathy.’
Gypsy wondered now at the woman’s sense of delusion. Anyone could see that Rico Christofides was not a man who would bow to pressure. She tried not to let his explanation sway her, but deep down she had to admit she was surprised. Even so, she asked, ‘And yet you believe that Lola might be yours?’
Rico’s eyes went to Gypsy’s, and something that flared in their depths made her go hot in the face. ‘Apart from the fact that you’ve told me she is, I can be fairly certain that she’s mine because the protection I used that night split. When you assured me you’d be safe, I believed you.’
His words fell into the vacuum they’d caused. To Gypsy’s horror, all she could remember was that moment when he’d held back from sliding into her to put on protection. Even that had caused her to entreat him desperately, ‘Please, Rico…don’t stop now. Please.’ If anything, she was probably to blame for the protection failing because she’d rushed him. And then she had promised him she’d be safe, fully believing that she had no cause to worry. But she hadn’t taken into account how erratic her cycle had grown in the months after her father’s death…
He continued, cutting through her shameful memory, ‘You dare to ask me this after you ran from me last night, knowing I was the father of your child? You ask me this when looking at her is like looking into a mirror for me?’ His mouth twisted. ‘But don’t worry. I’m not so naïve that I won’t get a paternity test done just to make sure. Your insistence that you want nothing from me only leads me to believe that you do.’ He laughed harshly. ‘You can hardly expect me to believe that I managed to impregnate the one woman in the world who wants not a cent of my fortune?’
He didn’t allow her to interject.
‘Perhaps you intended coming after me when she was old enough and skinny enough from malnutrition that your story would pluck at the heartstrings of the public with maximum effect? Or perhaps you just relish the twisted power of knowing you’re denying your own daughter her paternal heritage? You’ll do what you can to bleed me dry even while keeping me away from her?’
Gypsy clutched Lola even closer, and in an unconscious move shielded her daughter as much as she could from Rico. She felt fierce as she gave a scathing look around the pathetic flat. ‘Do you really think that I would choose to bring up my daughter in this just so that I could hatch some cunning extortion plan? Or that I revel in the fact that we’re dependent on dodgy storage heating? I am a good mother, and despite our challenging circumstances Lola has wanted for nothing. She is well fed, looked after and loved. She is an extremely happy and secure child.’
Rico looked at Gypsy. Her huge green eyes were luminous, and he realised that the sky had darkened outside. The rain was a torrential downpour now, and he could hear the insistent drip-drip of the leak in the corner and feel the damp in the air.
He could not understand this woman. This whole situation. He was certain he was Lola’s father—he felt it in his bones in a way he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to articulate to this woman. So why hadn’t she fleeced him from the moment she’d found out she was pregnant? Especially as she’d known who he was. None of this made sense to him.
He asked again, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Gypsy looked away. He saw her bite her lip. Finally she looked back, and he saw trepidation in her eyes, and something that looked suspiciously like fear. ‘Because I wanted to protect my daughter and do what was best for her.’
Rico shook his head, uncomprehending. His brain was quick, faster than most, but right now it felt as if treacle had been poured into it.
‘What on earth are you afraid of?’
And Gypsy just said simply, ‘This.’
‘You’re not making sense, woman. How can your present situation be better than what I could have offered?’
At that moment Rico had a vivid insight into how it might have been. The shock of finding out that Gypsy was pregnant, but then coming to terms with it. He would never have had to wonder about her. He would have had her in his bed all this time, to sate himself until he was done with her. A curious sense of loss assailed him.
They could have worked out some mutual arrangement with Lola…But even as he thought that, he knew he wouldn’t be happy with a mutual arrangement. Things had escalated way beyond that now. Gypsy owed him. He’d missed out on fifteen months of his daughter’s life. His daughter looked at him as if he was a stranger because he was.
He fought not to be distracted by remembering the illicit thrill which had run through him to hear Gypsy’s admission that she hadn’t slept with anyone else since him—that he’d been her only one-night stand. She’d been slightly gauche and innocent that night, and she’d been so tight around him—almost like a virgin. At that memory a wave of desire engulfed him.
Gypsy’s chin came up and Rico drew on all his control, fought the impulse he had to stride forward and plunder her soft mouth, caress the delicate bones of her jaw.
‘There are plenty of people surviving on a lot less than I. Money isn’t everything, and I didn’t relish the prospect of being hauled through the courts and the tabloids to prove your paternity. It was my decision to have Lola, therefore she’s my responsibility.’
Rico fought back the barrage of questions. He sensed that there was a lot more to it than that. But right now he needed to get them out of this godforsaken place. He would have plenty of time to question Gypsy later. She was proving to be an enigma of monumental proportions, but he had no doubt that despite what she said she had an agenda. Every woman did.
Chapter Five
GYPSY hoped Rico would just take her explanation and leave it at that. She didn’t like the look on his face now, though, it was far too determined. And Lola was being far too quiet.
Gypsy turned her head to see that she was just looking at Rico, with big, watchful eyes, thumb in her mouth. Mrs Murphy, Lola’s minder, had commented plenty of times that Lola was an ‘old soul’.
And then Rico said, ‘Get your things together. You’re coming with me.’
Gypsy’s head whipped around so fast she nearly got whiplash. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’ Steel ran through his voice. ‘I want you to get whatever you need and pack it up. We’re leaving this place now.’
Gypsy shook her head, panic trickling through her even as the prospect of being whisked away from this flat held undeniable appeal. With anyone but him.
‘I’m not going anywhere with you. We’re not going anywhere.’
Rico folded his arms. ‘Why? Because you’ve got work to go to later?’ He clicked his fingers then, as if remembering something. ‘Oh, but that’s not right, is it? You walked away from your job last night. Not a very responsible thing to do if you’re a single parent, is it?’
Gypsy blanched. She’d forgotten for a moment.
And then, as if thinking of something, Rico asked abruptly, ‘Who was minding Lola last night?’
Immediately Gypsy was defensive. Her hackles rose—he was already sounding far too proprietorial. ‘Mrs Murphy from down the road. She’s a retired qualified childminder who looks after Lola in the evenings for some extra cash.’
He bristled. ‘You leave my daughter with a stranger in this armpit of a street?’
Gypsy bristled right back. ‘She’s not a stranger, she’s a lovely woman, and Lola has always been perfectly safe with her.’ Gypsy’s conscience struck her then. She knew that if she’d had a choice she wouldn’
t have been leaving Lola with anyone. ‘And,’ she added hurriedly, ‘Mrs Murphy comes here to mind her, as Lola is usually already down for the night when I go to work.’
‘When you used to go to work,’ Rico amended. He slashed a hand in the air, ‘Here or there, it doesn’t matter. This street is a minefield of drug abuse and gangs. I won’t have you here for one more night.’
Shaking inside, because her worst fears were manifesting themselves, Gypsy said, ‘You can’t just come in here and turn us upside down like this.’
‘Oh?’ Rico sneered. ‘Because you have such a lovely set-up here and such a perfect routine?’ His voice rang with determination. ‘This place is not fit for a dog, much less a small child. You are coming with me and you will stay with me tonight.’
Right then Lola reached up to touch Gypsy’s face, and she could feel how cold her small hands were. Guilt rushed through her. The storage heating still hadn’t come on, and Gypsy knew that even when it did its heat output was not great. Without the supplementary heater things would be bleak, and far colder than usual. It was freezing, it was damp, and she was horribly aware of the leak in the corner—and the fact that Lola had just got over a bad cold.
Rico Christofides couldn’t have picked a worse moment to confront her. Or a better one, she realised bitterly.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Rico asked sharply, his eyes on Lola, who Gypsy could feel getting heavier in her arms.
Weariness struck Gypsy. ‘She’s tired. She didn’t sleep well last night, and she only got a small sleep in the buggy just now.’
Something even more determined crossed Rico’s face then. ‘I will carry you both out of here bodily if that’s what it takes, Gypsy, don’t think I won’t. We have to talk. You owe me this. And I refuse to stay here a moment longer.’
To her utter shame, Gypsy could feel the fight leaving her. She couldn’t in all conscience deny him the chance to talk things over. ‘Where are you proposing to take us?’
‘To my apartment in town. It’s infinitely more comfortable there. I have a housekeeper who can keep an eye on Lola while we talk.’
Feeling as though she was being carried aloft on white water rapids, with the utmost reluctance, Gypsy finally said, ‘OK—fine. We’ll come with you.’
And then things moved with scary swiftness. Gypsy put a drowsy Lola into her buggy while she got together a bag of essentials. She balked at Rico’s assertion that they wouldn’t spend another night here, and resolved to make him see he couldn’t just waltz in and change their lives, but she packed a small suitcase just in case, knowing well that with a small child she couldn’t afford not to be practical.
Finally she was ready, and saw Rico had his coat on again and stood in a wide-legged stance, waiting. He’d asked her about a car seat for Lola, and she’d explained that the buggy seat doubled as one. She’d heard him on his mobile phone, barking out what sounded like orders in Greek. Now he just watched her with cold eyes. So unlike the seductive man who had danced with her in that club that night—not that his effect on her was any less now.
She pushed aside the memory ruthlessly. Her hands were full with bags, and she looked to Lola’s pram.
Before she’d articulated anything he moved and said, ‘I’ll take her. You lock up.’
And before Gypsy could protest or say a word she watched as Rico detached the seat from the buggy frame, as if he’d been doing it all his life, and then lifted the seat up with an ease Gypsy envied. Seeing him cradling the seat with Lola in it made something primal and treacherous rush through her. She wanted to snatch her daughter back from him, and yet her eyes pricked ominously. Gypsy forced the tears aside, knowing that to show any emotion to Rico Christofides would show him weakness—and she couldn’t afford to be weak.
Once the flat door and main door had been closed and locked, Rico let Gypsy go to the car first in the teeming rain, accompanied by the solicitous driver, who held an umbrella over her head. He put her bags in the boot, before helping her into the car. When she was settled, Rico strode forward, Lola protected by his coat. Once at the car, he handed her in to Gypsy, who was all fingers and thumbs securing the seat belt around the chair. Lola was bone-dry and contentedly sucking her thumb—which made Gypsy feel peculiar inside.
As the car slowly pulled away from the kerb she remembered something. ‘The buggy!’
Rico all but ignored her, officiously making sure that her own seat belt was fastened. Gypsy wanted to slap his hands away when she felt them brush against her thigh, hating the shiver of heat that went through her lower body. He was far too close, as she’d had to move to the middle of the back seat to accommodate Lola’s chair. His musky and uniquely masculine scent wound around her, threatening to make all sorts of memories flood back. It was humiliating in the extreme when he clearly didn’t feel the same way, at all.
And who could blame him? Gypsy thought wearily, knowing that she looked not far removed from a homeless person. The only smart clothes she owned were her work clothes, and they were useless now…
He finished and straightened up, and said grimly, ‘That pram is the least of your worries. By the time we get to my apartment there will be a new one waiting.’
Gypsy tried not to let the quiet warm luxury of the car seduce her. ‘You can’t just do this, you know…just because you’re her father.’
He turned a blistering grey gaze on Gypsy, and she tried not to quail beneath it. The space in the back of the car was claustrophobic. ‘The moment you decided to leave me out of the equation was the moment you started stacking the odds against yourself. I have just as much right to my daughter as you, and now that I know of her existence I will move heaven and earth to ensure that she grows up knowing me.’
He turned away to look out of the window, his profile austere, jaw clenched.
Gypsy closed her mouth firmly. She knew that there was no point in remonstrating further right now. Men like Rico Christofides and her father switched off when they weren’t hearing what they wanted or expected to hear.
Gypsy turned her head too, her stomach in knots, aghast at how easy it was to just stare at him. She looked out of her own window as London slid past in bleak greyness. She just hoped and prayed that when he saw the reality of living with a toddler even for a few hours he’d be all but paying them to go home.
Before long they were in the much more salubrious area of Mayfair. Clean streets, expensive cars, and even more expensive-looking people. It had stopped raining, almost as if they’d left the black cloud behind over Gypsy’s dismal street. Distaste curdled her insides; her father had had an apartment here, where he’d housed his various mistresses.
Rico’s car drew to a smooth halt outside a sleek building with an awning over the pavement. A doorman rushed to the car to open the door for them. Gypsy got out and extricated Lola, who had fallen asleep during the journey. She stood on the pavement with Lola in her arms, blinking, feeling a little as though she’d been transported to another planet, and half hoping that she might wake up in a minute and see that this had all been a bad dream.
With not a word, and barely a glance, Rico took Gypsy’s bags and led the way into the building and into a lift, where he pressed a button that said P. She grimaced to herself. The penthouse—of course.
When they emerged from the lift into a plush corridor an apartment door stood open, and Gypsy could see an ample-figured middle-aged woman taking delivery of a myriad assortment of boxes, directing the men to somewhere inside the apartment and saying, ‘We need it all set up as soon as possible, please.’ Then she saw Rico and broke off with a smile. ‘Mr Christofides—you’re back already! As you can see it’s all just arrived. The men won’t be two ticks getting it put together, and then I’ll make sure it’s set up to your satisfaction.’
Rico brought Gypsy from behind him, his hand on her back, making her feel as if she wanted to arch into it. She stood stiffly, Lola heavy in her arms.
‘Gypsy, this is Mrs Wakefield—my housekeeper.’
The warmth in his voice made Gypsy suck in a breath. It reminded her too much of how he’d seduced her so easily. She avoided looking at him and smiled tightly at the openly curious woman, who now looked to Lola.
‘Ah, what an absolute cherub. Now, you must be tired and famished. I thought she might be sleeping after the car journey, so I’ve got a little makeshift bed set up in the sitting room if you want to take her through and lie her down.’
More than a little stunned, Gypsy meekly followed the motherly woman through a gleamingly modern reception area to a huge open-plan room decorated in dark greys and muted tones. A bachelor pad if ever there was one.
Mrs Wakefield showed Gypsy where to lie Lola down, and she even had a cashmere blanket to put over her. She confirmed Gypsy’s suspicions when she said chattily, ‘I have five girls myself, but they’re all grown up now. They grow so fast—mark my words, you won’t even see the time fly by before she’s turning your heart in your chest with boyfriends and wanting to go out all night.’
Gypsy made some trite comment, but she was very aware of Rico, who had followed them in and was standing silently by. She could feel his censorious gaze. No doubt his housekeeper’s words were reminding him of how much he’d missed already.
With a promise to return soon, with some tea and sandwiches, she left them alone in the huge room. Gypsy fussed over Lola for a moment, wanting to avoid looking anywhere near Rico.
He asked then, ‘Is it normal for her to sleep like this?’
Gypsy finally stood up and crossed her arms. His question unsettled her, making her defensive. ‘She’s just catching up. And she normally has a nap in the afternoon anyway.’
Rico’s jaw was tight. ‘How would I know this?’
Gypsy just looked at him, quashing the dart of guilt, and watched as he took off his coat with jerky movements, before flinging it down over the back of a chair. He started to pace, and Gypsy felt that weariness snake over her again. She hadn’t realised how tired she was. But she was exhausted.
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