The Italian Boss’s Secret Child

by Trish Morey

  But he wanted her—so much. Why did she continue to frustrate him? She’d fled from him that first night, hidden her identity and kept it concealed. And she still made out she was an innocent in all this when she’d held all the cards right from the beginning.

  ‘You seem to take a great deal of satisfaction in pointing out my failings, but do you think your own behaviour is beyond reproach?’ She looked up at him, startled, as if not expecting him to go on the attack so soon.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re the one who ran away the night of the masquerade ball. You’re the one who kept your identity a secret. If you hadn’t told me today about the baby—’ He stopped, reeling back the hours to that time.

  She hadn’t told him.

  He’d intervened in her dispute with that loser, Bryce, and Bryce hadn’t been the only one who’d believed him. In her fragile state she’d thought he was telling the truth. She’d thought he really did know the baby was his.

  He looked up at her, his eyes open for what seemed the first time as the layers of her deceit peeled away.

  ‘You weren’t going to tell me, were you.’

  It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation. ‘You were never going to tell me.’

  ‘No, Damien, that’s not true.’

  ‘You were going to keep this baby a secret. You never intended to let me in on it. If I hadn’t come to your rescue and you hadn’t taken me seriously, I never would have known.’

  ‘No! I was going to tell you today.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘I didn’t have a chance. I was about to tell you, in your office, but Bryce—’

  ‘Bryce nothing. I don’t believe you. You’ve hidden the truth from me all along. Why should today be any different?’

  ‘Because it’s the truth.’

  ‘No. You were going to keep it your secret. Another little secret. Like making love to me that night. That was your secret. You didn’t want me to know who you were—that’s what that mask was all about—why you wouldn’t take it off. You never wanted me to find out.’

  ‘Damien, listen to me—’

  ‘Why should I listen to you? You’ve hidden the truth all along. You hid your face that night so I wouldn’t know who you were. Then you let me believe you were never at that Christmas party. Why would you do that and then suddenly decide to tell me you’re pregnant and it’s my baby?’

  ‘Because it is your baby. You have a right to know.’

  ‘You care about my rights?’ he scoffed. ‘I very much doubt that. But this isn’t about rights. I believe you never had any intention of admitting you were in that boardroom let alone advising me that I was the father of this baby. If it hadn’t been for that blunder you made when I threw Bryce out, you would never have told me.’

  ‘Damien, that’s simply not true.’

  ‘Isn’t it? You can honestly say you never once considered hiding the truth about this baby from me? You never once considered the possibility of bringing this child up on your own?’

  Her eyes slid sideways before they slowly meandered their way back to his. His own narrowed in response. What did that mean if not an acknowledgement of his claims? She’d planned to keep this baby secret from him. Blood rushed to his temples in a flush of heat and anger. Just as well she had no way out of this arrangement. She’d never escape him again.

  ‘I…’ she flailed. ‘You see…’

  ‘I don’t see, Philly,’ he barged in. ‘I don’t see at all. You had ample opportunity to tell me you were the woman behind that mask, and yet you said nothing. Then, when we were up at the Gold Coast, I tried to kiss you and you acted like I was mauling you—and yet we’d already made love. What was that all about unless you were wanting to keep that first night a secret?’

  She gasped, her eyes wide open in protest. ‘You didn’t want me that night. It was one thing to make love to some fantasy woman at the ball, but you had no intention of making love to me then. You just didn’t want anyone else to. You couldn’t stand the thought that anyone else might be interested in me.’

  No intention of making love with her? She had to be kidding. He’d burned that night, back in his room, pacing away the tension she’d provoked in his loins.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘That doesn’t make sense. You wanted to keep your identity secret. That’s why you pushed me away that night. So there would be no chance I might recognise my elusive boardroom lover.’

  She was shaking her head. ‘Things were already too complicated. You wouldn’t have believed me.’

  ‘And things are less complicated now? How do you work that out?’

  He didn’t wait for her answer. He took three strides, stopping at the top of the steps leading down to the thirsty lawn below. ‘How do you expect me to believe you?’

  ‘Because it’s the truth.’

  He sighed, long and deep, before he looked over his shoulder to where she was still standing against the railing. ‘So then, explain it to me. Why did you keep that mask on? Why did you run away from me that night, unless it was to ensure I’d never find out who you were? Why didn’t you tell me it was you?’

  She didn’t answer and a train rushed along the track, sounding its horn over the crossing. Then gradually the quiet resumed, leaving only the plaintive notes of the windchimes tinkling in the lame summer breeze.

  ‘Have you forgotten what it was like back then? Forgotten how you were?’

  She looked over to him and gave a wan smile. ‘Remember the first day I came to your office? When Sam had gone home sick? Remember how you were then?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I knew what you thought of me. You’d summed me up and written me off with one glance. I was so low on the food chain I didn’t even register.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Of course it was. There was no way you’d look twice at me. And yet, at the ball…’

  ‘You looked so different that night.’

  She gave a shrug, a small laugh. ‘You never suspected it was me. You never had any plans to make love to plain old Philly Summers. And I didn’t want you to find out. Because I knew you wouldn’t want to know. It never would have happened if you’d known who I was.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  But he knew it was. He hadn’t looked twice at her, not the way she was back then. He’d had no idea what was hidden away under that brown suit and those glasses.

  ‘It was such a fantasy, that night,’ she continued, her voice low and wistful in remembrance. ‘And afterwards, afterwards I got so scared.’

  ‘Scared of what?’

  ‘I couldn’t believe what I’d done—what we’d done. I just panicked. I knew you’d resent me for what had happened. I knew you’d be angry. And even if I kept my job, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to face you again. I had to get out. So I ran.’

  ‘You thought I’d fire you?’

  ‘I didn’t know what you’d do. I had no way of knowing. I just knew you wouldn’t be happy to find out that the woman you’d seduced in the boardroom was only me.’

  Only me. So she’d hardly been the type of woman that usually attracted him back then. Heck, did she have any idea about how many nights’ sleep he’d lost since then thinking about his mystery lover?

  And then there’d been the Gold Coast trip. That was when Philly had started to look different. Her clothes, her hair, even getting rid of her glasses. Ever since that trip she’d been a different woman. A sexier woman. And he’d made it plain he thought so in her room that night. And she’d been the one that night to turn him away.

  He’d wanted two different women only to find out that they were the same person all along. Surely that counted for something? He wanted to reach out a hand to her then, to soothe her fears and assure her that he did want her, but he wasn’t ready to do that. This whole discussion had left more than just a bitter taste in his mouth.

  ‘How long will you wait until you tell your mother about the
baby?’

  She looked up at him, all hollow eyes and pale skin. ‘I thought maybe another month, just to be sure. That should get me over the most critical time.’

  ‘We’ll schedule the wedding for a month’s time, in that case. We can tell her together then.’

  Her head jerked up. ‘You still plan on going through with this? You still intend to marry me?’

  ‘You have no choice. Your mother has been told and I certainly don’t want to be the one to disappoint her. Do you?’

  She dropped her eyes to the decking, her heart hammering in her chest. There was no way in the world she’d do anything to upset her mother—Damien knew that—she’d been effectively locked in this marriage deal from the moment she’d walked through that door.

  But if he thought she was trapped, it was nothing to how he was going to feel when he found out the truth.

  He was determined to marry her to have control over their child and its upbringing. He had no idea he had control over her heart.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHE was married. No longer Miss Summers. Now she was Mrs DeLuca, wife to Damien. His ring on her hand, his name in place of hers.

  Teringa Park, his country property, had made the perfect setting for their wedding vows. She’d imagined it was just another country home, another executive hobby farm, but she’d been wrong. The lush property dated back to early colonial times, the large home testament to the success and wealth of its first owner.

  Just as this wedding was testament to the success and wealth of its current owner.

  A large marquee had been set up on the expanse of lawns, which were green and lush in defiance of the dry summer heat. Filmy white fabric had been hung in drifts along the veranda of the old stone homestead and it billowed softly in the gentle breeze, while champagne-coloured helium-filled balloons jostled together in large urns bedecked with ribbons and bows, set about the gardens between bowls of fragrant apricot roses.

  The service itself had been brief, though the guest list surprisingly large, considering how few family members there were between them. But obviously Damien wasn’t the kind of man who would do anything by halves. The Who’s Who of Melbourne society was in attendance along with a contingent of society page reporters, and everyone wanted to meet the woman lucky enough to snare Melbourne’s most eligible bachelor.

  By the end of the day Philly felt drained, emotionally and physically, the stresses and tension of the day overwhelming her. She turned her head to the man at her side, the man to whom her life was now linked, and the magnitude of what she’d done moved through her like an earthquake—a shudder of realisation, an instant of fear as her world shook under her.

  She had the perfect husband—rich, intelligent, drop-dead gorgeous. She was the envy of every woman here, if the looks from the assembled guests were any indication. She had everything, or so they thought.

  Strange, how empty you could feel, when you were supposed to have everything. Strange how those things everyone seemed to want did nothing to fill the hole deep inside her, the hole that could never be filled with mere luxury and a marriage built on control.

  The one bright light was her mother. She sat on a shady terrace watching the proceedings, unable to erase the smile from her face. She looked serene today, even beautiful, in a silky soft aqua outfit Damien himself had personally selected for her and it complemented her pale skin and softly waved regrowing hair perfectly. Make up enhanced her features, already looking healthier than they had in months.

  Damien had been right. While news of the baby was sure to delight her mother, knowing that Philly was married and that her grandchild would therefore be raised within a family unit with both parents, would make it all the more special. Already the bloom on her face made the hastily arranged marriage worthwhile.

  But it wasn’t just her appearance. It was also the apparent improvement in her health. Even the doctors were amazed by the sudden change in her well-being, the steadying of her condition and the indisputable easing of the pain. Quite simply, her mother seemed a different woman.

  Philly hugged the thought to her chest. How much more so would her mother be when she discovered the whole truth? That she would have a grandchild again. And now, with her mother’s progress, it seemed more certain every day that she would get to hold that grandchild.

  She watched as Marjorie handed her mother a cool drink. Damien had even managed to track down the nurse and retain her as her full-time companion. She stole a glance up at the man at her side, still confused by the person he was. For someone who ‘didn’t do family’, he’d done all he could to make Daphne’s life more comfortable. That would have been enough for Philly, she couldn’t have expected more. Yet beyond that the two seemed to share an easy relationship, a genuine relationship, and she could tell there was a warmth and sincerity from Damien that went further than mere obligation.

  Had he changed? Was there a chance his warmth would extend to her too? In the past few weeks he’d been distant, focused on work, while wedding arrangements had been drawn up around him, almost as if now that she’d agreed to become his wife he had no further need of her. But was there a chance her love might one day be reciprocated? Was there a chance that this marriage might mean more to him than the means of controlling his child’s upbringing?

  Damien’s hand brushed against hers, snaring it in his grip and interrupting her thoughts. She looked up at him.

  ‘Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?’

  She felt herself colour under his sudden scrutiny. The ivory silk gown was indeed a triumph of design and needlework, the line complementing her body as it moulded to her shape before spilling into an extravagantly full skirt. It was enough to wear it to feel beautiful. Having Damien tell her it was true was something else entirely.

  He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her as the last of the guests drifted away. ‘I have something for you,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’

  Dusk was falling, the light changing by the minute as the night inexorably clawed out to claim the day. Marjorie had taken her mother indoors as the summer heat tempered into warm evening and the wind picked up, bringing dark clouds and the promise of a summer storm.

  She smiled back at him as he tugged on her hand. ‘Come on,’ he said.

  He led the way around the house, their steps crunching on the white gravel leading to the garage. She frowned. There was a champagne-coloured sports car parked alongside—someone had left their car here, though why anyone would leave a car like that… Hang on, there was something else— It was tied with a wide ribbon and bow.

  She looked up at Damien, confused, but he only met her stare with an inscrutably questioning look of his own.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Do I like it?’ He had to be kidding. ‘You mean…?’ She looked from Damien to the car and back again. ‘You mean, it’s mine?’

  He dipped his head in the briefest affirmation. ‘Consider it a wedding gift.’

  She thought about her mother’s ageing sedan that she used for the shopping and their infrequent trips, as different from this vehicle as a wooden dinghy to a top of the line ski boat. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it.’

  ‘I’ll give you lessons. Starting tomorrow.’

  He pulled something from his pocket—a loop of satin ribbon tied with a key. He lifted it over her head, placing it around her neck, his hands lingering at her shoulders.

  She looked up at him, one hand cradling the key, stunned by his gesture and guilty that she hadn’t thought to make him a gift.

  ‘But I have nothing for you.’

  He pulled her close, so that his fierce heartbeat was linked to her own but for fine layers of fabric in between. ‘I will collect mine…’ his head dipped and his mouth brushed over hers—a gentle touch that belied the heat and passion below, the heat she could feel in the look he gave her ‘…later tonight. But for now, it’s time we said goodnight to your mother. It’s time she learned our news.’

&
nbsp; Daphne was resting in the large Victorian sitting room inside, sipping on a rare sherry. She beamed up at them as they entered the room, the delight on her face further reinforcing in Philly’s mind that for her mother’s sake at least she had done the right thing today.

  ‘That was a perfect day,’ she said as they both leaned down to kiss her. ‘Just a beautiful wedding. Thank you for making me so happy.’

  Damien smiled. ‘We have more news if you’re not too tired already.’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s been a long day and I’ll need to turn in soon but I don’t want it to end just yet. Though I don’t know what you could tell me that would top today’s excitement.’

  He looked across at Philly and nodded, letting her give the news. Philly sat down alongside her mother and took her hands in her own. ‘Mum,’ she said, watching her mother’s face intently. ‘This might come as a bit of a surprise, but we’re going to have a baby. I’m pregnant.’

  Daphne snatched her hands out from between Philly’s and slapped them up against her open mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

  ‘Oh!’

  A second later tears welled up in those wide eyes until they brimmed over. ‘But this is wonderful. Just wonderful.’

  Damien leaned closer. ‘You’re not disappointed? We jumped the gun a bit on the wedding.’

  She pulled her hands away, brushing away the tears which were still falling. ‘How could I be disappointed? And don’t you think I know what it’s like to love someone so much you can’t wait until the wedding? Remember I was young and in love myself once.’

  He would have argued—he knew nothing of love, and love had nothing to do with how their baby had been conceived, but this was no time for argument. Besides, it wasn’t as if he didn’t feel something for Philly. He wanted her, in bed and out of it, and knowing he had her now, knowing she was tied to him, was more satisfying than he could have imagined.

  But that was hardly the same as love…

  He watched Daphne’s eyes settle on her daughter, suddenly more alive and alight with possibilities than he had ever seen them, before she pulled her into an embrace, Philly laughing out loud with the reception to their news and the delight taken in it by her mother. Laughter merged with tears as they rocked together and, watching them, mother and daughter, his breath caught in his chest as if something had swung free, something hard-edged and heavy, that rammed against his lungs, winding him, before breaking off and plunging deep into his gut.