by Maisey Yates
“You honestly think I planned this? That I planned to conceive your baby?”
“You would hardly be the first woman to try and snare me by using pregnancy. You’re simply the first one to succeed.”
“How could I have possibly planned for this to happen? I was on the pill.”
He waved a hand to silence her. “Perhaps. At the very least I think you planned to find a way to make our arrangement more beneficial to you. Whether you planned on using a baby to accomplish your goal, I don’t know. But I’ve suspected that you had ulterior motives since the moment you stepped into my office proposing marriage.”
His words cut through her like a knife. He had suspected her from the beginning? Had there ever been a moment when he’d trusted her? When he’d felt something for her? Anger rushed through her, rescuing her from the flood of tears that were threatening.
“If you suspected that I was nothing but a gold-digger, then what does that make you for conducting a relationship with me?”
“It was not a relationship. It was an arrangement,” he spat. He turned away from her, shutting her out, his shoulders rigid, his back straight. “Out of curiosity, what was the going rate for your virginity? A price none of the other men were able to pay but one you thought you would be able to extract from me?” He walked out of the villa, his parting shot hanging in the air.
Violent nausea overwhelmed her and she leaped up from the bed and raced across the room, barely making it to the toilet before being sick. She leaned her head against the cool wood of the vanity and let the first of today’s tears roll down her cheeks.
Marco breathed in the heavily perfumed air and nearly gagged on the floral scent. That woman, that puttana, had made a fool of him. She had made him feel something for her. And all the time, every single moment, she had plotting against him.
And now she was carrying his child. His child.
He had thought he could safeguard himself against anything she was planning, but this…In this she had won, because he would not abandon his child. He would not be an absentee parent. His child would be his focus. He would love him and care for him in a way his own parents had failed to do for him and his younger brother. In that he was absolutely determined.
And he would not let his child’s mother leave him. His child would want for nothing, and that included both parents in the same household. And he knew how to ensure that that happened.
He strode back into the villa, his mind absolutely made up.
“Elaine.”
She appeared in the doorway of the bathroom a moment later, her face white, a sheen of sweat on her brow. His heart clenched and he hardened it, shunning the tender feelings she still managed to rouse in him.
“There is only one way to solve this.”
She put a hand over her stomach. “I’m not giving up the baby.”
“I am not asking that of you. We will remain married. It is the only option.”
Elation and horror vied for top position inside of Elaine. “What?”
“It is not what I would have chosen, but the simple fact is that I will not be a part-time father. Neither will I deprive a child of his mother. That leaves us with one option.”
“Millions of people share custody of their children—”
He cut her off. “I will not be one of them. It is never in a child’s best interest to be treated as though they are an incidental. My own parents could not be bothered. My father threw us out onto the street—my mother, my brother and myself—when I was just twelve. After a couple of years of scraping by and living in homeless shelters my mother met a wealthy man who did not want children, so she left us to fend for ourselves while she pursued a life of luxury. I will never let a child of mine go through life feeling so insignificant. I will never subject my own flesh and blood to that kind of indifference.”
The charity for homeless children and Marco’s passion for the cause, his reluctance to mention his family, suddenly made horrifying sense. He had been homeless. Not orphaned. Far worse than that. His parents had been alive and too absorbed in their own vacuous existence to worry about the survival of their children.
Her heart ached for the boy he’d been and the man he had become—a man who could not trust and did not believe in love. Yet how could she blame him? How could she even hold his reaction to her pregnancy against him when she knew what he’d had to endure at the hands of those who should have loved him more than they loved anyone or anything else? She felt his pain as though it were her own, and it destroyed the anger that had been growing inside her.
“If you agree to stay in the marriage I will have a new contract drafted, guaranteeing you the ownership of Chapman Electronics plus a generous allowance.”
She hadn’t forgotten about the company, nor had her desire for it dissipated in any way, but she wouldn’t stay in the marriage for that reason alone—not when the nature of their relationship had changed irrevocably; not when she knew what he thought of her. But knowing what she did now, about his childhood, about the way he had been forced to survive on his own, caring for his younger brother, she knew she could not deny him this chance to have a family, this chance to repair the things that had been broken in his life.
“I accept,” she said, the ridiculously formal words sounding wrong for the situation.
He laughed cynically. “I had a feeling you would see it my way.”
Her defense caught in her throat, stuck behind a lump of grief. Her heart felt broken—for him, for herself, for everything they’d shared together. Everything they’d lost.
They flew back to New York the next day. Marco was silent and avoiding her while burying his head in his work, and she was trying to do the same. She spent a good portion of the flight in the bathroom being sick. Her morning sickness, which did not see fit to limit its active hours to the morning, had hit with a vengeance once they’d hit the sky, and it hadn’t let up.
When the plane touched down in the city she walked on wooden legs to the car that was waiting for them and slid inside. The drive back to the penthouse was as quiet as the miserable plane ride. Marco hated her. He had already tried her and found her guilty based on the past actions of those in his life.
Not that she could blame him. She knew what it was like to be so shaped by past experience; to carry deeply etched scars inside yourself that were not visible to the naked eye.
Her own life had been one desperate attempt at separating herself from her father’s perception of her, from the influence of her mother. She had wanted so much to achieve what her father thought her incapable of, using that drive to steer clear of the self-destructive nature she feared she might have inherited from her mother.
Her mother, who had been so weak, so needy for someone to fill the gap in her life, so desperate for the attention of a husband who did not love her that she had sought solace in the arms of countless lovers in addition to drugs and alcohol. Her mother had self-destructed: a combination of narcotics, a Ferrari and a tree ending her life when she was much too young.
Elaine knew all about the sort of bitterness Marco carried inside him, only his was much worse. At least her father loved her—even if he did try to impose his medieval ideals on her. What Marco had endured was unspeakable, and she knew his scars ran much deeper than hers.
The elevator ride from the bottom floor of the apartment building to Marco’s top-floor penthouse left her feeling nauseous. She barely made it into the marble bathroom before losing the measly amount of food she’d managed to choke down during the last leg of the flight.
A warm hand settled on her clammy forehead and she tried to move away, hating that Marco was seeing her huddled up against the toilet, sweating and shaking.
“Is this normal?” he asked, his accent thickened with concern. “It doesn’t seem like this can possibly be normal.”
“I’m afraid it is. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from female co-workers over the years,” she said weakly.
“You must see a doctor.
This cannot be good for the baby. You are not getting enough nutrition.”
Of course he was concerned for the baby, not for her. Still, pleasure curled at the edges of her heart. He cared about the baby, as she was beginning to. She had been so frightened at first, so unable to believe that she could actually be pregnant, that it had been easy to detach. But now that the symptoms were so pronounced, now that she truly felt different, it was easier to believe, easier to imagine the reality of a child—her child—growing inside of her. It was easier to truly love the small baby that was nestled in the protective embrace of her womb.
“I know.” She stood on shaky knees, feeling like a newborn giraffe and certain she looked just as ungainly. “My normal gynecologist is also an OB. I’ll give her a call.”
“What is her name?” Marco asked, the request more of a demand, coming from his autocratic mouth.
“Dr. Alyssa Calvin.”
As soon as she’d blurted out the name Marco had retrieved his phone from his pocket and hit the one on his speed dial.
“Cassie, I need you to phone Dr. Alyssa Calvin and make an appointment for one o’ clock today for Mrs. Elaine De Luca.” He snapped the phone shut and placed it back in his jacket pocket.
“Marco! What if she has appointments?”
He shrugged. “Not my concern. I happen to be free today, and I want to be present at the appointment.”
“What if I don’t want you to be there?” she asked, knowing already that the argument was a loss. It would take several fully armed guards to stop Marco when he was on a mission.
“You would have me miss the medical confirmation of our little miracle?” He regarded her closely, his sexy mouth pressed into a grim line. “Is there a reason for that?”
“Are you implying that I’ve lied to you about being pregnant?”
“It is not unheard of.”
“You think I engineered this ?” She gestured to the toilet.
“I’ve known a great many women who could empty their stomach contents on demand.”
Rage vibrated through her. “I’m not going to spend the rest of this marriage trying to prove that I’m not plotting against you!”
Anger was replaced by a feeling of crushing defeat, and she swayed on her feet. Marco reached out an arm to steady her, bringing her close to the heat of his body. It was the first time she’d been so close to him since she’d found out about the baby and she melted into him, her body craving the heat from his.
Marco felt wetness from her tears penetrate the fabric of his shirt. Guilt assailed him. He was not a man who allowed uncertainties. He made decisions and he acted on them. He charted a course and he followed it. There was no room for doubt, no room for any sort of confusion. And yet with Elaine he wasn’t certain of anything. She could be strong, yet she could also be achingly vulnerable. He wanted to lash out at her, condemn her for what she had done, and yet he also wanted to fold her into his embrace and promise her that everything would be all right.
“I’m sorry, Elaine.”
She stiffened in his arms. “For?”
“For what I said a moment ago. I know you did not lie about being pregnant.”
She pulled away from him and turned to face the vanity, trying to put her disheveled hair in order. “But you’re not sorry for saying I orchestrated the whole thing in the first place?”
“It does seem rather convenient.”
She laughed. “Oh, yes, so convenient. The vomiting combined with being married to a man who thinks me so mercenary that I would conceive his baby to get my hands on his cash is about the most convenient thing that has ever happened to me.” Tears welled up in her blue eyes and spilled down her waxen cheeks.
His heart twisted, the pain from witnessing her anguish was like a physical blow.
He clenched his teeth and hardened himself against the unconscionable swell of emotion.
He turned away from her. “I cannot be manipulated, Elaine. Do not waste your time trying to appeal to my softer side with your tears.”
It took every ounce of discipline to leave her standing there, looking shocked and injured, but he could not allow her to affect him. He’d never had trouble keeping his emotions separate from his affairs, and yet he had allowed Elaine to get closer, deeper inside of him, than he had ever allowed another woman to get.
It had been his mistake—trusting her, permitting her to mean something to him. He was not a fool. He had clawed his way up from the depths of poverty, he had built up a billion-dollar industry from nothing, and he would not allow himself to be taken down by a woman.
He would not make the mistake of trusting her again.
Chapter Ten
“EVERYTHING looks good, Mrs. De Luca,” Dr. Calvin said as she wiped the ultrasound gel from Elaine’s stomach. “I’ll need to see you again in another month, but until then, unless you have any questions, I think you’re free to go.”
Elaine opened her mouth to say she didn’t have any questions but Marco, who was standing next to the exam room bed, arms folded, looking like some Roman god of thunder, interrupted.
“You are certain that she can continue to work?”
Dr. Calvin gave Elaine an understanding smile before addressing Marco. “She should be able to continue all of her usual activities, within reason.”
“But if her work is too stressful…”
“Then give her a foot-rub when she gets home. Really, Mr. De Luca, women have been having babies since the dawn of time. As much as it might feel that way, your wife isn’t the first woman to experience pregnancy.”
Elaine tried to hide the smile that crept slowly across her face. Marco was looking stormier than he had a moment ago.
It was easy to pretend that he was just like any other concerned husband, even though she knew that was far from the truth. She was just the vessel to carry his child—the female figurehead who would play the role of mother to his heir. He hated her. He had made it abundantly clear that morning. If he’d experienced a moment of concern over her being sick it was simply because he was worried about the health of the baby.
Yet—silly, stupid woman that she was—she’d soaked in his attentiveness, craving his touch, the feel of his lips on hers. It was humiliating to love him so much when she knew that he would get rid of her if his conscience would allow it. Even more humiliating that she couldn’t kill her love for him. And he couldn’t kill the love she felt for him either, though he was doing a good job of trying.
When they left the doctor’s office Marco’s limo was already parked against the curb, waiting for them. Marco let her get in first, and when he sat down she noticed that he kept a long stretch of empty seat between them.
“I have to go to the office now,” he said curtly.
“Then I’m going to work too,” she said, daring him to disagree. “The doctor said it was fine.”
He turned, his dark eyes flashing. “You need rest. You must be jet lagged, and you spent the entire flight being sick.”
“I need to check in,” she insisted.
“Absolutely not.” He leaned forward and pressed the intercom, and spoke in rapid Italian to the driver. He leaned back heavily and pulled his BlackBerry out of his jacket pocket, intent on email and very purposefully ignoring her.
The car pulled up at the De Luca Corporation headquarters and Marco got out with barely a nod of farewell. The slam of the car door expressed the anger he had chosen not to voice.
She leaned back in the seat, fighting the uncharacteristic tears that were threatening to fall again. She was tired. She did just want to go home and curl up in a ball and sleep. But she was not going to be dictated to, and the sooner Marco realized that the easier life would be.
She pressed the button on the intercom. “Scusi?” She knew her Italian was pitiful, but she thought it would be best to at least try.
“Si?” Paolo’s muffled voice came over the speaker.
“I’ve changed my mind. About going home, that is. I need to go to Burke a
nd Black. It’s on Sixth.”
“Si.”
She managed to make it through a half day without falling asleep at her desk, and took the rest of her work back to the penthouse to finish in the comfort of her own bed, with the aid of Chinese takeout.
Paolo, Marco’s chauffeur, had made himself available to her when he wasn’t shuttling Marco around, and he’d agreed to take her to her favorite Chinese restaurant and then back home.
She’d ordered three extra entrées with the feeble hope that Marco might be home in time for dinner, and that he might join her. Both desires seemed to be unlikely, but she was always painfully hopeful when it came to Marco.
Any normal person would be angry with him for the assumptions he’d jumped to, but it was becoming clear to her that when it came to Marco her emotions defied logic. There was some anger, but mostly she just ached for the boy who had grown up with no one to show him what true, unselfish love was, and for the man he had become—the man who couldn’t trust anyone for fear of being hurt again.
She’d been hurt. Her own family had been a dismal example of suburban dysfunction, and she’d let that affect her. She’d also allowed what had happened with Daniel to halt her dating career. But none of those things mattered. Not now. She was making a new life with Marco, with their child. She was determined it would be a good life, better than the childhood either Marco or herself had experienced.
Finding out she was pregnant had been the single most terrifying thing that had ever happened to her, but after going to the doctor, after seeing the little barely formed shape on the ultrasound screen, she knew she wanted her baby. She knew she loved her baby.
She didn’t know where the company would fit in yet. It still mattered—she’d worked her whole adult life at becoming qualified and finding a way to take over Chapman Electronics. But the baby had to come first. On that point both she and Marco were in total agreement.