Abby made a primal noise of irritation, a growl born of pure annoyance. She would be the first to admit she’d messed up the night they’d met, but she wasn’t going to be tarred with that brush for evermore. ‘I tried to! Damn it, Gabe, why did you think I was calling you?’
He paled visibly beneath his tan. ‘You… I presumed to apologise, or make up excuses.’
‘No. I mean yes to the apology thing, but mainly, Gabe, I needed to tell you about Raf.’
‘You’re saying you didn’t keep him from me intentionally?’
‘Are you serious? Do you really think I’d do something so immoral?’
His eyes locked onto hers and she sighed.
‘I guess you do think me capable of that. But Gabe, I would never, ever keep someone from their child. He’s your son. I had no intention of doing this alone. That’s why I went to Rome…’
‘Rome.’ His eyes swept shut, anguish on his features. ‘You knew you were pregnant then? You came to tell me?’
‘Yes!’ Pique at his reaction darkened her expression. ‘And you had me dragged out like some kind of criminal.’
‘Madre di Dio, Abigail. I didn’t know.’
‘Yes, well,’ she said stiffly. ‘If you’d given me a minute of your time, you’d have seen for yourself the evidence of my condition.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I was six months along.’
‘And they just dragged you out of the building?’
‘Well, they told me in no uncertain terms to go before the police arrived,’ she conceded.
‘I asked them to do that,’ he admitted darkly. ‘I didn’t want to see you. I was so angry you’d come.’
‘I know.’ She lifted her chin, defiance radiating from her slender frame. ‘But don’t you dare accuse me of intentionally keeping Raf from you.’
He shook his head, as if to clear the memory. ‘I cannot believe I have a son.’
What could Abby say to that? It was the truth. She waited for something—perhaps an apology. A commendation of how well she’d done? An admission that she’d tried to do the right thing, to tell him the truth?
And got instead: ‘And you’re raising him here? Like this?’
Her spine straightened and she squared her shoulders. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ she said.
‘It is a hovel.’ He glared at her. ‘How can you live like this?’
Her jaw dropped. His assessment wasn’t wrong but how dare he?
‘It’s fine,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘And I’ll find something better before he’s big enough to notice. For now, this is fine,’ she amended.
‘This isn’t fine for a pack of rabid dogs, let alone my son.’
She stared at him as though he’d called her the worst name in the book. ‘I’m aware that it’s not ideal. I’m not blind. But it’s the best I could do at short notice and with very limited means.’
A muscle in his jaw throbbed and Abby stared at it, fascinated by the pulse point there. ‘So when your father discovered you were pregnant with my child, he turned you out of his home?’
She winced. ‘It was more complex than that. I mean, it proved that I’d lied about that night. That I’d let him down.’
‘Let him down?’ Gabe repeated incredulously. ‘Dio! He is unbelievable.’
‘I know that,’ she said. ‘I never thought he’d react like this. I mean, I thought he’d be angry, but not…’
‘To remove all financial support from his pregnant daughter, just because he hates me?’ Something in Gabe shifted and he was very still, his expression faraway, as though completely consumed by unpleasant thoughts.
Abby waited, her breath unconsciously held, for him to elaborate.
But in the end he shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. You are no longer his responsibility.’
‘I’m no one’s responsibility,’ she said stiffly, instantly rejecting that assessment.
‘Wrong, cara. You are mine.’
‘No.’ Abby’s denial was swift.
‘You are the mother of my child.’
Her hackles rose. ‘I’m a woman you spent one night with, a year ago.’
‘Sì. And you fell pregnant. I should have prevented that. I was experienced. This is my fault.’
‘Your fault?’ Now her maternal instincts roared to life. ‘I don’t consider Raf anyone’s fault. He’s a blessing.’
Gabe grimaced, uncharacteristically on the back foot. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’
But she wasn’t to be placated. She had to set the record straight while she had a chance—if she didn’t control this, the situation could quickly move beyond her control. ‘You don’t owe me anything, Gabe. I’m not asking for a handout.’
‘You live like this,’ he said slowly, gesturing around the room, ‘and you think I don’t owe you anything?’
Frustration burst through her. ‘I know this place isn’t…’
‘It’s a dump.’
The insult hurt. ‘It’s home, for now.’
He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression intractable.
‘You say you wanted to tell me about the baby?’
She nodded.
‘And what did you expect me to say?’
Abby frowned, but her silence only seemed to spur him on. He took a step closer, his expression grim.
‘What did you want from me?’
She swallowed, and tried to find the words of the speech she’d imagined she’d give him, if ever he learned the truth. ‘Raf is your child too, and I respect the fact you might want to be involved in his upbringing.’
‘Oh, yes?’ he murmured, but there was a sharpness to the response, an underlying firmness she didn’t understand.
‘Your life is in Italy and we live here, but I mean, you visit the States and I guess, when he’s older, he could come over…’
Her sentence tapered off into silence. His eyes held hers for a long, icy moment. Then, with a guttural sound of disgust, ‘Look at this place, Abigail!’ He glared at her. ‘Why is it so cold? Why is the heating off?’ He stalked into the kitchenette and ripped open the fridge. ‘What are you existing on? I see two apples and one bread roll. What did you have for dinner?’
She bit down on her lip and ridiculous tears moistened her eyes. She dashed at them angrily. ‘I’m not crying because I’m sad,’ she clarified. ‘I’m mad! And I’m tired! And you have no right turning up on my doorstep at midnight only to throw insults at my feet!’
‘What did you think I would do? How am I supposed to react?’
‘I…’ She glared at him. ‘I don’t know. I just had to tell you.’
He dipped his head forward in silent concession. ‘I’m grateful that you did. And for the fact you haven’t used our son to attempt to blackmail me.’
‘Blackmail you?’ she repeated, aghast, flicking her fair hair over one shoulder. ‘What would I blackmail you for?’
His laugh was short and sharp. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Money. Power. Calypso prototypes?’
Abby had never hit a man in her life—or anyone, for that matter, but her fingertips itched to strike his arrogant face. ‘You’re a jerk.’
‘I’m the father of your child and, like it or not, I’m in your life now.’
She was very still, waiting for that thought to make sense. But it didn’t. ‘In my life how?’
Gabe shut the fridge door and moved to the pantry. It was almost empty, save for a tin of spaghetti and a bag of pasta.
‘How quickly can you pack a suitcase?’
‘Huh?’ She watched as he stalked back into the small living room.
‘Your wardrobe looked small. I presume you don’t have much. Is there a bag somewhere?’
‘I… No.’ She’d sold her designer set of luggage as soon as she’d mo
ved into the apartment.
‘Fine. I’ll have one sent over.’
‘Gabe, wait.’ She lifted a hand in a determined appeal for his silence. ‘I don’t need a suitcase. I’m not going anywhere.’
He ignored her, speaking as though she hadn’t. ‘It’s too late to depart now. You should go to bed. I’ll…take the chair. We can leave in the morning.’
‘And where exactly do you imagine we’re going?’
‘Italy.’ He reached for his phone and, before she could respond, he began speaking into it. She had not a hope of comprehending as he spoke in his native tongue, but she picked out a few words—bambino…andiamo…subito.
He disconnected the call before giving Abby the full force of his attention.
‘The plane will be ready in the morning. My car is downstairs. Tomorrow, Abigail, we will leave.’
She shook her head emphatically. ‘No!’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not going to Italy. This is my home. His home. And you… I know you’re his father, but I didn’t tell you so you’d take us away! I just wanted you to know because he’s your child and at some stage he or you might want a relationship. I don’t believe in secrets like this, okay? I have no right to keep a father from his child. But that’s the end of it. I’ve done my part. I told you about Raf, and when he’s older I’ll tell him about you.’
His eyes narrowed and his chest lifted with the force of the deep breath he sucked in. ‘Get ready. This is non-negotiable.’
‘You’re right. It’s non-negotiable. We’re staying here.’
‘Make no mistake about it, Abigail, my son is coming to Italy. I am giving you a chance to come with him. The decision is yours.’
Panic flared in her gut but she hid it behind anger. ‘There’s no way you can do that.’
‘Do you want to test that theory?’
‘You seriously think I’m going to move to a foreign country with a man I hardly know?’
‘No. I think you’re going to move to a foreign country with the man you’re going to marry.’
Her eyes flew wide and for a moment she thought she must have misheard. ‘What did you just say?’
His jaw tightened. ‘You heard me.’
‘But that’s crazy.’
He jerked his head in silent agreement.
She blinked. ‘But why?’
Something like anguish shifted through his dark gaze, showing how clearly he wished this step weren’t necessary. ‘Because it’s the right thing to do.’
‘Right, how?’ she demanded, wondering if she’d slipped through the looking glass into a bizarre parallel universe.
‘Because of what I can offer him, and what I can offer you. The security, the comfort, the support.’ He took a step closer. ‘I’m offering you the world, Abigail. The world for you and our son.’
Her heart twisted painfully inside her chest. She was like an outsider looking in. In that moment, she realised that marrying Gabe Arantini would have, in another lifetime, constituted a fantasy. If things had been different between them, if they’d met under different circumstances and they’d been allowed to enjoy getting to know one another.
‘This is the twenty-first century. People don’t get married just because of a baby.’
His eyes narrowed and she had the strangest sense that he was holding back on saying what he really wanted to say. Through teeth that were bared like a wolf’s, he said, ‘My son is going to grow up with two parents.’
‘Who hate each other? Do you really think that’s best?’
‘No.’ His eyes glowed with silent warning. ‘But it’s the best decision you can make. I have a son, Abigail. A three-month-old boy I knew nothing about. If you think I am leaving this country without him, if you think I have any plans of walking out of his life, even temporarily, then you are deranged.’
She sucked in a breath but her lungs didn’t fill sufficiently. She dug her fingernails into her palms, taking strength from the gesture. ‘Then stay here,’ she said after a moment, the words sounding reasonable and calm despite the tremors taking over her central nervous system.
He looked around the room with scathing contempt.
‘Not here here,’ she amended. ‘In New York.’
His eyes locked onto hers. ‘I have no intention of raising my child anywhere other than Italy. We will go there tomorrow and as soon as possible we will marry. Raf will grow up believing that he is wanted.’
‘He is wanted by me!’ she shouted and then winced at the very real possibility that such loud arguing would wake their son.
‘And by me,’ he said warningly.
‘No. I think it’s time for you to leave, Gabe. We can discuss this in the morning when you’re thinking straight.’
‘Do you think you have any right to dictate to me after what you’ve done?’
‘What I’ve done?’ she demanded, taking a step closer, wishing she were taller so that she didn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him. ‘And just what am I supposed to have done?’
‘You set all this in motion when you came to my hotel last year. Even if there had been no baby, no Raf, you have still shown yourself capable of making very poor decisions.’
‘You got that right,’ Abby muttered. ‘Sleeping with you was the biggest mistake of my life.’
She swept her eyes shut, instantly wishing she could retract the words because of course she could never really regret anything that had resulted in Raf. Besides, even without Raf, she’d be hard-pressed to regret what she and Gabe had shared. Only that her father’s machinations had been the cause of it.
‘I feel exactly the same way.’ The coolly delivered response slammed right into her heart and suddenly all the emotions of the previous year filled her up, like water in a bathtub.
‘Oh, go to hell,’ she muttered, slumping back against the wall and dipping her head forward.
‘I think I’m already there.’
The volley landed squarely in her chest, twisting her organs and supercharging her blood. She swallowed, but her throat was drier than the desert.
Two days ago she’d been working as a kitchen hand for one of New York’s most renowned chefs. She’d been exhausted and lonely but she’d been making it work.
And now she had this man, this handsome, arrogant billionaire who she couldn’t be in the same room as without breaking into a full-blown fight, demanding that she move halfway around the world and become his wife? Mrs Gabe Arantini?
She couldn’t marry him! God, what a nightmare! Why had she ever thought she had to tell him about his son? At least without seeing a lawyer first! Why had she been so naive? She should have kept Raf hidden from him. She should have moved heaven and earth to avoid this.
What an idiot she was!
‘I won’t marry you,’ she said angrily, her blood simmering. ‘I can’t. It would never work.’
‘Believe me, the last thing I want is to legally bind myself to you—or your father, for that matter.’ His eyes glazed with determination. ‘But it is the only way this will work. These are my terms, tempesta.’
‘It makes no sense.’ The words were stoic when her chest was crushing under the weight of his demands.
He stared at her long and hard. ‘I told you, I want our son to have a family. That’s…very important to me.’ The words were spoken with an iron-like determination but, even without that, Abby found the concept dug deep into her chest. A family? What would that be like? It had been so long since her mother had died, she could barely remember a time when they’d been a collective. Her father had emotionally shut her out many long years before he’d finally cut their ties altogether.
Abby was alone in the world. Her beloved mother was dead, her father had slammed the door on her, and now Gabe was threatening to take Raf away. She couldn’t lose her son; she wouldn’t let her son los
e her either!
But, far from losing him, what if she could give him exactly what Gabe was offering? What if she could give Raf a real family?
‘A marriage born of hate cannot work,’ she said dubiously, her eyes flicking to his before skimming away.
He spoke softly, considering each word. ‘There is love too. I saw my son and loved him instantly. You are his mother. That means something to me, Abigail. No matter how I feel about you personally, I wish you no ill. I want to take care of you as well. Raf deserves that—to know that his father will protect his mother.’ Deep emotions rang through that last sentence, as though he’d dredged it up from deep within his soul.
She wanted to fight him. She wanted to tell him that what she most needed protection from was the power Gabe wielded over her, and the ease with which he could hurt her. She wanted to shout at him and rail against him but the last year had been long and draining for Abigail, and all the pluck she’d once held in her armoury had been dulled to the point of non-existence. Her fight had been washed away; sleeplessness and loneliness, abandonment and discord with her father had made her heart sore and heavy. She wanted to fight Gabe, she wanted to fight him so badly, but every day had been a battle and she found—in that moment—she had very little fight left.
What he offered was so tempting. She swept her eyes shut, desperately trying to rally some strength, some fight, some determination to keep him at a distance.
‘I don’t know how it would work.’
‘We don’t need to discuss semantics now.’
‘It’s not semantics!’ she insisted, reaching out a hand and wrapping her fingers around his wrist. ‘This is my life. Mine and Raf’s. You can’t expect me to just marry you.’
He expelled a sigh, a sound of impatience. ‘Why not?’
‘Seriously? Why not? I could give you a thousand reasons.’
‘I’m not interested in a thousand. Give me a single good one.’
His manner was imposing at the best of times but now, in this conversation, she could barely scrape her thoughts together.
She clutched at the first straw she found. ‘I hardly know you.’
‘How is that relevant?’ he said with a shake of his head.
‘You’re asking me to move to Italy and become your wife…’
Bound by Their Christmas Baby Page 4