“That’s because I worked three jobs to put—”
“You’re never going to get a dime of their life insurance and you’re never going to see this baby,” Hope stated quietly, rising to her feet, the flat of her hand resting on his desk for support. Deep in her heart, Hope knew she may not make the perfect mother, or even know how to take care of the child she carried, but she knew damn sure that she was going to do her best to love this baby . . . the right way.
Hope brought her palm to the side of her belly. Heat gathered in the center of her chest and spread through her body. Tears needled the corners of her eyes.
I already love you, little hot pocket. More than I could’ve ever imagined. “It’s time for you to leave, Cynthia.” Antonio held out his hand, gesturing for her to exit his office. “I’ll escort you to your car.”
Cynthia refused to budge. Her eyes skimmed over items adorning the shelves and walls, appraising the awards, plaques, exquisite paintings, as if estimating his worth. “I’d hate for this nice new country you’re trying to adopt to hear of your issues. Maybe they won’t let you stay here?”
“Maybe you’re just crazy.”
“You can’t just throw me out. I’ve got nowhere to stay.”
“Let’s go.” Antonio clasped her mother firmly by the elbow, but she jerked away, storming over the threshold.
“Don’t believe a word she says. Hope’s memories are so distorted.”
“My perception of the past and your mothering techniques, or lack thereof, have always been spot-on.”
“I’d hate for the . . . the Minister of Foreign Affairs to mistake you for a terrorist! Italy might send you back home.” Cynthia’s voice rose to a panic. She stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway, hands on hips, chin jutted outward. “Then what, little girl? You think he’s going to stick around after you have this kid? He’ll drop you like a hot penny as soon as something a bit younger with no responsibilities wags its tail in his face. You’ll be begging me to help you.”
The weight of the already bruised air thickened. Antonio’s shadowed expression darkened, his jaw set tight. He remained silent . . . eerily silent.
Her mother stepped out of his reach as he reached for her arm.
“You’re leaving, Cynthia . . . one way or another. I’ll walk you out or throw you out. It’s your choice,” he promised, his voice shook with strain.
“Fine! But this isn’t over,” her mother snorted.
“Believe me.” A deliberate pause. “It’s over.”
Antonio ushered them through the corridor, stopping to poke his head into the tasting room, signaling for his brother with a nod of his head. Vincent and Tracy caught up to them as they reached the entrance.
“I’m going to walk Cynthia to her car. Would you mind staying with Hope?”
“I’m fine. You don’t have to—” One look from Antonio, both brows raised to a sharp point, stole Hope’s words. Her lips pursed into a firm line.
“You don’t even want this baby! You’re not capable of love!” The shrill of Cynthia’s frantic voice was lost to the outdoors as Antonio escorted her out the door.
Rage had already begun its steep descent, leaving Hope too frazzled and exhausted to argue with him. In all honesty, she was beyond grateful for his insistence. There was no goodbye and no feelings of remorse for how she’d treated her mother. Hope merely prayed it was the last time she’d see the back of her blonde head as Antonio marched her into the darkness.
Tracy stood at her side, draping an arm over Hope’s shoulder, giving her a sideways embrace. “We ate lunch eight hours ago. You’ve got to be starving. I’m going to have dinner brought over from the winery.” She pulled her phone from her bag, stepping away from the empty reception area to make the call.
Vincent joined Hope, sinking back into the plush sofa. He tucked a throw pillow behind her back. The somberness of the room quieted the thunderous beat of her heart.
“Are you okay?” Vincent asked, his accent much thicker than Antonio’s. The tender concern in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. Of the two brothers, Vincent was the quieter, more reserved man.
“She’s so embarrassing. I’m so sorry you guys had to see any of that.”
“Don’t think twice about it. There’s usually one in every family.”
She wondered if he referred to their father’s cheating. “What do you think he’s saying to her?”
Vincent pondered the question. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about seeing her again.”
“Dinner’s on its way,” Tracy said, moving in beside her, appearing a bit more subdued now that Cynthia had left the building. “Do you want me to make you some chamomile tea?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Tracy’s eyes bulged a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Antonio stay so calm. It was kind of scary.”
Hope remained quiet knowing the night wasn’t over. The nightmare from her past was gone, but her future would be walking through the door any minute.
She prayed Antonio would forgive her.
“You know, Hope, for some reason I thought your mother wasn’t alive. I didn’t realize—”
“That’s because all of my adult life I’ve led people, Antonio included, to believe she was gone.” Hope curled her finger in quotation marks. She felt numb inside. “It was much easier allowing everyone to misinterpret the situation. How do you explain that shit?”
Antonio walked through the door, his eyes immediately falling on Hope. Concern tightly strung through each tiny muscle of his face, but hurt and anger thundered under the surface of his composed exterior.
Vincent patted her leg and rose to his feet. “Sometimes there’s just no explanation for family. Anyone who knows you should understand why you’d prefer to keep that part of your life hidden. Right, my brother?”
Antonio’s head snapped, the two men locked gazes. His eyes beaded behind thick, dark lashes, some sort of unspoken understanding passing between them. A waiter from the winery met Tracy at the door. She kept one to-go bag for herself and handed the other off to Antonio.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Shock and sympathy reverberated through Tracy’s tone, but Hope knew she was trying to act as normal as possible. “We still need to finish putting the final list together for the tasting.”
Hope nodded.
Vincent held open the door for them, but Antonio shook his head and lifted his chin to the hallway. “We’re not going that way. We’re going to her apartment.”
Hope’s chin crumpled. Her mouth twisting to the side trying to hold back her obliterated emotions, her heart filleted wide open. She didn’t bother waiting for the comfort of Antonio’s hand on her back. Deep down, she knew it wouldn’t come. He was pissed and had no intention of taking her home with him.
He was done.
Making their way toward the back door, the sound of her heel-digging strides echoed through the long corridor. Hope wanted to dump every ounce of blame on her mother, but she knew it was her own fault. He was furious and had every right to be. She’d lied to him, embarrassed him in front of his family, and dropped the responsibility of getting rid of her mother in his lap.
Hope pushed through the back door. It felt as if time were suspended, the night air filled with the dull throbbing of her heart. They were thirty yards away from her apartment and she slowed her pace to a crawl, not wanting to get any closer. A big tear slipped from the corner of her eye, followed by another, rolling down her cheek. Hope was too far gone to care, letting them drip to the stones beneath her feet.
Standing outside her door, she reached inside her bag for the key. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t open it. Without making contact with her skin, Antonio retrieved the key and opened the door, shutting it behind them.
The silence between them was deafening.
“Antonio—”
“Is there anything else that you’ve kept from me?” His tone was subdued, but she knew he was furious.
“Gather up your things, Hope.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“No,” he asserted, sounding annoyed by the craziness of her question. Slipping a finger beneath her chin, he forced her to look up at him. “I’m taking you home.”
Confusion furrowed through her brow. “Home?”
“Si, home. Our home.” He leaned forward, bringing his gaze inches from hers. The moist heat of his breath fanned across her face. “I’m not doing this anymore. I’m tired of waiting for you to come to your damn senses.”
“But, I thought—”
“Oh, I’m pissed and we’re definitely going to talk about this, but right now I’m taking you home, feeding you dinner, and putting you in a hot bath.”
Relief bloomed over her skin as she stood there panting in his face. She had no intention of putting up a fight. There was no place else she wanted to be. Hope longed to lean into him and burrow against his hard-muscled chest, but she didn’t.
She couldn’t.
He needed his space.
Watching his reactions was like looking at a mirror image of herself. And she knew better than to push.
It only took a few minutes to gather a few boxes of things and load them into the trunk of her Porsche. Antonio drove her car, leaving his at the vineyard. “I’ll come back tomorrow and get everything else with a truck,” were the only words he spoke on the drive.
Hope felt exhausted and a little confused as they sat at his kitchen table, eating in silence. Her thoughts slipped in and out of focus, overwhelmed by memories from her past, the nightmare that had just ensued, and the two little words he’d said at her apartment.
Our home.
She didn’t know exactly what he meant, but she wasn’t going to assume anything. Hope remained quiet, waiting for him to come to terms with his feelings as well as her own. As soon as they had finished eating, he rose from the table, clasped hold of her hand and went straight for the bedroom.
Leaning over the free-standing tub, he fastened the plug and turned on the water. He stripped her of her clothing before undressing himself, leaving their clothes in a pile on the tiled floor. Retrieving a clip from her things on the counter, he piled her thick mane of hair atop her head, fastening it with the plastic jaws.
Antonio disappeared momentarily, returning with a collection of several candles from around his house, strategically placing them around the plush bathroom.
The harsh lines of his incensed features softened, asking in a hushed voice as he rubbed his hand over her belly, “Do you think we can pull this off?”
She answered him with an easy smile and a quick nod. “I think I can still fit.”
Billows of steam swirled around her legs when Antonio assisted her into the tub. He settled in behind her, easing her back to his chest. She sat, breathing in the steam-laden air, one inhale then another, filling her lungs with moist heat. Their breathing fell into a natural rhythm, like they’d practiced in class. His hands moved effortlessly over her wet skin, gently massaging and rubbing, extracting every bit of apprehension from her limbs.
She was swallowed up by the tenderness of this man, in his loving embrace. His hands roamed over her arms, pressing and kneading in long, languid strokes until her mind began to relax. There wasn’t much room to maneuver in the oversized tub, but she scooted and twisted until she could see his face. The umber glow of a candle flickered over his handsome features, shadowed by the night’s events.
“I’m sorry I never told you about my mother,” she managed to say. “It was shitty of me. It was always easier for me—”
“I understand, Hope, I do, but there can’t be anything else between us. Ever again. I want to know everything about you. Not in a prying sort of way, but I deserve to know. It makes me understand you better.” His gaze was severe, but a new gentleness in his voice brought a burning sensation to her nose.
Part of her wanted to plunge beneath the water to hide, but another part craved the idea of being free, liberated by the truth. “My mother left when I was sixteen. Faith was only thirteen. I took care of both of us. We had to fight for everything we ever had. I can’t even tell you how many times she’s been married, and all of her boyfriends and husbands were awful.”
“You said that she sold your sister out. What did you mean by that?” Lifting his hand, he drizzled hot water over her shoulder, letting it run in ribbons down her arms and chest.
Hope squirmed a bit, dropping her gaze to the water. She cleared the sentiments from her dry throat. “My mother’s third husband tried to molest my sister. I woke up during the middle of it and beat him within an inch of his life with a fire poker. I think I was twelve or thirteen when it happened.”
Antonio’s movements stopped. She could feel the rage rushing through his entire body. His ragged breath wafting over the sensitive shell of her ear. Reigning in his fury, he trailed his hand down her arms and entwined his fingers in hers. “Go on.”
“She didn’t even believe us at first.” A shudder chased down her spine, pushing down the image of Frank covered in blood, lying on the floor with his pants undone. “She didn’t give a shit, until she figured out she could blackmail him for money. My mother refused to let Faith tell the police. She made us feel guilty, like we’d done something wrong when we wanted him in jail. I’ll never forget her screaming at my little sister, Young lady, if you have any dreams of going to college, you won’t ever open your damn mouth about this. He got off easy. His mistake cost him one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in hush money, none of which Faith ever saw a dime of . . . well . . . except for when my mother came home from the hospital sporting new and improved breasts.”
Antonio swore under his breath in Italian.
“She claimed that she had a scare of cancer and had to get a biopsy. You know, she really worked up the story and let us think she was dying of breast cancer. Faith and I were scared to death that she was going to die and leave us all alone.” Hope’s head gradually swung back and forth in disbelief. “Turns out a parent doesn’t have to die to leave their children. Some just leave without looking back. What kind of person does that kind of shit, Antonio? It’s not even that she’s crazy, she’s just bad. Evil.”
“You’ve got every right to loathe her.” He claimed her chin with his fingers, gently twisting her to face him. His soft gaze caressing her soul. “You’re nothing like her, Hope. You’re going to make an incredible mother. It’s just a little terrifying because everything is new. I know you’re going to love this baby.”
Her heart danced in slow drum rhythm. Big tears rolled down her face, her chin crumpled as sentiments rose to the surface of her heart like the heat of the water brought redness to her skin. Her emotions were right there on display, making it impossible for her to hide from reality any longer.
“Sometimes it’s so hard for me to process my feelings.” Hope sucked in a breath and nodded. “I already love this baby. I miss my sister so much, but I think this baby might just be the best thing in my life.” Staring into his grey eyes, she corrected softly, “One of the best things in my life.”
“I know, bella.” He caressed her tummy.
“How can the loss of my sister, my best friend, wind up to be such an incredible gift? You know, Faith never believed in fate, but when she asked me to be their surrogate, she informed me that she’d turned over a new leaf, accepting the idea that everything happens for a reason.” Hope smiled a bit. “Faith told me that she knew, deep down in her soul, that this is exactly where we were meant to be.”
“Sometimes, love begins from some of our most difficult of tragedies. I think it’s God’s way of giving us blessings we won’t ever take for granted.”
“If I let myself think too deeply, I get confused.” Her hand came to her mouth. She spoke through her spread finger
s. It was the first time she’d admitted it out loud and to herself. “How can I be so happy about something when it came at such a cost? When I feel joy and excitement about this baby . . . I also feel horrible guilt.”
“Bella, all of those feelings are normal. It’s a natural reaction.” Antonio brushed the tears from her cheeks and his own. His imposing stare held for a beat. “I think the question you have to ask yourself is, how would your sister want you to feel? I know Faith and Riley are smiling looking down on you. I’m sure she’s proud of you, Hope.”
“Thank you.” She let her head fall against his shoulder. They stayed that way for a few minutes, neither saying anything, simply being in the moment.
“I know now where you get your strength and tenacity.” He pressed a kiss to the slope of her neck. “Your mother’s an awful woman.”
“Please tell me that you didn’t give her money?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes. It matters to me. I hate it when she gets what she wants, especially when she’s so damn calculating and manipulative.”
“I got her a hotel for one night and purchased her flight home right there in the parking lot. And yes . . . I gave her money. Trust me, she won’t be back.”
“Damn it, Antonio. You don’t know her. She’s a bottom feeder, a user. When she runs out of money, she’ll come back. It might be three husbands from now, but—”
“I promise you . . . I’ll take care of it. By the time I’m through, she won’t ever be able to come to Italy, or any other country outside of the States, again.” His hands came to her belly, sweetly caressing. The tender gesture was almost unbearably kind. He shifted to the opposite direction of which she leaned, so he could look her in the eye. “I won’t let her near you again, or our baby.”
The whole universe seemed to stop on tilt. Everything she’d sworn she’d never wanted in life was now all she could think of. The amount of joy and happiness overflowing from her heart seemed impossible to contain.
She stared at him for what felt like forever until a tentative smile slowly painted her lips. “Our baby?”
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