The Ultimate Risk

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘I am not capable of being a father,’ he told her harshly.

  Startled blue eyes flew to his face. ‘What do you mean? There’s no question that this is your baby. You’re the only man I’ve slept with since Simon—and that side of our marriage ended long before the divorce,’ she added heavily.

  ‘I’m not denying that you are carrying my child.’ A corner of Lanzo’s mind registered that he had been her only lover after she had ended her relationship with her abusive husband, and he wondered why the knowledge made him so inordinately pleased.

  ‘I cannot love a child. I cannot love anyone—it is simply not part of my psyche,’ he insisted, irritated by the flash of sympathy in her eyes. ‘It’s not a problem, cara. I like the fact that my life is free from the emotional debris that most people have to deal with. But I realise that a child needs to feel loved, and I’m sure you would agree that it would not be fair on this baby to grow up yearning for something I cannot give it.’

  ‘But …’ Gina stared at him, utterly nonplussed by his shocking confession. She had thought that he exerted iron control over his emotions, but according to Lanzo he did not have the normal range of emotions most people had, and it was impossible for him to love anyone—even his own child. ‘Daphne told me that you were once engaged—to the girl whose portrait hangs in the hallway of the Villa di Sussurri. Didn’t—didn’t you love her?’ she faltered.

  His hard face was expressionless, but she sensed the sudden tension that gripped him. ‘That was a long time ago. I was a different person then to the man I am now,’ he said harshly.

  Lanzo rose to his feet and took the two steps needed to cross the small room to the window, which overlooked the neat front lawn and the five other neat front lawns of the other houses in the cul-de-sac.

  ‘Although I cannot be a proper father, I have a duty to provide financial security for our child, and for you. Yes,’ he said firmly when Gina opened her mouth to argue. ‘It is the one thing I can give—the one part I can play in our child’s life. And you need my help.’ He glanced at her, so pale and strained, sitting on the precarious camp bed. From downstairs came the sound of a baby crying, mingled with the yells of two small children, and Gina’s stepsister’s raised voice.

  ‘It cannot be ideal living here—for you or your family. I want you to live at my house on Sandbanks. You won’t be able to sleep on this contraption in a few months, when your pregnancy is more advanced,’ he pointed out, glancing again at the camp bed. ‘There are five bedrooms at Ocean View House, and a big garden for when the baby is walking.’

  ‘Walking! That won’t be for a couple of years from now.’ Gina had a sudden image of a toddler taking his or her first steps, and she felt a mixture of joyful anticipation and fear for the future.

  She still couldn’t quite believe she was pregnant. Her GP, who was aware of her medical history, had agreed it was nothing short of a miracle that she had conceived naturally, and she was acutely conscious that this could be her only chance to have a baby. Please let me carry the baby full-term and let it be born safely, she prayed silently.

  But right now there were other problems to be dealt with. She looked at Lanzo. ‘I can’t stay at your house all that time.’

  ‘It will be your house,’ he told her. ‘Yours and the baby’s—I have already instructed my lawyer to arrange for the deeds to be transferred to your name. And naturally I will cover all your living costs.’

  ‘I don’t want your money,’ she said sharply.

  ‘Cara …’ He admired her stubborn pride, but she had to accept that she needed him. ‘Let me help you—for our child’s sake. I’ve explained why I feel it is better if I am not involved in its upbringing, but I want you and the baby to live comfortably. You can’t say you are doing that here—however welcoming your stepsister and her husband might be,’ he said gently.

  He had cleverly brought up the subject that was on her mind constantly, for there was no doubt that although she and Sarah had always got on well it was awkward staying here, and Gina felt that she was imposing on her stepsister’s goodwill. It wasn’t even as if she was much help with the new baby and her other two nephews when she spent so much time being sick, she acknowledged ruefully.

  But how could she live in Lanzo’s house and allow him to support her financially? It went against everything she believed in. She was proud of the fact that she had always worked since she had left school, and always paid her own way. She could not work at the moment, though. No employer would take her on when she had to rush to the toilet every half an hour.

  ‘It would be a great help if I could live at Ocean View at least until after the baby is born,’ she said quietly. ‘But as soon as the morning sickness has passed I will look for a job.’

  Lanzo frowned. ‘There is no need for you to work.’

  ‘Yes, there is. I don’t really understand why you feel that you can’t be a proper father to the baby,’ she admitted, ‘but I will love him or her enough for both of us. If you wish to support our child financially that’s up to you, but I have never cared about your money, Lanzo.’

  She pushed away the thought that she cared too much about him. If he could not love his own child he was hardly likely to fall in love with her. There wasn’t much point in denying that she had secretly hoped he would, she thought bleakly. For whatever reason—and she suspected it had a lot to do with losing his fiancée—Lanzo believed that he was incapable of loving anyone, and she would just have to accept that fact.

  To Gina’s surprise, everything proved to be so much easier than she had expected. Lanzo helped her pack her clothes, and took her to his house on Sandbanks the same day he had turned up out of the blue at her stepsister’s house. She did not know what he’d said to Sarah and Richard, but when she walked downstairs, clutching a carrier bag stuffed with hastily packed toiletries, they were chatting to him as if he were a long-lost brother—and she detected Sarah’s relief that she was moving into his house, thereby freeing up the spare room.

  ‘Daphne is going to stay here to cook and run the house,’ Lanzo explained when the housekeeper greeted them at the front door of Ocean View, and led them into the lounge where she served a gorgeous tea of scones, jam and rich clotted cream.

  ‘Maybe three scones was pushing my luck,’ Gina said ruefully, emerging from the bathroom a short while later, after losing most of the meal.

  Lanzo looked grimly at her wan face. ‘You can’t carry on like this. It’s not good for you or the baby.’

  ‘My GP assures me that the baby won’t be affected, however many times a day I’m sick. It will take all the nutrients it needs from the small amount of food I manage to keep down. As long as the baby is okay, I don’t care about me,’ she said cheerfully, unaware that she resembled a fragile ghost to Lanzo’s concerned eyes.

  ‘Daphne will prepare you lots of small meals, and she is under orders to make sure you get plenty of rest,’ he told her, the following morning as he was about to leave for a business trip. ‘I’m going to New York to check on the progress of building work after the fire, and from there down to Florida, before I fly to Moscow. But I’ll keep in contact.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to assure him that it was not necessary for him to phone her. She accepted that he did not want to have a role in their baby’s life, and there was no reason for him to call her. But part of her—the silly, emotional part, she thought derisively—was glad that he intended to keep in touch … even if it was only through the occasional phone call. So she changed the subject and asked curiously, ‘Are you planning to open a Di Cosimo restaurant in Florida?’

  He slung his case onto the back seat of his car and glanced at her standing on the front steps of the house. ‘No, I’m competing in a powerboat race in Miami.’

  Gina bit her lip. Only recently the son of a well-known English multimillionaire had been killed when his powerboat had flipped over during a race. The story had been headline news, and she had felt sick when she had read it. It
was stupid to wish that Lanzo would stay here with her, at his beautiful house overlooking the harbour, and wait for their baby to be born. He would probably die of boredom, she thought sadly. He was addicted to dangerous sports and he was not interested in the baby.

  She bit back the words be careful, and said coolly, ‘Have fun.’

  Lanzo nodded and slid behind the wheel of the car, wondering why he felt a sudden urge to send one of his staff to New York. Gina would be perfectly all right with Daphne to take care of her, he reminded himself. Ocean View, like all his houses, had the most up-to-date fire alarm and sprinkler system fitted. Nothing could happen to her. But she looked so forlorn as she waved to him, and he was reminded suddenly of the day ten years ago, when he had dropped her back to her father’s farm and told her that he was returning to Italy.

  He recalled the shock in her eyes, the shimmer of tears that she had blinked fiercely to dispel, and remembered feeling the same hollow ache inside that he felt now. Of course he had known she was in love with him. It was one reason why he had decided to leave Poole, for he had not wanted to hurt her. It was only when he had brushed his mouth over hers in one last kiss and felt her tremble with emotion that he had realised he had probably broken her heart. But she was young—only eighteen and just starting out on life’s journey—he had told himself as he had driven away. She would soon get over him.

  And clearly she had—and had gone on to have a good career, get married. His jaw hardened when he thought of the scar on her neck caused by her alcoholic ex-husband. Gina was a beautiful person, inside and out, and she deserved a far better life than she had had with Simon. But instead she had conceived his child, and he had bluntly told her that he could not give her any emotional support. He had given her a house and an allowance, to appease his conscience, and was about to drive off and leave her to cope with her pregnancy alone.

  What else could he do? he thought savagely as he swung out of the front gates and glanced back at her in his rearview mirror. There was an empty void inside him where his heart had once been, and it would be better for all of them if he remained a remote figure in Gina and the baby’s lives. Maybe she would meet someone else in the future—some guy who would love her as she deserved to be loved. After all, he could not expect her to live the life of a nun, he reasoned.

  The thought turned his mood to one of simmering black fury, and when he reached the motorway he pressed his foot down on the accelerator pedal and shot into the fast lane.

  Gina watched Lanzo’s car turn out of the drive and then slowly walked back into the house, fighting the stupid urge to burst into tears. After his furious reaction when she had told him she was pregnant, she had left his villa in Positano within the hour and assumed that she would never see or hear from him again. She was still reeling from the shock of him turning up in Poole yesterday. Once again he had hurtled into her life like a tornado, and before she could blink she had found herself agreeing to live at his house on Sandbanks.

  She could not deny that it was a relief not to have to worry about where she and the baby would live, but seeing Lanzo again had forced her to acknowledge that she had committed the ultimate folly and fallen in love with him. They had been friends as well as lovers, and the weeks she had worked for him and travelled the world with him had been the happiest time of her life, she thought softly, her heart aching as memories of laughter, long conversations, and nights of heady passion assailed her.

  Now he had gone again, and part of her wished he had never sought her out—because for a few hope-filled moments she had assumed that he had come because he wanted her and the baby, and the realisation that the only part he intended to play in her life was that of benefactor had shattered her dreams.

  She wandered aimlessly into the lounge and watched a fishing boat chug out of the harbour. A few minutes later Daphne came in, carrying a tray.

  ‘I’ve brought you a snack. Hopefully you’ll keep it down,’ the housekeeper said with a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Thank you.’ Gina hesitated. ‘Daphne, what happened to Lanzo’s fiancée—I mean … how did she die?’

  Daphne lively face instantly became shuttered. ‘There was a terrible accident. Cristina and Lanzo’s parents were all killed.’ She hurried over to the door. ‘Excuse me—I’ve left something in the oven,’ she muttered, and disappeared before Gina could question her further.

  Why was Daphne so reluctant to talk about what had happened? she wondered frustratedly. And why did Lanzo never mention his past? It must have been devastating to lose the woman he planned to marry and his parents, in one terrible event. She was sure that the accident was the key to understanding why he had locked his emotions away, but the only two people who knew what had happened refused to speak.

  Lanzo phoned from New York and told her that the fire-damaged restaurant had been refitted and would open the following week. He phoned again from Miami, to say that he had won the powerboat race, and a few days later he called from Moscow, where he was planning to open another Di Cosimo restaurant.

  As the weeks slipped by he settled into a pattern of phoning two or three times a week, and Gina looked forward to his calls. Lucky him, to be in the hot sunshine of the Caribbean when October storms were lashing the English south coast, she told him. And did he really expect her to be sympathetic because he was melting in the forty-degree heat in Perth, when she had woken up to find a white blanket of frost covering the lawn at Ocean View?

  His husky laugh evoked a warm feeling inside her that banished the gloom of the cold November day. Somehow it was easier to talk to him when he was thousands of miles away. Released from her intense physical awareness of him, she was able to relax and chat to him with the easy friendship that they had shared when she had been his PA.

  Her morning sickness gradually subsided, and as her energy levels shot up she was glad to find a part-time job as secretary to a local councillor.

  ‘I’m not overdoing it,’ she told Lanzo, when he sounded distinctly unenthusiastic about her new job. ‘The most strenuous activity I do is walk across the office to the filing cabinet.’

  ‘There’s no need for you to work,’ Lanzo growled as he stared out of his hotel window in Bangkok. He was tempted to catch the next available flight to England, to check that Gina really was as fit and well as she assured him. ‘Why don’t you use the money I’ve put into the bank account I opened for you?’

  ‘I prefer to pay my own way,’ she said crisply. She was determined not to touch his money, and it was lucky that she was earning again—because time had flown past and she was now nearly five months pregnant, with a sizeable bump. She loved wandering around the mother-and-baby shops, choosing maternity clothes as well as tiny newborn-sized vests and sleepsuits that she put away in the room she had decided would be the nursery.

  She could not believe her pregnancy was passing so quickly, she mused, when she woke up on Christmas Day and ticked off another week on her calendar. Her due date was at the end of April, and she was finally daring to believe that the miracle would happen and she would soon be holding her baby in her arms.

  She half expected Lanzo to call on Christmas morning, and delayed leaving for lunch with her family, hating herself for hovering near the phone. He had told her he was spending the festive period in Rome, mainly because his new PA—who was filling in until Luisa returned from maternity leave—lived in the city. He was snowed under with work at the moment, and Raphaella had agreed to come over to his apartment to help him catch up on paperwork.

  She bit her lip. Maybe Raphaella, who had sounded incredibly sexy when she had answered Lanzo’s mobile phone once, when Gina had called to tell him that her second scan had been fine, was helping him with more than his paperwork? He had a high sex-drive, and it was impossible to believe he had spent the past few months celibate.

  The idea of him making love to another woman made her stomach churn, and she pulled on her coat and wrenched open the front door, desperate to be with people who cared for her,
rather than alone with her jealous thoughts.

  ‘Happy Christmas, cara.’

  ‘L … Lanzo?’ The disbelief in her voice caused his lips to curve into a lazy smile.

  ‘Well, I’m definitely not Babbo Natale.’

  ‘I guessed that by the lack of red suit and long white beard,’ she said huskily, her heart thudding as her eyes roamed over his pale jeans and the chunky oatmeal-coloured sweater beneath his suede jacket. ‘What are you doing here? I mean …’ She flushed, remembering how she had imagined him getting close and personal with the sexy-sounding Raphaella. ‘I thought you were in Rome.’

  Lanzo had thought of half a dozen excuses for why he needed to come to England, but as he stared at Gina, struck by how beautiful she looked in a wine-coloured soft woollen dress that clung to the rounded contours of her breasts and the swollen mound of her stomach, he could not deny the truth.

  ‘I wanted to spend Christmas with you,’ he said simply.

  Shock rendered Gina speechless, but a little bubble of happiness formed inside her, and grew and grew until it seemed to encompass every inch of her. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss him, until he kissed her back and then carried her into the house and upstairs to bed. But the thought that he would struggle to carry her more than a few feet now that she had gained weight, combined with the fear that he would not find her pregnant shape attractive, stopped her. Instead she smiled, and her heart lurched when he smiled back, his green eyes gleaming as he walked up the front steps.

  Reality caught up with her. ‘I’m supposed to be having lunch with Dad and Linda. There’s not much to eat here, because Daphne has gone to visit her sister for Christmas and I told her not to stock up the larder as I would be with my family.’

  Lanzo shrugged. ‘I don’t expect you to change your arrangements for me. Go to your family, and I’ll see you later.’

  Gina shook her head. ‘You can’t spend Christmas Day alone.’ She hesitated. ‘You could come with me, if you like. I know my stepmother won’t mind—she always cooks enough to feed an army anyway. Sarah and Hazel and their families will be there.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘It will be hectic, but fun. But if you’d rather not …’