His heart broke. He stopped as his father’s words collided with the realisation of what he felt for Imogen. Was his heart broken because he loved her?
‘Imogen, wait,’ he called but she didn’t hear him. The elevator doors closed, taking her down and away from him.
* * *
Imogen burst out into the sunshine of the afternoon, the sound of New York’s streets disorientating her. She’d had to get out of the hospital, away from Marco and the knowledge that he didn’t want her or his daughter. As she’d stood in the elevator she’d thought she heard him calling her name, but when the doors closed she’d known it was wishful thinking. Fate had already decreed they didn’t belong together.
The cold hardness of his father’s voice still rang in her ears. If Marco had grown up with a father like that it wasn’t hard to see why he didn’t want a family and certainly understandable why he seemed reluctant to allow love into his life. She’d foolishly begun to think that her love might be enough, that staying in New York with him and marrying him would change him simply because she loved him. Now she knew it wasn’t going to be anything like that.
How she wished she had Julie to talk to. She glanced at her watch. It was early evening in England. Perfect time to call, but something held her back. She needed to think first, needed to calm her racing heart. She looked around her and saw a wooden seat in the shade of several trees and walked over to it, needing to sit and gather her strength and courage to do what was right.
Marco didn’t want a baby girl but needed a son and just now she’d seen exactly why. The man who’d raised him as his own son could only accept a grandson as the next Silviano heir.
She thought of what his mother had said, trying to smooth things over with the assurance that there would be other babies, other chances to have the much-needed male heir. She’d obviously believed her son was engaged, believed they would marry and go on to have more children. But there had been no fooling his father.
She blew out a sigh of frustration, the heat of the afternoon beating down despite summer slipping into the next season. The right thing to do was what was best for her baby, her daughter. After seeing Marco and his father at loggerheads she knew that she had to leave. Today. Now.
Imogen pulled out her phone, dialled Julie and waited while the unfamiliar tone connected her to home. ‘Hi, Immy.’ Julie’s voice crossed the miles and Imogen gulped down her emotions, determined to keep calm. ‘The photos on the Empire State Building are so good. I’m really jealous.’
‘It’s not working,’ Imogen butted in before Julie got carried away with something that might have only just happened but now seemed so far in the past it was as if it couldn’t have taken place, as if those tender moments in the night before they’d visited the iconic building hadn’t happened at all.
‘What’s not working?’ She could hear the confusion in Julie’s voice, picture her frowning in that suspicious way she always did.
‘Me and Marco.’ On the other end of the phone Julie sighed and Imogen closed her eyes then launched into the cold, hard truth of the matter. ‘We had a scan today and the baby is a girl, not the boy Marco needs.’
Imogen’s hands shook as she held the phone, wishing her friend were here to hug her and make the pain stop. She’d never felt so alone, so isolated from all the people who mattered to her as she did right now.
‘What?’ Julie’s shock raced across the miles and it was as if she were here with her right now, sitting in the afternoon sunshine of New York. It calmed Imogen’s panic, but allowed her anger to surface. Anger at Marco. At his father and the ridiculous succession rules his family adhered to.
‘You should have heard his voice, Jules, when he knew it was a girl. He sounded as if he was in a business meeting, trying to extract himself from an unsavoury deal. Then his father...’ Imogen trailed off as the shock of his father’s words stung.
‘His father what, Immy?’ Julie prodded as silence filled the line.
‘His father made it very clear that only a boy was good enough. I couldn’t stay there any longer, I just ran.’
‘Did Marco come after you?’
‘No, it seems pacifying his father is far more important than me or our little girl.’ As she said those last two words a sob filled her voice and she took a deep, calming breath, determined not to break down now.
‘What do you want to do, Immy?’ Julie asked. ‘You know I will be here for you no matter what.’
‘I don’t know,’ Imogen confessed. ‘I should walk away now, come home and forget him, but I can’t.’
Imogen thought of their night together and of the way he’d held her, caressed her, giving her hope that somewhere buried deep beneath the foundations of the barriers he’d built around him was the ability to love. She’d thought she could smash them down, thought she could make a difference to him. She wanted to. ‘I love him, Julie.’
‘Oh, Immy. Where is Marco now?’
‘With his father, I guess.’
Julie sighed again. ‘Come home if you want to, Immy, but talk to him first. Tell him how you feel. Just keep me posted on what you are doing.’
‘Thanks, Jules,’ Imogen whispered as tears threatened once more. She ended the call and sat with her eyes closed as the heat of the sun warmed her face, the background noise of New York calmed her racing mind. Julie was right. She had to talk to Marco. She had to face this head-on, for her sake and her daughter’s.
As control slipped back over her she checked her purse. She had a key to Marco’s apartment and dollars in her purse. There was nothing stopping her getting into a cab, going back to the apartment and booking a flight home, just as Julie had suggested.
So why wasn’t she?
The question raced in her mind.
Because you love him. Because you can’t give up on him.
She closed her eyes against the honesty of her answer. She’d fallen in love with Marco. On that last day on the island, as he’d walked with her along the beach to the most amazing night of her life, she’d wished the moment were real, wished they were in love, but past hurt had forced such notions aside. It was why she’d made it easy for Marco to go the next morning. She’d wanted to protect her heart by putting up the barriers. She hadn’t wanted the kind of pain she’d experienced after Gavin’s betrayal, although she’d never have believed it could feel this bad.
Sadness filled her. It wasn’t the same for Marco—he hadn’t fallen in love with her and never would. For him it had been just sex, both here in New York and on the island. The only difference about the island was that his baby had become a consequence of that sex and now he felt duty bound to her and his father to marry her. That was what his father had said, and Marco had stood there and allowed him to say it. He hadn’t tried to protect her or defend her. He hadn’t corrected his father at all and as the seconds ticked by whilst she’d stood at the door, ready to flee, she knew he wasn’t going to do any of those things.
‘Imogen.’ Marco’s voice sounded behind her, but she refused to turn, refused to acknowledge him.
He stood in front of her and she looked up at him. His dark hair was dishevelled and his tie not straight, as if he’d been dragging it off at some point. He looked more flustered than she’d ever seen him.
‘I only have one thing to say to you.’ She stood up and looked squarely at him, willing herself to remain calm and composed. She had to tell him it was over, that she was returning to England.
‘Don’t say it. Not yet,’ Marco said, and she frowned at the hint of panic in his voice as he stepped closer, appearing anxious that she might run away again. He knew what she was going to say, he knew, she could see it in his face, in the shadows of his eyes.
‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.’ She stood before him, as tall and straight as she could, finding it bizarre that at a time like this she called upon what she’d learnt in balle
t classes as a young child. Not that it mattered one bit, not when she must look a lot more in control and focused than he did right now. She needed to be aloof. Detached.
She’d never seen this side of him, never imagined a businessman who made millions and oversaw a large global company could look so out of kilter. She could almost feel sorry for him and for a second she nearly did, but with one deep breath she regained the calm indifference she craved.
‘My father was aiming all he’d said at me, not you.’
Imogen started to walk away, not wanting to hear his excuses. ‘I have no desire to become embroiled in a father-son argument. I want to go back to England. I want my family around me, Marco, family who care—about me and the baby. They won’t reject her because she is a girl. They will love her. No matter what.’
‘I do care about you and the baby.’ He caught hold of her arm, slowing her to a stop when all she wanted to do was rush away and jump in the first taxi she could. Her heart was breaking and the last person she wanted to witness it was Marco. That would give him power over her the way Gavin had had. The power to hurt and humiliate.
‘No, Marco.’ She rounded on him, vaguely aware of passers-by looking at them. ‘You need the baby. Remember? That was what you told me in Oxford before I was stupid enough to fly halfway round the world with you. You need the baby.’ She said it again to drive home her hurt, her indignation. ‘But what about me? I guess I’m a part of the deal you have to accept. Or at least that was how it was until you found out the baby is a girl.’
Imogen couldn’t help but inject all the frustration and pain which bubbled inside her into her words. Marco’s eyes widened in shock and briefly she thought she’d got through to him, made him understand what she felt. Then a glacial hardness settled in his eyes as if the first frost of winter had arrived early.
‘You can’t even deny it, can you?’ She dragged the words out as her heart broke even more at his silence.
* * *
Marco looked at Imogen, seeing it from her perspective for the first time. He’d arrived in Oxford and had overheard her conversation with Julie and because of that he’d done the only thing he was comfortable doing and demanded from her what he wanted to happen. Anything else would have meant opening up his emotions, putting himself on the line.
‘You’ve got it all wrong, Imogen,’ he said as he reached out to stroke back her hair as the wind whipped it across her face. She backed away from his touch and that stab of panic raced through him again. He was losing her. Losing his baby. All because he’d been hung up on the past. All because he couldn’t open his heart to love.
He wanted to blame his father for those harsh words, but knew deep down the old man was right. He’d just been too damn blinded by the desire to gain his father’s approval that he hadn’t seen what was right before him. He hadn’t seen that Imogen loved him.
His father’s words played over again in his mind, but the cold and distanced look on Imogen’s face made him doubt that. Yet when she’d turned to him this morning as he’d woken to find her looking out over the city, the look on her face had been so very different. Had that been love? Had he thrown it all away?
‘Oh, come on, Marco,’ she snapped harshly at him. ‘You should have heard your shock when you discovered your much-needed son was a girl. A girl you don’t need or want.’
‘I was a fool.’ He took hold of her hand, desperate to keep her from turning away from him, sensing that at any minute she would be gone.
‘Yes, you were. I’ve had enough of fools in my life. First Gavin and now you. It’s over, Marco, whatever it is—it’s over. I’m going back to England.’
She pulled free of his hand and turned, almost bumping into someone in her haste to get away from him. If his father had been right, if she had loved him, then he had certainly obliterated that love, killed it off as surely as a drought dried up the green grass.
‘Imogen, wait.’ He rushed after her and for the second time today had to run to try and stop her leaving. ‘Imogen,’ he called again more sharply.
She didn’t turn, didn’t even pause, but reached the pavement and all but walked out in front of a taxi in a bid to get it to stop. He increased his pace and managed to grab the open taxi door as she climbed in. He threw himself into the taxi after her as he heard her give his address.
‘Silviano’s Coffee House,’ he said to the driver, cancelling out her request. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet, although he didn’t know if he could do what his father had told him—love her or let her go. Either was an extreme he couldn’t contemplate.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ she gasped as she moved as far across the taxi as she could. He was sure if it hadn’t moved off into the flow of traffic she would have bailed out the other side.
‘I got it wrong, very wrong, and if you must go I understand, but before you do I want to show you something.’
‘Why should I listen to anything you have to say, much less believe it?’ Her eyes spat fiery indignation at him.
‘Because it’s part of your child’s heritage. It’s part of who your daughter will be.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IMOGEN GLARED AT Marco across the taxi. Damn him. Even now he was playing with her emotions, toying with the family values she held so dear. All she wanted was to get away, from him, his family and New York. It wouldn’t take her long to pack her few belongings and book a flight. She could be on her way home tonight. But if she indulged him in this she would miss the last flight back and have to stay with him at his apartment—unless she booked into a hotel instead.
‘Part of who my daughter will be?’ she challenged, not prepared to back down now she’d made her mind up to leave. ‘How can you say that? You are using the one thing that means so much to me just to get what you want. And the only thing I can assume is that it’s so you appear not to be turning your back on me or your child. After all, it’s a girl—and girls don’t count, do they?’
‘Yes, I am trying to get what I want, Imogen,’ he said slowly and sat back calmly in the taxi as if the fact that she was talking to him meant he’d already won. It just made her more convinced that walking away now was the right thing to do—for all of them.
‘I’m leaving, Marco. Tonight. We both want very different things from this arrangement. As soon as we learnt the baby is a girl everything went wrong. It’s for the best, for all of us, and you know it.’
‘Very well, if you feel that’s what you must do.’ Marco’s words shocked Imogen into a brief silence and she looked at him, trying to second-guess what he was really planning. ‘But at least give me the chance to show you something. All I ask for is an hour.’
‘One hour, Marco.’ She kept her voice firm, despite the temptation to believe he might have changed. That would never happen. ‘You’ve got one hour. Then I’m going back to the apartment to pack my things and book a flight.’
‘One hour,’ he agreed, his voice softer, more like that of the Marco she’d first met on the island. She watched him as he focused on the road ahead, as if not trusting the taxi driver to take them to his destination instead of hers. Something inside her melted a little as he inhaled deeply, giving her a sense that the emotional barriers he’d built around himself were gradually slipping away as they drove through the city.
She couldn’t look at him any more. He would strip away all the anger, all the fight and conviction that she was doing the right thing. He would suffocate all that detachment and aloofness she’d fought hard to carry off. Part of her wanted to force him to look at her, force him to hear the truth of why she couldn’t stay, but sense prevailed. He didn’t want love in his life and certainly wouldn’t want to hear her say ‘I love you’. She was also certain he wouldn’t understand that she had to leave because she loved him.
‘We are almost there.’ He turned to face her, and his gaze locked with hers. She held her breath as
that all-too-familiar attraction crackled in the air around them. Whenever he looked at her like that it was as if they had been transported back to the island. But the island was escapism. This was reality.
‘Where?’ To her horror the word had become a husky whisper, showing her vulnerability to him all over again. She tried again, forcing harshness into the word. ‘Where?’
‘Our baby is the next Silviano heir. My heir and I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl.’
She opened her mouth to protest, to remind him how disgusted he was with the prospect of a daughter, but he pressed his finger to her lips, the gesture so intimate it shocked her into silence. He pulled his finger away, looking as shocked as she was that he’d done it, and she couldn’t help but wet her lips with her tongue, tasting him, feeling the heat his touch had left behind. The wild thumping of her heart and the heat curling deep inside from that simple action proved she was far from indifferent to him, something she really didn’t want Marco to know.
‘I want to show you where it all began.’ Marco’s voice held determination as the taxi pulled up. Saddened that this would be the final time they were together, she watched him as he took out his wallet, handing over the dollars for the fare.
She’d never forget how his dark hair curled at the back of his neck, especially when it was wet from the sea. Or the feel of his stubble when he’d kissed her in the morning. More than that, for ever etched in her memory would be the way he’d caressed her body, the heat of his kiss, the sensation as he’d made her completely his and the amazing heights he’d taken her to. Whatever happened, whatever he said or did next, she didn’t think she’d ever forget that.
A Ring to Claim His Legacy Page 13