by Dani Wade
A sense of inevitability settled on her shoulders. What would be would be. She’d find some way to get around whatever the new owner wanted. Besides, why automatically assume that they wouldn’t want to keep her on? Carson’s made an excellent tenant. Feeling slightly buoyed by the thought, she made her way downstairs.
Gustav bailed her up the minute he saw her.
“What’s up, sweetie? You look like you’ve been through the wringer. Is it your Italian? Do I need to deal with him?”
“No…no, it’s not Draco. We’ve stopped seeing one another anyway. It’s—”
Blair’s chin started to wobble and Gustav led her straight into her office, pushing her gently down on her chair. He squatted down in front of her and took both her hands in his.
“C’mon, sweetie, let it out. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“The building’s been sold. I tried to buy it but they said it had already been sold.”
“But they can’t do that,” Gustav protested. “Don’t you have to be given notice?”
“I got that yesterday, but I thought I’d have time to put an offer forward, that as the tenant I might stand a better chance to buy the property. But it was too late.”
“And what about your lease?”
“It’s with the previous owner only.”
“So it’s simple. We renegotiate with the new owner, yes? No need for tears. They’d be mad to lose us here.”
“But what if they wanted the building for something else? What if—”
“It’ll be okay, just you wait and see. Now dry your eyes and get back into that kitchen. We’ve got an amazing night ahead.”
“Hey, who’s the boss here?”
“I am,” Gustav answered with a cheeky smile. “I just let you think you are most of the time.” He went to leave her office.
“Gus?” she called, making him stop and turn around. “Thanks. I’ll see if we can set up a meeting with the new owners and negotiate a new lease in the next few days.”
“That’s my girl,” Gus said with a wink.
The night was chaotic but satisfying. By the time Blair laid her head on her pillow she was too exhausted to even think, let alone dream up possible scenarios for Carson’s.
The morning dawned bright and clear—one of those incredibly crisp autumn days that made the sky so blue you felt as if you could stare into its ceiling forever.
Blair contacted the lawyer again and requested a meeting as soon as possible with the new owners. The lawyer said he’d need some time to sort it all out, but when he rang back just before she went into the kitchen, he sounded just as surprised as she did that the new owner had agreed to meet with her the next morning.
She could barely keep her mind on her work, she was so apprehensive about the meeting. But she tried to channel Gustav’s positivity, as if by hoping for a positive outcome, it could genuinely make it happen.
The night seemed endless, even after she’d done her final rounds and locked everything up—even after she’d showered and lay in bed for hours, staring at the dark painted ceiling above her.
Finally it was morning. She dressed with extra care, wanting to present the most professional impression of herself and the restaurant that she could.
They’d agreed to meet in the dining room itself at ten, and Blair was pacing back and forth between the tables, wondering for the umpteenth time whether she should have changed from her only suit—a severely cut black number with which she’d teamed sheer black stockings and low-heeled shoes, eschewing a blouse underneath for a wisteria-blue silk camisole she’d treated herself to in Italy—into something less dramatic. The waistband on her skirt was snug, the first visible indication of her pregnancy. She rested her palm against her lower belly. Her baby—Draco’s baby—was growing. She wouldn’t be able to ignore it for much longer.
The rap at the door made her jump and she wheeled about, taking a second to smooth her hands down over her jacket, giving it a little tug to straighten the edges, before moving across the floor to welcome her new landlord.
“You?” she gasped as she pulled the door open.
A chill ran through her body and the blood drained from her face and dropped to her feet. Draco’s frame filled the doorway, his face as dark as thunder, his brows a thick, straight line, and his lips—normally bearing the slight curve of smile—were set in lines that didn’t bode well for Carson’s, or for Blair.
Seven
“Who else? I couldn’t get you to agree to see me any other way. I’m not above using my wealth and influence when I have to. You’d do well to remember that in future, cara mia.”
“Don’t. Don’t call me that. I’m not your darling, your lover. Your anything.”
Suddenly it occurred to Blair that antagonizing Draco was probably not the best thing to have done under the circumstances. A roiling wave of nausea rose from the pit of her stomach. She spun around and flew toward the women’s restroom, her hand over her mouth, tears once more streaming down her face.
In a toilet stall she fell to her knees and retched until her stomach was empty.
“Here.”
A folded wet paper towel was pressed into her hand from behind her. Oh no. Had Draco followed her in here? Witnessed her embarrassing loss of control?
“When you’re feeling okay I will be waiting for you outside.”
There was a tone to his voice that left her in no doubt that he wouldn’t wait long. She freshened up as quickly as she could, rinsing out her mouth before she straightened her jacket again and checked her appearance in the mirror.
Her pantyhose were laddered from the knees down. Well, there was nothing she could do about that right this minute, aside from remove them altogether, and she didn’t think he’d wait while she did that. There was one thing about Draco of which she was certain: when he wanted something, or someone, he wanted them right now.
On legs that were surprisingly steady she walked back out to the restaurant. Draco leaned up against the bar, his casually elegant pose a front for the coiled tension she sensed simmering below the surface. He pushed himself upright as she approached and crossed his arms, his feet planted about shoulder width apart.
His dark hair was slicked back off his forehead today, creating a stark demarcation line, framing his face which was set in stern lines. His heavy brows drew together slightly, his green eyes narrowed as his gaze swept her body. She feared he saw everything—each of the changes in her body she’d so staunchly tried to ignore. Her stomach pitched again.
“How long were you going to wait before telling me?” he demanded, his voice like velvet over steel.
She decided to try and bluff him out, then abruptly changed tack, choosing to attack him on his own terms. “I could ask you the same thing. How long were you going to wait before telling me you’d bought this building? Just how much did you offer Mrs. Whitcomb? I never stood a chance to buy out, did I?”
“You would have known in good time, Blair. Now, it is not like you to be unwell, and I assume it can be due to only one thing. So, I will ask you again. How long were you going to wait before telling me?”
He covered the short distance between them in the blink of an eye. One arm curved around her back, holding her captive against his body. Darn it! Her body responded instantly to his touch, his warmth. When his hand stroked inside the lapel of her jacket and across the silk of her camisole, her nipples tightened instantly, as if seeking the softness of his palm.
“Did you think I would not notice your breasts are fuller?” His hand slid down to her waist before coming to rest against her lower belly. “That your waist is even now thickening with the growth of my child?”
A shiver ran through her from head to foot. There was a note now to his voice that frightened her. A staunch sound of possession, ownership.
“This changes everything. I was prepared to let you have some space, to give you time to see the sense in our relationship. But no more. Not when this involves my child.”
“An
d what about me? You make it sound as if my wishes have nothing to do with whatever you decide.”
Draco’s lips compressed in a straight line as he looked at her closely. His eyes turned the color of a storm-tossed sea and she shivered again, only this time it wasn’t in fear. This time, it was in pure reaction to the intensity she saw there, and every ounce of that intensity was focused on her.
A weaker woman would crumble. Throw herself on his mercy. But then again, she reminded herself tersely, a weaker woman would probably happily accept Draco’s imperious manner.
“Well?” she prompted. “Don’t I have any say?”
“The baby is a Sandrelli, and he, or she, will be brought up with all that entails,” Draco replied in a voice that brooked no argument.
“What are you talking about?” Blair pulled free from his hold.
“I have a responsibility to my family, to the generations of Sandrellis who have gone before me. This baby, this child of ours, has a birthright, a heritage, that stretches back centuries. It will be born where I was born, where my father was born before me and his before him.”
Draco struggled to control the rising sense of sheer joy that plumed like a massive cloud of excitement from deep inside him. A baby. A child. His child. Finally he could bring his parents something to look forward to, some happiness in lives that had seen altogether too much sorrow. First the death of Lorenzo, his brother, ten years ago, and then more recently, Marcella and their unborn infant and his father’s ill health.
No matter what Blair thought, this baby would be born right where it belonged. In the heart of Tuscany.
“You’re being unreasonable,” she argued. “This is exactly why I would never have told you that I was pregnant. You don’t even know yet if it is your baby, and you’re already riding roughshod over me and making decisions about it without any thought to how this affects me.”
Draco stiffened. “You have been intimate with other men since we met?”
She couldn’t hold his gaze, instead letting her eyelids flutter down over her eyes, hiding from him her deepest thoughts. It was all the answer he needed. She could no more deny the baby was his than she could stop him in what he was going to do now.
“You will appoint a new chef to take over from you immediately,” he said firmly.
“I will do no such thing. Carson’s is my restaurant. I’m in charge here, not you. Besides, I am Carson’s, as was my father before me!”
She all but spat the words at him and he fought to control a smile. As if her claim to familial lineage could be compared with the generations-old traditions and responsibilities handed down through his.
“You cannot argue with me on this, Blair. It will serve no purpose.”
“No purpose? How dare you. You cannot dictate to me where I live. I have a business to run here, my home is in New Zealand and my baby will be born here.”
“If you want to play hardball with me, that is fine. I can match you any day of the week. If you do not agree to return to Tuscany with me and have our baby there, where it belongs, I will terminate your lease on the restaurant. The choice is yours. I will be back this time tomorrow for your answer.”
He strode out the door, barely trusting himself to remain in her presence. He’d already lost one child. He would not lose another in this lifetime if he had any say in the matter.
His mind was already ticking over as his driver shot out the car to open the passenger door for him. As he settled against the buttery-soft leather of the interior of the limousine he took his mobile phone from his breast pocket and flipped it open.
His instructions to his New Zealand–based assistant were terse and to the point. “Get me the address of Blair Carson’s father. I need it immediately.”
Before ten minutes had passed his driver had pointed the limousine down the Southern Motorway and they were headed for an appointment he had no intention of leaving until he had exactly the answer he wanted.
Blair Carson, Sr., was not as Draco had expected. The house in which he lived could barely be called more than a casual beachfront holiday retreat. If his information was correct, the man rented on a month-by-month basis. Hardly the kind of stability that Draco took for granted in his world, and hardly the kind of family stability Draco wanted for his unborn child either.
Draco instantly noted the similarities between the elder Carson and his daughter. Similar height and build, although the man walking toward him now was slightly stooped, his black hair streaked with grey.
He extended his hand, wasting no time in getting to introductions and outlining exactly what he wanted from him.
“So you’re telling me my daughter is pregnant?” Blair’s dad looked incredulous.
“Yes, sir, and it would mean everything to my family if I could take Blair back to my home in Tuscany to have the baby there. But you know how she feels about Carson’s. She isn’t happy to leave the restaurant in just anyone’s hands. I understand you oversaw the kitchen while she was on her tour in February.”
“That’s right. It was good to be back in charge.” Blair’s father nodded, a smile wreathing his face.
“Then, could I presume upon you to do the same again for me while she is in Tuscany until the birth of the child? I will certainly make it worth your while.” Draco mentioned a figure that was more than competitive. “I would like you to take over as soon as possible, as I have business to attend to back home, and I would like Blair to travel with me. Obviously, I understand that your health makes it impossible for you to do all that Blair has undertaken in recent months, however, I believe I can trust you to appoint someone in the kitchen who would give her the peace of mind she needs to be able to step away.”
“You seem to be prepared to go to a great deal of trouble for my daughter, Mr. Sandrelli.”
“Draco, please, and believe me when I say I will do everything in my power to protect Blair through this pregnancy. The hours she’s been working, the responsibility and pressure she’s put upon herself. None of it can be good, long-term, especially as she gets bigger.”
An image of Blair, swollen with his child, sprang into his mind and a rush of pride rose within him so strong and so deep it made his heart ache.
“No, I agree. Well, Draco,” Blair’s father extended his hand, “it looks as if you have yourself a deal.”
“Thank you, sir. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“And Blair? I take it she isn’t yet aware of your plans, because to be honest, I know exactly how stubborn she can be, and I can’t see her agreeing to this in a hurry.”
Draco smiled. Her father knew her well. “I will take care of Blair. You can rest assured of that.”
At ten the next morning Draco pulled up outside the restaurant. Before he could rap his knuckles against the glass-paneled door it swung sharply open.
“What have you done?”
Blair looked furious.
“I warned you not to underestimate me. Did you think I said those words in jest?”
“How could you go behind my back before I’d even given you an answer?”
Draco stepped past her and waited for her to close the door before responding. “I did what was necessary.”
“Necessary? Do I have to remind you this is my restaurant?”
“Not at all, nor do I need to remind you that I own the roof over this restaurant, the walls that surround it and the floor beneath it. You want Carson’s to continue, then yes, it will. But it will be without you slaving yourself to exhaustion in the kitchen.”
“My father isn’t well. He can’t take over my role here full-time.”
“I’m well aware of your father’s limitations, Blair. I’m not inhuman, despite what you think. He has instructions to appoint a new chef in your absence. However, I think it will do him good to have his hand back in, rather than moldering away where he is now.”
“Moldering? He’s having a well-earned rest.”
“Tell me, Blair, does your father really stri
ke you as the kind of man who would be happy to ‘rest’ for the balance of his years?”
He could see he’d made his point when she ceased pacing back and forth across the floor and her hands, which had been so animated as she spoke, fluttered uselessly to her side.
Draco stepped closer to her and took her chin in one hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“Well? Does he?”
He felt her capitulation in the frustrated breath she let out in a rush through her delectable lips.
“No. He doesn’t.”
“Then we are settled. We leave at the end of next week.”
“What? So soon?”
“There is no reason to linger, Blair. Everything will be under control here. Who is more eminently qualified than your own father to make sure of that?”
“Me. I’m more qualified. I’m younger, I’m fitter and this is my restaurant.” Blair’s voice rose, her tone becoming frantic.
“And you are also pregnant. Pregnant with my heir. That is a responsibility you must put before all others now.”
Her brown eyes blazed her frustration and her fury back into his.
“Fine. I’ll go back to your precious palazzo with you. I’ll have your baby. But know this, I will return home to New Zealand as soon as I can after the birth.”
Draco held his breath a moment, his jaw clenched as he bit back the retort that immediately sprang to mind. Instead, when he spoke, he did so with a voice that was level and which showed no indicator of how he felt inside.
“If you return, it will be without the baby.”
Blair’s response was vehement. “Whatever it takes to be free of you.”
Eight
The next few days turned into a whirlwind of activity. Blair barely had the chance to set foot in the restaurant as Draco commandeered her every waking moment, even going so far as to accompany her to her doctor on the Monday morning before they were due to depart.
She felt odd as they entered the doctor’s rooms with him at her side, the breadth of his palm nestled warmly against the small of her back. To all intents and purposes, they’d look just like a normal couple coming for a prenatal visit, but Blair knew they could never be anything so simple.