His expression showed surprise.
“Good night, Massimo.” Then, with a small shake of her head. “Make that ‘good bye’. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Chapter Three
As a doctor, Alessia knew the symptoms of pregnancy, but as a woman, it was easy to ignore them, so somehow it took weeks of feeling nauseous and dizzy, of lower back pain and tingling nipples before Alessia finally sat bolt upright in bed one night and reached for her phone, double checking the app she used to track her cycle.
“Oh my God.” She squeezed her eyes shut and flopped back against the pillows, her mouth filling with something like acid, her stomach squeezing. “No.” She shook her head from side to side as if by doing so she could push the thought away, but even as she did so, the reality of having conceived Massimo’s baby filled her with a bubbling sense of warmth. Massimo’s baby.
No, not Massimo’s baby. Her baby. She pressed the palm of one hand to her stomach, a smile lifting the corners of her lips. She’d always known she wanted children. It was one of the reasons she’d agreed to marry Sam. They’d been friends and she’d liked him, and he’d been so different to Massimo and men like him, but also, he’d been absolutely certain that he wanted a family, and she’d believed he’d be a good father.
A knot formed in her throat; she swallowed past it, blinking her eyes and refusing to think about the fact that the two men she’d thought she might spend the rest of her life with had walked away from her – and so easily! Since the brief conversation with Sam in which he informed her he’d changed her mind about their wedding, she hadn’t seen nor heard from him.
She rolled onto her side, staring out of her window. The reassuring noises of Ondechiara filled her ears, making her lips curve into a smile and her heart swell. But doubts quickly followed.
She was pregnant with Massimo’s baby and here in Ondechiara, where his family owned a huge amount of land and one of the most prestigious homes in the small Italian bay town, there was no way she could keep it secret from him.
Secret?
Her heart began to stampede through her chest. Was she seriously considering that?
The idea had memories slamming through her – Massimo’s brother Fiero who had become a father without his knowledge. The discovery of his son Jack had almost destroyed him, realising he’d missed two years of Jack’s life, and it had made him unbelievably hard on Elodie, Jack’s mother. They’d resolved their differences now, and were one of the happiest couples Alessia had ever seen, but that didn’t change the fact she’d had first-hand insight into what a secret baby could do to a man – and especially a Montebello.
With a noise of frustration, she closed her eyes, blotting out the pristine ocean beyond her window, and the moonlight cutting across it. Doubts besieged her.
She had to do something. But before she jumped the gun, surely that would involve confirming the pregnancy with a test? And that would have to wait until the morning. Conventional wisdom would have her wait out another month or so, until the first trimester had passed. She would tell him the truth, but there was no need to rush it. Far better for Alessia to get used to the idea before she had to drop the bombshell in Massimo’s lap.
Reassured, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but all the while her dreams were filled with chubby little babies with olive skin and curly hair…
* * *
She’d been to his office only once – on the day they’d signed the divorce papers. It had been two weeks after he’d moved out of their penthouse, and the sight of him had flooded her body with love and need and hurt and sorrow.
He had been implacable. Resolute and determined, cold and businesslike, just as she knew the rest of the world regarded him.
They hadn’t been alone – a lawyer had joined them, explaining each of the clauses to her, as though she were too stupid to understand the simple contract. She’d railed against the terms of settlement. It was too generous- a huge allowance and trust fund, neither of which she wanted. “It’s been decided.”
She hadn’t needed to ask Max ‘by whom’. She’d known. Him, and her father. Just as they had decided about the marriage.
So she’d nodded and signed where the line indicated and that had been it. He’d stood, his eyes resting on her face just long enough to send her pulse firing and her heart breaking anew, long enough to make her want to shout that she hadn’t slept with the man in the photos, to tell him how sorry she was. But she didn’t. Somehow, the photos had resurrected some of her tattered pride – the pride his disinterest in her had stripped away through the year of their marriage.
He had divorced her and that was that. Nothing could be served by telling him the truth.
She’d waited until she’d left the building before giving into the tears that clogged her throat and eyes.
It was little wonder that standing in the foyer of his executive level now she felt a thundering through her veins as memories of that day besieged her.
Children are not on my agenda right now, Alessia. One day, when they are, we may discuss making this marriage intimate. Just like that. Everything on his terms, always. Everything was a deal, a discussion, so cold and pragmatic, the exact opposite of how she’d felt.
At least now she could harness that approach, treat him with measured, businesslike cool rather than letting her emotions overrule her.
“He won’t be long,” one of the executive assistants murmured, a crisp smile shaping her lips.
“That’s fine.” She’d decided against making an appointment. Forewarning him of her arrival might have led to questions and delays, and she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible – and on her terms for once.
Her hand curved over her rounded tummy, the flutterings there filling her with more than her fair share of butterflies. But she wouldn’t allow her anxiety to communicate itself. She kept herself still, her knees tight together, her shoulders squared, her eyes fixed on a piece of corporate art across the room – so different to the renaissance masterpieces that adorned Massimo’s home.
Everything in Montebello Torre was steel and glass, modern and minimalist.
A phone began to ring, and Alessia startled, her nerves already stretched to breaking point.
“Signorina? Mr Montebello can see you now.”
There was no disguising her five month baby bump as she stood, her coat parting to reveal the perfect shape, and Alessia was conscious of the assistant’s gaze swooping discreetly, curiosity sparking in her eyes for the briefest moment before cool professionalism was back in place. Alessia didn’t need to worry that the assistant would call the press and sell the gossipy piece of news – Massimo surrounded himself with people who respected his privacy. It was one of the reasons her ‘betrayal’ had been so reckless. For a man who valued the boundaries between his private life and his public persona, she had dragged him through the tabloid mud. As a twenty year old, Alessia had almost been glad for that, but now she felt only ashamed.
“Thank you,” she nodded crisply, swallowing hard as she walked across the foyer, her heels making a clicking noise with each step she took. An early winter cold snap had gripped Rome, and the sky beyond the expansive windows was grey and leaden. The morning’s rain had given way to sleet. Alessia arranged her scarf carefully, moving her coat so that her pregnancy wouldn’t be the first thing Max noticed about her. She couldn’t say why but she felt like she needed to control this – to tell him slowly without him simply seeing the truth for himself.
* * *
Max stared at the papers on his desk for several moments, even after the door opened and Gianna announced, “Miss Anando is here to see you, sir.”
“Thank you.” The words were barely a growl. He steeled himself for this, flicking his eyes towards her for the briefest moment before returning them, with effort, to the report he was reading.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the leather chair opposite without looking her direction again.
“Thank
you.” Her own voice was clipped and cool, as though she were being dragged here against her will. So why had she come? Of their own volition, his eyes strayed to the boardroom table across his office, where they’d sat the day she’d come to sign the divorce papers. Then, he’d been so angry with her, the sting of her affair still burning hot in his gut, so he couldn’t look at her without imagining another man’s hands, mouth, body, possessing her. He wasn’t a violent man but thoughts of that had almost robbed him of sanity. He ground his teeth together now, moving his eyes to her face when he could trust himself to meet her gaze with an expression of polite inquiry. After all, the last time he’d seen her, Alessia had said ‘I never want to see you again’ seconds before stalking from his apartment.
“Alessia, this is a surprise.”
Her lips pulled in a smile that was enigmatic, reminding him of the Mona Lisa.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
He leaned back in his chair, refusing to allow his groin to stir as it was pulling, refusing to acknowledge that now he was besieged by recollections of their night in London – five months apart had done little to quell the strength of those memories, nor of his desire for her.
“I thought you didn’t want to see me again?” he drawled, his eyes roaming her face fully, marking some small changes there. A fullness to her cheeks that made her look younger than her twenty-five years.
Those same cheeks heated pink. “It’s important.”
The tone of her voice drove anything else from his mind. “Carlo?”
“Dad’s fine,” she rushed to assure him. “That’s not why I’m here.”
He expelled a breath slowly. “I’m glad. So why have you come?”
“Straight to it?”
“I don’t see any point in prevaricating.” A frown dragged at his mouth. “We’ve probably said all we need to one another?”
“Not quite,” she cleared her throat, then bit down on her lower lip anxiously. She was nervous?
He hadn’t seen her like this in a long time. Their wedding night? More feelings he chose to ignore hammered against him.
“Well?” He prompted, after several moments of tense silence.
Her eyes showed a hint of anguish.
“You’re making me nervous,” he said with a small laugh, shaking his head ruefully. “Spit it out.”
It broke the ice between them. She smiled; a genuine smile that spread warmth over him, waking up parts of him he hadn’t known to be dormant.
“Yes, you’re right.” She nodded awkwardly. “This won’t take long.”
“What won’t?”
“What I came here to say. Or show you.”
“You’re speaking in riddles. What do you want to show me?”
“First of all, I need for you not to panic.”
“Do I seem like someone who would panic?” And then, a moment later, “What, have you got your arms tattoed or something?”
Her smile was taut. “Not quite.”
Her fingers trembled a little as she reached for her scarf, unhooking it so his eyes flicked to the hint of cleavage revealed by her shirt. A moment later, she stood, pushing out of her jacket, so that it was impossible to miss the roundedness of her stomach, but it took him several seconds to connect that shape with any kind of meaning.
Alessia had always been slim, just like her mother, without a propensity to carry weight even as a teenager. But then, was it…did that mean? He stared at the swelling of her stomach, his heart crashing against his ribcage.
“You’re pregnant.” It was a statement, not a question, and yet she nodded anyway.
His first thought was that the baby was his, but then – what if it was someone else’s? What if she was here telling him as a courtesy? What if she’d reconciled with that feckless creep she’d been planning to marry?
“How far along are you?” The words were said with urgency.
She closed her eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath which did little to quell his own anxiety. “Five months.”
He swore under his breath. The timing was right, unless she’d rolled straight from his bed to another man’s?
“I’m pregnant,” she spoke calmly, but it was a calmness born of practice, as though she’d rehearsed what she wanted to say and was repeating it now.
“And the baby is mine?” He interrupted, needing clarity immediately.
Her eyes flared wide with obvious surprise. “Who else’s would it be?”
The simplicity of that gave away a lot of information, namely that it wasn’t physically possible for any other man to be the father. And the only way she could know that was if she hadn’t been with another man since him.
Possessive heat fired in his gut. “You’re pregnant with my child?”
“Yes.” She compressed her full pink lips. “And I came here today to tell you, as a courtesy, because I think it’s something you should be aware of. With gossip the way it is in Ondechiara, I’m surprised news of this hasn’t already reached you,” she lifted her shoulders then narrowed her eyes, as if she’d gone off track. “I’m telling you because I think you should know but not because I want anything from you. I saw what happened with Fiero and Elodie, and how hard that was for him, and I would never want to put you through that. You’re going to be a father, and when the baby is born, you can decide how much of a part you want to play. I won’t pressure you, Massimo. So far as I’m concerned, this doesn’t need to change anything between you and me.”
He listened to her cool little speech with a growing sense of furious disbelief. “I see.” He stood, walking to the buffet across the room and reaching for his decanter of scotch before changing his mind and grabbing out two bottles of lightly sparkling mineral water.
“Naturally I’ll continue living in my own home, and you have the villa so will be able to see our baby from time to time.”
“And how often do you think this will be?” He prompted, playing her game even when he wanted to break the glass windows of his office with how her suggestion was gnawing through him.
“I thought once a month?”
“Once a month,” he nodded, striding across the room with the mineral water out held, his eyes burning into hers.
“If you like,” she said simply, like they were discussing something as banal as what colour to paint a wall in the house. “If you would prefer to forget we exist then that’s fine too.”
“Christo.” He cracked the lid off, wishing he’d gone with his first preference and thrown back a decent measure of scotch. “Who the hell do you think I am, Alessia?”
Only the rapid beating of a pulse point at the base of her jaw gave anything away. Her expression was held in a placid mask.
“You’re my ex-husband, a man I haven’t seen more than a few times in the last five years. You’re part of my past, and while this baby links us in some way, it doesn’t have to be the case. This was an accident,” she swallowed hard, her throat knotting visibly. “Neither of us planned this.”
“You don’t want it?”
Her eyes flared wide. “I…”
He waited, his breath held, needing to hear her answer more than he could say. She lowered her eyes to the carpet, shielding her gaze from him.
“That’s a moot point.”
“Not to me, it isn’t.”
“Not having planned to fall pregnant doesn’t mean I don’t want the baby now, Max.” Her hand curved over her stomach, her face shifting completely so he felt an abundance of love and affection bursting from her skin. “From the minute I realised I was pregnant I have wanted this child more than I have words to express.”
Something shifted inside of him – something like a primal flare of male pride. He had never particularly relished the idea of having children though he would have accommodated Alessia if she had wished for them at some point. “I’m glad.” His voice was raw, the words thick with emotion, so her eyes jerked to his and something buzzed between them.
She blinked, her express
ion growing cold and businesslike once more. She sipped her water then placed the bottle on the edge of his desk, standing and reaching for her scarf. “Naturally, I’ll let you know once she’s been born –,”
“She?”
Her eyes flickered closed again. “We’re having a daughter.”
His heart galloped. It wasn’t that he had a preference for either gender, only knowing which gender made him feel instantly more connected to the whole idea, as though the baby was no longer an abstract concept but was a real little person.
“You don’t have to make up your mind today about the kind of role you’d like to play in her life. Even once she’s born, there’ll be years before she’s really conscious of what a ‘normal’ family looks like – what even is normal these days, anyway? I don’t want to pressure you. As I said earlier, I just felt you should know.”
Her obvious desire to sideline him had every cell in his body reverberating. “I appreciate it has been five years since we divorced but I cannot believe you no longer know anything about me, Alessia.”
She stilled, midway through reaching for her jacket.
“Did you truly believe you could come here today and tell me I’m going to become a father and then walk away again?”
Her cheeks flushed pink but her eyes held a warning. “Of course.”
“Then you were wrong, and very naïve.”
It sparked anger in her eyes. “I was naïve once with you and believe me, I’ve learned not to be that way again.”
He ignored that, sweeping it aside. “You know me.”
Her eyes clashed with his. “Not anymore.”
He shook his head, refusing to let go of her gaze. “You know me.”
She gnawed on her lower lip, uneasiness spreading through her. She knew him. Not as a husband, and not as a man, really, but she knew Massimo Montebello: the legend, the ruthless tycoon, and she knew the power of the family he came from.
Loving the Enemy Page 3