Italian Bachelors: Unforgotten Lovers: The Change in Di Navarra's Plan / Bound by the Italian's Contract / Visconti's Forgotten Heir. Elizabeth Power

his beautiful gray eyes.

      “You’re a very stubborn woman, Holly Craig,” he said softly, his eyes dipping to her mouth before coming back up again. Her lips tingled. She told herself it was because she’d been biting them.

      “I will always do what’s best for my baby,” she said. “He comes first. I’m sorry if you find that inconvenient.”

      She could feel the heat of Drago’s body enveloping her, smell the cool scent of his cologne—a home run for Navarra Cosmetics, at least where he was concerned. Scents smelled different on different people, but this one seemed tailored to him. It was light, so light she’d not really noticed it before now, but it was also intoxicating.

      There was sandalwood, which was to be expected in male cologne. But there were also pears, which was surprising, as well as moss. It was fresh and clean and she liked it. And she would forever associate the smell of NC’s signature male cologne with its ruthless CEO.

      Drago’s mouth flattened for a moment, as if he were annoyed. But then he shook his head slightly.

      “An admirable trait in a mother, I imagine,” he said, and there was a piercing pain in her heart that she did not understand. Did he sound wistful just then? Lonely? Lost? “I will send a car for you in the morning, cara. Say your goodbyes and pack your things. You won’t need to return to this dwelling ever again.”

      Her heart hammered. “I can’t leave Gabi in the lurch. She will need enough money to cover a couple of months’ rent at least.”

      He didn’t even blink. “I will take care of it.”

      And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell as he left her life once more.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      DRAGO’S APARTMENT IN New York was somehow even grander than she remembered it. Holly lay back on a bed that was almost as big as her entire room had been in New Orleans and stared up at a ceiling that had actual frescoes painted on it. Frescoes, as if this were a grand church instead of a personal dwelling.

      Stunning. And completely surreal.

      It was late afternoon and she needed to get out of bed, but she didn’t want to. Early this morning—far earlier than she would have liked—Nicky had been awake and ready for his bottle. While she’d fed her baby, she’d done a pretty good job of convincing herself that Drago wasn’t coming back. That she’d dreamed the whole thing.

      Gabi had stumbled home at six, and Holly had told her the whole story—including the part where she was supposed to leave New Orleans and never have to worry about living in squalor again.

      Gabi’s face had lit up like the Fourth of July. “Oh, my God, Holly, that’s amazing! You have to go! You are going, right?”

      Holly had frowned. “I’m not sure.” Then she’d raked a hand through her tangle of hair. “I mean, last night I was pretty sure. But how can I leave you? And how can I possibly deal with that man again? He’s not nice, Gabi. He’s selfish and arrogant and only concerned with his bottom line and—”

      “And handsome as sin,” Gabi had interrupted. “As well as richer than God. Not to mention he’s the father of your baby.”

      Holly had frowned. “That’s what worries me the most.”

      Gabi had sat down and taken her hand, squeezing it. Her blue eyes had been so serious. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Holly. You have to go. There’s a reason this is happening now, and you have to go see what it is.”

      In the end, Holly had gone. Drago had arrived at eight, and by then Holly had packed everything she needed into three suitcases and a diaper bag. It was everything she owned. Drago had looked over her belongings coldly, and then his driver had carried them all down to the limo. Holly had hugged Gabi goodbye, crying and promising to call. She’d been terrified to leave her friend alone, but Drago had handed Gabi a fat envelope and told her to use it wisely.

      Holly had bitten her lip to keep from saying something she might regret. It was up to Gabi to accept or decline the money, and in the end she’d accepted. She’d had no choice, really. Without Holly to help with expenses, she would have had to hustle to find another roommate or take on extra hours at work. The money was the better choice.

      Within an hour, they’d been on a plane to New York. Within two hours, they’d landed. And, an hour later, she’d found herself in this room. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but staying at Drago’s had not been it. When she’d turned to him, he’d known what she was going to say, because he’d preempted her.

      “There’s no sense putting you in a hotel with a baby when this place is so big.”

      Nicky was in an adjoining room—the situation was going to take some getting used to. He had a nice crib and a play area with plenty of appropriate toys for a young baby. When she’d put him down for his afternoon nap, she’d come straight in here and climbed into bed. She always tried to snatch a few moments’ sleep while Nicky was out—but he usually woke her before she was fully rested.

      A prickle of alarm began to grow in her belly as she reached for her cell phone. She blinked at the display, certain she wasn’t seeing it right. Because, if she was, that meant she’d been asleep for nearly three hours now.

      Holly scrambled off the bed and ran into the adjoining room. Panic slammed into her when she realized Nicky was not in the crib. She tore open the door and raced down the hall, skidding into the palatial living area, with its huge windows overlooking Central Park. A woman sat on the floor and played with her baby. Nicky was on his belly, twisting the knobs of a toy, and the woman made encouraging noises as he did so.

      “Who are you?” Holly demanded. She was trembling as she stood there. Part of her wanted to snatch her baby up and take him away from this woman, but the rational part told her not to alarm him when he was perfectly happy with what he was doing. And clearly safe and well.

      The woman got to her feet and smiled. She was older, a bit plain, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She held out her hand. “I’m Sylvia. Mr. Di Navarra hired me to help with your son.”

      Holly’s throat tightened painfully. She would not allow him to interfere. “I don’t need help,” she said. “He made a mistake.”

      Sylvia frowned. “I apologize, Miss Craig, but Mr. Di Navarra seems to think you do.”

      “I will speak to Mr. Di Navarra,” she said tightly.

      “Speak to me about what?”

      Holly spun to find Drago standing in the door. Her heart did that little skip thing she wished it wouldn’t do at the sight of him. But he was beautiful, as always, and she couldn’t help herself. How had this splendid creature ever been interested in her for even a moment? How had they managed to make a baby together when she was so clearly not the class of woman he was accustomed to?

      He wore faded jeans that she knew were artfully faded rather than work faded, and a dark shirt that molded to the broad muscles of his chest. His feet were bare. Something about that detail made her heart skitter wildly.

      “I don’t need help to take care of my son,” she said. “You’ve wasted this woman’s time.”

      He came into the room then and she saw he was holding a newspaper at his side. He tossed it onto a table and kept walking.

      “I beg your pardon.” He was all arrogance and disdain once more. “But you definitely do.”

      He stopped in front of her and put two fingers under her chin. She flinched. And then he turned her head gently this way and that, his eyes raking over her.

      “I intend to pay a lot of money for this face to grace my ads. I’d prefer if you truly are rested instead of having you edited to look that way.”

      She pulled out of