A D'Angelo Like No Other. Carole Mortimer

grimaced. ‘But I’m assuming not. Rachel wasn’t exactly forthcoming on the subject, except to tell me the name of her lover, and that the relationship was over by the time she found out she was pregnant,’ she added heavily. ‘I was out of the country when Rachel first realised she was pregnant, and she never so much as mentioned it during our weekly telephone conversations. By the time I returned to England she was already five months pregnant and had been diagnosed with the cancer.’ She sighed. ‘Pressing Rachel for more details of the babies’ father, other than to tell me his name before she died, didn’t seem very important at the time.’

      ‘I imagine not.’ Michael nodded. ‘Returned from where?’ For some reason he found himself more than a little interested as to why Eva Foster should have been out of her native England for several months.

      She frowned. ‘Does that matter?’

      He shrugged. ‘Just filling in the details.’

      Eva shot him an irritated glare, sure that this man wasn’t usually a man who cared for ‘details’, that he usually left such trivia for other people to deal with; he commanded, others obeyed! ‘My work often takes me out of England. At least, it did,’ she added with a grimace.

      ‘Rachel was so ill the last six months of her life, and since then I’ve been caring for the twins on my own.’

      ‘You haven’t been able to work since your sister died?’

      ‘Not properly, no.’ It was the truth, so what else could she say?

      ‘What—?’

      ‘Look, my career, my life, none of this is up for discussion,’ she snapped irritably.

      She loved the twins, adored them actually, not just for themselves, but because they were all she had left of Rachel.

      But Eva had trained and worked hard to become successful in a career that was dominated by men, and these past nine months of being unable to do that career had taken their toll, on both Eva personally, and the respect she had worked so hard to achieve for her photography.

      ‘I disagree,’ Michael D’Angelo bit out coolly. ‘If—and it’s still a big if, as far as I’m concerned—’ he warned hardly, ‘it should transpire that Rafe is the twins’ father, then your career, and your life, would certainly both be very much up for discussion.’

      Eva stilled as she looked across at him searchingly, a panicked fluttering beginning in her chest as she saw the hard, uncompromising jet of his eyes and the grim set of those sculptured lips.

      She gave a slow, guarded shake of her head. ‘Rachel made me the twins’ legal guardian before she died...’

      Dark brows rose. ‘And their biological father would naturally take precedence over their maternal aunt.’

      That panicked flutter turned into a full surge as Eva’s heart seemed to be squeezed tightly inside her chest. ‘Are you threatening to take the twins away from me, Mr D’Angelo...?’

      Whatever it was Michael was doing, he certainly wasn’t deriving any pleasure out of it. Inwardly he felt as if he were kicking an already starved and abused kitten.

      Although this particular starved and abused kitten would probably spit in his eye as soon as look at him...

      CHAPTER THREE

      MICHAEL KNEW THE reputation he had, that most people believed him to be both cold and ruthless, an automaton without a heart, and in business perhaps that accusation was true. And no doubt many of his past lovers would also agree with that sentiment; several of the women he had been involved with over the years had accused him of lacking that particular organ when he had ended their relationship!

      But Michael loved his family dearly—his parents and his two brothers, and now their two wives—and he would do anything he had to do in order to protect each and every one of them.

      Even to the extent of browbeating a young, defenceless woman who only wanted to do what she believed was right for the only family she had left, namely her orphaned niece and nephew?

      Unfortunately, yes.

      But only because Michael didn’t feel he had any choice. Because he dared not allow Eva Foster to repeat this wild accusation to anyone else until he’d had a chance to speak with Rafe, and he wasn’t going to do that until Rafe and Nina returned from their honeymoon. And if the only way to achieve Eva Foster’s silence was to put the fear of God into her, by giving her the impression that Rafe, if he should be the twins’ father, might want custody of them, then that was what he’d do.

      His brother was headstrong, yes, had deliberately earned himself the reputation of being something of a playboy these past fifteen years, but falling in love with Nina had changed his need for that armour. They were two very small, adorable babies, Michael acknowledged as he looked down at the angelically sleeping twins. The truth was Michael had absolutely no idea how Rafe would react to knowing, if it were true, that he had fathered twins with a woman other than Nina.

      Michael only knew how he would feel in the same situation!

      No matter what the cost to himself, to any other relationship he might have in his life at the time, Michael knew he would want his children with him. And Rafe, despite the outward differences in their personalities, was enough like him to feel the same way. Which was the reason Michael, at least, was convinced Rachel Foster hadn’t told Rafe anything about her pregnancy or the twins’ birth.

      ‘I’m merely stating a fact, Miss Foster,’ Michael answered her abruptly. ‘Not that I’m saying that would definitely be the case, only that you should consider it as a possibility.’

      Eva didn’t want to even consider the idea of the twins ever being taken away from her!

      Yes, she found it difficult, all-consuming, to care for two small babies night and day, but she would dare any woman in the same situation, even the natural mother, to deny that it was hard work.

      And yes, caring for the twins had also put her career on semi-permanent hold.

      But that didn’t mean she would ever willingly give them up.

      The opposite, in fact; she knew she would fight tooth and nail to prevent that from ever happening.

      She strode over to take control of the babies’ pushchair. ‘Perhaps I made a mistake coming here.’

      ‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Eva.’

      She stilled, as much at hearing Michael D’Angelo speak her name in that husky, nerve-tingling tone as at the words he had spoken.

      And how stupid of her was that?

      Michael D’Angelo was too arrogantly handsome for his own good, wealthy beyond belief, extremely powerful—worse, he was using those last two things to threaten her—and her only response was to once again feel that quiver of awareness down the length of her spine, to feel her breasts swelling beneath her T-shirt, and the nipples tightening, engorging, in physical arousal.

      More humiliating still, they were no doubt engorged nipples that Michael D’Angelo would be able to see pressing against the tightness of her T-shirt!

      Eva couldn’t quite meet the darkness of his gaze as she gave him an over-bright smile at the same time as she turned the pushchair towards the office door. ‘I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your valuable time for one day, Mr D’Angelo—’

      ‘You aren’t leaving, Eva.’

      She gave him a startled glance as she came to an abrupt halt. ‘What do you mean? Of course I’m leaving.’

      ‘This office, maybe—’

      ‘There’s no “maybe” about it—’

      ‘—but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave Paris until I’ve spoken to Rafe,’ Michael D’Angelo continued as if she hadn’t spoken, the authority