Affairs Of The Heart: The Italian Boss's Secret Child. Rebecca Winters

breath caught as she imagined the horror of the accident and its impact on a young child. ‘You lost everyone?’

      ‘There were fourteen packed into the back of the truck. Only two survived. They didn’t stand a chance when it rolled.’

      He took a deep breath and raised a hand to rub his temple. ‘I didn’t know about it until the next day. It took the police that long to identify everyone.’

      ‘You spent the night alone?’

      He shrugged against her belly. ‘You get used to it,’ he said, his voice flat.

      ‘That’s so unfair,’ she said. ‘Did you have other family who could take you in?’

      ‘No. Not in Australia and my two remaining grandparents in Italy were too frail and I didn’t want to go back. I’d grown up here. Even though my roots were Italian, I felt Australian, I belonged here. The market garden was sold—it barely covered the debts—and I ended up in foster care—’ He gave a brief laugh. ‘For a while, anyway. They didn’t want me and I didn’t need them. I worked as hard as I could at school and earned myself a scholarship and then escaped to Melbourne first chance I got.’

      ‘So this child will be your only family,’ she said, thinking aloud.

      He lifted himself from the bed in one rapid movement and scooped up his clothes and she cursed herself for provoking his change in mood. This was a guy who had made it in the world without family. He certainly wasn’t going to be thrilled about having it thrust upon him.

      ‘I have to get back to work. What do you plan to do?’

      She laughed, low and brittle. ‘I would have thought it’s a bit late for planning. I’m going to have a baby. How’s that for a plan?’

      ‘You’re keeping it then?’

      Something congealed cold and hard in her heart.

      He’d just made love to her.

      She was carrying his child.

      If she’d had any hopes that either one of those meant he’d consider her as something a trifle more special than plain old Philly-from-marketing, he’d just smashed those hopes to smithereens. ‘I’m disappointed you could even ask.’

      ‘Oh, don’t feel so aggrieved. How am I expected to know what you intend to do? It’s not like we really know each other.’

      True, she thought, seeking the refuge of her own clothes. But that doesn’t stop you wanting to make love to me. That doesn’t stop me wanting you to.

      And it certainly doesn’t stop me loving you.

      ‘So what do you expect from me?’

      She looked up at him, her hazel eyes focused acutely on his, hoping they conveyed the sense of cold he’d just doused her with. Much as it would have been easier never to have let Damien know that he was the father, she’d done the right thing. He now knew about the baby. Her responsibility to him ended right there. If he wasn’t prepared to have anything to do with this child, then she’d be more than happy to assume sole responsibility. It would sure save any complications.

      ‘What do I expect from you? Absolutely nothing.’

      His face starkly displayed his disbelief. But then, why would he believe her? No doubt he’d be expecting her to take full advantage of the benefits of a rich father for her child.

      ‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘I don’t want anything from you.’

      ‘You think you can do this all by yourself?’

      ‘Of course I can.’ If I have to. ‘It’s what I want.’ If that’s what it takes.

      ‘What about what I want?’

      ‘It’s obvious you don’t want to be involved. You’ve made that perfectly clear by even assuming I could do anything other than keep this child. You didn’t ask for this to happen. You didn’t ask for a child.’

      ‘And you did?’

      Her eyes dropped to the floor. He’d never understand if she told him. He’d never understand how much this baby meant, how much it would mean to her mother and how she’d dreamed so fervently of having a child. But those reasons had nothing to do with him. He didn’t need to know.

      ‘Of course it was a shock,’ she said. ‘But now that I’ve accepted it I’m going to do everything I can to make this child’s life worthwhile. This baby’s never going to feel like it’s not wanted or that its life is the result of a mistake. I’m going to make it a home.’

      ‘Very noble sentiments. And just how do you plan on doing all this by yourself?’

      ‘I’ll manage.’

      ‘You’ll manage,’ he echoed hollowly, his voice dry and flat. ‘A single mother, either unable to work or having to put the child into care all day and scraping by on a pittance if you can work. Is that how you intend to manage?’

      She knew it wasn’t going to be easy—she’d never thought that. But hearing him put it like that— She swallowed, attempting to bury her doubts and regain the confidence she’d felt when she’d worked out that this was what she should do. ‘Lots of women do. They get by.’

      ‘Not with my child they don’t!’

      The vehemence of his words took her by surprise. Was this really the man with the reputation of a confirmed bachelor and dedicated non-family man?

      ‘Then what are you suggesting? Some sort of financial support for the child?’

      ‘Not just that,’ he said as he looped his tie deftly into the perfect knot. ‘Something much more appropriate for all of us. An arrangement that will mean you don’t have to worry about balancing work with child-care. Something that will ensure your and the child’s security for life.’

      Her breath caught as a tingle of sensation bubbled inside. No, it wasn’t possible. Surely he wasn’t about to suggest marriage? But what else could offer the security the child needed, the solid foundation for a future life?

      Maybe she’d underestimated him. Marriage didn’t sound like something the commitment-averse Damien would suggest to anyone, least of all to her. Did the existence of a baby make so much difference, that now she was worthy of consideration as his bride, now she was considered marriage material?

      Marriage.

      Marriage to Damien.

      How would it feel to be Damien’s wife? To wake up alongside him every day, to feel his strong body holding her safe at night, to make a family with him.

      To have his child and to have him too—dreams were made of lesser stuff.

      So he didn’t love her. She knew that. But they could still make it work. She loved him and she’d make it work if it meant pretending to be Cleopatra every night to do it. She’d do whatever it took.

      It would be worth it.

      She waited, almost too scared to breathe, unable to speak and ask what he could possibly mean. After what seemed an age he returned from the bathroom, his hair restored to its usual executive state, the tracks of her fingernails obliterated.

      ‘I have a property, out of the city about one hundred kilometres or so. I can’t get out there as much as I’d like but the house is in good condition and there’s a full-time housekeeper and manager.

      ‘It’ll be a perfect place for you to bring the child up,’ he continued. ‘I’ll pay all the household expenses and give you an allowance as well so you don’t have to worry about working.’

      A freezing dump of despair oozed over her and it was seconds before she could convince her jaw to thaw enough to let her speak.

      ‘You’d set me up in a house of yours?’

      He shrugged.