Modern Romance - The Best of the Year. Miranda Lee

shook her head, as if that might rearrange her brain cells into some order so that she could understand what Rafaele had just said. She had to be sure. ‘Did you just say that you think we should get married?’

      He nodded, looking at her carefully, as if she was made of something explosive and volatile.

      ‘I... Why on earth would you say that?’

      Now that the words were sinking in, a reaction was moving up through Sam’s body, making her skin prickle. Four years ago, in the time between finding out she was pregnant and seeing Rafaele again, she’d daydreamed of such a moment—except in her dream Rafaele had been on one knee before her, not sitting across a table looking as if he’d just commented on the weather.

      The most galling thing of all was that she had grown up vowing never to marry, terrified of the way her father had effectively gone to pieces after losing her mother. But she’d forgotten all about that when she’d met Rafaele, weaving dreams and fantasies around him that had had no place in reality.

      ‘Why?’ she repeated again, stronger now. Almost angry. Definitely angry, in fact. ‘Do you think that I’m some kind of charity case and I’ll be only too delighted to say yes because you can take care of me and Milo?’

      She couldn’t stop now.

      ‘Decorating a few bedrooms doesn’t a father and husband make, Rafaele. So I don’t know where you’re getting this notion from. It’s just another way to control us, isn’t it?’

      His eyes flashed at her outburst. ‘No, Sam. Think about it. Why shouldn’t we get married? I’ve been thinking about buying a home in London. We could live there. Bridie could come too... We could look for a good school for Milo. A lot of my work for the foreseeable future will be in England, and my commutes to Europe shouldn’t take me away too much...’

      He had it all figured out. Square Sam and Milo away in a convenient box and tick them off the list. On the one hand the image he presented tugged at a very deep and secret part of her—a fantasy she’d once had. She only had to think of last night and how close she’d come to baring herself utterly. She didn’t doubt that he hadn’t factored in the reality that she would want to be a wife for real.

      Terrified at the strength of emotion she was feeling, Sam stood up and walked quickly out of the restaurant.

      Rafaele watched Sam leave. Not the first time he’d provoked her into walking away from him. She’d looked horrified. Not the reaction a man wanted when he proposed. He grimaced and acknowledged that he hadn’t exactly proposed. But since when had Sam wanted hearts and flowers? Did she want that? What he was suggesting was eminently practical. Logical. Unfortunately Sam plus any attempt on his part to apply logic always ended up in disaster.

      Rafaele stood up. His friend Francisco was waving him out of the restaurant to go after his lover. The old romantic. Rafaele just smiled tightly.

      When he emerged into the street it was quiet. This time of year it was mainly locals. But in a few months the place would be warm and sultry and heaving. Sam was stalking away, and when he called her she only seemed to speed up.

      Cursing softly, Rafaele followed her and caught up. ‘Your coat and bag, Sam.’

      She stopped and turned around, arms crossed mutinously across her breasts. She reached out and grabbed for them, pulling the coat on, hitching her bag over her shoulder.

      She looked at him and her eyes were huge in the gloom. ‘I don’t know why you would even suggest such a thing.’

      Rafaele curbed his irritation. Did she really have to sound so repulsed at the idea?

      He dug his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her—he didn’t know if he wanted to shake her right now or kiss her. Actually, that was a lie. He’d always want to kiss her, no matter what. That thought sent shards of panic into his bloodstream.

      ‘I happen to think it’s a very good idea. There are far more reasons why you should consider this than not. We have a history. We get on well. We have a child together... And there’s the physical chemistry. You can’t deny that, cara.’

      ‘The chemistry will burn out.’

      That was said with a desperately hopeful edge that resonated within Rafaele.

      He had to make her see what he’d realised last night—that marriage was the solution... To this tangled mess of emotions you don’t want to deal with, his conscience sneered. He ignored his conscience. Surely by marrying her he would no longer experience this wildness around her? This need to devour, consume? This loss of all reason? It would negate this completely alien need to possess her... It would publicly brand her as his, and maybe then he’d feel some equanimity again.

      ‘We have a child. Is that not enough of a reason? I want Milo to have my name. He is heir to a vast industry and fortune.’

      ‘No, Rafaele,’ she said in a small voice. ‘It’s not enough. I might have thought it would be at one time, but not any more. I want more for me and Milo. He deserves to have two parents who love each other.’

      Rafaele responded with a sneering edge to his voice. ‘You and I both know that fairytale doesn’t exist. What we have is better than that, Sam. We can depend on each other. We respect each other.’

      She lifted her chin. ‘How do I know you’ve forgiven me for keeping Milo from you? That you won’t use it in the future? That it won’t be a reason for resentment when you think about it?’

      Rafaele slashed a hand through the air. ‘Sam, it’s not about that any more. I appreciate that you had your reasons, and I admit that I didn’t give you any indication to believe that I would welcome a child into my life. We can’t change the past, but we can make sure we go into the future right.’

      For a long moment Sam just looked at him, and then she said, ‘I won’t marry you. Not just to make things nice and tidy. To make things easier for you. I want more...’ She shrugged her shoulder in a gesture of apology.

      Rafaele felt the red mist of rage rising when he thought of some other man moving into that cosy house in the quiet suburbs, waking up next to Sam, having lazy early-morning sex...

      ‘Do you really think someone like your ex-lover can give you a happy-ever-after? When it doesn’t even exist?’

      Sam started to back away. ‘I’m not talking about this any more, Rafaele. I don’t want to marry you. It’s plain and simple.’

      Rafaele felt his chest tighten and an awful cold feeling seeped into his veins. ‘Well, then...’ He almost didn’t recognise his own voice. ‘It would appear that you’re giving me no option but to take the legal route to establish custody of my son.’

      Sam stopped and crossed her arms. She whispered, ‘It doesn’t have to come to that, Rafaele. We can come to an arrangement.’

      Rafaele felt as hard inside as granite. ‘I want my son, Sam, and I want him to have my name.’

      ‘I can’t fight you in a court, Rafaele. I don’t have those kinds of resources.’

      Rafaele pushed down his conscience. He was full of darkness—a darkness that had clung to him all his life. He was standing in front of this woman and for one second, when she’d said she didn’t want to marry him, he’d been tempted to go down on one knee to convince her. It had been fleeting, but there. And it had been like a slap in the face. Had he learnt nothing?

      Sam would not reduce him to that. No woman would. All that mattered was his son. He would not walk away from him and leave him to fend for himself as his own father had done with him.

      Rafaele’s voice was as cold as he felt inside. ‘You’re the one who started this, Samantha.’

      Sam’s arms tightened and Rafaele could see her knuckles turn white against the skin of her fingers.

      ‘You were stringing us along all this time, lulling me into a false sense of security. We’re