Pregnant With The Billionaire's Baby. Carol Marinelli

go away. This was the two of them together. Tino and Giosue. The three of them really.

      How they interacted would dictate a big chunk of her future; she was sure of it. Tino had to be testing the waters and, as absolutely inconceivable as she found that, it sort of fit in with his odd behavior lately.

      He’d called her again today. She’d missed the call and when she’d tried to return it he’d been in a meeting. His message had simply said he’d been thinking of her.

      Seriously strange.

      If he’d said he’d been thinking of sex with her, she wouldn’t have been surprised at all. The man had the libido of an eighteen-year-old. Sex was a really important part of his life. Important enough that he pursued it even though he had said he never wanted to remarry or get serious with a woman.

      But he hadn’t said he was missing the sex. He’d said he was missing her. Well, they would be together again soon enough. And then they would see what they would see.

      Her phone rang, playing his distinctive ringtone. She never answered when she was driving, so she forced herself to ignore it. Besides, she was almost to Grisafi Vineyard. He could say whatever he wanted when she got there. Most likely, he was calling to see where she was.

      But she wasn’t late.

      Well, not much, anyway. Maybe ten minutes. He had to be used to her sketchy time-keeping skills by now. It was one of the reasons that she loved living in Sicily. Tino was very un-Sicilian in his perfect punctuality and rigid schedule keeping. She’d teased him about it more than once.

      He’d told her he had no choice, doing business on an international scale. She suspected it was in his nature and that was that.

      She couldn’t see Tino changing for the convenience of others, not even when it came to making money.

      She turned down the long drive that led to Casa di Fede. Faith House. She’d thought it was neat the house shared her name when she’d first come to visit Agata. Later, when she realized Tino lived here, she’d seen it as an indication they were meant to be together. Even if it was temporary.

      Thinking about the coincidence sent another bubble of hope fizzing through her. Maybe it meant something more than what she’d thought. He and his family were wrapped around her life, and she was threaded through his, in ways neither had anticipated or even wanted at first.

      She pulled up in front of the sprawling farmhouse. It had been in the family for six generations and been built onto almost that number of times until it had two master suites, one in its own wing with two additional bedrooms. There were four more bedrooms in the rest of the house, a formal salon, a family entertainment room that opened onto the lanai beside the oversize two-tiered pool and spa area, a huge kitchen, a library and two offices.

      One was Tino’s, and the smaller, less-organized one was his father’s. Agata used the library as her office when she was working on her charity work. She had her own sitting room off the master suite, as well.

      Faith had learned all of this on her previous visits with the older woman. What she hadn’t known was how overwhelming she would find the familiar home now that she was here to share dinner with Tino and his son. She sat in her car, staring at the proof of generations of Grisafis living in the same area. Proof of Tino’s roots and his wealth. Proof that he already had what she had most craved her whole life.

      A family.

      The prospect that he might be willing to share all that with her was almost more than she could take. Terrifying didn’t begin to describe it. Because even if Valentino Grisafi wanted her in his life, she of all people knew there was no guarantee she could keep him. No more than she’d kept the father she never knew, or her mother, or the first family that said they would adopt her, or Taylish…or her unborn son, Kaden.

      Dwelling on the pain of the past had never helped her before; she knew it wasn’t about to start now. She needed to let the past go and hope for the future, or her own fears were going to destroy her chance at happiness.

      With that resolved, she opened her car door. Her phone trilled Tino’s ringtone again as she stepped out of the car.

      She flipped it open. “Wow, I know you’re impatient, but this is borderline obsessive, Tino. I’m here already.”

      “I merely wished to—”

      She rang the bell and he stopped talking.

      “It is the doorbell. I must let you go.”

      Shaking her head at that, she shrugged and disconnected the call.

      He opened the door and then stood there staring at her as if she was an apparition—of not particularly friendly aspect. In truth, he looked absolutely horrified.

      “Faith!”

      “The last time I looked, yes.”

      “What are you doing here?” He shook his head. “It does not matter. You need to leave. Now.”

      “What? Why?”

      “This is my fault.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I can see where my phone calls may have given you the wrong impression.”

      “That you might be impatient to see me?”

      “Yes, I am. I was. But not here. Not now.”

      “Tino, you aren’t making any sense.”

      “This is not a good time, Faith. I need you to leave now.”

      “Won’t Gio be disappointed?”

      “Gio…why would you ask about my son? Look, it doesn’t matter, we have a dinner guest coming.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know. I’m here.”

      “This is no time for jokes, carina.”

      “Tino, you’re starting to worry me.” Really. Definitely. Positive that Giosue would not lie and say his father had approved inviting her for dinner, she was flummoxed. Besides, hadn’t Tino helped his son make the map? What was going on? “Tino—”

      “Signora!” An excited little boy voice broke into the bizarre conversation. “You are here!”

      Giosue rushed past his father to throw his arms around Faith in a hug. She returned the embrace with a smile, loving the naturally affectionate nature of most of the Sicilians she had met.

      Tino stood there looking at them in abject horror.

      Giosue stepped back, self-consciously straightening his button-up shirt. He’d dressed up for the dinner in an outfit close to the uniform he wore to school of obviously higher quality and minus the tie. He looked like a miniature version of his father, who was wearing custom-tailored brown slacks with a champagne-colored dress shirt—untucked, the top button undone.

      The clothes were absolutely yummy on the father and adorable on the son.

      Faith was glad she’d taken the time to change from the clothing she wore to teach in. Her dress was made from yellow silk batiked by a fellow artist with strands of peacock blue, sunset orange and even a metallic dye with a gold cast. Faith had fallen in love with the silk when she’d seen it at an artists’ fair and had to buy it. She’d had it made into a dress of simple design with spaghetti straps that highlighted her curves and made her feel deliciously feminine. A new addition to her wardrobe, Tino had not yet seen it.

      Regardless of his other reactions to her arrival, that certain gleam she knew so well in her lover’s eyes said he approved her choice.

      Unaware of the strange overtones to the adults’ conversation, Gio took her hand and held it. “Papa, this is Signora Guglielmo.” Then the boy smiled up at her with pure innocence. “Signora, this is my papa, Signor Valentino Grisafi.”

      “Your papa and I have met,” Faith said, when Tino remained silent and frozen like a statue. An appalled statue.

      “You