The Shock Cassano Baby. Andie Brock

again in his native tongue, Orlando turned on his heel, striding over to the wall of windows, where he braced his hands against the glass, resting his forehead between them. Isobel stared at the stark outline of his rear view, his stiffly held posture radiating tension.

      ‘How long have you known?’ He spoke the words over his shoulder.

      ‘I just did the test this morning.’

      Orlando spun around. ‘So you haven’t had it confirmed by a doctor?’

      ‘I don’t need to, Orlando.’ Isobel knew she had to extinguish the look of hope in his eyes. ‘These tests are extremely accurate. And, besides, I can already feel the changes in my body. I’ve had my suspicions for a couple of weeks, but I wanted to be absolutely sure before I told you.’

      Moving away from the window, Orlando came to sit down again, pulling up his chair so that he was positioned directly opposite Isobel, close enough for his knees to brush hers. Isobel crossed her legs tightly, pulled at the hem of her skirt.

      ‘Then we must figure out how we are going to proceed.’ Running his hand over his jaw, Orlando cupped his chin, his eyes narrowing with concentration as they searched hers.

      How we are going to proceed. The words made Isobel’s skin prickle with alarm as she watched his wall of self-control slide back into place. Because she knew the kind of man Orlando was: powerful, ruthless. One who liked to make all the decisions, to bend others to his will. Who even now looked as if he was about to take command, address the problem of this pregnancy with cool detachment and deal with it as he saw fit.

      Well, Isobel would never let that happen. She sure as hell wasn’t going to have him ruling her life, calling the shots. She had done the right thing by telling him she was carrying his child, but as far as she was concerned that was it. From now on the responsibility and the decisions were all hers. She needed to make that very clear.

      Leaning forward, Orlando rested his splayed hands on his thighs, his dark gaze holding hers with brooding intensity. Isobel could see his mind racing as he tried to come to terms with this information, tried to shape it into some form he could control. He was so close now she could feel the air move with each steady breath, catch the faint scent of his cologne, see the amber flecks in his eyes.

      She took in a breath to try and steady the pounding of her heart. This was what Orlando did to her. He messed with her head, made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She was still trying to fight off the effects of that earlier kiss, the burning ache that had spread through her body and continued to pulse low down in her abdomen. He shouldn’t have done that—it wasn’t fair...he had broken the rules. Because they both knew that what had happened on Jacamar—that crazy, heady cocktail of wild abandonment and mind-blowing sex—had to stay on Jacamar.

      As he had pulled away from their final hug the message in Orlando’s eyes had been loud and clear. That was great. Emphasis on the was. And Isobel had played along, knowing it was the only way, ignoring the hard knot in her throat, covering up the wobble of her chin until she had been chugging away from the sunshine island with the wind in her face and horizontal tears leaking from her eyes.

      Because she had known then, as she knew now, that she was going to have to fight against her feelings for Orlando with all her might. Losing her heart to this magnetic, masterful man would mean nothing but misery, that was a certainty.

      Over the past couple of weeks—from the first creeping realisation that her period was late to the hideous certainty that she was pregnant—she had given serious thought to keeping the news to herself. That way she just might be able to protect her heart and control her own destiny. If Orlando didn’t know about the child she would be free to raise it as she liked. Financially it would be a struggle, but she could do it. It wasn’t as if she wanted anything from him. She wouldn’t be hounding him for maintenance. And she most certainly didn’t expect him to marry her.

      But, tempting though it was to try and keep Orlando out of the equation, practically it would be a nightmare. And, more than that, ultimately she knew that her conscience would never let her go through with it. After all, it was a man’s basic right to know that he was going to be a father.

      Which was why she was seated here now, fighting off the sweeping feelings of longing with sweaty palms and a deliberately steely stare.

      ‘It’s not something you have to figure out, Orlando.’ Edging back into her seat, Isobel concentrated on the job she had to do. ‘I will be the one deciding how to proceed.’

      ‘Scusi?’ A muscle twitched ominously in his jaw.

      ‘I mean I am prepared to accept full responsibility.’

      ‘“Full responsibility”?’ Dark brows drew together.

      ‘Yes. I don’t expect anything from you.’ Isobel paused to take in a breath, strongly suspecting from Orlando’s chilling calm that this wasn’t going her way. She tried again. ‘Obviously I would never stop you from seeing the child—if you want to, that is—but in terms of raising it, I want to make it clear that I expect that role to be solely down to me.’

      ‘Do you, indeed?’ Orlando’s voice dropped menacingly low.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Incredibile.’ Orlando pushed himself back forcibly enough for the chair to rock on its legs. ‘Let me get this straight. First you tell me that I’m going to be a father, and then you hit me with the news that you intend to raise the child alone and without my support. Is that right?’

      ‘Yes.’ Isobel blinked hard but remained defiant. ‘I told you because I thought you had a right to know—not because I want anything from you.’

      ‘Very kind of you, I’m sure.’ Sarcasm ripped through his voice. ‘So, having been given this information, what exactly did you expect me to do with it? Say “Thanks for letting me know” and then walk away? Forget all about it?’

      ‘If that’s what you want, yes.’ Isobel was determined not to buckle under the force of his contemptuous stare. ‘You have that option.’

      ‘Ha!’ Orlando gave a cruel laugh. ‘Believe me, I don’t. And neither do you, come to that, no matter how much you might want it.’

      ‘Orlando, look—’

      Hearing a tap on the door, Orlando held up his hand to silence her as his PA appeared, framed prettily in the doorway.

      ‘Not now, Astrid.’

      His barked words brought a flash of surprise to Astrid’s face before she quickly pulled down the mask of professionalism.

      ‘My apologies, but I thought you would want to know that your one-thirty appointment has arrived.’

      Orlando rubbed his temples. ‘Yes, of course. Tell them I’ll be five minutes.’

      ‘Certainly.’ Turning on her dainty heel, Astrid left the room, closing the door behind her.

      ‘We need to talk, Isobel, but not here.’ Pushing back the sleeve of his jacket, Orlando glanced at his watch. ‘I have meetings all afternoon, so it will have to be this evening. I should be free by seven o’clock.’

      Isobel hesitated. Part of her—a big part—wanted to decline his less-than-cordial invitation. Tell him that as far as she was concerned there was no point in spending a torturous evening together. Orlando’s cold, calculating reaction to the news of her pregnancy had confirmed her worst fears. He had shown no compassion. Never once had he asked about her, about how she felt.

      She had done her duty in telling him about the baby—now she just wanted to be left alone to pick up the pieces and carry on as best she could. But one glance at the determined set of Orlando’s jaw, the hint of steel in his eyes, told her that that was about as likely to happen as holding back the ocean with a wall of sand.

      Rising to her feet, she picked up her bag and plastered on the most neutral expression she could muster. ‘Very well, if that’s