im so she didn’t go digging around, only ate the last morsel of lobster in her bowl.
“Mine may not be the most demonstrative family, but we are loyal. What you saw as sweeping under a rug, my mother saw as a genuine effort to shield the entire family from adverse consequences. I would prefer to marry in private,” she added.
“I stand by my response. Ducking attention implies we have something to hide.” He sounded immovable.
She realized her phone was blowing up. “Did we just come into range or something?”
“The pilot has turned on the Wi-Fi, yes.”
She looked at the numerous texts and missed calls from her brothers, the notifications from the family lawyer, her mother’s assistant, the family’s PR manager and—Really, Mother?—Sebastián.
“Who is it?” Angelo asked with a frown.
“Everyone.” She quit scrolling and considered turning it off, but Poppy rang through with a face call. Pia made the split-second decision to accept so she could test the temperature with her brothers.
“Why didn’t you tell me when you were here? I’m pregnant, too,” Poppy said.
“What?” Pia’s brief soar of excitement fell away. “Are you crying?”
“Yes.” Poppy laughed and wiped her eyes. “I had to ask Rico to put Lily to bed. She doesn’t understand that you can cry from being happy and hormonal, but I totally broke down when he told me. I’m so happy. And I don’t want to steal her thunder, but I would bet any money Sorcha is pregnant, too. I haven’t seen her take so much as a nip of alcohol in weeks. This is so perfect, Pia.”
It really wasn’t, but Pia was pleased by Poppy’s reaction. She congratulated her on her own pregnancy, then had to ask, “Is Rico upset with me?”
“Of course not. He’s worried. But thrilled,” Poppy hurried to clarify. “He’s been on the phone to Cesar a few times. They want to talk to you. And Angelo.” Poppy gave her a look that accused her of holding back.
Pia smiled weakly. “It’s been a long day. Tell Rico I’ll call tomorrow, after Angelo and I have had time to make a few decisions.” She signed off.
“I like her,” Angelo commented.
“I would challenge anyone not to,” Pia said mildly, hiding the stab of jealousy that struck like a bolt of lightning out of nowhere.
They finished their meal and Angelo noted it was still early enough in California to call his lawyer there.
Pia closed her eyes, wishing she had been able to ask Poppy if she still thought telling her baby’s father was the right thing to do. She wanted to ask how to cope with the conflict of being happy about the baby, but overwhelmed by how it was changing her life at a pace she couldn’t adapt to. How to make things work with the father when she didn’t know what sort of person he was or what he wanted from her.
Was she a fool to put any trust in him at all?
She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she woke at the sound of her name.
A warm, blanketing sensation of well-being surrounded her as she dragged herself back to consciousness. She only realized as she picked up her head that she was tucked beneath Angelo’s arm, her head pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder.
His other hand fell away from caressing her cheek to wake her.
“We can sleep in the stateroom if you’re too tired to go to the house, but it’s only ten minutes from here.”
She nodded dumbly and gathered herself, asking as they disembarked, “This is your island?”
“It’s often reported that I bought the whole island, but that’s inaccurate. I own the largest property and I purchased several of the more modest homes for my staff because I often prefer to be alone in the house. But there are many holiday homes here. There’s a busy village in the harbor and a variety of tourist accommodation.”
A handful of staff welcomed them into the massive villa—maids and security, a butler and one of Angelo’s personal assistants. The butler showed her around a modern mansion decorated in bone white and natural stone. The lounge was sunken off the dining area and the exterior walls were glass panels that opened onto the pool surround. The water glowed pale blue in the night and the pool was so big, there was a bridge to an island within its shallows. Three potted palm trees and a bistro table with tall stools sat upon it.
Beyond that, the wide stretch of white sand glowed in the moonlight. The shape of a cabana, a boathouse and a private dock were outlined in fairy lights.
“This is beautiful.”
“One of my business partners, a security specialist, told me about it. He and his wife live on the other end of the island. You’ll meet her tomorrow. I asked her to take our photo for the press release.”
“You have a rooftop patio like Rico’s,” she noted as she turned to study the side of the house that faced the water. It was all flowing lines, elegantly placed lanterns and recessed stairways.