The name flashed up on the screen of his mobile and Guido glanced at it with unflickering eyes, tempted to ignore it.
Why? Because that little ember of anger still smouldered away inside him? Anger that she—she—had had the temerity to leave him, when no woman had ever done so before? Or was it because she had made him feel bad about himself, and Guido didn’t like to feel bad? He liked to float through life, taking only the good bits and discarding anything which looked as if it would even remotely lead to complications.
But even his anger could not quite extinguish his interest.
Why was she ringing him after having told him that she never wanted to set eyes on him again? Was she maybe regretting her words and her actions? Remembering, perhaps, how good they were together…wanting a little more?
Even while desire leapt inside him, he half hoped that was not so. For Guido respected Lucy, and her adamant stance and her pride, and for him that kind of respect was rare—almost unheard of. Obviously she wanted more from a man than he was capable of giving—or wanted to give—and in a funny kind of way he respected that, too.
If she came back then surely his esteem for her would die. She would become like all the others, who would sacrifice their principles for a man who might never be King but would always be Prince…
Curiosity got the better of him, and he flicked the button with his thumb.
‘Si?’ he drawled.
‘It’s Lucy.’
‘I know it is,’ he said softly.
Then why the hell didn’t you say, Hello, Lucy? She hesitated, because she couldn’t think how to say it—and even if she could was it fair to blurt it out over the phone?
‘How are you?’ he questioned, because now he was perplexed. Had he been expecting one of those predictable conversations? The ones where the woman brightly asked how he was, and acted as if no harsh words had been spoken, and then casually mentioned that they just happened to be passing through…
It was a question she could not answer truthfully. ‘I have to see you.’
Guido stared at the gleaming skyline and raised his dark eyebrows by a fraction. So she had come straight out with her desire to see him. Pretty up-front—if a little surprising. And yet there was no longing in her voice, no sultry undertone saying that she had missed him. The unpredictable was rare enough to excite him.
‘Where are you?’
‘In England.’
He frowned. ‘And when are you coming to New York?’
‘I’m not.’
‘Then…?’
She drew a deep breath as she heard his faint puzzlement—as if to say, Well, why are you ringing me, then?
‘I’m at home, in England.’
Pull yourself together, Lucy. But what could she say? Come and visit me here because I can’t face travelling? He might refuse, and then where would that leave her? Which left her absolutely no choice at all but to tell him.
‘Guido, I’m pregnant.’
He felt as he had never felt in his life—as if a dark whirlwind had swirled its way into his lungs, pushing all the natural breath away. For a moment he could not speak.
‘What did you say?’ he questioned at last, softly and dangerously.
She was not going to be cast in the role of the baddie, the guilty party. There were two people involved here, and they must both share the consequences—whatever they might be.
‘You heard.’
‘It’s mine?’
She bit down on her lip. She was not going to cry. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re sure?’