‘Okay.’ He leaned back in the chair, hands clasped together, two forefingers resting against the point of his chin as he looked at her. ‘So why am I here, Bianca? Shoot.’
And because there was no way to soften the blow, the words came out more baldly than she’d intended. ‘I’m pregnant.’
She watched as he grew still. There wasn’t a flicker of reaction on his stony features and in a way that was worse than anger, or disbelief. As if his impassiveness drove home just how little he cared.
‘I’m very sorry,’ she continued, the dread inside her growing by the second as she recalled his determination never to have a family of his own. ‘I know it’s the last thing you wanted. It wasn’t what I wanted either, but it’s happened and I... I thought you had a right to know.’
He rose from the chair and for a moment Bianca wondered if he was just going to leave her office without another word. He was perfectly within his rights to do that, wasn’t he? But he walked over to the window, startling the sparrow which had hopped onto the ledge for its daily donation from her lunchtime sandwich, the crumbs now dried out by the hot summer sun. The bird flew away and for a moment he watched its flapping progress as if he wanted to be gone as well. When he turned back the light was behind him, throwing his face into shadow and making his face impossible to read.
‘You must be pleased,’ he said. ‘As I recall, you expressed a very real desire to have children.’
His words were as emotionless as his expression and Bianca couldn’t deny a twist of pain as their coldness washed over her. But what else had she expected? Joy? Excitement? Surely she hadn’t anticipated he would behave in the way would-be fathers were supposed to behave.
Get real, Bianca.
‘You’re not suggesting Iplannedthis?’
‘I have no idea,’ he drawled, dark eyebrows shooting upwards. ‘Did you?’
‘Please don’t insult me!’
He nodded, as if her anger and indignation were in some way reassuring. His gaze rested upon her face. ‘What do you intend to do?’
She supposed she should be glad he hadn’t asked who the father was, or demanded she take some humiliating DNA test, but his question still hurt. Suddenly her carefully rehearsed speech was forgotten as she failed to keep her voice calm, all the pent-up strain of the past few weeks spilling out and making her voice crack.
‘I’m k-keeping my baby, of course!’
‘Good.’
The word took the wind right out of her sails and she blinked at him in confusion, before reminding herself that she didn’t need his approval. But that didn’t prevent the sliver of hope which shot through her, like sunlight breaking through a dark cloud. ‘I know you never intended to be a father—’
‘No, you’re right, I didn’t.’ His words effectively killed off that brief flash of optimism. ‘So what do you want from me, Bianca? Is it a wedding you’re after?’ He shrugged. ‘As you know, I have never wanted to marry but if you’re determined to legitimise the birth, I could probably be persuaded to put my signature on a certificate.’
She shook her head, hating the way he made her sound like some kind of amateur trophy hunter. ‘I would never marry a man who didn’t love me,’ she said, in a low voice.
‘Then that makes the decision very simple for both of us. Because I don’t.’
Did she flinch? Was that why he continued with his discourse, still delivered in that strangely detached way?
‘I admire you, Bianca. I like your intelligence and your humour.’ He paused, his voice dipping by a fraction. ‘And the chemistry between us is off the scale.’
‘I certainly don’t need any compensatory compliments from you!’
‘Our relationship would probably have continued if I wasn’t Corso’s half-brother,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘But it was never going to be for ever, was it? We both know that. Even so, I will support you financially.’
‘I earn my own money,’ she gritted out. ‘I don’t need yours.’
‘But this isn’t just about you and your independence, is it, Bianca?’ he challenged softly. ‘Not any more. I have no intention of stepping away from my responsibilities. I’m a wealthy man and now it seems I have something into which I can channel that wealth, other than my chosen charities. You can’t prevent me from putting aside a sum which will one day benefit this child we have created.’
Bianca flinched. If only his last words hadn’t fanned the flames of the longing which still flickered in her traitorous heart, a fact made worse by him choosing that precise moment to step forward, so that he was standing uncomfortably close to her chair. A shaft of sunlight had gilded his face, bleaching out the hard lines and inscrutable set of his lips, and as she thought of the little boy or girl who would one day inherit some of those features, a wave of sadness washed over her. She was filled with a sense of opportunities lost. Of something which might have been but now never would. Even so, she had to make certain. She needed to have exhausted all the avenues before she caved in to the inevitable. Prepared to put aside her own fierce desire for independence, she wanted to know that she had done all the right things by their baby. ‘But you don’t want to be a part of the child’s life?’
‘I think not. What child would ever want me as a parent?’ he demanded bitterly. ‘When I don’t know how fatherhood works.’
‘You could always learn,’ she said hesitantly. ‘People do.’
‘But in order to do that, I would need to want to. And I don’t. I’m sorry, Bianca. You know my story—surely you can understand my aversion to families?’ His gaze bored into her—hard and cold as jet. ‘I’m just trying to be honest with you. I won’t make promises I can’t keep because that wouldn’t be fair to you, or the baby. You both deserve better than that.’
‘But what if...?’ Bianca clenched her hands, telling herself she was fighting for her baby but afterwards she wondered if she had been fighting for herself. For the tiny fragment of the dream which still remained. ‘What if one day your child tries to seek you out and demands that you acknowledge your paternity? What then?’