‘You need help, Cassandra, and you know it. What’s most important to you? Are you thinking of yourself or your baby?’
‘The baby, of course. You don’t need to ask.’
‘Then you don’t need to debate any longer. Come with me and your baby will thrive. I promise you that.’
‘Give me until tomorrow morning. I’ll give you my answer then.’
* * *
On this occasion he couldn’t refuse a pregnant woman the chance to think things through and so he booked into a local hotel. His frustration was mounting, likewise his impatience with Cassandra, who refused to give ground. He had made several fortunes and had found that process a whole lot easier than this. He had raised himself out of the gutter without half so much soul-searching.
When it came to it he found he couldn’t wait until the morning, so he called her up on the phone.
‘I’ve given you my answer, Marco. I need more time.’
‘Nonsense. You know what you want. You’re not an indecisive woman, so let me hear your decision.’
There was a long silence and then she said, ‘All right. I agree I probably do need a rest, but the sickness will pass, and then I want to work for as long as I can until the baby is born. I can’t just come to Rome and do nothing. If I agree to come back with you, you have to allow me to choose a job, and you can’t interfere with that. I don’t want your influence helping me, and I don’t want your money supporting me, but I am prepared to accept that my baby needs its mother in better health. So, if your offer’s still on, you can pick me up in the morning, but only on those terms.’
She was setting terms for him? He had never, in all his years in business, been in a position where he was on the receiving end of terms.
‘This is what I want, Marco. You’re right in saying I’m not an indecisive woman, and what I’ve suggested seems fair to both of us from my perspective. I won’t be a drain on you, and you’ll have a guest staying for a while who promises not to get under your feet.’
It wasn’t his feet he was worried about.
‘Are you still there, Marco?’
‘I’m riveted.’
She ignored his sarcasm. ‘Do you agree to my terms?’
Her place was small but homely, and Cassandra was not a helpless woman. He knew that to have her agree to his suggestion was a measure of how sick she felt.
As for her terms, terms were negotiable. Cassandra’s health was not.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE WAS SO sure she had thought things through properly before leaving for Rome, but this was so much worse than she had imagined. Exchanging her tiny, cosy home for Marco’s vast, impersonal penthouse was like being stranded on a desert island. The impressive door had barely swung open on the all-too-familiar hallway with its Caligula overtones when Marco turned to go.
He gave her no explanation. Why would he? He’d been working on the flight, and when they’d disembarked he had been on the phone in the limousine. Some important business deal, she’d gathered, judging from his decisive speech and stern expression. They hadn’t spoken once during the trip, and were as distant now as if they were once again the billionaire and his part-time gardener.
She cringed with embarrassment when his driver put her shabby suitcase down in the hall before following Marco out. Her case looked like a boil on the pristine marble floor, and when she went to pick it up, a maid as starchy as her uniform whisked it away before Cass had the chance to touch it.
‘Your room is ready for you, signorina.’
‘Thank you.’ She felt the hallway was spinning. Everything was happening too fast. She followed the maid to the suite of rooms that would be her home for the next few months.
How had she agreed to this? Cass wondered as she stroked her stomach protectively. She knew that her health had made it necessary, but even so her heart sank as she looked around. She knew how ungrateful she must seem, but she didn’t need all this. She would happily swop these gracious surroundings for a few calm words with Marco.
‘If you need anything else, signorina...’
The maid was hovering by the door.
‘I won’t, but thank you.’ All Cass wanted was to be left alone.
‘If you change your mind, please call me on the house phone.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again, wondering what Marco’s staff made of her.
Nothing, she guessed. They probably saw lots of women arrive and leave without ever exchanging a friendly greeting with them.