These thoughts plagued her, though she went on to have a productive day. She had been allowed to redesign a tiny portion of the embassy garden, and hadn’t realised how late it was when she finally finished up. Marco’s driver, an elderly man called Paolo, was waiting for her. Paolo was full of courtly charm and he insisted on seeing her to the door of the penthouse. It was while they were travelling up in the elevator that he offered her a small insight into Marco’s past.
‘He’s a good man,’ Paolo said, turning to face her. ‘I used to work for his father, you know? Bad business, that.’
‘His father?’ She was instantly alert, but Paolo had already tensed, as if he knew he’d said too much. ‘You used to work for Marco’s father?’ she repeated. She had to try and prompt more out of him.
‘Yes,’ Paolo offered, saying no more.
‘So, how did you come to work for Marco?’ she pressed.
Paolo thought about this for a moment, as if he were weighing his loyalty to both men.
‘I drove Marco to his father’s funeral,’ Paolo revealed at last. ‘He wanted to show his respect to a man who had never shown him any, especially when Marco was a child and had needed it most. I have worked for Marco ever since.’
‘Thank you. Thank you for telling me that.’
Before she could stop herself she had leaned into a hug. Paolo was surprised, but he was Italian so he understood big emotions.
‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you more,’ he added with a shrug. ‘I don’t think I’m breaking any confidences if I tell you that Marco’s father was a difficult man. We were never close, as I am with Marco. But I am a loyal man, and I’ve already said too much.’
‘I understand, and I shouldn’t have asked you.’ But she was glad she had.
‘You should have some rest now,’ Paolo advised as the elevator doors slid open on the penthouse floor. ‘You must be careful not to overdo things at this stage of pregnancy.’
Paolo saw her safely inside, and when she had closed the door behind her she leaned back against it and cradled her growing bump. There was so much more she wanted to know about Marco, but at least Paolo had helped her to take the first step. She could only hope that one day Marco might trust her enough to tell her the rest.
She decided to stay up until he came home, and try, for Marco’s sake, to coax him into telling her more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE ARRIVED BACK at the penthouse after midnight, having stayed out deliberately in an attempt to analyse his feelings. Cassandra would be asleep when he got back. He didn’t want to talk to her, brain-weary after work, having felt the baby kick back at him. It had shaken him too much for that. Feeling that little life beneath his hands had made it all too real. In a few months’ time Cassandra would be a mother, and he...
He couldn’t be sure of anything yet. Denied the certainty of parenthood, he was condemned to wait in limbo. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a father, much less sure that he was equal to the task. He didn’t have time for a child. He wasn’t programmed to enjoy a traditional family life. What sort of example could he draw on? And what made him think he could do any better than the man who had disowned him, or the blood father who had never wanted to know him in the first place? He wasn’t such an egotist that he imagined he’d got everything covered, including parenthood. And he couldn’t treat Cassandra as if she were just another business deal to be dealt with and then a line drawn under her. He needed more time.
‘Marco?’
‘You’re still up?’
‘I waited up for you.’
She was propped up on the bed, where she had been dozing with her head on a cushion. She looked very young, very pregnant and very vulnerable. He crossed the room and dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘You should have gone to sleep, carissima.’
‘I couldn’t sleep. I had to talk to you.’
‘What about?’ He frowned and straightened up.
‘Your past,’ she said frankly. ‘I want to understand you, and I can’t do that unless you open up.’
Standing up, he put distance between them. All the warmth that had been so briefly between them had evaporated, as far as he was concerned. No one intruded into his past.
‘The baby,’ she said quietly. ‘Our child gives me the right to know more about you.’ She paused when he huffed. ‘If you’d explain why feelings frighten you—’