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Claiming His One-Night Baby - Мишель Смарт - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Claiming His One-Night Baby - Мишель Смарт - Скачать любовный роман в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Смарт Мишель
Claiming His One-Night Baby
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THE PALE FACE that had opened the door to Matteo turned whiter. ‘I’m not pregnant.’
‘Take the test and prove it. I’m not going anywhere until you do.’
Her gaze darted over his shoulder.
‘Expecting someone?’ he asked curtly. ‘Another lover, perhaps?’
Her lips tightened but she held her ground. ‘Vanessa likes to drop in.’
‘The grieving mother checking up on the grieving widow? How charming.’ It sickened him that his aunt—like the rest of the Pellegrinis—all thought the sun rose and set with Natasha. It had been Francesca’s worry and compassion towards the young widow that had set the wheels in motion for the events that had led him here today. ‘If you don’t want her to find me here and have to explain why I have this with me, I suggest you let me in.’
A long exhalation of breath and then she stepped aside.
For the second time that day he entered Pieta’s home with the same curdle of self-loathing as when he’d entered it the first time. Revulsion. At her. At himself. At what they’d done.
Until Pieta had died Matteo had been in this house only once, when Natasha had been in England, visiting her parents.
‘Have you had a period since...?’ He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.
Colour stained her white face at the intimacy of what he’d asked. ‘No,’ she whispered.
‘When are you due?’
Her throat moved before she answered. ‘A couple of days ago. But I’ve never been regular. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘You’re tired. You have a backache. You used the bathroom three times during our two-hour meeting.’ He ticked her symptoms off his fingers dispassionately, although his head was pounding again. They’d made love at her most fertile time. ‘My flight back to Miami leaves in three hours. Take the test. If it’s negative I can leave Pisa and we can both forget anything happened between us.’
Neither of them said what would happen if the test proved positive.
He held the box out to her. She stared at it blankly for a moment before snatching it out of his hand and leaving the reception room they were still standing in. Her footsteps trod up the stairs, a door shut.
Alone, Matteo took himself to the day room and sat on the sofa, cradling his head in his hands while he waited. In the adjoining room was a bar where he and Pieta had had a drink together. The temptation to help himself to a drink now was strong but not strong enough to overcome his revulsion. He’d already helped himself to his best friend and cousin’s wife. He wasn’t going to add to his list of crimes by helping himself to Pieta’s alcohol.
He’d read the instructions himself. The test took three minutes to produce an answer.
He checked his watch. Natasha had been upstairs for ten minutes.
The seconds ticked past like minutes, the minutes like hours. All he had to occupy his mind were the furnishings the man who’d been like a brother to him had chosen. He couldn’t see any sign of Natasha’s influence in the decoration.
She’d once wanted to be an interior designer. He remembered her telling him that during a phone conversation held when he’d returned home after an eighteen-hour shift.
Matteo had thought he could never hate himself more than he had when he’d been ten and his dereliction of duty had ruined his little brother’s life. The loathing he felt for what he’d done with Natasha matched it, an ugly rancid feeling that lived in his guts. The loathing he felt for Natasha matched it too. Damn her, but she’d been Pieta’s wife. Hours after burying her husband she’d thrown herself into his arms and he...
Damn him, he’d let her.
He wished he could erase the memories of that night but every moment was imprinted in him. He’d woken that morning with the vivid feeling of entering her for the first time and the certainty that something had been wrong. It was a feeling that nagged at him more, growing stronger as time passed.
He rubbed the nape of his neck and cursed his fallible memory.
Natasha had been no virgin. She’d been married, for heaven’s sake, and had been trying for a baby with her husband.
Another five minutes passed before he heard movement.
She appeared in the doorway.
One look at her face told him the answer.
‘There’s got to be some mistake,’ Natasha croaked, clinging onto the door frame for support. ‘I need to do another test.’
She’d stared at the positive sign for so long her eyes had gone as blurry as the cold mist swimming in her head.
For two weeks she’d refused to believe it could happen. She’d refused to even contemplate it.
They had been reckless beyond belief but surely, surely nature wouldn’t punish them further for it? Surely the guilt and self-loathing they both had to live with was punishment enough?
Eyes of cold green steel stared back at her. It was a long time before he spoke.
‘That test is the most accurate one on the market. If it’s showing as positive then you are pregnant. So that leaves only one issue to be resolved and that’s determining who the father is.’
Afraid she was going to faint, she sank onto the floor and cuddled her knees.
‘When did you and Pieta last...?’ The distaste that laced his voice as he failed to complete his sentence sent a wave of heat through her cold head.
For the first time in her life she didn’t know what to say or do. Whenever life had posed her with a dilemma the answer had always been clear. Do what her parents wanted. It was why she’d married Pieta.
But now her parents were the least of her considerations.
‘Do I take your silence to mean that you and Pieta were active until his death?’
How could she answer that? She couldn’t.
‘If your last period was a month ago then it stands to reason you and I were together when you were at your most fertile. However, all women’s cycles differ to a certain degree so if you and Pieta were intimate until his death there’s a good chance he could be the father. Who else is in line?’
Her head spinning at the medical knowledge that meant he had a much better understanding of how her body worked than she did, she didn’t understand what he meant. ‘What?’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. Who else have you had sex with in the past month?’
She recoiled. ‘That’s offensive.’
His laughter crackled between them like a bullet. ‘Don’t get me wrong, you’re playing the grieving widow admirably but you were like a dog on heat with me so it stands to reason there have been others.’
A dog on heat?
She covered her ears, digging her nails into her skull.
A dog on heat?
How had he not known? And him a doctor?
There had been a moment, when he’d first entered her, that he’d stilled, but it had only been a moment, and then she had kissed him again, as desperate for him to continue what they’d started as she had been terrified he would figure out the truth.
‘I’m waiting for an answer.’ His curt voice cut through her thoughts. ‘How many others?’
She remembered a time so long ago when his rich voice, the Italian accent faint behind the impeccable English, had always softened around her. She guessed that’s what happened when you created a business reputed to be worth billions out of nothing, your basic humanity was thrown in the gutter along with your principles.
‘No one.’ She raised her head to look him square in the eye. ‘There has been no one else.’
He stared back for the longest time before nodding and getting to his feet. ‘A scan will pinpoint the date of conception to a degree of accuracy so we can use that to determine who the likely father is.’
His cutting tone sliced through her.
Then the thought of a scan, of seeing the little one growing inside her...
Suddenly it hit her that she was pregnant.
She was going to be a mother.
Placing a hand to her belly, she blurred out Matteo’s bitter face and imagined the life growing inside her.
Hello, my little one, she said silently to it, overwhelming joy spreading through every part of her.
She’d wanted a child for so long. After everything that had gone on with Pieta she had thought it would be a long and torturous road to get there if it ever happened and if she’d ever decided to take the road he’d wanted to conceive one. But it had happened as if by magic.
She was going to have a baby.
‘How can you be smiling at such a time?’ Matteo said acidly. ‘Is this amusing to you?’
The smile she hadn’t even known she was wearing fell but as it fell her spine straightened.
Whatever the future held for her, even if it was only humiliation, she had her little seed to think about. She couldn’t fall into despair. She would be strong. She would be a mother.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, eyeballing him. ‘You cannot know how long I have wanted this so, yes, I will smile and rejoice at my child’s conception because it is a miracle.’
His jaw clenched, Matteo eyed her back with mirrored loathing. ‘You intend to keep it, then?’
Of all the stuff he’d thrown at her, this was by far the cruellest. ‘How can you ask such a thing?’
He breached the distance between them and placed a hand round the nape of her neck. Bringing his face close to hers as if examining her, he said with icy quiet, ‘Because I know you, Natasha. You’re selfish. You think only of yourself and what advances you.’
Stunned into silence at his closeness, at the warmth of his skin on hers, the fingers almost absently stroking her neck, memories of their one time together crashing through her, Natasha had to blink to get her brain back in gear. Breathing heavily, not taking her eyes from his, she raised her arm to find the hand laid so casually on her and dug her nails in as hard as she could as she shoved it away.
Raising herself to her full height, which was almost a foot shorter than his six-feet-plus frame, she said as icily as she could through the tremors in her voice, ‘You don’t know me at all. If you did you wouldn’t have to ask if I wanted to keep it. I will do more than keep it. I will raise it and I will love it.’
Once she had longed for this.
If her eighteen-year-old self had been told that in seven years she would be carrying Matteo’s child she would have danced for miles with joy.
But she couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t believe her if she did.
He rubbed the flesh of his hand where she’d stabbed him with her nails.
‘I hope for your child’s sake that your words aren’t as worthless as they usually are but time will tell on that. I’ve a friend who runs a clinic near mine in Florence with the newest, most accurate scans. I’ll take you there. She’ll be able to pinpoint the date of conception to at least determine if I’m in the frame as father. Her discretion will be guaranteed and I think one thing we can be in agreement on is the need for discretion.’
Natasha forced herself to breathe.
Everything was happening so quickly. She couldn’t let him railroad her but likewise she had to do what was best for her and her baby and until she’d decided what she was going to do, she needed all the discretion she could get.
Oh, God, the implications were too awful to think about.
How many lives were going to be ruined when the truth came out?
The worst of it was she would never be able to tell the full truth. No one could know.
Like Matteo couldn’t know that she already knew of an excellent clinic, this one in Paris, where discretion was also guaranteed.
And he couldn’t know that he was the only man in the frame for the father of her baby.
Fighting back another bout of dizziness, she nodded sharply. She had to keep it together. ‘When?’
‘In a fortnight. The baby’s heartbeat should be detectable by then.’
‘So soon?’ She’d known for twenty minutes that she was pregnant and he was saying her baby’s heart was already forming? That was just mind-blowing.
He nodded grimly. ‘Pregnancy is taken from the date of your last period so in a fortnight you will be classed as six weeks pregnant. Only the scan will be able to give us a reasonably accurate conception date.’
‘And I’ll be able to hear the heartbeat?’
‘We both will.’ His face a tight mask, he headed for the door. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
Only when she heard the door close did she sink onto the sofa and hang her head between her knees.
Soon she would be hanging it in shame.
All the people who were going to be hurt, Vanessa, Francesca... Ever since she’d married Pieta she would catch them looking at her belly, knew they were searching for the signs of swelling, the signs of life growing inside her. Since he’d died the stares had become more obvious. She knew how badly they wished she was carrying Pieta’s child. Francesca was already suspicious.
She sat back and rubbed her temples.
She didn’t have a clue how to handle this. Whatever she did, everyone would be hurt. Hopes were going to be raised then not just dashed but crushed. Then there was the Pellegrini estate itself...
This was too much.
Overwhelmed by the jumble of thoughts raging through her head, Natasha burst into tears.
It had to be like this, she told herself, hugging her belly, the urge to protect her little seed already strong, even if only from her tears.
The real unvarnished truth would destroy every single one of them, Matteo included.
Better to take it on the chin and have the world, including her own parents, think her a slut than for that to happen. She could hardly bear to think of the disdain and disappointment in their eyes when they learned she was pregnant and that Pieta wasn’t the father.
Marrying Pieta was the only thing she’d done in her twenty-five years that had pleased them. It had given them the opportunity to brag to the world that the great Pieta Pellegrini was their son-in-law and it was an opportunity they never let pass by.
Natasha dried her eyes and blew out a long breath.
All the tears in the world wouldn’t change things. She was going to be a mother and that meant she had to be strong for her child’s sake.
And all the tears in the world didn’t change the fact that it was better for the world to think her a slut than for everyone to know that Matteo was the only candidate for father of her baby.
The world could never know that she had been a virgin until the night she’d buried her husband.
* * *
The clinic Matteo had booked them into was tucked away in a beautiful medieval building in the heart of Florence. To the unwitting passer-by it could be home to any of the numerous museums and galleries the city was famed for.
The interior was a total contrast. No one entering could doubt they were in a state-of-the-art medical facility.
The cool receptionist made a call and moments later Julianna, the clinic’s director, stepped out of a door to greet them.
Matteo had met Julianna, a tall, rangy woman in her midforties, a number of times at conferences. They welcomed each other like old friends, exchanging kisses along with their greetings.
Then he introduced her to Natasha and they were taken through to the pristine scanning room where everything was set up for them.
‘Are you happy for Dr Manaserro to stay in the room while we do this?’ Julianna asked Natasha in English.
Her eyes darted to him with an inflection of surprise before she shrugged her slim shoulders. He doubted she’d ever heard him addressed by that title before.
‘You will be a little exposed,’ Julianna warned.
Another shrug. ‘He can stay if he wants,’ she answered tonelessly.
Matteo experienced a pang of guilt that was as unwelcome as it was unexpected.
Today was the first time he’d seen Natasha in two weeks. In the intervening period, other than arranging this scan, he’d done his best to forget her and the pregnancy.
The chances of him being the father were extremely slim, he’d reasoned. Even if the scan confirmed that he could be, he still knew it wasn’t likely. They’d only been intimate the once whereas Natasha and Pieta must have...
His guts twisted violently as he thought of all the times they must have been together over the years. Pieta and Natasha had been actively trying for a baby. Pieta had told him that the last time he’d seen him.
And she was happy to be pregnant. She’d called it a miracle. Was that because of her longing for a child or because she was happy that a part of Pieta might be living inside her? Surely she must have felt some affection for her husband, whatever her actions the night of his funeral?
Surely she wouldn’t have reacted like that if she’d thought there was any chance he might be the father?
Dio, he shouldn’t be thinking like this. It felt too rancid inside him.
Since she’d accepted Pieta’s proposal hours after their one kiss, he’d pushed Natasha out of his mind, never thinking of her, never thinking of her and Pieta together. Only when he’d been in her presence had his loathing of her come out of the compartment in his head he’d put her in, and on those occasions he’d learned to hide it by ignoring her wherever possible. He’d moved on very quickly and in any case Pieta was too good a friend and too close a cousin for Matteo to let a woman come between them.
Pieta hadn’t known Matteo and Natasha had been building a long-distance closeness which, looking back, had been strange as he and Pieta had often swapped stories about women. At the time it had felt too...special to be spoken of, which with hindsight had been comical. He must have been caught in a bout of sentimentality and had made sure never to have such ludicrous thoughts again.
If it was indeed Pieta’s child then he too would celebrate to know a part of his best friend lived on, even if the mother the child had to live on through was a deceitful bitch.
It had to be Pieta’s. The alternative...
It would destroy everything.
So he’d left her alone and fought the urge to call every five minutes and make sure she was eating and sleeping properly.
Looking at her now, he didn’t think she’d had a square meal since he’d last seen her.
‘Okay, Natasha, you are looking at this as a dating scan, I believe?’ Julianna said.
She nodded.
‘Have you seen a doctor or a midwife yet?’
She shook her head.
‘Are you thinking of having the child here or in England?’
Her eyes darted to him again.
Julianna smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, there are no right or wrong answers.’
‘I haven’t thought that far ahead,’ she whispered.
‘You have plenty of time to decide but you should be monitored. The obstetrician we employ here is the best in Florence or I can recommend a female for you if that would suit you better?’
Matteo, feeling perspiration break out on his back, had to bite his tongue to stop himself from cutting in. Now they were here, the ultrasound screen switched on, he wanted to get this over with.
But that appeared to be the end of the questioning.
‘Are you ready to do this?’
‘Yes.’ It was the most animation he’d heard in Natasha’s voice since she’d opened the door to him earlier.
‘Lie down and lift your top and lower your skirt to your hips so your stomach is exposed.’
Matteo trained his eyes on the screen.
When Natasha was ready, Julianna tucked tissue around her lowered skirt and took her seat.
Even though he wasn’t looking directly at her, he saw Natasha flinch when the cold gel was applied to her stomach.
Julianna then picked up the probe and pressed it over the gel. As she worked, all three of their gazes were fixed on the screen.
‘There it is!’ she said in delight. ‘See, Natasha? There is your baby.’
Natasha craned her neck forward, trying hard to see what was there. ‘Where?’
‘There.’ Julianna put a finger to the screen. ‘See?’
Natasha really didn’t know what she’d been expecting to see—a fully formed miniature baby this soon into the pregnancy was too wild even for her imagination—but had hoped it would be more than a blob. But then Julianna pressed some keys on the keyboard on her desk and the blob came into sharper focus. It was still a blob but there was something more defined about it that got her already racing heart ready to burst out of her.
‘Do you want to hear the heartbeat?’
A moment later the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard echoed through the room.
She didn’t dare look at Matteo. If there was anything other than joy on his face it would taint this special moment for ever.
So she continued to look at her little walnut now frozen on the screen and listen to its healthy heart beating while Julianna did whatever she was doing on her computer until her eyes blurred and the beats were no longer distinguishable.
Eventually Julianna pushed her chair back and wiped Natasha’s belly clean with another, softer tissue.
‘I would say that so far everything is looking good and healthy.’
‘So far?’
The older woman smiled. ‘I am a medical practitioner. We never talk in absolutes. What I can say with all honesty is that right now your child is developing well and you should be happy with that. As for when it’s due...’ She gave a date at the end of June.
Natasha closed her eyes. When she had searched the internet and put in the date of conception, every site she had visited had given this same due date within its narrow parameters.
From the way Matteo shifted in his seat, he had done the same maths.
He knew the due date made it impossible for Pieta to be the father. The date of conception was firmly after his death.
He knew the baby was his.
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