Reunited by a Baby Secret (The Vineyards of Calanetti, Book 3) Page 2

  What had she thought?

  Anger suddenly bubbled back up through her. ‘What’s this all about?’ She gestured to his suit and tie, his Italian leather shoes, angry with him for his stupid clothes and herself for her overall general stupidity. ‘I thought you were...’

  His lips twisted into the mockery of a smile. ‘You thought me a beach bum.’

  She’d thought him a wanderer who went wherever whim and the wind blew him. She’d envied him that. ‘You had many opportunities to correct my assumption.’

  He dragged a hand down his face. ‘That week in Thailand...’ He shook his head, pulling his hand away. ‘It was an aberration.’

  ‘Aberration?’ She started to shake with even more force. ‘As I said, I made a mistake in coming here.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ring?’

  She tossed her head and glared. ‘I did. A couple of days ago. I hung up before I could be put through...to the Executive Suite. It didn’t seem the kind of news one should give over the phone.’ It obviously wasn’t the kind of news she should’ve shared with him at all. This trip had been an entirely wasted effort. I’m sorry, topolino. She lifted her chin. ‘I thought you would like to know that I was pregnant. I thought telling you was the right thing to do. I can see, though, that a child is the last thing you want.’

  ‘And you do?’

  His incredulity didn’t sting. The answer still surprised her as much as it did him. She moved to cover her stomach with her hand. His gaze tracked the movement. ‘Ryan, let’s forget we ever had this conversation. Forget I ever came here. In fact, forget that you ever spent a week on a beach with me.’ Aberration that it was!

  She turned to leave. She’d go home to Monte Calanetti and she’d build a wonderful life for herself and her child and it’d be fine. Just...fine.

  ‘I don’t know what you want from me!’

  His words sounded like a cry from the heart. She paused with her hand outstretched for the door, but when she turned his coldness and impassivity hit her like a slap in the face. The room swam. She blinked hard. ‘Now? Nothing.’

  He planted his feet. ‘What were you hoping for?’

  She’d swung away from him and her hand rested on the cold metal of the door handle. ‘I wanted you to hug me and tell me we’d sort something out.’ What a wild fantasy that now seemed. She turned and fixed him with a glare. ‘But I’d have settled for you taking my hand and asking me if I was all right. That all seems a bit stupid now, doesn’t it?’

  Anger suddenly screamed up through her, scalding her throat and her tongue. ‘Now I don’t even think you’re any kind of proper person! What I want from you now is to forget you ever knew me. Forget all of it!’ Aberration? Of all the—

  ‘You think I can do that? You think it’s just that easy?’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ll find it incredibly easy!’

  She seized the vase on the table by the door and hurled it at him with all of her might. The last thing she saw before she slammed out of the room was the shock on his face as he ducked.

  * * *

  Ryan stared at the broken vase and the scattered flowers, and then at the now-closed door. Whoa! Had that crazy spitfire been the sweet and carefree Marianna? The girl who’d featured in his dreams for the last two months? The girl who’d shown up on the beach in Thailand and had blown him away with her laughter and sensuality?

  No way!

  He bent to retrieve the flowers and broken pieces of the vase. Pregnant? He tossed the debris into the waste-paper basket and stumbled across to the sofa. Pregnant? He dropped his head to his hands as wave after wave of shock rolled over him.

  In the next moment he leapt up and paced the room in an attempt to control the fury coursing through him. She couldn’t be! A child did not figure in his future.

  Ever.

  Him a father? The very idea was laughable. Not to mention an utter disaster. No, no, this couldn’t be happening to him. He rested his hands on his knees and breathed in deeply until the panic unclamped his chest.

  You can walk away.

  He lurched back to the sofa. What kind of man would that make him?

  A wise one?

  He slumped, head in hands. What on earth could he offer a child? Given his background...

  Money?

  He straightened, recalling Marianna’s shock at finding him ensconced in the Executive Suite wearing a suit and tie. A groan rose up through him, but he ground it back. He’d played out a fantasy that week on the beach. He’d played at being the kind of man he could never be in the real world.

  One thing was sure. Marianna hadn’t deliberately got pregnant in an attempt to go after his money. She hadn’t known he had any!

  Did she, though? Have money? Enough to support a baby?

  Why hadn’t he thought to check?

  He passed a hand across his eyes. When he’d opened the door to find her standing on the other side, his heart had leapt with such force it had scared him witless. He’d retreated behind a veneer of professional remoteness, unsure how to handle the emotions pummelling him. He had no room for those kinds of emotions in his life. It was why he’d made sure they’d said their final farewells in Thailand. But...

  Pregnant?

  Think! He pressed his fingers to his forehead. She’d mentioned that her family owned a vineyard in Tuscany. It didn’t mean she herself would have a lot of spare cash to splash out on a baby, though, did it?

  He strode to the window that overlooked the gardens and rooftops of Rome with the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica in the distance, but he didn’t notice the grandeur of the view. His hand balled to a fist. Had he really asked her if the baby was his? No wonder she’d lost her temper. It had been an inexcusable thing to say.

  I’m pregnant.

  She’d blurted it out with such brutal austerity. It had taken everything inside him to stay where he was rather than to turn and run. He’d wanted to do anything to make her words not be true. Who’d have thought such cowardice ran through his veins? It shouldn’t be a surprise, though, considering whose genes he carried.

  He dragged a hand down his face. When she’d stood there staring at him with big, wounded eyes, he’d had to fight the urge to drag her into his arms and promise her the world. That wasn’t the answer. It wouldn’t work. And he’d hurt her enough as it was.

  He let loose a sudden litany of curses. He should’ve taken her hand and asked her how she was, though. He should’ve hugged her and offered her a measure of comfort. Shame hit him.

  Now I don’t even think you’re any kind of proper person.

  He didn’t blame her. She might even have a point. He seized the room phone and punched in the number for Reception. ‘Do you have a guest by the name of Marianna Amatucci staying here at the moment?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Signor White, but no.’

  Damn! With a curt thank-you, Ryan hung up. He flung open the door and started down the hallway, but his feet slowed before he reached the elevator. What did he think he was going to do? Walk the streets of Rome looking for Marianna? She’d be long gone. And if by some miracle he did catch up with her, what would he say?

  He slammed back into his room to pace. With a start, he glanced at his watch. Damn it all to hell! Seizing his mobile, he ordered his PA to cancel his meetings for the rest of the morning.

  He shook off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, feeling suffocated by the layers of clothing. His mind whirled, but one thought detached itself and slammed into him, making him flinch. You’re going to become a father. He didn’t want to become a father!

  Too bad. Too late. The deed has been done.

  He stilled. Marianna no longer expected his involvement. In fact, she’d told him she wanted him to forget they’d ever met. And she’d meant it. He ran a finger beneath his collar, perspiration prickling his scalp, his nape, his top lip. He could walk away.

  Better still he could give her money, lots of money, and just...bow out.

  His grandmother’s face suddenl
y rose in his mind. It made his shoulders sag. She’d saved him—from his parents and from himself—but it hadn’t stopped him from letting her down.

  He fell onto the sofa. Why think of her now? He’d tried to make it up to her—had pulled himself back from the brink of delinquency. He’d buckled down and made something of himself. He glanced around at the opulence of the hotel room and knew he’d almost succeeded on that head. If he walked away now from Marianna and his child, though, instinct told him he’d be letting his grandmother down in a way he could never make up.

  He’d vowed never to do that again.

  You vowed to never have children...a family.

  What kind of life would this child of his and Marianna’s have? He moistened his lips. Would it be loved? Would it feel secure? Or...

  Or would it always feel like an outsider? When parenthood became too much for Marianna would this child be shunted to one side and—?

  No! He shot to his feet, shaking from the force of emotions he didn’t understand. He would not let that happen. He didn’t want to be a father, but he had a duty to this child. He would not abandon it to a life of careless neglect. He would not allow it to be overlooked, pushed to one side and ignored.

  He swallowed, his heart pounding. He didn’t have a clue about how to be a father—he didn’t know the first thing about parenting, but... He knew what it was like to be a child and unwanted. He remembered his parents separating. He remembered them remarrying new partners, embracing their new families. He remembered there being no place for him in that new order. He hadn’t fitted in and they’d resented this flaw in their otherwise perfect new lives. His lips twisted. His distrust and suspicion, his wariness and hostility, had been a constant reminder of the mistake their first marriage had been. They’d moved on, and it had been easier to leave him behind. That was his experience of family.

  He would not let it be his child’s.

  He might not know what made a good father, but he knew what made a miserable childhood. No child of his was going to suffer that fate.

  He slammed his hands to his hips. Right. He glanced at his watch and then rang his PA. ‘I’d like you to organise a car for me. I’m going to Monte Calanetti tomorrow. I’ll continue working remotely while I’m there so offer my clients new appointments via telephone conferencing or reschedule.’

  ‘Yes, sir, would you like me to organise that for this afternoon’s appointment as well?’

  ‘No. I’ll be meeting with Signor Conti as planned.’ This afternoon he worked. He wasn’t letting Marianna’s bombshell prevent him from sealing the biggest deal of his career. He’d worked too hard to let the Conti contract slip from his fingers now. Clinching this deal would launch him into the stratosphere.

  Conti Industries, one of Italy’s leading car-parts manufacturers, were transitioning their company’s IT presence to cloud computing. It meant they’d be able to access all points in their production chain from a single system. Every car-part manufacturing company in the world was watching, assessing, waiting to see if Conti Industries could make the transition smoothly. Which meant every car-part manufacturing company in the world had their eyes on him. If he pulled this off, then he could handpick all future assignments, and name whatever price he wanted. His name would be synonymous with success.

  Finally he’d prove that his grandmother’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.

  In the meantime... He fired up his laptop and searched for the village of Monte Calanetti.

  CHAPTER TWO

  RYAN GLANCED DOWN at the address he’d scrawled on the back of a Grande Plaza envelope and then at the driveway in front of him, stretching through an avenue of grapevines to a series of buildings in the distance. A signpost proudly proclaimed Vigneto Calanetti—the Amatucci vineyard. This was the place.

  With a tightening of his lips, he eased the car forward, glancing from left to right as he made his way down the avenue. Grapevines stretched in every direction, up and down hillsides in neat ordered rows. They glowed green and golden in the spring sunshine and Ryan lowered the windows of the car to breathe in the fragrant air. The warm scents and even warmer breeze tormented him with a holiday indolence he had no hope of assuming.

  Pulling the car to a halt at the end of the driveway, he stared. This was Marianna’s home? Her heritage? All about him vines grew with ordered vigour. The outbuildings were all in good repair and the spick and span grounds gave off an air of quiet affluence. He turned his gaze to the villa with its welcoming charm and some of the tension drained from him.

  Good. He pushed out of the car. He’d never doubted Marianna’s assertion that she could stand on her own two feet, but to have all of this behind her would make things that much easier for her.

  And he wanted things to be as easy for her as they could be.

  A nearby worker saluted him and asked if he was wishing to sample the wines. Ryan cast a longing look at the cellar building, but shook his head. ‘Can you tell me where I might find Signorina Amatucci? Marianna Amatucci,’ he added. She’d mentioned brothers, but for all he knew she might have sisters too.

  The worker pointed towards the long, low-slung villa.

  He nodded. ‘Grazie.’ Every muscle tensed as he strode towards it. He had to make Marianna see sense. He had to convince her not to banish him from their child’s life.

  Once he reached the shade of the veranda, Ryan saw that the large wooden front door stood open as if to welcome all comers. He stared down the cool shade of the hallway and crossed his fingers, and then reached up and pulled the bell.

  A few moments later a tall lean figure appeared. He walked down the hallway with the easy saunter of someone who belonged there. ‘Can I help you?’

  Ryan pulled himself up to his full height. ‘I’m here to see Marianna Amatucci.’

  The suntanned face darkened, the relaxed easiness disappearing in an instant. ‘You’re the swine who got her pregnant!’

  He’d already deduced from the hair—dark, and wavy like Marianna’s—that this must be one of her brothers. A protective brother too. More tension eased out of Ryan’s shoulders. Marianna should be surrounded by people who’d love and support her.

  A moment later he swallowed. Protective was all well and good, but this guy was also angry and aggressive.

  The two men sized each other up. The other man was a couple of inches taller than Ryan and he looked strong, but Ryan didn’t doubt his ability to hold his own against him if push came to shove.

  Fighting would be far from sensible.

  He knew that but, recalling the way Marianna had thrown the vase at him yesterday, her brother might have the same hot temper. It wouldn’t hurt to remain on his guard. He planted his hands on his hips and stood his ground.

  ‘So...you have nothing to say?’ the other man mocked.

  ‘I have plenty to say...to Marianna.’

  The brother bared his teeth. ‘You don’t deny it, then?’

  ‘I deny nothing. All you need to know is that I’m here to see Marianna.’

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  He debated the merits of lying, but decided against it. ‘No.’

  ‘What if she doesn’t want to see you?’

  ‘What if she does?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘And if she doesn’t want to see me, then I want to hear it from her.’ He shoved his shoulders back and glared. ‘I mean to see her, one way or another. Don’t you think it would be best for that to happen here under your roof?’

  The other man stared at him hard. Ryan stared right back, refusing to let his gaze drop. The brother swore in Italian. Ryan was glad his own Italian wasn’t fluent enough for him to translate it. With a grim expression, he gestured for Ryan to follow him, leading him to a room at the back of the house that was full of rugs and sofas—a warm, charming, lived-in room. Light spilled in from three sets of French doors that stood open to a paved terrace sporting an assortment of cast-iron outdoor furniture and a riot of colour from potte
d plants.

  Home. The word hit Ryan in the centre of his chest. This place was a home. He hadn’t had that sense from any place since the day his grandmother had died. His lungs started to cramp. He didn’t belong here.

  Another man strode through one of the French doors. ‘Nico, I—’ He pulled up short when he saw Ryan.

  Brilliant. Brother number two.

  Brother number one—evidently called Nico—jerked a thumb at Ryan. ‘This is Paulo.’

  He glanced from one to the other. Marianna had told them his name was Paulo?

  The second brother started towards him, anger rolling off him in great waves. Brilliant. This one was even taller than the first. Ryan set himself. He could hold his own against one, but not the two of them. He readied himself for a blow—he refused to throw the first punch—but at the last moment Nico moved between them, his hand on his brother’s chest halting him.

  Ryan let out a breath and then nodded. ‘No. This is good.’

  ‘Good?’ brother number two spat out, his face turning almost purple.

  ‘That Marianna has brothers who look out for her.’

  The anger in the dark eyes that surveyed him turned from outright hostility to a simmering tension. ‘You made her cry, you...’ A rash of what Ryan guessed must be Italian insults followed. Brother number two flung out his arm, strode away, and then swung back to stab a finger at him. ‘She returned here yesterday, locked herself in her room and cried. That is your fault!’

  Ryan’s shoulders slumped. He rubbed a hand across his chest. ‘Yesterday...it was...it didn’t go so well and she—’ He pushed his shoulders back. ‘I’m here to make it right.’

  ‘What do you mean to do?’ Nico asked. His voice had become measured but not for a second did Ryan mistake it for a softening.

  ‘I mean to do whatever Marianna wants me to do.’ Within reason, but he didn’t add that caveat out loud.

  Brother number two thrust out his jaw. ‘But are you going to do what she needs you to do?’

  He thrust his jaw out too. ‘I will not force her to do anything. I refuse to believe I know better than she does about what she needs. She’s a grown woman who knows her own mind.’