In the Italian's Bed: Bedded for Pleasure, Purchased for Pregnancy / The Italian's Ruthless Baby Bargain / The Italian Count's Defiant Bride

Except he was.

‘I have every right to say those hateful things.’ Through pale strained lips she told him her truth. ‘I have every right to hate you—because you threw away what we had for no good reason. And Miranda has every right to hate you, too.’

‘Leave her out of it.’

‘Just as you did,’ Emma spat, ‘when she couldn’t provide you with children. Well, guess what, Zarios? You don’t deserve them!’

Always Zarios had the last word—always there was a retort or a scathing reply—but not this time. His face was as white as chalk apart from his black angry eyes. He didn’t even pick up his briefcase. He just walked towards the door. And if it hadn’t been 8:00 a.m.—if she hadn’t seen that he had been perfectly lucid just moments earlier—from his stagger Emma would have sworn he had been drinking.

‘Zarios!’ She called out to him but it was too late. The door had closed behind him without so much as a slam.

Emma was shaking—not just at the venom of her words, but at the effect they had had. She could feel nausea rising, and barely made it to the bathroom in time. Crouching, hugging the bowl, she was more sick than she had ever been in her life. The anger that had been aimed at him was now aimed somehow at herself, at her fury for not being able to accept that he wasn’t the man she wanted him to be, was sure he could be.

After rinsing her mouth, Emma made her way back to the lounge, reading again the article that had led them to this row. Heading for the bin, she picked up the card he had tossed away.

The English wasn’t great, but Emma was touched at the effort the woman had made.

Emma and Zarios,

It was with happiness I received the good news of your engagement.

Emma, I hope to meet you soon, to share in your joy.

Mamma xxx

What joy?

Emma stared at her luxurious surrounds and realised then that they counted for nothing—the trappings of wealth had done nothing to fade his scars.

Did Bella have any idea what she’d done?

‘Well, that was a lot easier.’ Blushing and uncomfortable, she attempted a smile as she closed his office door behind her. ‘Your assistant didn’t even ask me to take a seat.’

‘What are you doing here, Emma?’ His face was grey now rather than white.

‘You forgot your briefcase!’ she said brightly, dangling it on her finger. It was a pathetic excuse and they both knew it. ‘Damage control, too…’ she attempted. ‘I thought it might look better if I show my face.’

‘My staff knows better than to believe what they read in the newspaper—and, as I said, there will be a retraction and an apology printed tomorrow.’

‘Do they work?’ Emma sniffed. ‘Because if they do, I’d like to try…’

‘Let’s just leave it.’

‘I’m sorry for what I said this morning—about you not deserving children.’

‘Can we forget about that, please?’

‘Can we?’

‘I just did.’ He flashed a very on-off smile and Emma would have given anything to go back, anything to have him tease her or goad her—anything rather than this great aching distance that gaped between them.

‘I thought we could go for lunch—’

‘I have meetings.’ Zarios didn’t even let her finish. ‘Why don’t you go shopping…?’

‘I don’t want to go shopping.’ If she sounded petulant, it was from the embarrassment of having him politely refuse the olive branch she was offering.

‘You need an outfit for the ball next Saturday. Our company is the major sponsor, and we will both be in the spotlight—it is an important event!’

‘So what’s the charity?’

‘Scusi?’

He often did this, Emma had started to realise. If he was playing for time, his excellent English would curiously slip.

‘Che cosa è la carità?’ Emma said sweetly, in her phrasebook Italian, and Zarios raised an eyebrow. She then asked again. ‘What’s the ball in aid of?’

‘A children’s charity…’ Zarios answered evasively, but there was just a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips as she played him at his own game. ‘I assume. So, when did you start to learn Italian?’

‘This morning,’ Emma admitted. ‘I knew you had no idea what the ball was in aid of.’

‘Well, I will graciously concede the point.’ He picked up his pen, wordlessly dismissing her, but Emma couldn’t let it go.

‘I was thinking…’ she attempted. ‘Tonight, when you get home, maybe instead of going out we could stay in…’ She was blushing to her roots, as nervous as a teenager attempting her first flirt. ‘We could order something nice from room service…’

‘Sounds nice…’ she could hear the but coming even before he actually uttered it ‘…but I have to work late.’

‘Zarios, I’m trying to say sorry here—’

‘Emma, please…’ He stood up to conclude their meeting, just as he had done the first time she was there. ‘I have to get on.’

The only difference was that this time, when she walked through the foyer, the receptionist didn’t call her back.

CHAPTER TEN

HE WAS driving way too fast.

For such a dangerous bend of road, Zarios should be crawling along, but instead he took each curve at breakneck speed, taking his hands off the wheel to fiddle with the radio station. Emma shrank back into the passenger seat, trying to tell herself that he did this every day, that he knew every last turn on the cliff road. She knew that every sharp breath she took just incensed him further, only she couldn’t stop herself.

‘You drive, then.’ Zarios slammed on the brakes so violently that the car screeched to a halt. ‘If you think you can do so much better…’ He held his hands up in a supremely Latin gesture then climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him, leaving Emma to take the wheel.

She could do this.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, checking the twins were safely strapped in, Emma gave Harriet and Conner a reassuring smile. ‘We’ll be there soon.’ They didn’t answer, just blinked back at her, their eyes huge and trusting.

She could do this, Emma told herself again, then gently pressed her foot on the accelerator—only Zarios’s car was way more powerful than her own, and she might just as well have stood on the pedal, because the car was lurching forward, shooting like a bullet from a gun, and there was nothing she could do. Her foot was jammed on the pedal as they shot over the edge and the salty ocean seemed to rise to claim them. The twins were screaming in terror and there was the sound of a baby crying, too. Emma attempted the same, only her voice was frozen within her, the building scream unable to get out…

‘Emma.’

As she sat bolt-upright, dragging in air, she felt his arms wrap around her, his deep voice reassuring her, telling her again, as he had these past nights over and over, that she was safe.

‘You’re dreaming.’ He pulled her back beside him, wrapped himself around her and stroked her arm. ‘It’s just a dream; you’re safe, go back to sleep.’

Except she couldn’t.

She hadn’t seen him since their strained meeting in his office, hadn’t even been aware of him climbing in bed beside her, but she was infinitely grateful that he was there. Her body trembled in the darkness as she wished that he would touch her, make love to her, take her away from her desperate thoughts for just a little while. But he’d been as good as his word and hadn’t pressured her.

Even if sometimes she wished he would.

‘You should see a doctor.’ It was the first time they’d discussed her nightmares—the first time he’d done anything other than hold her.

‘I don’t want to take tablets.’

‘Maybe just for a week or two,’ Zarios pushed. ‘You’re pale, you’re exhausted—please, just go to the doctor and tell him you’re not sleeping.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

Her heart was slowing down now, her breathing settling, and he lay spooned behind her, held her till he was sure that she was asleep, his fingers coiling and then releasing a strand of her hair. He was resisting the urge to bury his head in it, or to wake her and demand that she stop wasting her life.

It was none of his business, Zarios reminded himself.

Whatever mess she was in—well, it was hers. In a little less than a week they would both walk away and never have to see each other again.

It killed him to even think about it.

He held her fragile frame against his, wanted to wrap himself like a shield around her and discount everything he had learnt today.

What had that counsellor on the helpline he had rung said?

That addicts were cunning and manipulative…Zarios’s eyes were shuttered for a moment. He found it so easy to discount the brutal summing-up, when he was holding her in his arms.

He had been told that she first had to admit to the problem before Zarios could do anything to help.

‘Emma?’ She stirred into semi-wakefulness as he rolled onto his side and stared down at her. ‘Nothing’s ever too big that you can’t tell me.’

He smiled as her groggy eyes tried to focus on his.

‘If there’s something worrying you it’s better to face it.’

‘I know,’ she mumbled.

‘And,’ Zarios ventured on, ‘if I can do anything to help, I will.’

‘Even after this morning?’ Her sleepy voice begged.

‘Especially after this morning. Emma.’ He was playing with her hair again, but this time it was her fringe, pushing it out of her eyes, feeling the damp stream of tears on her cheeks. He’d have given anything to lower his head and kiss her—would at that moment have given anything for her…

Which was the reason he didn’t.

Pressure from any quarter, according to the counsellor, was the very last thing she needed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘NO, THERE’S no chance that I’m pregnant.’

Her GP glanced down at her rather obvious engagement ring, then flicked through Emma’s notes. ‘I see you’re not on the pill.’

‘There hasn’t—I mean, we haven’t—’ Emma flushed purple. ‘Not since Mum and Dad’s accident.’

‘Which was about eight weeks ago?’ Dr Ross checked.

‘Nine weeks now.’ Emma gulped. ‘I had my period on the day of the funeral.’

‘And have you had a period since then?’

‘No,’ Emma admitted. ‘But stress can affect that, and I’m not very regular at the best of times…’

‘And you’re vomiting?’

‘Once or twice,’ Emma lied, just a little bit. She could feel her stomach churning now, just from the smell of the coffee on his desk. ‘But that’s not what I’m here for—it’s more about the nightmares—’

‘Let’s just get a sample…’ her GP broke off her ream of excuses with a rather more practical suggestion ‘…and then we’ll talk. I don’t want to prescribe anything till we’ve covered all the bases.’

He was certainly thorough, checking her blood pressure and temperature, listening to her chest, feeling her neck, before unscrewing the little jar Emma had wrapped in tissues.

‘Insomnia’s a very normal part of the grieving process,’ he explained—only Emma wasn’t really listening. She was staring at the white card he had placed on his desk, at the moment of reckoning nearing. She watched him load the pipette, and the arrow she had for so long buried rustled from the leaves. Emma braced herself to face it. ‘Sleeping tablets won’t necessarily stop the nightmares,’ the doctor went on, as two minutes seemed to drag on for ever. ‘Would you like me to refer you to a counsellor? Talking things through might help…’

But it was pointless. Emma knew that. Oh, she had nothing against counselling, but there was no point going and them telling a counsellor only half of what was going on in her life.

‘Emma…’ The shift in his voice made her look up. He wasn’t smiling, his face was emotionless and, Emma realised, it would remain that way until he had gauged her reaction. ‘You’re pregnant.’

‘I can’t be.’

‘You are.’ He pushed the little plastic card towards her—the pink cross on it told her she’d failed this test. But even if the evidence was irrefutable, even if at some level she’d already known that she was, still she tried to deny it.

‘But I’ve had my period.’

‘If you’re sure about your dates, then it was probably breakthrough bleeding…that can happen in the first trimester.’ Now he smiled—and it was a gentle smile that was kind. ‘You are pregnant, Emma.’

‘I can’t be,’ she said again, only in an entirely different context. ‘I can’t possibly be pregnant now.’ Not by a man who didn’t love her—a man she owed a small fortune to—a man whom, she was fast starting to realise, she mightn’t be able to pay him back…

‘Emma, accidents happen.’ The doctor cut into her pleadings. ‘You need some time to get your head around the idea. Now, I want to arrange some blood tests and an ultrasound, just to check your dates, and then we’ll schedule an appointment to work out your options.’

She had no options.

She could feel the walls closing in, with every exit route blocked—could see his pen scribbling on pads—could hear him, talking about dates and LMPs and foetal sizes. She felt as if she’d suddenly landed in France, with only a schoolgirl guide to aide her, no accommodation booked and just a handful of coins. Completely and woefully unprepared for the journey.

‘We’ll get those tests done, and I’ll see you in the next couple of days. Once we know your dates…’

She didn’t hear anything else. Somehow, on autopilot, Emma paid for her consultation and made a follow-up appointment. Then, clutching her referrals, she stepped out into the bright afternoon and, for how long she wasn’t sure, sat in the car, staring at the world rushing by at a million miles an hour as for just a little while hers stood still.

She tried to fathom Zarios’s reaction—tried to fathom being bound to a man who would want his heir more than he wanted her.

She tried to fathom her own reaction, but that proved just as elusive.

Oh, she’d miss her mum for ever, but never as much as now. Leaning onto the steering wheel, she sobbed as if Lydia had died that very morning. Weeks of grief were no prelude to the pain that ripped through her now. They’d never see, never know, never hold their grand-child…And then her tears stilled. The sign that she’d begged for, pleaded with God for, had come—in the moment when she’d least expected it.

Loneliness lifted as realisation crept in—this little scrap of life, growing inside her now, had been conceived while her parents had still been alive; had been created on the day they had left this earth.

Surely that was no accident?

Sink or swim.

Despite her near drowning, only today did Emma actually understand the meaning of the saying.

Now, when life seemed to be falling apart, it was time to pull it together. There was no rescuer this time, no strong arms to haul her out of the water—she had to make it to shore by herself.

And she would.

If Jake was gambling again—and his avoidance of her attempts to contact him certainly hinted at that—then he wasn’t going to pay her back. She’d have to pay Zarios back herself—and then, when she was no longer indebted to him, she’d work out what to do about the baby.

She’d have nothing. A surge of panic gripped her at the prospect, but she deftly knocked it aside. She’d have her baby.

She had talent.

Somehow they’d survive.

Turning on the ignition, Emma took in a steadying breath, felt the wheel beneath her hands and the pedals beneath her feet, and for the first time since the accident started to take control.

She told herself, even if she didn’t quite believe it yet, that she would be okay.

Because—for her baby’s sake—she had to be.

‘Jake.’ Emma saw her brother freeze as he opened the door.

‘Now’s not a good time, Em. Beth’s having a lie-down.’ He looked over her shoulder and down the street, but Emma stood her ground.

‘I know Beth’s gone out.’ Brushing past her brother, she walked into his home uninvited. ‘I hear your house is on the market. Beth told me you’re looking for something with a bigger garden, nearer the city…Oh, and she mentioned you want to take the twins to America, to Disneyland…Sounds expensive, Jake?’

‘Beth’s always talking things up.’

‘You haven’t told her, have you?’ His silence said everything. ‘Mum and Dad’s house sale has gone through, the settlement’s on Monday—when exactly are you going to tell her, Jake?’ She could feel her stomach churning as still he didn’t answer. ‘Or are you not going to?’

‘We need a change—a new start. You have no idea what we’ve been through…’

Instead of pleading he was angry. Instead of begging he was scolding—just as he always did when his back was to the wall. Emma realised for the first time that he blamed everyone but himself for the mess that he was in.

‘You’re engaged to Zarios D’ Amilo. What do you need more money for?’

‘It’s a loan…’ Emma shouted. ‘I’m engaged to him till I pay back the loan…’

‘Tell him you can’t!’ Jake shouted louder. ‘He won’t even notice it—Zarios can afford it.’

‘Well, I can’t. I lent it you, Jake, you signed an agreement…’

‘So sue me,’ Jake scoffed.

‘I will!’ Emma bluffed. ‘And I’m going to tell Beth myself what’s going on…’

‘I’ll never see the twins again if you do.’ Jake eyeballed his sister. ‘And neither will you—Beth’s waiting for an excuse, any excuse, to leave. Go ahead,’ Jake challenged.

She could hear the twins scampering up the path, Beth’s key in the door.

‘Tell her.’

‘Tell me what?’ Beth half smiled, half frowned as she walked in on them. ‘Are you two rowing?’

‘I’m just telling my sister—’ Jake gave a tight smile ‘—that it would have been nice if she could have called round to tell us about her engagement, instead of us having to read about it in the papers.’

‘Oh, leave her alone, Jake! I spoke to her on the phone—I’m sure Emma’s got a million things to be getting on with…’

For the first time Beth was actually smiling, and there was lightness to her that, Emma realised, must have come when she’d finally known her marriage was back on track.

‘Anyway, she’s here now!’ Beth picked up Emma’s hand and gazed at the ring. ‘It’s gorgeous…’ Beth wrapped her in a hug. ‘It’s so nice to have some good news at last. Come on, I’ll make you a drink—and then I’ll bore you senseless about our trip to Disneyland…’

It was at that moment that Emma realised she’d lost close to a million dollars.

‘Where have you been?’ Zarios asked, when finally she made it home.

‘Don’t worry, I haven’t been kicking up my heels at The Casino…’ Exhaustion seeped out of her as with a sigh she sat on the sofa as far away from him as possible. ‘I was at my brother’s.’

‘I’m not checking up on you…I’ve been worried. You said you were going to the doctor.’

‘Which I did.’

‘Am I allowed to ask how it went?’

‘He asked if I was stressed…’ Emma gave an ironic smile. ‘I said that I thought I might be.’

‘Did he give you anything to help you sleep?’

‘No. I have to have some blood tests…’ She bent down to take off her sandals. A lousy liar at the best of times, she hoped her fringe would hide her blush. ‘So I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with my carry-on for a little while longer. Sorry if I’m disturbing your rest!’ she added as she sat up.

‘I’m not worried about my rest,’ Zarios bristled. ‘I’m actually rather worried about you.’

Zarios was seriously worried, in fact.

And he felt seriously guilty, too!

Watching her fade before his eyes, hearing her crying out in the night, made something unfamiliar twist inside him—something that felt suspiciously like guilt. But he had nothing to be guilty for, he had told himself over and over—they had made a deal and she was being handsomely paid for a few weeks’ work.

Staring over at her pale features, seeing that once smiling mouth grim now with tension, her head resting back on the sofa, her eyes half closed in exhaustion, he hated the mess she’d got herself into. But he couldn’t, just couldn’t, hate the woman. Couldn’t not put her out of her misery.

‘Emma?’ She didn’t open her eyes as he spoke, which made it somehow easier. ‘I’m not going to force you to marry me…and I’m not going to hound you if you can’t pay me back. You have helped me enough. The board are pleased—things are going well there. If we can just hold it together for a little while longer then that’s enough. I don’t want a loveless marriage any more than you do…’ He watched as a tear slid out from under her eyelid, and wished he could reach out and touch her—wished it were the middle of night, when he was allowed to hold her. ‘My mother didn’t love my father—I have no desire to recreate history.’

He was trying to say the right thing, to do as the counsellor had said and take away as much pressure as possible, so why was she crying? Only he didn’t have time to dwell. Taking a deep breath, Zarios said the hardest part. ‘I rang up some places today—places that deal with addiction…’ Now she did open her eyes, those bright blue eyes that had once danced and held his. They were tortured and confused now. ‘When this is over, will you think about going…?’

She shot up from her seat, her head buzzing. Jake’s cruel words, the doctor’s diagnosis, all were just fading into the distance as she stared at the father of her child—the man who had just admitted he didn’t love her, had never intended to marry her.

‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you? Ship me off to rehab, why don’t you? Even your father will understand then why you had to end it…’

‘Emma, please!’

She didn’t want to hear it. He shook his head hopelessly, lifted his hand to wipe away a tear. She brushed it off.

‘You have a problem…’

‘Jake’s the one with the problem.’ She was through lying for her brother—just through with it now.

‘Emma….’ Wearily Zarios shook his head. ‘When will you stop lying? Your father told me your business was going under, and I saw Jake give you money at the party. I spoke with Jake this evening and he confirmed it.’

‘You spoke to Jake?!’

‘Emma, I’m trying to help you.’

‘Well, it doesn’t feel like it!’

‘This might.’ He was angry now—angry at her denial, and hurt, too. This was the only woman he had truly put first—the one woman he had, hand on heart, offered to help. The million dollars didn’t matter a jot—it was her refusal to acknowledge her problem that incensed him. ‘I am flying to Singapore tonight. Hope-fully things will be easier on you if I am not around. I’ll meet you in Sydney for the ball on Saturday. If we can keep up appearances for a couple more days it would be appreciated. And then I suggest you read the bro-chures—and really think about getting some help.’

‘Do you do it deliberately?’ Emma asked, furious at the games he played, at how much he must be enjoying setting his trap and watching his victim squirm. ‘Do you lie in bed thinking of ways to goad me, to put me down?’

‘No…’ Zarios didn’t bat an eyelid as he stood up. ‘I lie in bed at night thinking of you getting down…’ He walked over to her and ran a finger along her cheek. He put his hand to the back of her head, his fingers knotting in her hair as he stared into her lying eyes, scarcely able to comprehend how much he adored her. ‘I lie in bed thinking of you screaming my name. I lie in bed thinking of your legs wrapped around my head as I make you come so hard you beg me to stop.’ He lifted her chin with one finger, raising her burning face to look at him. ‘But then I remind myself we don’t do that sort of thing, because Emma doesn’t want to. Which is a shame…’

He dropped contact then, but she could still feel his hand, wished it were still there, wanted it there, wanted him to push her head down so she could kiss the erection that she knew was there waiting, wanted him to make her scream as he had described. She loathed the dignity that held her back as he picked up his suit carrier and headed out of the door. ‘It might take your mind off playing the tables.’