Bound By Their Christmas Baby

Rémy frowned. ‘I want to believe you, Abby...’

Gabe turned slowly towards his friend, and his expression was cold, unemotional. ‘Trusting this woman would be a mistake.’

* * *

Abby was numb. It had nothing to do with the snow that was drifting down over New York, turning it into a beautiful winter wonderland, nor the fact she’d left the restaurant in such a hurry she’d forgotten to grab her coat—or her tips.

She swore softly, her head dipped forward, tears running down her cheeks. What were the chances of Gabe Arantini walking into the kitchen of the restaurant she happened to work in? Of his being friendly enough with her boss to actually have her fired?

A sob escaped her and she stopped walking, dipping into an alleyway and pressing herself against the wall for strength.

She’d never thought she’d see him again. She’d tried. She’d tried when she’d thought it mattered. She’d tried when she’d thought it was the right thing to do. But now?

Another sob sounded and she bit down on her lip. He hated her.

She’d always known that, but seeing his cold anger filled her with doubts and fears, making her question what she knew she had to do.

When had he come to New York? Had he been here long? Had he thought of her at all?

She had to see him again—but how? She’d tried calling him so many times, and every call had been unreturned or disconnected. Emails bounced back. She’d even flown to Rome, but he had two burly security men haul her from the building.

So what now?

It would serve that heartless bastard right if she didn’t bother. If she skulked off, licking her wounds, keeping her secrets, and doing just what he’d asked: staying the hell away from him.

But it wasn’t about what she wanted, nor was it about what Gabe wanted.

She had to think of their baby, Raf—and what he deserved.

Her chest hurt with the pain of the life she was giving their son. Their tiny apartment, their parlous financial state, the fact she worked so hard she barely got to see him, and instead had to have a downstairs neighbour come and stay overnight to help out. It was a mess. And Raf deserved so much better.

For Raf, and Raf alone, Abigail had to find a way to see Gabe—and to tell him the truth.

And this time she wasn’t going to let him turn her away without hearing her out first.

CHAPTER TWO

‘THERE’S A MISS HOWARD here to see you, sir,’ Benita, his assistant, spoke into the intercom.

From the outside Gabe barely reacted, but inside he felt surprise rock him to the core. She’d come to his damned office? What the actual hell? How many times did he have to tell her to stay away from him?

He reached for his phone, lifting it out of the cradle. ‘Did you say...?’

‘Miss Howard.’

He tightened his grip on the receiver and stared straight ahead. It was a grey day. A gloomy sky stretched over Manhattan, though he knew at street level the city was buzzing with a fever of pre-Christmas activity.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell his assistant to call the police, when he remembered a small detail. The way Abigail had been two nights earlier, her eyes wet with unshed tears, her lip quivering. As though she really did need that menial job.

He knew it to be a lie, of course. But what was the truth? What ruse was she up to? What game was she playing? Was she looking to hurt Rémy? Or was her latest scheme more complex?

He owed it to his friend to find out. But not here. His office was littered with all manner of documents someone like Abigail would find valuable.

‘Tell her I’m busy. She can wait for me, if she’d like,’ he said, knowing full well she would wait—and that he’d enjoy stretching that out as long as possible.

He stayed at his desk for the remainder of the day. Hours passed. He caught up on his emails, read the latest report from his warehouse in China, called Noah. It was nearly six when Benita buzzed through.

‘I’m all done for the day, Mr Arantini. Unless there’s anything else you need?’

‘No, Benita.’

‘Also, sir, Miss Howard is still here.’

His lips flattened into a grim line. Of course she was.

‘Tell her I’m aware she’s waiting.’

He disconnected the call and picked up the latest report on Calypso’s production, but struggled to focus. Five hours after she’d arrived, the suspense was getting under his skin.

With a heavy sigh, he stood, lifted his jacket from the back of a conference chair and pushed his arms into it, before pulling the door between his office and the reception area open.

It was still well-lit, but the windows behind Abigail were pitch-black. The night sky was heavy and ominous. Despite the fact Christmas was a month away, an enormous tree stood in one corner, and it shone now with the little lights that had been strung through its branches. They cast an almost angelic glow on Abigail. An optical illusion, obviously. There was nothing angelic about this woman.

Her eyes lifted to him at the sound of his entrance, and he ignored the instant spark of attraction that fired in his gut. He was attracted to character traits—intelligence, loyalty, strength of character, integrity. She had none of those things. Well, intelligence, he conceded, but in a way she used for pure evil.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, deliberately gruff.

She seemed surprised—by his tone? Or the fact he’d actually appeared?

‘I didn’t think you were going to see me,’ she said, confirming that it was the latter. ‘I thought you must have already left.’

‘My first instinct was to have you removed,’ he said. ‘You know I’m capable of it.’ Now heat stained her cheeks, and her chin tilted defiantly towards him. ‘But then it occurred to me that I should find out what you’re planning.’

‘Planning?’

‘Mmm. You must have some reason for working in my friend’s kitchen. So? What is it?’

She shook her head. ‘Gabe...’

‘I prefer you to call me Mr Arantini,’ he said darkly. ‘It better suits what I think of you and how little I wish to know you.’

She swallowed, and the action drew his attention to the way she’d dressed for this meeting. That was to say, with no particular attempt to impress. Jeans again, though she did wear them well, and a black sweater with a bit of beading around the neckline. She wore ballet slippers on her feet, black as well, but scuffed at the toes.

Her eyes sparked with his, emotions swirling in them. ‘Gabe,’ she repeated, with a strength he found it difficult not to admire. Not many people could be on the receiving end of Gabe’s displeasure and come out fighting. ‘The night we met, I was...’

‘Stop.’ He lifted a hand into the air, his manner imperious. ‘I do not want to rehash the past. I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your father. I don’t care about that night except for one reason. You taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. I let my guard down with you in a way I hadn’t done in years. And you reminded me why I don’t make a habit of that.’ He said with a shrug that was an emulation of nonchalance, ‘Now I want you to get out of my life, for the last time.’

‘Listen to me,’ she said.

‘No!’ It was a harsh denial in a silent room. ‘Not when every word that comes from your mouth is a self-serving lie.’

She clamped her lips together and his eyes chased the gesture, remembering how her pillowy lower lip had felt between his teeth. A kick of desire flared inside him. Desire? For this woman?

What was wrong with him?

Celibacy, that was what. He should have found someone else for his bed before this—why had he let the ghost of Abby fill his soul for so long?

‘You traded your body, your looks, hell, your virginity, because of what it could get you. That makes you no better than...’

He didn’t finish the sentence but his implication hung between them, angry and accusing.

‘I wanted you, Gabe, just like you wanted me. Calypso wasn’t a part of that.’ She blinked up at him, and he felt it. The same charge of electricity shot from her to him that had characterised that first night, their first meeting. It was a bolt of lightning; he was rattled by heavy, drugging need. God, would he forgive himself for acting on it? For leaning down and kissing her, for pushing her to the floor and making her his one last time before kicking her out of his life for good?

No.

She had used him; he wouldn’t use her.

That wasn’t his style. And, no matter how great the sex had been, he sure as hell wasn’t going to compromise his own morals just because he happened to find her desirable.

He jerked his gaze away and thrust his hands onto his hips with all the appearance of disregard. ‘I don’t want you now,’ he lied.

‘I know that,’ she said, a hint of strength in the short words.

‘So? What’s your plan, Abigail? Why work for Rémy?’

‘I need the job—I told you.’

‘Yes, yes.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘You think I’m stupid enough to buy into your lies for a second time?’

She looked startled. ‘It’s not...it’s complicated. And I can’t tell you what I came here to say with you glaring at me like you want to strangle me.’

He almost laughed—it was such an insane accusation. ‘I don’t want to strangle you,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to touch you. I don’t want to see you. I’d prefer to think you don’t exist.’

She let out a slow, shuddering breath. ‘You actually hate me.’

‘Sì.’

‘Okay.’ She licked her lower lip. ‘I get it. That’s...actually strangely good to know.’

‘You didn’t know this already?’

She shook her head and then changed it to a nod, before pacing slowly across the room. She jammed her hands into her pockets, staring at the shining doors of the lift.

Gabe’s impatience grew. He couldn’t have said if it was an impatience to be rid of her or a need to know what the hell she’d come to him to say. Why had he been able to ignore her for a year and now suddenly he was burning up with a desperate need to hear whatever the hell she’d come to him for?

Because he’d seen her again. And he’d felt that same tug of powerful attraction, that was why. He needed to exercise caution—it was a slippery slope with Abigail, almost as though she were a witch, imbued with magical powers to control and contort him. There was danger in her proximity. The sooner he could be free of her, the better.

‘So?’ he demanded when she didn’t speak. ‘What’s going on? Why are you here? What do you want this time?’

She was wary. ‘Well, I’d like my job back,’ she said, somewhat sarcastically.

‘Pigs might fly,’ he said. ‘You’re just lucky I didn’t tell Rémy the full sordid story of how we met.’

‘Would it have mattered? He fired me anyway.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Did that give you satisfaction? To see me embarrassed like that? To see me thrown out?’

He considered it for a moment, his expression hard. ‘Yes.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head towards the ceiling, breathing in, steadying herself. ‘You’re a bastard.’

‘So I’ve been told.’

He looked down at her again. She was slim. Too slim. Her figure had been pleasingly rounded when they’d met, curves in all the places Gabe—and any red-blooded man—fantasised about. Now, she was supermodel slender.

Her body was a minefield of distraction, but he’d been down that path before. No good would come from worshipping her physical perfection. He refocused his attention on the matter at hand: the sooner they dealt with it, the sooner she’d be gone and this would be over.

‘Why does it matter?’ he demanded. ‘We both know you don’t need to work—even if poor Rémy was foolish enough to believe your act. So, what’s the big deal?’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘Rarely.’

‘I needed that job. I needed the money.’

‘Your father’s company?’ he asked, frowning, a hint of something like genuine interest colouring the words. ‘It hasn’t gone bankrupt?’ He’d have heard, surely.

‘No—’ she shook her head ‘—I think he’s holding it together. But I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in a long time.’

‘Oh?’ Gabe was no longer losing interest in this. His blood was racing through his body and he took a step towards her, unconsciously moving closer. ‘Why is that?’

She swallowed, and appeared to be weighing her words—something Gabe hated. Liars always thought about what they wanted to say, and she was an exceptional liar.

‘He threw me out,’ she said, the words tremulous even though her eyes met his with a fierce strength.

‘He...threw you out?’ Gabe, rarely surprised, felt that emotion now. ‘Your father?’

‘Yes.’

Why was he so shocked? He knew enough of cruel fathers and their ability to abuse their children’s affections to know Lionel Howard was capable of everything Abigail claimed.

‘Because of me?’

She nodded.

Gabe’s curse was softly voiced but forceful, and it filled the room. ‘Your father threw you out because you didn’t have photos of the Calypso project?’

‘No.’ She shook her head, her skin pale. ‘Not exactly.’

Gabe waited, but his impatience was making it difficult.

‘I mean, he was furious that morning. Furious that I had come back empty-handed. But it was a fury born of desperation, you know? He was desperate, Gabe. My dad isn’t a bad person, he’s just...’

‘Why,’ he interrupted coldly, ‘do you think I want to talk about your father?’

‘You have to understand...’

She was quicksand. He’d let her in and now he was sinking—back into her web of lies, her intriguing fascination. What a fool he’d been to think he could talk to her and not fall down this rabbit hole of desire.

‘No, I don’t. I don’t “have” to do anything where you’re concerned. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why I didn’t have you escorted from the building. But I’m done. This is over.’

‘Wait.’ She licked her lower lip and then lifted her hand to her hair, toying with the ends in an unmistakably nervous gesture. ‘I’m trying to explain.’

‘Explain what?’

‘That night—it wasn’t what you think. I mean, I know I came to you because of Calypso, but from the minute I met you, that was just about you and me, and the way we felt.’

‘And yet you still took photographs. You thought you could have your cake and eat it too? A night with me and the chance to salvage your father’s company thrown into the mix?’

‘No. I didn’t think it through, obviously.’ She pulled a face. ‘I know it’s no excuse and it must sound pathetic to someone like you. It’s just... I’ve always done what he asked of me. It’s hard to rewire that.’

‘He asked you to do something borderline illegal.’

‘I know!’ she growled—a growl born of self-disgust. ‘I wish, again and again, I could undo that night.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I mean, not all of it.’

‘Ah,’ he said with dangerous softness. ‘Here we differ. Because if I had my way I would go back in time and never meet you. Never set eyes on you, never kiss you, never ask you to my room. I would undo every little bit of what we shared. I regret everything about knowing you.’

Her mouth dropped open. He’d hurt her. He’d shocked her. Good. He recognised, in the part of his brain that was still working properly, that he liked that. He liked seeing that pain on her face. She deserved it. It was only a hint of how he’d felt when he’d discovered that his lover was actually some kind of corporate spy.

‘And now,’ he said, ‘if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.’

Yes. He’d definitely landed that blow successfully. She physically reeled, spinning away from him in a poor attempt to conceal her reaction.

‘When I told Dad I hadn’t met you, he was angry. Angry because he’d told me exactly where you’d be. Angry because he thought I hadn’t tried hard enough.’

‘Yet you’re an accomplished liar,’ Gabe pointed out. ‘So I’m sure you managed to win him over.’

She didn’t react. Her eyes were glazed over, as though she were in the past. ‘Not really. I mean, he stopped being mad with me, but his business worries grew. He was losing his market share to you; he has been for years—’

‘It’s not his market share. It’s anyone’s for the taking. And the only reason Bright Spark is at the top of the ladder is because we release better products than our competitors.’

‘I know.’ She nodded, almost apologetically. ‘I’m just explaining his mindset.’

‘Whatever his mindset, you are your own person. You made a decision to manipulate me...’

‘I’m talking about after that,’ she said with quiet determination. ‘You know I’ve been trying to contact you.’

He tilted his head. ‘Apologies are fruitless, Abigail. There is no apology you could offer that would inspire my forgiveness. You’re a liar and a cheat.’

She shook her head but didn’t say anything. ‘It was bad at home. I was worried about him, and I didn’t feel well.’

Gabe lifted his brows.

‘When did you not feel well?’

‘A few months after we...after that night. I’d been tired—yet not sleeping.’

‘Guilt will do that to a person. Then again, I don’t know if you’re capable of feeling guilt.’

‘Believe me, I am,’ she promised, the words steady, so that he was at risk of believing her despite everything he knew her to be. ‘I’ve felt a bucketload of it since I met you. Anyway, I went to the doctor and...you can probably guess where I’m going with this.’

‘No,’ he said with a lift of his shoulders. ‘And frankly I’m bored of our conversation.’

‘Right, you have your date,’ she said, the words almost manic.

‘Yes,’ Gabe lied. Well, not strictly a lie. There were any number of women he could call. Just because he hadn’t done so in over a year didn’t mean they wouldn’t jump at the chance for a night with Gabe Arantini. He stared at Abigail for one long moment and then made to walk past her, only she reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘Gabe, stop. You need to let me say this.’

‘Why do you think I owe you anything?’

‘I was pregnant,’ she said, arresting him in his tracks completely. His eyes locked onto hers and in his face was a torrent of emotions. There was anger, disbelief, confusion, fury and, finally, amusement.

‘Nice try, Abigail, but I don’t believe you. You think this is a way to extort money from me? Or ruin me somehow? Is this your father’s idea?’

‘No!’ She was pale and shaking. ‘Gabe, I’m not making this up. I went to the doctor and they ran some tests. I was pregnant. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with.’

His eyes narrowed.

‘I didn’t tell Dad until I was five months along and I started to show. He demanded to know who the father was and when I told him he...’

Gabe could barely keep up, but somehow he answered calmly. ‘Yes?’

‘He kicked me out. He cut me off. I haven’t seen him since.’

Gabe felt as though he’d been punched in the solar plexus. He couldn’t speak.

‘It’s why I need that job. Why I’m working nights. I have a good babysitter who sleeps over, so I can work at night. And in the days I’m with Raf.’

His eyes flew wide. ‘Raf?’

‘Rafael,’ she said with a small, distracted smile. ‘Our son.’

Silence fell, heavy and caustic, in the room. Gabe processed what she’d said, but it simply didn’t make sense.

‘We used protection.’

‘I know.’

‘It’s not possible.’

‘The three-month-old I have at home would beg to differ,’ she said calmly, even when her nerves were jangling.

Gabe nodded, a coldness to his expression. ‘What is this? You want money? Or something else?’

‘I thought you should know,’ she said with hauteur, reminding him of the silver spoon she’d grown up with.

‘You thought I should know that I’m a father. That supposedly the night we were together, you fell pregnant. How convenient!’

‘Not particularly,’ Abby said with a soft laugh.

‘Do you think I am this stupid? That I’ll listen to these lies? I should have followed my first instincts and had you kicked out. What the hell are you playing at?’

‘It’s the truth,’ she said. ‘I have a son. His name is Raf Arantini and he’s the spitting image of his father.’

Gabe glared at her. She’d even used his name? Could it be true?

Presumably she hadn’t been on birth control, but he never slept with a woman without protection. And he’d never had any consequences come from his sex life before. So why now? And why this woman?

Because she was a liar. And though he couldn’t see the full picture, he knew with confidence that there was more to this story than she was telling him. It couldn’t be the truth. There was no way on earth he had a baby.

He needed time and space to think, and he sure as hell couldn’t do that with her in the room.

‘Get out of my office, Abigail. And don’t contact me again.’

He walked to the lift and pressed the button; it pinged open almost instantly.

She walked slowly and as she passed him he caught just a hint of her sweet vanilla fragrance. His whole body clenched.

‘You don’t believe me?’ she asked.

‘Do you blame me?’

Tears welled in her eyes but she met his eyes with obvious defiance. ‘It’s the truth.’

‘I don’t think you’d know the truth if it bit you on that perfect little arse of yours.’

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