Affairs Of The Heart: The Italian Boss's Secret Child

But this was no fancy dress ball where he had no idea of her identity. This was no masquerade. Here there was no avoidance of the truth. He’d never wanted her and, whatever his motives, he didn’t really want her now.

This was simply wrong.

His hands slipped to her shoulders, sliding her thin straps away. She gasped as his hands followed the curve of her shoulders, around to the front, lower, capturing her breasts, thumbs hooking in her bodice top, easing it lower.

Her hands found his chest as she dragged her face away from his. She pushed but his hands caught her and pulled her back. She pushed again, harder, turning her face so that he couldn’t kiss her.

‘No,’ she said, her breath choppy. ‘Stop this.’

His mouth was at her neck, cajoling, insisting and panic gripped her.

‘No!’ she yelled. ‘Just because you bought these clothes don’t assume you own what’s in them.’

‘The clothes are yours,’ he muttered, ignoring her jibe, his breath hot and persuasive against her skin. ‘Keep them.’

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for strength.

‘You promised!’

His head lifted but he didn’t let go. ‘What did I promise?’

‘Not to maul me. You promised me there was no chance you would seduce me on this trip. You made it perfectly clear there was not a snowball’s chance in hell—remember? So let me go—now.’

He had promised, he remembered. Why the hell had he done that?

His arms slackened their grip around her and she eased herself away, hitching up her shoulder straps before flicking back her hair with her fingers. Her face was flushed, her lips bruised and swollen from his attention and he ached to take her back into his arms and finish what he’d begun.

He’d made that promise to someone else, though—someone else who wore ill-fitting brown suits and glasses that wouldn’t be out of place on a welder. He hadn’t made that guarantee to the woman standing in front of him. He would have been mad to have done that.

‘I think you should leave,’ she said, not moving, clutching her arms over her chest like a shield. ‘Now.’

He took a deep breath. He would go. After all, he had promised.

But he definitely wouldn’t make that mistake again.

CHAPTER SIX

CHRISTMAS came early to the Summers’ household.

Five mornings before the big day, Philly clutched the white stick, hand shaking, eyes disbelieving, mind unable to comprehend. She looked again at the instructions, reading the last section twice over until she was sure she had it clear in her mind, then she looked back at the stick.

There was no mistake.

She had read it right.

She was pregnant.

Elation zipped through her. She’d done it! She was carrying a child. Having a baby was no longer just a dream, just a hope. It was now a reality. And in less than forty weeks, all going well, she would hold that baby in her arms. And her mother would hold her grandchild.

Please God it wouldn’t be too late for it to make a difference.

But it couldn’t be too late. It was a miracle. She was having a baby.

Her baby.

Elation suddenly gave way to another emotion.

Dread.

This wasn’t just her baby. It was Damien’s too.

Guilt gripped her heart, squeezing it as tight as the instructions now crumpled within her fist as her body swayed into the bathroom vanity unit, knocking the soap dish to the floor.

This was not some IVF pregnancy, where the sperm had been donated with the intention and hopes of furnishing someone with a child anonymously. This child’s father was no phantom, no unnamed donor whose chosen part in conceiving a child was over.

This child’s father was Damien DeLuca, about as far from a phantom as ice was from the sun. And he would have to be told.

Oh, he wouldn’t like it. The self-confessed career bachelor and man about town was hardly likely to be excited at the prospect of discovering he was to be a father. But if he was angry about it he could hardly blame her. Neither of them had given a moment’s thought to protection that night. Sure, she was the one who was pregnant, but he wasn’t exactly the innocent party in all this.

Yet none of that really mattered. There was no question that she had to tell him. It wouldn’t be right or fair to deny Damien the existence of his own child, just as it would be wrong to prevent that child from knowing the identity of its father.

She gazed unseeing into the mirror. And maybe, once he knew, just maybe there was a sliver of possibility that he might even care…

She shook her head, shaking out the wistful dreams and hopes. She was having a baby—wasn’t that enough?

Damien would just have to deal with it, just as she would. First though, she had to tell him.

She hauled herself upright and away from the vanity. It was just as well the office was closing over Christmas. She had two weeks off to spend with her mother. She’d use the time well, see a doctor, get confirmation of her home pregnancy test result and obtain some advice about the best time to tell her mother.

‘Philly?’ Her mother’s voice came muted from outside the door. ‘Are you all right? I thought I heard something crash.’

She looked around her and saw the soap dish, now lying shattered in pieces on the floor. She hadn’t even noticed. ‘I’m fine,’ she called back. ‘Just clumsy today.’

Her mother would be delighted when she discovered why. She stooped to pick up the largest pieces and tried to quell a sudden pang of remorse. She wouldn’t be judgmental—her mother wasn’t like that—but she’d be curious all the same and maybe just a tiny bit sad that there was no boyfriend or husband on the scene. She’d wanted to see Philly settled down after all.

But she’d considered that same scenario when she’d applied to undergo IVF treatment. She’d known that it would still be worth it, that any disappointment would be short lived in the joy that a new baby brought, especially when that baby meant so much.

As for telling Damien? She had to tell him as soon as possible. It had been one thing to keep her secret to herself when there was no chance of him ever finding out. But now there was no way. The product of that secret would soon betray her anyway.

As soon as the doctors had confirmed the pregnancy. The first chance she had, she would tell him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘ENID!’ Where was that woman? ‘Enid!’

Enid appeared at his office doorway, pen and blue folder at the ready.

‘You rang?’ she asked, one eyebrow skewed north.

He gritted his teeth. He never liked it when she took that tone. Having a PA who knew too much about you was a positive drawback at times.

‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘Completing the papers you asked me to fax the last time you bellowed at me, not five minutes ago. Not to mention,’ she added before he had a chance to respond, ‘sorting out two weeks worth of mail you demanded barely five minutes before that. And answering the phone in between—you did ask me to take even your direct line calls for today. And thank you for asking, I had a wonderful Christmas holiday. At least, I imagine that’s why you demanded my presence this time?’

For a moment he was speechless. ‘Well, good for you,’ he replied with a snarl, wondering just why the hell he had wanted to see her.

‘And Switzerland?’ she continued, her eyes narrowing as if she was peering right into his soul. ‘How was the skiing this year? Normally you come back a little more relaxed after your break.’

‘Fine,’ he snapped, drumming his fingers on the table while he tried to forget all about his failure of a holiday and remember what he wanted Enid for. ‘Switzerland was fine.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Enid in a tone that said pigs could fly. ‘Then maybe you’d like to go over what’s in your diary for today.’

His head snapped up. That was it. ‘Only if you’ve finished discussing my social calendar,’ he retorted. ‘My diary is why I asked you here in the first place.’

‘I see,’ said Enid, clearly nonplussed. ‘Only you never said.’ She flipped open the folder in her hands. ‘First up at nine, you have an hour long meeting with Philly about the roll out of the new campaign, after which…’

He jerked upright and out of his chair at the sound of that name, turning to the window as Enid’s voice droned on in the background listing today’s appointments.

Philly. What was it about her that made him so unsettled? How did she do that? He glanced down at his watch as Enid’s unheeded dialogue tailed off. Eight-thirty. She’d be here in half an hour. Barely any time at all. So why did thirty minutes suddenly seem so long?

Philly wondered if this was how morning sickness felt. It was still only early in her pregnancy, but she’d been fine up until now, finding it difficult to believe she really was pregnant, even after her doctor’s confirmation and referral to a specialist. She had felt so unchanged, so utterly well.

Until today. Her gut churned, her legs felt less solid than the rice pudding she’d made for her mother last night and it had nothing to do with the motion of the train wending its way closer to Melbourne’s city centre, closer to making her announcement to Damien. She knew she couldn’t put it off. She knew she’d have to tell him some time. But she just wasn’t at all confident she could do this today.

But neither could she delay it. The longer she did that, the harder it would be.

The train stopped, mid station. Heads lifted from newspapers and novels, knitting needles stopped clacking and fifty heads swivelled around, searching for some explanation for the delay. The speakers crackled into life with the grim news. A minor derailment ahead and a delay of at least an hour. Fifty disgruntled passengers gave a collective groan, giving up any hopes of an early start, and pulled out mobile phones to relay the news before turning their attention resignedly back to their activities.

At least an hour. Another hour to think about what she had to do. Another hour for her insides to rebel. It was the last thing she needed today. She glanced at her watch, realising she wouldn’t be at work anywhere close to being in time for her meeting with Damien and rummaged in her handbag for her own mobile phone. At least she could let him know she’d be late.

Damien knew the moment she arrived. Standing with his hands in pockets, gazing out over the view of the city, he’d heard the soft ping of the lift bell and the whoosh of the doors and he’d known instinctively that she was finally here. He was sure those were her hurried footsteps tearing along the plush careting, and already he could even imagine the scent of apricots drifting along the corridor.

Funny how he couldn’t get that scent out of his head. Even in the chalet in Klosters, surrounded by beautiful women, perfumed and perfectly made-up and offering the ultimate après-ski experience, it had been the faint scent of apricots that had haunted his dreams. For someone who’d almost made a career of studying the effects of different perfumes on women, enjoying the effects of perfume on them, suddenly they no longer appealed. They were all too heavy, too sickly, too cloying.

It hadn’t been a good holiday. Instead of being relaxed he’d had too much time to think. And there were two women he couldn’t get out of his mind. One was a woman who’d let him make sweet love to her and then disappeared off the face of the earth, a woman who defied every attempt of his to track her down.

The other was a paradox, a strange mixture of innocence but with a hidden core, a centre he was finding more beguiling as the layers came off. And when he’d wanted her, she’d turned him down flat.

No one had ever done that before.

Two women, two totally unsatisfactory experiences. No wonder he was having trouble sleeping.

And now one of them couldn’t even make it into work on time. Things were going to have to change around here.

He heard her brief greeting to Enid and the older woman’s reply, followed by a low, ‘He’s waiting for you. Better go straight in.’ It sounded to Damien like a warning. Damned right.

He waited until he could hear her footfall near his door, her breath rapid but soft, as if she was trying not to let on she was worried. He turned.

‘You’re late!’

‘I’m sorry, but—’

‘Our meeting was for nine o’clock. It’s now closer to ten.’

‘I phoned you…Enid—’

‘You don’t work for Enid. You work for me. When you can be bothered to turn up.’

‘That’s not fair—’

Her protest was cut off with a violent slash of his hand through the air that ended with a slam of his open palm on the desk.

‘Are these the sort of hours you expect to be paid for? Because there’s no place for freeloaders in this organisation.’

‘I can’t help it if the trains are late.’

‘It’s your job to get to work on time. Period. If the trains can’t get you here on time, find a reliable form of transport.’

‘I’ll work through lunch. I’ll make it up.’

‘Damned right you will.’

‘Fine,’ she said with a sniff, pulling herself upright that way she did as if it added inches. ‘At least we agree on something.’

He stopped, the wind taken out of his sails as soon as she’d stopped defending herself. His pause gave him his first chance to really look at her. Her soft linen shift fitted her well without being tight, its pastel tones cool and perfect for summer. By contrast her hazel eyes were blazing but instead of her face glowing red she looked so pale, her skin almost translucent.

‘Are you okay?’

Something flared, bright and potent in her eyes, before it was just as quickly extinguished. ‘Perfectly well.’

‘It’s just that you look a bit…washed out.’

Could he tell? Was it that obvious?

‘Er, I ran all the way from the station and…’ She licked her lips. She’d been going to wait until after their discussion of the roll out of the new campaign, but maybe this was as good a time as any. It might serve to wipe that pompous look off his face.

He watched her. ‘And?’ he prompted.

‘And I’m pregnant.’

Stunned silence met her announcement. But only for a few moments. Then all hell broke loose.

‘You’re what?’

‘I’m pregnant.’ Actually, now that she’d said it out loud, she felt pretty good. It was good to say it. It was good to tell someone who didn’t have the title of doctor before their name. A smile made its way to her lips as her hand rested over her tummy. ‘I’m having a baby.’

His eyes followed the movement of her hand but there was no accompanying smile. In fact the way his lip curled made him look positively hostile.

‘How the hell did that happen?’

She shrugged, still unable to stop smiling. That smug look of his was nowhere to be seen. ‘The usual way.’ She thought about that for a second more, enjoying the experience of turning the tables on him. ‘Or not so usual, I gather.’

He grunted, clearly unimpressed, his anger wrapped around him like a shroud. ‘I didn’t pick you for being careless. I certainly hope you’re more responsible when you’re at work.’

‘I was careless? Oh, that’s rich, coming from y—’

‘If you don’t mind,’ his terse words interjected, ‘we’re supposed to be talking about the campaign—that is, if you’re up to it.’

‘Of course I’m up to it. But Damien, I need to tell you that—’

His body jerked up in his seat. ‘That what? You’re not thinking of leaving the company, are you? That would be damned inconvenient after promoting you. I’m relying on you to see this new campaign through.’

‘No, nothing like that. Not unless you think I should.’

‘Why would I think that?’

‘Well, it’s just that…’

She paused, aware of a disturbance down the hall which was rapidly escalating into a commotion—someone was arguing with Enid. A moment later the door was flung wide open.

Her mouth dropped open as her ex-fiancé, carrying a large bunch of stem roses and a bottle of champagne, burst in with Enid close on his heels.

‘Excuse me, Mr Chalmers, you can’t go in there.’

‘Relax,’ Bryce crooned as he lit up one of his dazzling smiles. ‘I’m sure whoever this is—’ he nodded dismissively towards Damien ‘—will excuse us. Philly and I have important business to discuss.’

‘Mr Chalmers, would you please leave. This is not Ms Summers’s office.’

‘Don’t worry, Enid.’ Damien took a step back as he lowered himself into his chair, sensing an opportunity to learn more about the secret life of Philly. First pregnant, now this character, whom one could only assume to be the father. Was he the reason she’d knocked back Damien’s advances at the Gold Coast?

He felt himself bristling at the thought.

Bryce completely disregarded everyone’s presence but Philly’s, sitting himself down on the desk opposite her. She made an attempt to get up but he pushed her back down, thrusting the bunch of flowers into her lap. ‘For you, sweetheart, and hey, you’re looking better than ever.’ He leaned over and pecked her on her still open lips before he began removing the foil from the top of the champagne bottle.

Philly stared blankly at the flowers but had finally found her voice. ‘Bryce—what’s going on? What are you doing here?’

‘I was going to surprise you when you got home but I thought it would be much more fun to whisk you away from here to a nice romantic restaurant some place. You’ve moved up in the world. Last time I visited you in here you were on a lower floor. Sam—someone-or-other told me where to find you.’

Damien made a mental note to have a quiet word with Sam about company security while he thought about grinding Bryce’s face into the carpet for stealing that kiss. But then why would she be so shocked about her child’s father turning up—unless they’d broken up after the baby had been conceived? His little brown mouse had more layers than the DeLuca Tower.

‘Bryce, why are you here? This doesn’t make sense.’

The visitor ignored her protest and, despite the early hour, levered out the cork, setting it free with a loud pop, and pouring the wine into two glasses he’d extracted from his pocket. He handed her one and took a swig from the other.

Then he turned and locked his baby-blue eyes on her, a lock of his blonde hair escaping from under the designer sunglasses perched on his head.

‘Then let’s go make sense somewhere private,’ he said. ‘Away from all these cronies.’

Damien couldn’t keep silent any more—whoever this guy was, there was no way he’d let Philly leave while he was paying her salary.

‘She’s not going anywhere with you.’

Bryce turned, obviously displeased to find the company he’d so readily dismissed hadn’t instantaneously vaporised.

‘Excuse me, this is a private conversation.’

Enid tut-tutted at the door and put her fists on her hips.

‘Imagine that, and we all thought it was you interrupting a private conversation.’

Bryce smiled a false smile that got no further than his bared teeth. ‘I appreciate your loyalty to Philly. It’s very…touching. But she’s safe with me. Aren’t you, Philly?’

Philly took a long look at Bryce as she put her untouched glass on the desk. Even in the midst of her surprise, when he’d first walked in she had been blown away with how good-looking he was, with his tanned skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. For just a while there she’d felt this huge sense of loss—she’d loved and lost this perfect specimen.

But then she’d noticed the way he treated people, the way he rode roughshod over anyone who didn’t serve a purpose to him, and the way he’d assumed she would fall into his arms without a thought to ask her what she wanted.

Why had she put up with him for all that time? She must have been so desperate to have a child it had completely blinkered her view. But the shutters were off now and there was no way he was barging his way back into her life.

‘Philly?’ Bryce prompted.

She looked around Bryce to where Damien was sitting poised, ready to pounce. With his face like thunder, he looked as if he was prepared to tear Bryce limb from limb. Standing behind her at the door, Enid looked more than ready to deputise.

It was empowering having them both here for moral support. And comforting. Only this was something she’d have to deal with herself. Besides which, if she was going to have to explain her pregnancy to Bryce it would be better not to have Damien around to complicate matters.

She exhaled on a long sigh before glancing up to Damien and Enid. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on, but if you’d give me just a moment to sort this out? I appreciate your support but we need a little privacy. If you don’t mind, we’ll continue this in my office. It won’t take long.’

Enid and Damien looked at each other, as if neither was prepared to be the first to leave.

‘You’re sure?’ Damien asked.

‘I’m sure.’

‘Then you stay here. I’ll be right outside if you need.’

She smiled. ‘Thanks.’ Their eyes met again and locked. It’ll be okay, they seemed to be saying. Warmth spiralled through her, touching her in places only he seemed to be able to reach. It was a good feeling.

‘Right!’ Bryce announced, clapping his hands and jolting her out of her mood. ‘You’ve both been a wonderful audience but the show’s over. Allow me to show you the door.’

Damien stood, visibly bristling even as Enid made for a quick exit. Bryce stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Come on,’ he urged, sounding less cocky, ‘you heard the lady. We’d appreciate a little privacy.’

From her chair Philly could tell Damien was itching to do something—she didn’t know what, but he looked as tight as a drum. His dark eyes took on the character of petrified wood—the hardness of stone, polished and glinting.

The contrast between the men hit her then. There was Bryce, elegant as always in his superfine wool suit and with his charming good looks, but soft on the inside. And there was Damien, rock solid, staring him down, exuding more masculine power in those eyes than Bryce owned in his entire body.

A breath caught in her throat as a thrill descended her spine.

He was defending her!

Something warm and luxurious enveloped her just as effectively as if Damien had wrapped his arms around her. She had a champion. Damien would look after her. She knew it just as surely as she knew to draw her next breath and that knowledge gave her strength.

He must care for her—just a little, at least. Maybe one day he could care for them both…

A movement caught her eye and she realised it was Bryce’s Adam’s apple jerking up and down.

Damien raised his chin fractionally and repeated, ‘I’ll be right outside,’ before he turned on his heel and left the room.

A moment later Bryce closed the door behind them. He shrugged. ‘Well, he’s certainly uptight about something. Why don’t we just clear out of this nuthouse altogether? Philly, grab your jacket and bag, we may as well hit the road and find that restaurant, even if it is still early.’

She leaned back in her chair. Already he was barking orders at her and he’d only reappeared in her life barely ten minutes ago. What would it be like if she took him back? Not that that was on the cards once he heard her news.

‘We don’t need a restaurant. We can talk here. What I have to say isn’t going to be any more palatable when accompanied with fine food and wine.’

He came back around the desk and reached for her hands. ‘Aww. Come on, Philly. Can’t you let bygones be bygones? I made a mistake, pure and simple. Everyone does. But I’ll make it up to you.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘Bryce, I honestly don’t think…’

‘Listen, I would never have left you if Muriel hadn’t told me she was pregnant. And she lied to me. It was never my baby! She tricked me into moving in with her. It’s all her fault.’

‘You were having an affair with her for at least a year before that happened. Or am I supposed to conveniently forget about that?’