Postcards From Rome. Maisey Yates

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СКАЧАТЬ said it would be easy. Just a quick trip to Santa Firenze, where the procedure is legal, and then I just have to...be the oven. I was supposed to get paid to make the bread, so to speak, and then...well, give it to the person I...baked it for. Someone who wanted the baby desperately enough to ask for help from a stranger.”

      Panic tore through Renzo like a wild beast, savaging his chest, his throat. Making it impossible to breathe. What she was saying was impossible. It had to be. Mostly.

      Ashley was...unpredictable. And God knew how that might manifest. Especially since she’d been enraged by the divorce—made simple because of their marriage in Canada, which she had felt was calculated on his part. It was, of course.

      But she wouldn’t have done this. She couldn’t have. Still, he pressed.

      “It made sense to you that a woman pursued surrogacy, and claimed to have a husband whom you never saw?”

      “She said that it would be impossible for you to come to the clinic. She could only do it because she wore large sunglasses and a hat. She said that you were far too recognizable. She said you were very tall.” She swept her hand up and down. “You are. Obviously. You don’t blend. Not even sunglasses would disguise... You know what I mean.”

      “I know nothing. It has become apparent to me over the past few minutes that I know less than I thought. That snake talked you into this. How much did she pay you?”

      “Well, she hasn’t given me everything yet.”

      He laughed, the sound bitter. “Is that so? I hope that final price is a high one.”

      “Well, the problem is that Ashley said she doesn’t want the baby anymore. Because of the problems that you’re having.”

      “Problems?” The question was incredulous. “Does she mean our divorce?”

      “I...I guess.”

      “So, you did some cursory research on us, and then no more?”

      “I don’t have internet at the hostel,” she said flatly.

      “You live in a hostel?”

      “Yes,” she said, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “I was just passing through. And I ran out of money. Took a job at a bar, and I’ve been here longer than I anticipated. Then I met Ashley about three months ago.”

      “How far along are you?”

      “Only about eight weeks. I just... Ashley decided she didn’t want the baby anymore. And I don’t want to... I don’t want to end the pregnancy. And I thought that even though she said you didn’t want to handle any of this, because it damaged your view of the whole thing... I wanted to come to you. I needed to make sure.”

      “Why is that? Because you fancy that you will raise the baby if I don’t want it?”

      It was her turn to laugh. There was no humor in it, only hysteria. “No! I’m not going to raise a baby. Not now. Not ever. I don’t want children. I don’t want a husband. But I was involved in this. I agreed to it. And I feel like... I don’t know. How can I not feel responsible? She became a friend to me almost. I mean, she was one of the first people in forever who talked to me, told me about her life. She made sure I knew how much she wanted this baby and...now she doesn’t. She might have changed her mind, but I can’t change my feelings about it.”

      “What will you do?” he asked. “What will you do if I tell you I don’t want the baby?”

      “I’ll give it up for adoption,” she said, as though it were the most obvious thing. “I was going to give birth anyway. That was part of the agreement.”

      “I see.” His thoughts were racing, trying to catch up with everything that the woman in front of him—the woman whose name he still didn’t know—was saying to him. “And was Ashley planning on paying you the rest of the fee if you continued with the pregnancy?”

      The woman looked down. “No.”

      “So, you had to make sure that you could still collect your fee? Is that why you came to speak to me?”

      “No. I came to speak to you because it seemed like the right thing to do. Because I was becoming concerned about your lack of involvement in the whole thing.”

      Anger built inside him, reaching its boiling point and bubbling over. “Allow me to paint a clear picture for you of what exactly happened. My ex-wife went behind my back to hire you. I still don’t understand how this happened. I don’t understand how she was able to manipulate both you and the doctor. I don’t understand how she was able to accomplish this without my knowing. I don’t understand what her endgame was, as she is now clearly backing out. Perhaps now that she has seen she will get no money from me, and I’m not worth the effort anyway, she does not wish to be saddled with my child for the rest of her shallow existence. Or, perhaps it is simply Ashley. Who decided to do something on a whim, thinking that something of this magnitude would be a delightful surprise she would drop in my lap like the purchase of a new handbag. And much like my ex feels about handbags, she has decided she is bored of this one and moved on to the next shiny thing. Regardless of her motivation, the end result is the same. I didn’t know. I did not want this baby.”

      At that, she seemed to deflate. Her shoulders shrunk inward, some of her defiant posture diminishing. “Okay.” She blinked rapidly, lifting her chin and staring him down. “If you change your mind, I’m at the hostel Americana. You can find me there. Unless I’m working at the bar across the street.” She turned on her heel and began to walk away from him, toward the front door. Then she paused. “You claim you’ve been in the dark this whole time. I just didn’t want you to have that excuse anymore.”

      Then she walked out of his house. And just like his ex-wife, he determined that he would think about her no more.

      * * *

      It nagged at him. There was no escaping it. For three days he’d attempted to ignore and dismiss the events that had occurred earlier. He did not know the woman’s name. He didn’t even really know if she was telling the truth. Or if she was another of his ex-wife’s games.

      Knowing Ashley, that was it. Just a game. A weird attempt to try to draw him back into her web. She had been far too content with the dissolution of their union. Particularly after she had been so bitter about it in the first place. She had claimed he had always known it would end this way. Which was why they had sought marriage outside the country. Divorce in Italy was far too complicated. And, he supposed, the fact that he had covered his bases in such a manner was in some ways indicative of his commitment. Or at least, his faith in the mercurial Ashley.

      But then, he imagined Ashley had gotten her revenge. Surrogacy was not legal in Italy. Undoubtedly why she had sought to have the procedure done in neighboring Santa Firenze.

      More the pity that his sister, Allegra, had dissolved her agreement with the prince of that country and married Renzo’s friend—Spanish duke Cristian Acosta, who would be no help to him in this situation—instead.

      He should let it go. Likely the woman was lying. Even if she weren’t...what should it matter to him?

      A sharp pang in the vicinity of his heart told him he clearly hadn’t had enough to drink. So, he set out to remedy that. But for some reason, grabbing a hold of the bottle of Scotch reminded СКАЧАТЬ