The Italian's Unwilling Wife. Kathryn Ross

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      He made no reply; he didn’t even look around at her, just headed down the stairs. The front door was still lying wide open, and he marched through it without closing it behind him.

      ‘Damon, where do we go from here?’ she asked again, a note of desperation in her voice. She needed to make some sense of tonight, needed to understand what Damon was thinking—and she couldn’t let him walk away without giving her some clue as to what was to happen next.

      ‘Damon?’ She followed him downstairs and out onto the porch. ‘Damon, please!’

      His footsteps slowed and then he looked around. ‘That’s better.’ There was a gleam in his eyes as he looked over at her. ‘If you keep that tone in your voice, we just might get somewhere.’

      The cold churning in the pit of her stomach intensified.

      ‘I agree that we need to talk rationally about this situation.’

      He made no reply, and she thought he was going to climb into his car and drive away, but then to her surprise he went to the back of the vehicle and took out a small bag.

      With the flick of a switch the car was locked again, and then he was heading back towards her with resolute strides.

      Although there was a part of her that was glad he wasn’t just going to drive away, leaving her wondering what was going to happen next, she didn’t like the look of this latest development at all. Her heart thumped nervously against her ribs. ‘Where do you think you are going with that bag?’

      ‘I’m bringing it inside my house,’ he said curtly. ‘And then I’m going to have a drink and get into bed, because it has been a very long day and I’m tired.’

      ‘You can’t stay here!’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because…I don’t want you here.’

      He stepped past her and into the house. ‘Tough.’

      The door slammed closed behind him.

      CHAPTER THREE

      FOR one horrible moment she thought he was going to turn the key in the lock, leaving her stranded outside in the dark in her dressing gown. But to her relief the door opened easily as she turned the handle.

      With a mixture of trepidation and fury, she glanced around. His bag was at the base of the stairs and she could hear him opening and closing cupboard doors in the kitchen.

      She followed the sounds and watched from the doorway as he found a bottle of vodka and poured himself a drink. ‘What are you playing at?’

      ‘I think I just told you.’ He lifted the glass in a mocking salute.

      With difficulty she reined in her temper. This situation was not going to be resolved by losing her cool.

      ‘Damon, you can’t stay here. It’s not appropriate.’

      He laughed at that. ‘As if you’d know anything about appropriate behaviour! I have to say, all those years mixing with the aristocracy at those English boarding schools weren’t wasted, were they? You’ve certainly learnt the art of pretending to be genteel.’

      With difficulty she ignored the insult. ‘This isn’t solving anything. Why don’t you go and check into a hotel for tonight and then come back tomorrow? We can talk properly when we have both calmed down and are thinking rationally.’

      ‘I am calm.’ He took a sip of his drink and regarded her levelly over the rim of the crystal glass. ‘And I’m thinking very rationally. It’s one in the morning, there’s a storm coming in, and I have no intention of going to a hotel now—especially as I own a perfectly good house here.’

      ‘Damon this is ridiculous!’ Her voice rose in panic. ‘You are not being at all reasonable.’

      One dark eyebrow rose. ‘Really? I think given the circumstances I’m being extremely reasonable. Let’s look at the facts, shall we? You don’t actually own this property. In fact, you are heavily in debt and behind with rent—’

      ‘I am no such thing!’

      ‘Plus you’ve hidden my child away from me, depriving me of precious time with him,’ Damon continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I don’t think any court is going to look too kindly on you at all. In fact, I think you will be the one who is judged unreasonable.’

      ‘You’re twisting the facts!’ She pushed a distraught hand through her blonde hair. ‘I didn’t know I was pregnant until after you’d gone. I didn’t hide anything. And will you stop pretending that you give a damn about having a child? We both know that you would still have walked away from him even if I’d told you I was pregnant.’

      ‘Do we?’ Damon’s voice grated with sarcasm. ‘You don’t know the first thing about what I would have done, because you don’t really know the first thing about me.’

      ‘I know that you are a playboy who likes to roam the pleasure fields.’

      ‘Certainly.’ He inclined his head. ‘And I never planned on having children of my own. But you’ve changed that.’

      Damon looked at her pointedly. ‘Enlighten me, Abbie. What were you planning on telling my son when he gets older? That his father is dead? Or that his father didn’t want to know him?’

      Abbie hesitated. ‘I wouldn’t have lied to him. I’d have handled it.’

      ‘Believe me, no matter how you handled it, it still wouldn’t have been right.’ Damon’s voice was heavy. He remembered all too well what it was like growing up without a parent. His mother had walked out of the family home when he was eight. It was so easy to screw up a child’s life. Maybe that was why he had avoided settling down and having children. The responsibility was awesome, and he believed implacably that a child deserved two parents and a stable home.

      ‘You had no right to keep Mario a secret from me.’ Damon’s eyes burnt into hers. ‘Any court will tell you that.’

      ‘He wasn’t a secret. And will you stop talking about courts and judgements!’

      He shrugged and took another sip of his drink. ‘Courts and judgements are very much the reality; you better get used to it.’

      ‘Why are you being like this?’ The question sprang from her lips with anguish.

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘So…brutal…as if you want to punish me.’

      He looked at her then, and gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘Why do you think?’

      The sardonic question tore at her. ‘My father was right—this is all about revenge, isn’t it?’ She made herself say the words, her voice trembling with emotion.

      He took another sip of his drink, and then threw the remaining contents of the glass down the sink.

      ‘You’re angry about what my father did, and I understand that.’ СКАЧАТЬ