Page 12 of Back to Claim His Italian Heir
And yet...there were worse things, far worse, to build a marriage on than chemistry.
He let the possibility linger in his mind, just as it had before. Yes, admittedly the child was a complication he hadn’t foreseen, and he, of all people, knew how difficult it was to take on another man’s child, yet also, perhaps, potentially rewarding? Here, possibly, was a way to redeem the past... He could love this child the way he never had been. He could give it a hope and a future. Was he strong enough to do that? Did he want to?
His mind raced with new possibilities—Emma as his wife, in all senses of the word, or almost. Love, obviously, would not be part of this complicated equation. And her child—hischild, or would be. He’d adopt it, naturally, as soon as possible. Treat it like his own in every way...if he could.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Emma asked shakily, and Nico refocussed his gaze on her. The colour had receded from her cheeks, leaving her pale and drawn again, and she was still cradling her arm against her chest.
‘I am considering our future,’ he told her matter-of-factly.
‘Our future? And what are you considering, exactly?’ she asked, clearly trying to sound braver than she felt. She released her arm, resting her slender hand on the table, fingers spread as if to anchor herself.
‘I didn’t expect the child,’ he admitted frankly. ‘It has, to put it mildly, put a spanner in the works.’
She let out a choked sound, something not quite a laugh, but at least not a sob. ‘A spanner in what works, Nico?’
‘Our marriage.’ He frowned, considering the ramifications. Could he really take on another man’s child? He knew the pain and heartache that could cause, on both sides, and in truth he wasn’t completely sure if he could love another man’s child the way he would love his own. Shaming to admit, especially considering his own birth, but he knew he needed to be honest with himself. The last thing he wanted to do was act as his father had—be cold to the child entrusted to him, give it less than he or she deserved simply because of an accident of biology, of blood. The way he had been, although he knew he couldn’t actually fault his father for excluding him. He’d included him in the family business—grudgingly, reluctantly, but he had. But Nico had always still felt the loss, the confusion at not understanding why his father could barely endure his presence...until his mother had, on her deathbed, hurled a grenade into their family, causing an explosion that still ricocheted through him to this day.
‘What about our marriage?’ Emma asked.
‘Whether it continues.’ His frown deepened as he realised fully that he couldn’t walk away from his wife, even when she was pregnant with another man’s child. He didn’t even want to. ‘The father,’ he asked. ‘Does he know about the child? Did you tell him? Why did he not take responsibility?’ The man was clearly either in the dark or a complete cad.
‘I...’ Emma didn’t have a chance to reply, for the waiter came with their meals then—two steaming plates ofstrangulet, tube-like pasta with fresh tomato, basil and garlic. They were both silent as he set the plates down before them and then, with a murmur of thanks, left them alone.
Emma’s head was bent as she picked up her fork and toyed with the pasta on her plate, her brow furrowed.
‘Well?’ Nico prompted. ‘Did you tell him?’
‘I never had the opportunity,’ she half mumbled, her head still bent over the plate.
‘Never? Why not?’
‘He...disappeared before I could.’
She sounded mortified, as if each word were painful to say, and so it would be, when he considered what she was confessing. A one-night stand, just about as soon as he’d been declared dead? He’d been missing for how long by then? A few weeks? A month? He swallowed down his anger.
‘I see.’
Emma let out a wavery laugh. ‘You really don’t.’
‘So tell me, then.’ Nico heard the anger thrumming in his voice, and he knew Emma did, as well. ‘Andlookat me, for heaven’s sake, Emma. Or are you so embarrassed about your own behaviour you can’t bear to look me in the eye?’
‘I’m not embarrassed,’ Emma retorted, looking up so he could see the golden flash of her eyes, ‘although perhapsyoushould be, at your absurdly high-handed manner, making all these judgments and assumptions about me. If I’d known just how absurdly arrogant you were, I wouldn’t have married you in the first place!’
He reared back, her response only adding to his anger. ‘Oh, really? I’m just trying to find answers. Answers you seem suspiciously reluctant to give—’
‘Oh, Nico.’ Emma let out a laugh that definitely sounded more like a sob as she dropped her head into her hands. ‘For heaven’ssake. I cannot continue this ridiculous pretence any longer. I don’t know why I even tried, except...’ She trailed off, swallowing, and he tensed, annoyance flaring within him along with the anger, although he wasn’t even sure what exactly to be annoyed about.
‘Why don’t you just tell me straight, for once, then?’ he demanded.
She looked up again, bleakly this time, her eyes full of weary resignation. ‘Nico, there isn’t another man. Not Will, not some stranger or whoever you are imagining in your unending cynicism.You’rethe father of this baby.’
CHAPTER FIVE
ANDSOTHEdie was cast. Amidst the fear and uncertainty, Emma felt a flicker of relief. She really had never been good at lying, which had certainly got her into trouble as a kid. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t stolen food, or cheated on her homework, or done whatever she’d had to, to keep body and soul together. The result had been she’d been labelled a troublemaker from the get-go, which was not great when you were being cycled through the foster system, one family after another, each one passing you on like a parcel they didn’t want. And probably not so great here, considering she’d just handed Nico all the cards, do with them what he would.
But what else could she have done? She’d tried—sort of—to go along with his assumption that there was another man, but it had been too hard—and too insulting. She’d seen the way his nostrils had flared and his lips had tightened at the thought of her sleeping around, never mind his own colourful past. He could have a dozen or more casual affairs, it seemed, but heaven forbid if she did. In any case, it seemed her husband had no trouble believing all manner of things about her—well, what else was new? Nico Santini was just showing he was like everybody else. She’d lived the fairy tale for a month, but it was now well and truly over.
Except she was still married to Nico...and he now knew he was the father of her baby. Another fairy tale might be starting, of the Brothers Grimm variety, scary ending included. Emma’s stomach tightened with anxiety.