Page 13 of Back to Claim His Italian Heir

‘Mine?’ Nico repeated, his voice filled with icy disbelief. ‘Impossible.’

So now that she’d told him, he was going to deny it? ‘Impossible?’ she repeated, letting a huff of hard laughter. ‘Not if you know about the birds and the bees, which I’m pretty sure you do.’

Annoyance flashed across his features. ‘Don’t be facetious, Emma—’

‘Trust me, I’m not.’ She shook her head slowly, wondering why he found it so hard to believe, when they’d been together for a whole month. Yes, he’d used protection, but everyone knew protection could fail, and there had been more than a few times when they’d both been in an eager rush, fumbling in their passionate haste, as she remembered all too well. Even now just a memory of such an encounter had heat blooming low in her belly, between her thighs. Unhelpful at this particular moment.Veryunhelpful.

And yet all he really had to do, she reflected bitterly, was the maths. Did he really distrust her that much?

‘Nico,’ she said wearily, ‘you are definitely the father, I promise. There hasn’t been another man since you, so, really, you are absolutely the only candidate.’ Make of that what he would, although from the blatant scepticism on his face, he was struggling to believe that, as well, and Emma wished she hadn’t told him quite so much. She was feeling vulnerable enough already, even if he couldn’t see it.

‘I’m the father,’ he stated incredulously, as if daring her to throw her hands up and admit she was lying.

Jokes! You’re actually not.Fooled you for a second, though, didn’t I?

‘Yes, the father,’ she repeated, rolling her eyes, an edge to her voice, because he was really milking this whole incredulity thing just a little too much. ‘I don’t know why you’requiteso sceptical. The dates do match up—’

He shook his head, determined to believe the absolute worst of her, it seemed. Well, most people did, but for some reason, stupidly, with Nico it hurt more. ‘You said you weren’t far along—’

‘I’m fourteen weeks.’

His dark brow came together in a scowl as realisation dawned, a blazing light in his eyes, a tautening of his mouth. ‘So what you actually mean is, you lied earlier.’

‘I didn’t lie,’ she protested, knowing she was now on shaky ground. ‘I was just...sparing with the truth.’ Very sparing, but only for about half an hour. She couldn’t have managed much more, she knew, as much as she might have wanted to.

‘But why?’ He slapped his palm against the table, startling her with the loud crack of sound, as colour slashed those magnificent cheekbones. He was, she realised, trembling inwardly, truly angry. Angrier, even, than when he’d stormed into her wedding, as she’d tried to marry another man. Was this about pride—or something else? It reminded her, painfully, that she really didn’t know him at all, and once again she wondered if she’d just made a big, big mistake, trusting him with the truth of their child.

‘Why would you lie about that?’ he demanded. ‘What purpose would it possibly serve?’

‘You jumped to conclusions,’ Emma replied, trying to rally. She was not entirely at fault here, for the misunderstanding. ‘First thinking it was Will’s, and then some...some stranger’s! Thanks, by the way, for assuming I really get around. And that’s not even considering the sexism of it being okay foryouto get around but not me.’

‘We’re not talking about me right now, and what was I supposed to think, when you did not correct me?’ he returned, his voice rising. ‘And you married within three months of—’

‘Three and a half months,’ Emma interjected with biting, saccharine sweetness. He was angry? Well, so was she.

‘Enough!’ he commanded in a freezing tone. ‘If the child is mine, I assumed you would have told me right at the start, not prevaricated in order to keep the truth from me. The fact that you didn’t made me assume it was not, which, I believe, is entirely and unfortunately understandable.’ His eyes narrowed, his mouth thinning. ‘Indeed, I am still sceptical, all things considered. Whywouldn’tyou tell me, Emma, for heaven’s sake?’

‘Oh, goodgrief.’ She shook her head as she threw her napkin on top of the table, too weary to keep going around in circles, trying to convince him. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’

‘Emma—’

‘I’m leaving,’ she stated, stalking from the table on unsteady legs. Tears blurred her eyes and she blinked them back. It was ridiculous to feel so hurt. Nico didn’t trust her? Well, she didn’t trust him. A perfect match, then. As if.

‘Emma, stop.’

She heard Nico push back his chair as she kept walking, towards the front of the restaurant. Not, she realised belatedly, that she had anywhere to go. She was supposed to be staying with Will tonight; he’d moved all her stuff—which admittedly was only a couple of suitcases—to his apartment yesterday. She supposed she could go there and throw herself on his mercy, but it felt presumptuous, considering all that had happened. But where else could she go?

‘Emma, wait.’

She was at the front door when Nico grabbed her arm, turned her around to face him. ‘Don’t storm out of here in a huff—’

‘I’m not in ahuff,’ she snapped. ‘I’m just really tired of you doubting me constantly. And I’m tired full stop, because, you know, I’mpregnant, and I want to go somewhere and sleep, so can you please just leave me alone?’ She tried to shake off his arm, but he wouldn’t let her.

‘I’m not leaving you alone,’ Nico gritted as he steered her out of the front door, away from the prying eyes of the other diners. They were creating quite a scene. ‘You’re mywife.’

They stood on the sidewalk outside the trattoria, a balmy breeze from the ocean buffeting them, Nico still holding her arm. Emma closed her eyes as a wave of fatigue crashed over her. She was so not up for this. She’d been through the emotional wringer today, and, as much as she prided herself on quick thinking and good survival skills, right now she felt completely tapped out. She couldn’t summon her usual insouciance, that determined, daredevil laugh, the eyebrow arched in challenge. She just couldn’t.

‘What do you want from me, Nico?’ she asked wearily, her eyes still closed. ‘Just tell me that, at least. What do you want from me right now?’