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‘We have nothing to say to each other.’
‘Actually, we do.’ His voice was low and authoritative, commanding her to stop. She paused, half turning towards him, wanting to ignore how devastatingly attractive he looked even now.
‘What,’ she demanded in a shaking voice, ‘could you possibly have to say to me now? You got your revenge.’
‘Revenge?’ His mouth firmed into a hard line. ‘You mean justice.’
‘Did you know I was his daughter last night?’ Allegra demanded shakily. ‘Did it...did it amuse you, having me fall all over you when you knew you were ruining him?’
‘I didn’t know you were Mancini’s daughter, and if I had, I wouldn’t have touched you. I want nothing to do with any Mancini, ever.’ He spoke with a cold flatness that made Allegra recoil.
‘Why? What had my father ever done to you?’
‘That is irrelevant now.’
‘Fine.’ She wouldn’t let herself care. She intended to forget Rafael Vitali ever existed from this moment on. ‘Then we have nothing to say to each other.’
‘On the contrary.’ Once more Rafael stayed her with his hand. ‘We didn’t use birth control.’
Five simple words that had her stilling in frozen shock, dawning horror. She licked her lips, her mind spinning. She was so innocent, had felt so overwhelmed, that the fact they hadn’t used birth control hadn’t even crossed her mind. She was ashamed by her own obvious naiveté.
‘If you are pregnant,’ Rafael continued in a low, steady voice, ‘then you will have to tell me.’ His tone brooked no argument, no protest.
‘Why?’ Allegra demanded. ‘You wanted to have nothing to do with me last night. Why would you want to deal with my child?’
‘Our child,’ Rafael corrected her swiftly. He handed her a business card, which Allegra took with numb fingers. ‘Naturally I hope this will come to nothing. But if it does not, I am a man of honour.’ Cold steel entered his voice, making Allegra flinch. ‘I take care of what is mine.’
Come to nothing.
An appropriate term for the evening they’d shared, and any possibility emerging from it. Allegra longed to rip his business card into shreds, but the gesture seemed childish. She crumpled it in her fist instead.
‘Suffice it to say,’ she bit out, ‘I have no desire ever to speak to you again, about anything.’
‘I’m serious, Allegra.’
‘So am I,’ she choked, and then hurried down the stairs.
Back at the pensione, still trembling from her encounter with Rafael, Allegra finally opened the letter from her father.
Dear Allegra,
Forgive an old man the mistakes he made out of sorrow and fear. I cared more for my reputation than for your love, and for that I will always be sorry.
Your mother loved this necklace, but it belongs to you. Please keep it for yourself, and do not show it to her.
I don’t expect you to understand, much less forgive me.
Your Papa.
Tears streaked silently down her face as she read the letter again and again, trying to make sense of it. He’d loved his reputation more than her? What did that even mean? The letter hadn’t answered anything, only stirred up more questions.
And yet...he was sorry. He had loved her. But if that was the case, why had he been able to let her go?
* * *
Rafael sat in the lawyer’s office, the acid of regret churning in his stomach. In his mind he could see Allegra’s huge, silvery, tear-filled eyes, and another pang of guilt assailed him. He’d handled last night badly. He knew that, yet he also knew he couldn’t have changed his reaction. Alberto Mancini had killed his father. What he’d done in exchange to Allegra—treating her harshly after a single night together—was negligible in comparison.
As for a possible pregnancy...he would provide for any child of his, absolutely. There was no question about that at all. But he hoped to heaven and back that Allegra was not carrying his baby. And he wished he’d been able to temper his actions last night, at least a little. Or, even better, that the whole night had never happened.
Yet even as the thought flitted through his mind he knew he was a liar. Last night had been incredible, explosive, the most intense sexual encounter of his life. He hadn’t used birth control because he’d been so overcome with desire, with basic, blatant need. He’d wanted her last night and seeing her this morning, looking so pale and proud, he’d wanted her all over again, to his own shame.
