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‘I’m not going to be fobbed off with some custody agreement,’ Rafael stated. ‘I would not wish such a thing on any child, and certainly not mine. I’m not going to be satisfied with weekends or holidays, an evening here or there.’
‘I think you’re being extreme,’ Allegra protested. ‘Plenty of children have divorced parents and they grow up well adjusted and happy. We can find a way forward that suits us both...’
Rafael arched an eyebrow. ‘Was that your experience?’
She bit her lip, caught by the admission. ‘That was different.’
‘How?’
‘Because we wouldn’t be getting divorced. Our child wouldn’t know one thing and then have to learn another. There wouldn’t be a sense of loss, because it would be how it always was, our son’s normal.’
His lip curled. ‘My lack of involvement would be normal?’
Allegra looked away. ‘Why does it have to be your lack of involvement? Surely we can work something out.’
‘How? You live in New York and I live in Sicily. A baby’s place is with his mother, I recognise that. So what happens? I get our son when he’s two or three? Four? Five?’
‘No.’ The word was torn from her, trembling and indignant.
Rafael gave a nod of cold satisfaction.
‘You wouldn’t want that either. You don’t want to share our child, and neither do I.’
Realisation crept coldly through her, a seeping mist obscuring rational thought. She understood what he was saying, and yet... ‘Then what are you suggesting?’ she forced herself to ask.
‘I want to be involved in our son’s life, Allegra,’ Rafael stated. ‘Completely involved. You cannot deny me that. You will not.’
Allegra stiffened, hearing an implied threat in the words. ‘And if I do?’ she dared to ask.
‘Do not even think of it.’ Rafael’s voice was a low thrum of grim intent. ‘You do not want to experience the full force of my anger and power.’
‘Wow.’ She let out a shaky laugh, amazed and horrified at how they’d got to this place. Last night he’d held her so tenderly, she’d been halfway to caring about him. Trusting him. Today he was the merciless stranger who had kicked her out of his bed. There was a lesson to be learned here. She’d thought she’d learned it already, but it seemed she hadn’t taken it in, not fully. ‘You’re bringing out the big guns, aren’t you? And I thought I’d felt your anger and power once before.’
‘Not even close,’ Rafael answered coolly. ‘Trust me.’
Never. The limo had pulled up to the hotel. Allegra gazed at the elegant building overlooking Central Park, and felt as if she were about to enter a prison, one to which Rafael held the keys. She couldn’t go inside, not willingly.
‘We can discuss the necessary arrangements,’ she told Rafael in as dignified a tone as she could manage. ‘Of course I want to accommodate you as best as I can. I want our baby to have an involved father as much as you do. A completely involved father. We can work something out, Rafael. I know we can.’ A bellboy came forward to open her door. ‘But I also want to return to my life,’ Allegra said as firmly as she could. ‘My apartment, my job. Now that we know things are okay there’s no need for me to stay here.’ And she could use some distance from Rafael and his autocratic commands, his unsettling presence. She moved to get out of the car and Rafael stayed her with one powerful hand encircling her wrist, the proprietary touch shocking her.
‘You don’t understand, Allegra,’ he informed her in a lethal tone. ‘You’re not going back to your apartment or your job or even your life. As soon as possible you’re coming to Sicily to live with me...as my wife.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALLEGRA STOOD IN the centre of their hotel suite, her whole body trembling. As his wife? The words he’d spoken moments ago in the limo reverberated through her. With no choice but to get out of the car and deal with this head on, she’d stalked up to their suite and then turned to face him, every atom of her being radiating outrage. Shock. Fear. Rafael, on the other hand, looked cool, calm and completely in control.
