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She pressed her hands to her temples, a crashing headache beginning its aching pulse. ‘I need to think,’ she muttered. ‘And I need to lie down. I’m tired, and not everything is certain, Rafael. The doctor said I’d have to undergo some tests later this week.’
She rose from the sofa, stumbling slightly, and in one quick, fluid movement, Rafael rose to grasp her arm and steady her.
‘Rest is a good idea,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll make you some herbal tea to help settle you. Chamomile is what you like, isn’t it?’
She glanced up at him in confused disbelief. Who was this man? ‘Don’t do this,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t be horrible one moment and kind the next. I don’t understand it. I can’t take it.’ Not again. With what felt like superhuman effort she shook off his arm and walked alone to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
* * *
Rafael stared at the closed door and swore under his breath. That had not gone as he’d hoped or wanted. Yet what else could he have done? He wasn’t going to negotiate, not about something as important as this. He certainly wasn’t going to settle for some custody arrangement. And trying to woo Allegra with false words and oozing sentiment had felt like a waste of time and, well, wrong.
When he’d learned their child would be healthy all his protective instincts had risen to a clamour inside him. He needed Allegra and their son with him. He needed to be in control. He needed to make sure nothing went wrong. Things would be different this time. He would be different. But first he had to get her to agree.
Impatient and yet resolute, Rafael stalked to the kitchen and switched on the electric kettle. He’d make her the promised cup of tea, at least, to show he wasn’t a complete boor.
But when he tapped on Allegra’s door and the quietly opened it, he found she was already fast asleep, her Titian hair spread across the pillow, one hand tucked under her cheek, golden-red lashes feathering her pale cheeks. She looks so vulnerable and lovely it made something in him twist and tighten, and he promised right then that he’d make it up to her, to them. They could make this work. They would.
* * *
Several hours later Allegra opened the door to her bedroom and appeared, yawning and sleepy. Rafael turned from where he’d been trying to do work on his laptop and mostly failing.
Now he tried for a neutral expression as he watched her stretch, the thin T-shirt pulling across her breasts. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, surprisingly. I didn’t realise quite how tired I was.’ She went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, her hair tumbling about her face in corkscrew curls, her face now set in serious lines. ‘You asked me what my life would look like if I stayed in New York,’ she said as she curled up on the sofa opposite him and took a sip of water. ‘So now I want to ask you the same thing. What would my—our—life look like if I come with you to Sicily?’
Relief and hope expanded in his chest, made his head light. She was going to agree. He kept his expression steady, his voice mild as he answered. ‘We would live on my estate in the mountains above Palermo. It is spacious and comfortable, with every luxury to hand. A large garden, a pool, every amusement for a growing little boy.’
Allegra nodded slowly, looking less impressed than Rafael had expected or wanted her to be. ‘And what about schooling?’ she asked. ‘When the time comes? And friends?’
‘Of course those as well,’ he answered. ‘There are plenty of good schools in the area and if we could not find one that was to our satisfaction, I would be willing to consider other options.’
She arched a delicate eyebrow. ‘Such as?’
Rafael shrugged, his mind racing. He felt that Allegra was looking for something from him and he didn’t know what it was. ‘We could relocate, within reason. To Rome or Milan, perhaps. I have offices in both cities.’
‘Or New York?’
He hesitated, sensing a test. ‘The majority of my business is in Europe,’ he said finally. ‘A relocation to New York is not out of the question for some time in the future, but not now.’
She nodded, her lips pursed, and Rafael waited. ‘What about me?’ she finally asked. ‘What would my life look like in Sicily, Rafael?’
