Page 243 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Oh.

“I’ll go change,” Cara said.

The nervousness in her tone must have been clear to Gian because he reached out and stroked her cheek with two fingers. “All you have to do is smile, beautiful girl. The world is so much better when you’re smiling.”

He always says the right things …

Cara still couldn’t shake the nerves as she slipped out of the flowy white dress that she had used for the photo session, and into the form-fitted coral Dolce & Gabbana number hanging in the closet. She figured the dress had been a silent apology of sorts from Gian, as something had come up in the week, and he’d rushed off to Ottawa to take care of it.

For the most part, he had spent the first couple of days after Marcus’s birth with her, then one night at the penthouse, before heading back to the mansion. He had promised to come right back the very next night, but the Ottawa thing came up, and ruined those plans.

Quickly, Cara checked herself in the mirror as she slipped on a pair of black pumps and a diamond choker. Another expensive gift that she had woken up to the morning after Marcus’s birth. Gian had only shrugged and smiled slyly when Cara asked where it came from.

Thankfully, her fit and slim form was bouncing back rather fast. She thanked breastfeeding, good genetics, and the fact she had been in decent shape before and throughout the pregnancy for that little gift from God. Of course, things were different.

Her body was still different. Slightly wider in the hips. Her breasts were bigger. And her stomach had softened slightly, even as it flattened back down.

She had worried about the changes, both selfishly and vainly. She wished now that she hadn’t spent time on that nonsense at all.

Cara came out of the bedroom and into the main section of the penthouse to find the photographer had left, but the new guests had arrived. Her presence wasn’t noticed as she hung back in the entryway, and watched the newcomers ooh and awe over her son in his father’s arms.

Gian’s mother and father, and his siblings, each took their turns giving little Marcus their time and attention.

“Oh, look at his little fingers,” Crystal said softly.

“Guzzi eyes,” Domenic noted.

“Not just the eyes,” Celeste said of her grandson. “Look at the boy—he’s Gian’s spitting image, my God.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Gian asked, his pride shining through.

“Oui, he looks just like you did when you were brand new. Doux bébé,” Celeste cooed, running her fingers through the wisps of Marcus’s dark hair.

“And her,” said the quiet, tall man standing just a few feet back from the others. “He looks like her, too. You can’t miss that.”

Cara shifted as the man’s gaze fell on her in the entryway. It seemed she had not gone as unnoticed as she previously thought. She knew who he was—Gian’s father, Frederic. She didn’t know a lot about the man, as Gian didn’t offer, but she had heard things in passing.

He did not approve.

Not of her.

Not of her child.

Not of Gian’s choices.

Just the way Frederic’s cold gaze passed over her, and darted back to the baby boy in Celeste’s arms, Cara knew all of those things were true.

“He does take after Cara quite a bit, too,” Gian said, losing the happier tone from earlier. He turned to Cara, extending an arm and opening his hand wide for her to step forward and take. She did, still unsure and unsettled in her heart. “Remember what I said about today, Dad.”

“I came, didn’t I?” Frederic asked.

“Sì, but remember, too. This is not your home. Your rules do not apply here. Mine do. Hers do.”

Dom cleared his throat, and quickly diverted the attention back to the baby. While it helped a bit, Cara still couldn’t shake the coldness she had found waiting for her in Frederic’s gaze, or how he all but dismissed her presence, even when he was standing directly beside her.

It was difficult.

A shameful feeling burned in her throat.