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ustration and something he couldn’t quite decipher. Not resentment... Impotency?
He knew he was in a position of power here, and he wasn’t afraid to use it if it meant that he could keep her where he could watch her, try to see if he could salvage anything from this situation and take care of his child’s future.
It struck him then. The equanimity with which he was taking this news of becoming a father. Because it didn’t feel real.
Maybe he was still in shock. Maybe if Skye had looked pregnant...
He suddenly had a mental image of her body growing and ripening with his baby. It was curiously vivid and provocative. Provocative enough to make him say curtly, ‘The truth is that you have to face the fact that your life has changed as much as mine has. We are both responsible for this and we’re in it together. How that will pan out remains to be seen, but for now your place is here. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it doesn’t appear as if there’s a whole lot tying you to Dublin. You have no other family?’
He saw her wince slightly at that, and pushed down the twinge of his conscience.
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s just me.’
Why did Lazaro suddenly feel like a heel? And also, more disconcertingly, a strange tug of resonance? He, too, was pretty much alone in the world. Always had been. He trusted very few—only one or two people. A couple of friends he’d made along the way.
Her chin came up, and her eyes were sparking with blue fire. They looked like bright sapphires.
‘I do have a life, you know. I’m an independent person. The only reason I will consider your suggestion to stay here is because it’ll be for the good of the baby—but don’t assume that I’ll say yes just because you don’t like what I do or where I live. You have no jurisdiction over me and I could have just as easily decided not to tell you about this baby. But I did.’
To Lazaro’s surprise, Skye picked up her handbag and put it over her shoulder.
‘I’m going to go out to a coffee shop and take a little time to think things over. Then I’ll let you know what I plan to do.’
He was too stunned to say anything as she turned and walked out through the door, her bright red hair falling down her back. And then she was gone.
Lazaro looked around him. He saw her passport was still on the table and something eased inside him. She might try to run but she wouldn’t get far.
He went over to the window, restless. He had to consider what she’d just said—that she could have easily not told him he was to be a father. Cynically, he didn’t believe that for a second—not when she knew he was worth so much. But at the same time he had to concede that there were plenty of instances where men weren’t informed of their fatherhood. And the thought of a child of his, out there in the world unbeknownst to him, made his blood run cold.
His whole life he’d cultivated a deep and abiding anger at his parents for doing what they had. Essentially disposing of him like an unwanted package. That anger had driven him and fuelled him to achieve and to succeed—which he had done, many times over.
But he was honest enough to admit that his anger masked a deep hurt that they’d abandoned him to save their own reputations and precious legacies. So, no matter what happened now with Skye and this baby, they would always be a part of his life. He would never visit the same treatment on his own flesh and blood.
Last night might have been an unmitigated disaster, and it had derailed his plans, but once he’d dealt with Skye and the future of their child he was confident he would get things back on track.
The fact that he wanted her was a weakness he would not indulge again.
As if to taunt his resolve he saw her emerging from the lobby of the hotel, some twenty floors below him. She lifted her face to the late-summer sun and her hair glinted bright red. He watched her pull it up into a careless topknot and saw more than one man do a double-take as they walked past.
Lazaro’s eyes raked over her slim form. The perfectly proportioned curves. She truly was a million miles from Leonora’s classically elegant beauty, but his hands had never itched to trace Leonora’s body.
It was Skye he’d been thinking of even as he’d prepared to commit himself to another woman. Her curves he’d thought about...her pert breasts—
Basta.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets.
He’d never envisaged marrying for lust, or for any emotion. Those things were dangerous. Those things were not controllable. And Lazaro knew he needed to be very controlled in all he did because he would always be held to a higher standard than anyone else. Because the people whose opinion he cared about would want to see him fail.
Blissfully oblivious to Lazaro’s tangled thoughts, Skye pulled sunglasses from her bag and set off towards the coffee shop across the road, looking for all the world like a carefree student.
Who had just been given a golden ticket for life, Lazaro surmised grimly. He refused to believe she wasn’t aware of just how powerful her position was.
She disappeared into the coffee shop and he had to curb the urge to go after her. Instead he made a call on his phone, and after a few seconds saw one of his men go and take up a spot near the café.
He was fairly sure she wouldn’t disappear, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
* * *
