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She hugged herself and then decided it looked too vulnerable. Her legs wouldn’t hold her, so she had no choice but to sit there. “About what? How your whole family wants you to take Arron away from me? Heck, you probably plan on it too. You just thought it would be more peaceful if you pretended you wouldn’t.”
He frowned. “So you’ve decided what kind of character I have?”
“Whatever. Just leave me alone. I’m tired and—” She hiccupped.
Oh crap! No, Sonya, don’t cry.
A teardrop plopped onto her cheek. She jumped to her feet and spun away. That evil man said nothing about her was feminine. Romy had even asked what kind of woman didn’t cry when she sprained her ankle. They were so wrong about her.
“Sonya.” His voice was too soft, held too much concern for her.
“No,” she croaked. He was making things harder. “Don’t…”
He came up behind her and scooped her off her feet. This man was making a habit of treating her like she was helpless, and she didn’t like it. While she struggled in his arms, he moved to the chair near the window and sat down with her on his lap.
“Stop fighting me.”
“Then let me go.” She swiped at the tears. “I told you I can look after myself.”
“I believe you.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. He didn’t look like he was patronizing her.
“I want you to relax. Did you notice you were limping more just now?”
“My ankle is fine.”
“You didn’t stay off it much.”
“It’s fine. For someone who told me straight out he doesn’t trust women, you sure are doing everything you can to make me trust you.”
He didn’t respond. She couldn’t read his mind or his expression.
“I’m not your enemy, Sonya.”
“Aren’t you? Your brother sure is.”
She tugged at the arm around her waist. He didn’t budge, and she sighed. Looking down, she took in the way his hips and thighs stuck out from either side of hers. His body was unyielding beneath hers, reminding her of his strength. What Romy wanted he was going to get. Some part of her knew it even as she mouthed off to all of them in the hall.
“Arron will be with me from now on,” he said.
She started to protest.
“Hear me out. I work a lot, and I can’t spend all my time with him. He’ll have to have someone to look after him when I’m working. A nanny isn’t unreasonable in my family’s position.”
She started to speak again, but he laid a finger across her lips.
“I prefer the woman who takes care of my son to be you.”
Her eyes widened.
“I told you I’m not going to take him from you. I was dead serious about that. Besides, you’re more than qualified. You even learned Italian to honor his heritage.”
She didn’t tell him she had always loved foreign languages and knew a few words in several languages. Of course, she had concentrated hard on Italian from the moment she met her sweet Arron.
“An employer doesn’t hold his nanny on his lap unless he wants a lawsuit,” she quipped.
He stiffened. “You’re not a nanny.”
