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“I’m pregnant,” she spoke calmly, but it was a calmness born of practice, as though she’d rehearsed what she wanted to say and was repeating it now.
“And the baby is mine?” He interrupted, needing clarity immediately.
Her eyes flared wide with obvious surprise. “Who else’s would it be?”
The simplicity of that gave away a lot of information, namely that it wasn’t physically possible for any other man to be the father. And the only way she could know that was if she hadn’t been with another man since him.
Possessive heat fired in his gut. “You’re pregnant with my child?”
“Yes.” She compressed her full pink lips. “And I came here today to tell you, as a courtesy, because I think it’s something you should be aware of. With gossip the way it is in Ondechiara, I’m surprised news of this hasn’t already reached you,” she lifted her shoulders then narrowed her eyes, as if she’d gone off track. “I’m telling you because I think you should know but not because I want anything from you. I saw what happened with Fiero and Elodie, and how hard that was for him, and I would never want to put you through that. You’re going to be a father, and when the baby is born, you can decide how much of a part you want to play. I won’t pressure you, Massimo. So far as I’m concerned, this doesn’t need to change anything between you and me.”
He listened to her cool little speech with a growing sense of furious disbelief. “I see.” He stood, walking to the buffet across the room and reaching for his decanter of scotch before changing his mind and grabbing out two bottles of lightly sparkling mineral water.
“Naturally I’ll continue living in my own home, and you have the villa so will be able to see our baby from time to time.”
“And how often do you think this will be?” He prompted, playing her game even when he wanted to break the glass windows of his office with how her suggestion was gnawing through him.
“I thought once a month?”
“Once a month,” he nodded, striding across the room with the mineral water out held, his eyes burning into hers.
“If you like,” she said simply, like they were discussing something as banal as what colour to paint a wall in the house. “If you would prefer to forget we exist then that’s fine too.”
“Christo.” He cracked the lid off, wishing he’d gone with his first preference and thrown back a decent measure of scotch. “Who the hell do you think I am, Alessia?”
Only the rapid beating of a pulse point at the base of her jaw gave anything away. Her expression was held in a placid mask.
“You’re my ex-husband, a man I haven’t seen more than a few times in the last five years. You’re part of my past, and while this baby links us in some way, it doesn’t have to be the case. This was an accident,” she swallowed hard, her throat knotting visibly. “Neither of us planned this.”
“You don’t want it?”
Her eyes flared wide. “I…”
He waited, his breath held, needing to hear her answer more than he could say. She lowered her eyes to the carpet, shielding her gaze from him.
“That’s a moot point.”
“Not to me, it isn’t.”
“Not having planned to fall pregnant doesn’t mean I don’t want the baby now, Max.” Her hand curved over her stomach, her face shifting completely so he felt an abundance of love and affection bursting from her skin. “From the minute I realised I was pregnant I have wanted this child more than I have words to express.”
Something shifted inside of him – something like a primal flare of male pride. He had never particularly relished the idea of having children though he would have accommodated Alessia if she had wished for them at some point. “I’m glad.” His voice was raw, the words thick with emotion, so her eyes jerked to his and something buzzed between them.
She blinked, her express
ion growing cold and businesslike once more. She sipped her water then placed the bottle on the edge of his desk, standing and reaching for her scarf. “Naturally, I’ll let you know once she’s been born –,”
“She?”
Her eyes flickered closed again. “We’re having a daughter.”
His heart galloped. It wasn’t that he had a preference for either gender, only knowing which gender made him feel instantly more connected to the whole idea, as though the baby was no longer an abstract concept but was a real little person.
“You don’t have to make up your mind today about the kind of role you’d like to play in her life. Even once she’s born, there’ll be years before she’s really conscious of what a ‘normal’ family looks like – what even is normal these days, anyway? I don’t want to pressure you. As I said earlier, I just felt you should know.”
Her obvious desire to sideline him had every cell in his body reverberating. “I appreciate it has been five years since we divorced but I cannot believe you no longer know anything about me, Alessia.”
She stilled, midway through reaching for her jacket.
