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The idea had memories slamming through her – Massimo’s brother Fiero who had become a father without his knowledge. The discovery of his son Jack had almost destroyed him, realising he’d missed two years of Jack’s life, and it had made him unbelievably hard on Elodie, Jack’s mother. They’d resolved their differences now, and were one of the happiest couples Alessia had ever seen, but that didn’t change the fact she’d had first-hand insight into what a secret baby could do to a man – and especially a Montebello.
With a noise of frustration, she closed her eyes, blotting out the pristine ocean beyond her window, and the moonlight cutting across it. Doubts besieged her.
She had to do something. But before she jumped the gun, surely that would involve confirming the pregnancy with a test? And that would have to wait until the morning. Conventional wisdom would have her wait out another month or so, until the first trimester had passed. She would tell him the truth, but there was no need to rush it. Far better for Alessia to get used to the idea before she had to drop the bombshell in Massimo’s lap.
Reassured, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but all the while her dreams were filled with chubby little babies with olive skin and curly hair…
* * *
She’d been to his office only once – on the day they’d signed the divorce papers. It had been two weeks after he’d moved out of their penthouse, and the sight of him had flooded her body with love and need and hurt and sorrow.
He had been implacable. Resolute and determined, cold and businesslike, just as she knew the rest of the world regarded him.
They hadn’t been alone – a lawyer had joined them, explaining each of the clauses to her, as though she were too stupid to understand the simple contract. She’d railed against the terms of settlement. It was too generous- a huge allowance and trust fund, neither of which she wanted. “It’s been decided.”
She hadn’t needed to ask Max ‘by whom’. She’d known. Him, and her father. Just as they had decided about the marriage.
So she’d nodded and signed where the line indicated and that had been it. He’d stood, his eyes resting on her face just long enough to send her pulse firing and her heart breaking anew, long enough to make her want to shout that she hadn’t slept with the man in the photos, to tell him how sorry she was. But she didn’t. Somehow, the photos had resurrected some of her tattered pride – the pride his disinterest in her had stripped away through the year of their marriage.
He had divorced her and that was that. Nothing could be served by telling him the truth.
She’d waited until she’d left the building before giving into the tears that clogged her throat and eyes.
It was little wonder that standing in the foyer of his executive level now she felt a thundering through her veins as memories of that day besieged her.
Children are not on my agenda right now, Alessia. One day, when they are, we may discuss making this marriage intimate. Just like that. Everything on his terms, always. Everything was a deal, a discussion, so cold and pragmatic, the exact opposite of how she’d felt.
At least now she could harness that approach, treat him with measured, businesslike cool rather than letting her emotions overrule her.
“He won’t be long,” one of the executive assistants murmured, a crisp smile shaping her lips.
“That’s fine.” She’d decided against making an appointment. Forewarning him of her arrival might have led to questions and delays, and she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible – and on her terms for once.
Her hand curved over her rounded tummy, the flutterings there filling her with more than her fair share of butterflies. But she wouldn’t allow her anxiety to communicate itself. She kept herself still, her knees tight together, her shoulders squared, her eyes fixed on a piece of corporate art across the room – so different to the renaissance masterpieces that adorned Massimo’s home.
Everything in Montebello Torre was steel and glass, modern and minimalist.
A phone began to ring, and Alessia startled, her nerves already stretched to breaking point.
“Signorina? Mr Montebello can see you now.”
There was no disguising her five month baby bump as she stood, her coat parting to reveal the perfect shape, and Alessia was conscious of the assistant’s gaze swooping discreetly, curiosity sparking in her eyes for the briefest moment before cool professionalism was back in place. Alessia didn’t need to worry that the assistant would call the press and sell the gossipy piece of news – Massimo surrounded himself with people who respected his privacy. It was one of the reasons her ‘betrayal’ had been so reckless. For a man who valued the boundaries between his private life and his public persona, she had dragged him through the tabloid mud. As a twenty year old, Alessia had almost been glad for that, but now she felt only ashamed.
“Thank you,” she nodded crisply, swallowing hard as she walked across the foyer, her heels making a clicking noise with each step she took. An early winter cold snap had gripped Rome, and the sky beyond the expansive windows was grey and leaden. The morning’s rain had given way to sleet. Alessia arranged her scarf carefully, moving her coat so that her pregnancy wouldn’t be the first thing Max noticed about her. She couldn’t say why but she felt like she needed to control this – to tell him slowly without him simply seeing the truth for himself.
* * *
Max stared at the papers on his desk for several moments, even after the door opened and Gianna announced, “Miss Anando is here to see you, sir.”
“Thank you.” The words were barely a growl. He steeled himself for this, flicking his eyes towards her for the briefest moment before returning them, with effort, to the report he was reading.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the leather chair opposite without looking her direction again.
“Thank
you.” Her own voice was clipped and cool, as though she were being dragged here against her will. So why had she come? Of their own volition, his eyes strayed to the boardroom table across his office, where they’d sat the day she’d come to sign the divorce papers. Then, he’d been so angry with her, the sting of her affair still burning hot in his gut, so he couldn’t look at her without imagining another man’s hands, mouth, body, possessing her. He wasn’t a violent man but thoughts of that had almost robbed him of sanity. He ground his teeth together now, moving his eyes to her face when he could trust himself to meet her gaze with an expression of polite inquiry. After all, the last time he’d seen her, Alessia had said ‘I never want to see you again’ seconds before stalking from his apartment.
“Alessia, this is a surprise.”
