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“We did not discuss it in detail. She mentioned it in passing but I knew, immediately, what the significance of your pregnancy was.”
“You must have been shocked.”
His laugh was humourless. “Blindsided, in fact. I cannot remember ever feeling more surprised. Nor more angry with myself.”
“Angry?” She prompted curiously.
“For not giving you a proper hearing, the day you came to my office. I knew as soon as Kat mentioned the baby why you must have come to me, that day. What courage it must have taken.”
Her smile was wry. “It would have been more courageous if I’d stuck to my plan and told you.”
“When I pretended I did not even remember you?” He asked, arching a dark brow and smiling, ruefully.
Something like pleasure trembled in Bella’s heart. “Why did you pretend?” she murmured, leaning forward, hunger forgotten, breakfast no longer needed.
He sipped his coffee, replacing the cup in the saucer, then returning his gaze to her face. Her stomach squeezed when their eyes met and, as if for the first time, she felt his handsomeness wrap around her, his sexual appeal like a dagger sliding over her nerve endings.
“Your father was a hero of mine,” he said, the words quiet, the confession drawn from him heavily. “He welcomed me into his family, his life. He was a friend to me, yes, but more than that, he was a father-figure, of sorts. On the night of your mother’s wedding, when we slept together, I had no idea who you were. If I had, I would never have approached you. Not like that. Not for what was meant to be a meaningless one-night stand. Cristo, if I’d known you were a virgin I would have absolutely walked in the opposite direction as fast as I could. Realising not only that I had slept with Andrew Howard’s daughter, but that I had taken something as precious as your innocence…”
“You regretted it,” she said quietly, her eyes running over his face, wishing he hadn’t carried that burden of guilt. “You wished it hadn’t happened.”
“Yes,” he said, frankly. “I did. Back then, I did. When you came to my office, I wanted you to go away again, I wanted to forget what I had done.”
Bella’s eyes dropped to the tabletop. His feelings made sense, but that didn’t stop them from hurting. “It was my decision, too.”
“You did not know who I was. You knew nothing about my connection to him, or your mother.”
“I just knew that I wanted
to have sex,” she said, lifting her eyes to his and piercing him with the strength of her conviction. “Honestly, Vitalo, if it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else.”
Something dark flickered in his gaze, and his jaw tightened visibly. “It is best we do not speak of that alternative.”
“I’m saying it to alleviate any misplaced sense of guilt. You didn’t corrupt an innocent little virgin. I knew what I was doing.”
“Nonetheless,” he drawled, the word stiffened with resolve. “I would prefer not to think of you finding some other man to sleep with.”
“Then be thankful I didn’t,” she suggested, waggling her brows, smiling at him slowly. “Don’t waste your energy feeling guilty.”
Silence spread between them, and eventually, he nodded – a curt shift of his dark head.
Satisfied, she settled back in her chair. “Speaking of my mom, I am going to have to tell her about this. Our marriage. The fact you’re the father.”
His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “There’s no rush,” he said, his smile changing his handsome face, making warmth pool in the pit of her stomach. “Let it be just the two of us for a little while longer.”
“Sophia will murder me,” she said, biting down on her lip. “But I do kind of like the idea of keeping all the outside world at bay…”
“Then it’s settled.” He kissed her hand. “Would you like to see more of the island?”
There wasn’t much she could say she wanted more, in that moment, and so she nodded, falling into step beside him.
A white, graveled path led away from the house, towards one of the citrus groves. “It’s so beautiful here,” she couldn’t help admiring, as they weaved beneath bows of trees, laden with fruit.
He reached up so he could hold a branch back for her. “My mother had this grove planted,” he said, quite matter-of-factly. “She loved to make jams – it was something her mother had taught her to do as a child. Some of my strongest childhood memories are of my mother peeling oranges for hours, patiently chopping them and discarding the pips, then stirring them as the sweet, sticky smell filled the house.”
His words created such a strong image in Bella’s mind that her heart ached for the loss of his mother, and the void it must have left in his life. She knew what that emptiness was like, what a battle it was to cope with. “Did she teach you to make it?”
“She tried,” he said, his smile laced with memories. “I wasn’t a particularly willing pupil. There was always too much else to do,” he added, reaching up and plucking a blossom from a tree as they passed, bringing it to his nose and smelling it.
