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His body was taut, his expression stiff, his eyes watchful and mistrustful, and in that moment, Bella experienced a sharp moment of doubt, a tremor of something like regret that she’d even come here.
But this man was the father of her baby, and he deserved to know about the pregnancy. She didn’t need anything from him, but she’d seen what secret babies did to people, and she knew that heartbreak was an inevitability of that kind of lie.
She couldn’t put that on her child, nor herself.
She sucked in a breath, looking at him and trying to recall the strength of the connection they’d shared that night, the way he’d kissed her and held her. She tried to remember that he was simply a man, rather than this powerful tycoon with his sky-high office, bespoke suit and hard stare.
Only it was impossible, and inside she was trembling with a whole host of emotions.
“Vitalo,” she stepped deeper into the room, pushing the door shut behind her.
He didn’t react at first. And then, with a frown pulling at his lips, and a look of consternation, “It’s Beatrix, isn’t it?”
Her chest swirled with hurt and shame. He didn’t even remember her name? Did he remember her? His look showed no. Her stomach swooped, dropping right out of her body, leaving her with a clawing sense of pain and… embarrassment. A sense of being stupid and naïve.
“Bella.” The word was just a breath. She swallowed, knowing she needed to get a grip on herself.
“Of course.” His frown deepened. “We met… on the yacht? At the Hammerstein benefit?”
Oh, God. It was going from bad to worse. “No,” she shook her head, her face draining of all colour, her knees feeling incredibly weak. How many women did he sleep with? Who did he take home after the damned Hammerstein benefit? She cleared her throat. “My mother’s wedding. Kat Howard.”
“Ah,” he nodded, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. “That’s right. The virgin.”
She spun away from him on the pretense of shrugging out of her jacket. It was November and when she’d flown out of Edinburgh that morning, it had been bitterly cold, but here in Athens, in his glass monolith, under the lackluster glow of his non-concern, she felt hot. And cold. She felt a thousand things and none of them good.
The virgin. As though he had a trite little phrase for each of the women he took to bed. Hell, he probably did.
“Yes, the virgin.”
“I believe I told you that night was a one-time thing. I’m not quite sure what you’re doing here in my office…” he let the words drift into nothing and each syllable slipped inside her nervous system, making her body tremble.
“Not for a do-over, believe me,” she snapped, lifting a hand to her hair and toying with the ends before realizing it was a nervous gesture. She dropped her hand to her side and turned to face him, and the coldness of his expression almost knocked her sideways.
She knew enough of secret babies to know it wasn’t a good idea to keep such a thing from a man, and yet, as she stared at him and he looked at her as though he was still trying to remember a thing about her, the words she’d come prepared to speak sunk inside of her.
“Then?” He prompted, and cast a look at his watch, his impatience the nail in the coffin of the confession she’d wanted to make.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, compressing her lips. “I shouldn’t have come.”
For a second he frowned, and she thought he might be going to urge her to stay, to wait with him, but then, he nodded.
“Probably not.” He walked towards the door, curving his hand over the knob, his eyes latched to hers with bland curiosity. “You used the name Salbatore just now. Why?”
Bella frowned. “It’s my legal name. I’m used to it.”
“You don’t use your parents’ name?”
“It’s my married name,” she said with a small shrug. “I never thought to change it.”
And his eyes flared wide and his surprise was evident. How could the innocent woman he’d taken to bed have been a virgin? It made very little sense and she could see that he was filled with a dozen questions on the matter.
But he apparently fought the urge to ask even a single one. “I see.” He drew the door inwards, waiting for her to step out of his office. The lack of ceremony and civility were shocking; nerves that had been jangling all morning were numb now, or slayed, possibly for good.
She looked into his eyes, the eyes of the man who’d taken her virginity, the man who would be the father to her child, and she felt frozen to her very core.
“I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
*
