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‘He really is quite lovely, when you get to know him.’
‘Alessandro? Lovely?’ she asked, truly bewildered.
‘Yes, well. You know, aside from...that,’ the old man said, apparently reluctant to use the word kidnap. ‘Now. I need to talk to you about some tests we would like to run to find out why you might have fainted.’
Alessandro sat in the early morning sun, with his head in his hands and his mind completely blank. Instead of the dawn chorus of birds, or the chatter of cicadas, a high-pitched buzz rang in his ears. He’d been awake for nearly forty-eight hours now, having only really caught the odd hour or so the night before as he sat vigil by Amelia’s beside. He hadn’t reached her in time. She’d hit the floor with an alarming thud, the sound of which would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He’d called Dr Moretti before moving her and only when the man had agreed to come straight away had he allowed himself to breathe. He’d picked her up and carried her straight to this room. Moretti had arrived in under twenty minutes—but the damage had been done.
Alessandro had been plunged right back into a nightmare from his childhood and the horror of waiting for the doctor to come for his mother, lying bruised, bloodied and broken on her bed. His father’s gaze had been full of anger, resentment and indignation, but the whites of his eyes had held only fear. Fear that he’d finally gone too far.
A cold sweat and tremors had racked his body so much so that Moretti had tried to assess him first, but Alessandro had thrown him off in favour of Amelia. Only when the man had started making his assessment had Alessandro begun to calm down.
For a while at least.
Because then had come the questions—about her medical history, any allergies, intolerances, how long since she’d last eaten, was she on any medication. Thankfully he had access to her medical file on his work computer and he’d shared it with Moretti. Having read it, the doctor had declared that, as there was no immediate life-threatening urgency, any further diagnosis could wait until she woke.
Alessandro had been tempted to argue but his mouth had been quicker than his brain. ‘What tests?’
‘Oh, the usual. FBC, LFT, U and E, glucose, HCG.’
The first he’d recognised from reruns of medical dramas he’d catch late night on TV when he couldn’t sleep. But HCG?
‘Yes. HCG levels will let us know if she’s pregnant,’ Moretti had blithely declared.
And that was when Alessandro’s mind had gone blank and the doctor had put two and two together much quicker than he and Amelia might have.
It wasn’t possible. They had used protection. Every. Single. Time.
Because Alessandro would never have taken such a risk. Never. Alessandro had made a promise to his father—his direct bloodline would end with him. And he’d meant it. He had absolutely no intention of forcing such a heritage on any other poor bastard. What Gianni chose to do was on him. But Alessandro? No, he had been clear about this since the very night that Amelia’s collapse had reminded him of; he would never have a child.
He scoffed, laughing bitterly at himself. He’d always thought of it as his decision, as if his will alone were enough to make it so. Now he could see that the sheer arrogance of such a thought was shockingly naïve and ignorant. Because if shewaspregnant, if therewasa baby, Alessandro knew that whatever happened from here on out was up to her.
A woman who had hidden her true identity, snuck into Rossi Industries like a spy, determined to prove them corrupt, and, when that hadn’t happened, had sabotaged them. And from the little he did know about Amelia? She was excellent. Quick, intelligent, focused, determined. Without a shadow of a doubt, if she had intended destruction, it was assured. And he still had absolutely no clue what she’d done. He had a team of people searching through everything she’d touched, but that could take too long.
He shook his head. Was that really important? They needed to deal with one thing at a time. And first—
Dr Moretti came out into the small courtyard, eyes bright as always. ‘It is a beautiful day,’ he announced unnecessarily.
Alessandro resisted the urge to growl. The old man had always been kind. Had always been there when his mother or Gianni’s mother had needed him, the mean, vicious streak shared by the two Vizzini brothers. An image formed in his mind of the two bitter old men, slowly drinking their vineyard into insignificance. The pure glee in his father’s eyes that his direct bloodline might continue made his throat thick with acrid bile.
‘Come sta?’
‘Tired, thirsty, a little confused, but she’s better than you from the look of things,’ the doctor replied in quick-fire Italian. ‘She’s asking for you.’
Alessandro swallowed. His heart began to race, his pulse pounding in his ears.
‘Take a breath, Alessandro, oryou’llfaint this time.’
He nodded and drew quick and deep, holding it there for a few seconds before controlling the release. And then readied himself for whatever was to come. Even if that meant he was tied for the rest of his life to a woman he could never trust and who could probably never trust him.
Amelia shook her head back and forth. This couldn’t be happening.
‘I’m on the pill,’ she said, looking up at the doctor.
‘And I used a condom,’ Alessandro said, also staring at the poor man as if delivering the news of Amelia’s pregnancy made it his fault.
‘I had a period,’ Amelia said, her lips numb with shock. ‘I didn’t... Oh, God, I’ve been taking the pill all this time...’ The sudden and shocking fear that she might have somehow already hurt the little bundle of cells trying desperately to grow into a tiny human was horrible.
