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‘Please...’ Dr Moretti said in a way that clearly requested some calm from the other two adults in the room. ‘Firstly, there is no evidence to suggest that continuing to take the hormonal contraception harms a pregnancy. Secondly, no contraception is one hundred per cent assured. It seems this is an instance of...’ He looked between Amelia and Alessandro as if trying to gauge the appropriate word, and decided it didn’t need clarifying. ‘It is possible that, for some women, periods continue throughout the entire pregnancy. You will want to monitor this with your own doctor when you get home.’
Home. A flat she shared with her sister. A sister still hell-bent on vengeance against her baby’s father and his cousin. Oh, God, Rossi Industries. Firstview. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying to keep the swell of nausea down. It was all too much.
‘Water biscuits. My wife swore by them through all four of her pregnancies.’
She glanced up at the doctor and then to Alessandro, who looked as pale and shocked as she felt.
Moretti, realising that there was clearly much to be discussed, announced that he would let himself out and left the two of them alone in a room that suddenly felt stifling. She needed air. She decided that she wanted to get up at exactly the time that Alessandro collapsed back into the chair she had woken to find him in that morning, only a few hours ago when the world had been completely different.
When she wasn’t carrying her enemy’s baby. Only, wasn’tshethe enemy?
She bit back a groan. It was all so confusing. She lifted the sheet back and swung her legs out, her feet hitting the cold floor with a slap, yanking Alessandro’s attention back to her. Or more specifically her legs. Slashes of red appeared across cheekbones that could cut glass, and she looked away, clenching her teeth against the shocking wave of responding arousal she felt at the sheerheatin his eyes.
She might have been able to blame a lot of what had happened in the past six weeks on the hormones, she now realised, but not what had initially driven her into the arms of this enigmatic, powerful and, most definitely, dangerous Italian.
By the time she looked back up, Alessandro had found something intensely interesting out of the window to look at.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, his voice thick and rough.
‘I’d like some air,’ she replied, fighting another wave of nausea that had more to do with guilt than her pregnancy.
The large Alessandro-sized T-shirt hung from her small frame, beneath which was—thankfully—her underwear. The hemline hit her high on her thigh but she decided that modesty and propriety were the least of her and Alessandro’s problems.
She stood, testing her strength, and was happy to find that she wasn’t as weak as she’d feared. She got to the door of the room, the burning touch of Alessandro’s gaze on her the entire time, and realised she didn’t know where to go.
‘A little help?’ she asked, ruefully.
A hand appeared at her elbow and she jerked away from it. ‘Not that kind of help. How do I get out of here?’ She stood aside to let him pass and lead the way. Beams of sunlight flooded the hallway and she realised she didn’t know what time it was.
‘How long was I out?’
‘The entire night,’ Alessandro replied.
She frowned. ‘And you?’
‘I stayed with you.’
Instinctively she reached out to take his wrist, pulling him round and dropping his hand the moment he looked at where they touched—as if he wasn’t sure whether to push her away or hold on.
‘Have you slept at all in the last two days?’
He laughed, a single punch of bitterness and incredulity. ‘That matters to you?’
Yes, it did, she was surprised to find. Without the line her vendetta had drawn between them, the feelings she’d tried to deny were creeping in. But, clearly, he wouldn’t have believed her if she’d admitted as much. Instead, she bit her lip to prevent any further stupidity from escaping and when he turned back to lead her out of the house, she followed in silence.
Step by step, very quickly, Amelia was realising just how dire her situation truly was. As someone whose job was to make assessments, identify problems and present solutions in order to achieve the greatest success, she was under no illusions about her current predicament.
She had nothing—no savings, no inheritance, no security. After their father had passed, they had finally been able to declare bankruptcy, Thomas Seymore’s pride refusing to countenance such a necessary but drastic move while alive. Nine years on, Amelia lived in a one-bedroom flat with her sister in South East London. The majority of her—admittedly impressive—salary from Rossi Industries went to pay for her mother’s stay at the rehab centre in South America from her very first pay cheque. What wasn’t eaten up by rent had gone into the props Issy had needed to grab the attention of the notoriously extravagant Gianni Rossi. Issy had contributed what she could from her salary as an auxiliary nurse at the children’s hospital, when she wasn’t spending hours online hunting down every single little bit of information she could get on the Rossi cousins.Everythingthe two girls had done had been streamlined to ensure that as much time and finances as possible could be poured into a vendetta she had instigated. And it had all been for nothing.
Because Alessandro and Gianni had done nothing wrong. There had never been any corruption on their parts. They were completely innocent and she had sabotaged the business owned by the soon-to-be father of her child.
As Alessandro opened a door, she rushed out into the courtyard taking huge gulps of much-needed fresh air. Because if their unborn child were going to have any hopes at a better life than either of its parents, then she would need Alessandro Rossi’s help. And she had absolutely no idea if he would give it to her.
Alessandro watched Amelia, hands braced against her thighs, bent at the waist, taking giant breaths of the cool morning air. Gone was the perfectly poised controlled employee who had impressed, not just her manager, his board, but himself with her quick, smart, intelligent and controlled approach to the projects. Gone, too, was the passionate, sensual woman with a desire that eclipsed common sense in a way that was only matched by his own.
But all he could think, all he could hear in his head on a loop, wasyou’re pregnant. He felt strangely numb, recognising dimly that the shock of it had robbed him of any sense. He was going to be a father.
But the images that word threw at him were not the kind of loving, doting parent that inspired the kind of loyalty that had driven Amelia to attempt revenge. They were the kind that brought him out in a cold sweat.
