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But as she approached the final descent towards the village she narrowed her eyes in disbelief. For striding along the coastal path towards her was a figure which had once been so dear to her, but who now seemed to strike misery at her heart.
Giancarlo.
Giancarlo?
Clothed completely in black, he seemed like the personification of the devil. His black hair was windswept, his eyes were sending out ebony sparks—and the angry set of his features made him look positively forbidding.
She didn’t call or say a word, even though the wind had now dropped, bestowing the atmosphere with a quiet, almost unworldly air. And it was only when she was close enough to see the hard glitter of his angry eyes and the set displeasure of his rugged features that she spoke—the words sounding as if she were reading them from an autocue.
‘How did you get here so quickly?’
‘I drove.’
‘What, abandoned your oh-so-important meetings?’ she questioned bitterly.
‘My priorities seem to have shifted in the light of what you said on the phone.’ Black eyes blazed. ‘So what was it, Cassie—did you look at my lifestyle and my wealth and decide that you wanted some of it? Did you decide that a baby could guarantee you a lifetime meal ticket and catapult you into a different stratosphere altogether? Was that the reason behind your inexplicable refusal to let me buy you a coat in Paris? To lull me into a false sense of security before you made your coup de grâce?’
There was a moment of stunned and painful silence before she turned on him, her gloved hands clenched into fists by her sides. ‘How dare you? I didn’t plot for this to happen—it just did! Pregnancies do, Giancarlo—and, if you remember, you were the one who said you’d take care of contraception! And if you think I’d willingly choose a cold-hearted bastard like you to be the father of my child, then you are labouring under a big fat illusion!’ Cassie swallowed, the excess of emotion making her feel dizzy. ‘Anyway, you’ve made your feelings on the subject transparently clear—just as I thought I made mine. I told you that I didn’t want you or need you—so would you mind telling me what you’re doing here?’
Giancarlo looked into her pale features. Had he thought that somehow it wouldn’t be true? That he would arrive and she would bite her lip and tell him it had all been a silly mistake and she’d misread the instructions on the test? But Giancarlo could tell instantly that there had been no mistake. Something about her had changed. Some new quality had entered those violet eyes and there was an unfamiliar detached expression on her face as she looked at him His mouth hardened. Did she think that he wanted this any more than she did?
But somewhere along the way—between the phone call and hearing her passionate defence—his own anger had fled. The situation had not been one of his choosing, but he would now mould it to suit his needs, the way he always did. His ability to be flexible had been one of the factors behind his incredible success—and Cassandra Summers would not stand in his way.
His eyes flicked over her assessingly. ‘I have come to tell you that we will be married,’ he said.
Chapter Eight
ACROSS the divide of the coastal path, Cassie stared at her black-eyed Italian lover as he came out with his extraordinary statement. For a moment, she wondered if the raw cawing sound of the circling seagulls had distorted what he’d said. But he had meant every word—she could tell that from the cold, grim look on his face, as if he had just been forced to do something against his will. And of course, he had, hadn’t he?
Opening her mouth to answer him, she could hear nothing but the screaming birds and the helpless thunder of her heart. ‘What…what on earth are you talking about, Giancarlo?’
‘I am talking about marriage!’ His mouth hardened as another blast of cold wind gusted through his hair. ‘A marriage to legitimise the child we have created between us.’
It was a bald declaration and completely lacking in romance but, in a stupid way, Cassie was grateful for that. Because it meant that she could deal with it in an equally cold-blooded way—even though once she would have rejoiced at the thought of Giancarlo making such a proposition.
‘But we no longer live in that kind of world!’ she protested. ‘Where couples have to wed just because the woman’s pregnant.’
His eyes were icy. ‘You think that perhaps there is an alternative?’
‘Of…of course there is. We can work something out—there are plenty of civilised ways of going about this. Women do it all the time.’
‘Not with my child, they don’t!’ he snarled.
