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‘What are you saying?’ Charlotte whispered.
‘We will be married. Of course. That way I will see my child and be responsible for her on a full-time basis.’ He thrust himself away from her and Charlotte remained in a little pool of stupefied silence.
Eventually she said, ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’
‘Why would you think that?’ He perched on his desk and stared down at her.
‘Because it’s a ridiculous suggestion?’
‘To you, maybe. To me, it makes perfect sense. I can give Gina everything she could possibly need or want, and in addition I would have her there, would be able to fulfil my fatherly duties full time, have a say in the decisions that will affect her as the years go by. We get married, and you won’t have to work. You can be a full-time mother. There are no drawbacks to this plan. So you can wipe that expression off your face.’
‘And my role would be…?’
‘You’re her mother, of course. Your role in her life would remain unchanged.’
‘But aside from that every other aspect of my life would be turned on its head, but that would be okay just so long as you get your own way.’
‘There’s no point arguing about it, Charlie. We will be married.’
‘When did you become like this, Riccardo?’
‘Like what?’
‘Arrogant. Intransigent. Thinking that you can have whatever you want with the click of a finger.’
Riccardo flushed darkly and glared at her. ‘Because I’m not soft? Because I don’t subscribe to the theory that men should not be ashamed to cry? That doesn’t make me arrogant.’ But he was arrogant, and the admission made him wince inwardly. ‘My solution would be for the best.’
‘You solution is insane!’ She stood up and controlled the shaking of her hands by dusting off some non-existent specks of fluff from her trousers. ‘I know you feel that I’ve deprived you of time you should have spent with Gina, but I won’t allow you to steal my life because you want to create a false family unit.’
‘Steal your life?’
‘That’s right.’ She looked at him squarely in the face without flinching. ‘Marriage at all costs for the sake of a child might be the Italian way, Riccardo. But it’s not mine.’
CHAPTER SIX
AND they hadn’t even got around to his fulminating diatribe about the fiancé!
Riccardo glared at the bottle of wine staring reproachfully at him from his gleaming black, granite kitchen counter. One glass for Dutch courage, something he had never needed in his life before, but which he seemed to need now because he was about to see his daughter for the first time.
After her incredulous rejection of his marriage proposal—something he fancied very few women would have turned down without even bothering to give it a second thought—Charlotte had stalked out of his office and he had stayed put, imprisoned by his own pride which had absolutely forbidden him to follow her, beg her to reconsider and listen to the advantages. The obvious advantages.
Four hours later he had phoned and coldly told her that he would respect her ridiculous refusal to listen to common sense, but he’d demanded that she tell Gina about him.
‘Of course I will,’ Charlotte had said, for all the world as though anything else would have been incomprehensible. ‘And you can come and visit with her tomorrow after school. I don’t want to fight you over this, Riccardo.’
‘Very generous,’ he had muttered with heavy sarcasm, but the arrangement had been made and now here he was, as nervous as a kid waiting to be seen by the headmaster. He swept his trench coat from the counter, drank the contents of his wine glass in one long gulp and headed out of the door.
