The violence of her thoughts and emotions shocked her. She was a pacifist. She’d attended anti-war demos, for cripes’ sake!
She’d spent the past four months castigating herself for being stupid enough to fall for Pepe Mastrangelo’s seduction. She should have known it wasn’t her he was interested in. After all, he’d never displayed the slightest interest in her before. Not once.
On her frequent trips to Sicily to visit Grace, they would often make a foursome for evenings out. Luca had terrified her, had done from the moment she’d met him. Pepe, on the other hand, had been fun and charming. After a few dates she’d been able to converse with him as easily as she could with Grace. Tall and utterly gorgeous, he was the type of man females from all generations and all persuasions would pause to take a second look at.
However much she’d liked his irreverent company, she’d always known he tagged along on their evenings out as a favour to his big brother’s wife. He would flirt with Cara as much as the next woman, fix his gorgeous dark blue eyes on her and make her feel as if she were the only woman in the world—until he fixed those same eyes on another woman and made her feel exactly the same way. His blatancy had made her laugh. It had also made her feel safe. He was not a man any woman with a sane mind could take seriously.
Well, more fool her for falling for it. She would never make the same mistake again, not for him, not for anyone.
Hadn’t she always known that sex was nothing but a weapon? Hadn’t she witnessed it with her own eyes, the devastation that occurred when grown men and women allowed their hormones to dictate their actions? It ripped lives and families apart.
Pepe was a man who positively revelled in allowing his hormones to lead the way. He thrived on it. To him, she, Cara, had been nothing but a means to an end, the sex between them a perk of the task he had undertaken. His brother had wanted his wife back and Cara’s phone had contained the data with which to find her. The fact that she was a human being with real human feelings had meant nothing. When it came to his family, Pepe was a man without limits.
And that lack of limits had come at a price.
‘I can’t “forget about it and move on”, you feckless, irresponsible playboy, because I’m pregnant.’
CHAPTER TWO
CARA DIDN’T KNOW exactly how Pepe would react to her little statement, but when he finally turned to face her, his wide smile was still firmly in place.
‘Is this your idea of a joke?’
‘No. I’m sixteen weeks pregnant. Congratulations. You’re going to be a daddy.’
His eyes bored into hers but his smile didn’t dim, not by a single wattage. All around them gathered his family. She could feel their curious gazes resting on them. Resting on her.
It was too late to wish she could hide behind Grace as she had done so many times since her teenage years. Whenever she was in a new social situation she would let Grace hold court until her nerves were silenced and she felt capable of speaking without choking on her own tongue. Grace had understood. Grace had protected her.
But Grace had married and moved countries. Grace had also disappeared for the best part of a year, forcing Cara to get her own life in order. She couldn’t keep living her life through her best friend. She needed a life that was her own.
And she’d been getting there. She’d moved back to Ireland, landed a job she loved, albeit at the lowest rung, but it was a start, and even made some new friends. She had truly thought she’d found her own path to some kind of fulfilling life.
Pepe hadn’t just blocked the path, he’d driven a ruddy great bulldozer through it and churned it into rubble.
He’d left her alone, scared and pregnant, with a future that loomed terrifyingly opaque.
Eventually he inclined his head and nodded at the door. ‘Come with me.’
Relieved to get away from all the prying eyes, relieved to have a moment to gather her wits together, she followed him out and into the wide corridor.
Pepe leaned against the stone wall and ran a hand through his thick black hair.
A maid appeared carrying a fresh tray of canapés, which she took into the vast living room.
No sooner had the maid gone when a couple of elderly uncles came out of the same door, laughing between themselves. When they saw Pepe, they pulled him in for some back-breaking hugs and fired a load of questions, all of which Pepe answered with gusto and laughter, as if he hadn’t a single care in the world.
The minute they were alone though, the smile dropped. ‘Let’s get out of here before any more of my relatives try and talk to me.’ He set off in a direction within the converted monastery she’d never been in before.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To my wing.’
He made no allowances for her legs being half the length of his, and she struggled to keep up. ‘What for?’
He flashed her a black look over his shoulder, not slowing his pace for a moment. ‘You really wish to have this conversation in front of fifty Mastrangelos and Lombardis?’
‘Of course not, but I really don’t want to have it in your personal space. Can’t we go somewhere neutral?’
‘No.’ He stopped at a door, unlocked it and held it open. He extended an arm. ‘I’m getting on a flight to Paris in exactly two hours. This is a one-off opportunity to convince me that I have impregnated you.’
She stared at him. She couldn’t read his face. If anything, he looked bored. ‘You think I’m lying?’
‘You wouldn’t be the first woman to lie over a pregnancy.’
Throwing him the most disdainful look she could muster, Cara slipped past him and into his inner sanctum.
Thank God she had no hankering for any sort of future for them. He was a despicable excuse for a human being.
Pepe’s wing, although rarely used, what with him having at least three other places he called home, was exactly what she expected. Unlike the rest of the converted monastery, which remained faithful and sympathetic to the original architecture, this was a proper bachelor pad. It opened straight into a large living space decked with the largest flat-screen television she had seen outside a cinema, and was filled with more gizmos and gadgets than she’d known existed. She doubted she would know how to work a quarter of them.
She stood there, in the midst of all this high-tech luxury, and suddenly felt the first seed of doubt that she was doing the right thing.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘No. Let’s just get this over with.’ Of course she was doing the right thing, she castigated herself. Her unborn child deserved nothing less.
‘Well, I need one.’ He picked up a remote control from a glass table in the centre of the room and pressed a button.
Eyes wide, she watched as the oak panelling on the wall behind him separated and a fully stocked bar emerged.
Pepe mixed himself some concoction she didn’t recognise. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything?’
‘Yes.’
He tipped it down his neck and then fixed his deep blue eyes back to her. ‘Go on, then. Convince me.’
Pursing her lips, she shook her head in distaste. ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘So you’ve already said.’
‘That’s because I am.’
‘How much?’
‘How much what?’
‘Money. How much money are you going to