His eyes flicked over her assessingly. ‘I have come to tell you that we will be married,’ he said.
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.
‘Listen.’ Cassie sucked in a deep breath, knowing that she needed to stay calm. ‘I will never deny you access, Giancarlo—I promise you that.’
‘You will never deny me access,’ he repeated incredulously. ‘Do you think you hold all the power, Cassandra?’
‘But this isn’t about power! It’s not some boardroom battle which you’ve got to win!’ she answered, thinking that pregnancy could make a woman strong. That the new life growing inside her could help her throw off some of the fears which had blighted her old life. And she would not let her rich lover trample all over her. Ex-lover, she reminded herself bitterly. ‘It’s about a baby!’
He sucked in a ragged breath as shadows of the past came back to haunt him. ‘You think I don’t know that? That I would be here if it weren’t for a baby?’
Cassie flinched as he unwittingly told her how little she meant to him. ‘No, I wouldn’t dream of making so fundamental a mistake as that,’ she said dully.
‘Then what kind of man do you think I am? One who will walk away? Or one who can just be fobbed off—who will stand on the sidelines while you control the fate of my child?’
‘And you think that offering me marriage will make it better?’ She thought about the reality of the situation. A marriage between a billionaire and a shop-girl—a woman he had chosen to have no more than a three-week affair with. Was he out of his mind? ‘Tell me how that’s supposed to work?’
‘We will make it work,’ he ground out. ‘Because we have to. Because there is a baby and we owe it to that baby.’ The thought of his seed growing inside her made his gut clench with unfamiliar emotion—but he could see the terrible whitening of her face and could not be sure whether the faint sway of her delicate frame was due to the bitingly cold air or to shock. And suddenly he was appalled at himself. That he should rail against a woman who was with child! Cupping her elbow with his hand, he was taken aback by how frail she felt beneath the waterproof jacket she wore and his face tensed. ‘And we cannot talk here. Come. Veni.’
She was aware that he was guiding her down the path to the small car park, where his car sat beside the churning sea, looking incongruously luxurious with its black and gleaming bodywork. And never had she been more grateful for its cushioned warmth as she climbed in the back seat, with Giancarlo sliding in beside her.
He turned to her as she pulled off the woollen hat—thinking that the single plait of hair which tumbled down made her look ridiculously young. ‘Who else knows about this?’
‘No one.’
‘Not even your mother?’
‘Especially not my mother.’ She met the question in his black eyes and gave a hollow laugh. ‘Funnily enough, mothers aren’t crazy about their daughters getting pregnant by men they’ve only just met and then split up with.’
‘She knows the nature of our relationship?’
‘Of course she doesn’t! She knows I…met someone.’ And hadn’t Cassie seen concern pleat her mother’s brow as she had gently tried to ask her daughter if anything was wrong?
‘But she will approve of our marriage,’ he said slowly. ‘She will approve of me.’
It wasn’t a question, Cassie realised—but a proud statement. And she supposed that when you were stunningly successful and powerful and had always had every woman you wanted—bar the one who had broken your heart—you would develop a certain arrogant pride in your own worth. To Giancarlo’s mind he was exactly the kind of catch that every mother secretly wanted for her daughter. ‘Because you’re rich, you mean?’
‘Because I will be able to provide for you, and our child.’ His voice dipped. ‘But approval—while preferable—is not essential. For I will never give up what is rightfully mine.’
Rightfully mine. His words of stark possession appalled her—even though she understood exactly where they were coming from. Cassie stared into the determined set of his proud features, remembering how his family inheritance had been taken by his twin brother because of an accident of birth. And because of that, a baby would mean more to him than to most men, she realised. This baby was going to be his first-born. The child who would inherit. The child he had never been. Suddenly, she saw just why he would never give up on his baby and a feeling of dread closed like a dark net over her heart.
‘So it’s a done deal,’ she said, in a voice which sounded hollow.
‘Indeed it is. I am glad that you are beginning to see sense, mia bella,’ he said softly. ‘All we need now is to work out the best way of presenting it.’
His thumb moved from his chin to his mouth in a slow, rhythmical movement as he caressed its cushioned outline reflectively. Cassie had seen him do this when she’d been living with him—usually when he was deep in thought and tussling over some business wrangle. But this wasn’t about business, was it?
She stared at the narrowed eyes and the resolute light which gleamed from them. Maybe it was. ‘And how do you propose we go about that, Giancarlo?’
His black eyes were brilliant as they met hers. ‘We will marry immediately,’ he said softly. ‘But we will keep news of your pregnancy secret.’
‘Why?’
‘Because your mother is more likely to give her blessing if she feels that love is involved.’
‘Oh, how…cynical,’ she breathed.
‘Or realistic?’ he parried. ‘People’s lives and futures don’t necessarily fit the story-book version, cara—and the world is less likely to be damning of the union if it is not sold as a forced marriage.’
Cassie felt sick. Not sold, he had said—as if he were in the middle of some wretched marketing exercise! And weren’t his concerns more about his own pride and ego? Not wanting it to look as if he had been forced into marriage but had chosen it