The next morning Rafael suggested they go to her flat to pick up her things, and they rode in silence down Park Avenue to her little studio. It felt strange to have Rafael in her personal space, his inscrutable gaze flicking over her belongings—her framed concert posters, her few personal photos—even the shelf of well-thumbed cookbooks in the tiny alcove kitchen felt revealing of her somehow.
‘I didn’t realise you actually played.’ He nodded towards the cello on its stand in the corner.
‘I don’t, not really.’ She looked away, not wanting to talk about her cello playing, or lack of it. She hadn’t played since she was eighteen years old.
‘Do you wish to bring it to the hotel?’
‘No,’ she said after a moment, her tone reluctant but firm. ‘I won’t play it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
He stared at her for a moment, his gaze narrowed, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on in her head. Allegra looked away. She couldn’t explain her complicated relationship to music, how much it meant to her, how it had provided something she knew instinctively people were meant to provide. She certainly didn’t want to go into the reason why she’d stopped playing the cello, the dismal failure she’d been. Thankfully Rafael let the subject drop.
After gathering her clothes, books, and a few personal items, they headed back to the hotel. Allegra knew she couldn’t put off something she’d been dreading—calling her mother.
Although they lived in the same city, she and Jennifer rarely saw each other. Her mother had her own life on the Upper East Side, tightly enfolded in a clique of aging socialites and impoverished divorcées, trying to live in the manner she preferred with the help of boyfriends and benefactors, and an endless diatribe of high-strung negativity.
Allegra understood the reason for it, knew her mother had never recovered from her father’s divorce and abandonment, his decision to end their marriage so abruptly and cut them off with barely a cent, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with her.
Jennifer hadn’t been much interested in Allegra’s pregnancy so far, except to remind her repeatedly that single motherhood was no picnic, thereby launching down an endless memory lane trip of her own struggles and regrets until Allegra had tuned her mother out. But the mention of a wealthy father to her grandchild was sure to prick Jennifer’s ears up and have her asking all sorts of questions. Questions Allegra didn’t feel much up to answering right now.
After she’d unpacked in her room, and with Rafael installed in the study on his laptop, Allegra made the call.
‘You’re what?’ Jennifer asked sharply when Allegra had explained she was staying at the hotel.
‘Just for a little while.’ Allegra took a deep breath. ‘Rafael Vitali is...he’s the father of my baby. We...we got together when I was in Italy.’
‘Rafael Vitali? This is the son of Marco Vitali?’
Startled, Allegra said, ‘I... I suppose so. I don’t know. Why? Do you know his father?’
‘Your father did business with him a long time ago,’ Jennifer said after a pause. ‘It didn’t work out.’
Unease prickled along Allegra’s spine. She thought of Rafael’s cold remark. ‘I am not the only one with blood on my hands.’
‘What do you mean, it didn’t work out?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jennifer dismissed. ‘It’s in the past. But be careful,’ she added in an unusual display of motherly concern. ‘Your father didn’t trust his, and I... I wouldn’t trust him either.’
She didn’t trust him. Didn’t want to trust him. And yet... ‘I trust Rafael to care for his child,’ Allegra said, because that, at least, was true.
Out in the living area Rafael looked up from his laptop when she emerged from the bedroom.
‘You called your mother?’
‘Yes.’ Allegra paused, wondering how much she wanted to probe the past. ‘She mentioned that your father did business with mine, and that it didn’t work out.’
A lightning flash of emotion sliced across Rafael’s face, too quickly for her to discern what it was, and then he carefully closed his laptop. ‘Yes, that is true. They worked together on a mobile phone technology that would now be considered laughably obsolete, and they fell out over it.’
‘Fell out?’ Allegra regarded him uneasily, sensing something dark flowing beneath his calm surface, and nervous to dip a toe into it. ‘Is that why you decided to take over my father’s company? Some kind of revenge for what happened before?’
‘Justice,’ Rafael corrected swiftly. His face remained bland, but Allegra saw that his eyes were watchful and hard.
‘What do you mean, justice? What are you not telling me? And why... why did you make that comment about blood on your hands?’
Rafael’s jaw tightened, his eyes like chips of amber. ‘Now is not the time to delve into the past.’
‘But it’s obviously important—’
‘What is important is your health and well-being.’ He rose from the desk. ‘I have booked some spa treatments for you this afternoon to help you relax. They are aimed specifically at pregnant women.’
‘Oh...’ Allegra blinked, startled all over again. ‘Thank you.’ She felt as if her head was spinning. One moment Rafael seemed as hard and unyielding as granite, and the next he was all softness and solicitude. Which was the real man? Who did she dare trust...if either?
* * *
Rafael paced the living room of the hotel suite, waiting for Allegra to return from her afternoon of spa treatments. He felt anxious, and he didn’t even know why. At least, not exactly why. Since Allegra had catapulted back into his life he’d been struggling with a tidal wave of fury that she’d attempted to hide her pregnancy from him, and a stronger surge of both protectiveness and fear to keep both her and their child safe.
The memory of when he’d failed his family, his fists beating on his father’s study door, his useless words. And then the aftermath. His mother’s wan face, his sister’s desperate defiance...their whole family falling to pieces, disintegrating before his eyes. It tormented him, when he allowed himself to think of it. The thought of failing Allegra and their child in a similar way or even at all was appalling. Unacceptable. And he wouldn’t let it happen. He would do everything in his power to keep Allegra and their baby safe and well. Everything...for her well-being as well as his own.
He knew Allegra had questions about his father. His past. The deception and death that still haunted his nightmares and could ruin things between them. She still loved her father—that much was obvious—even though the man had abandoned her. He couldn’t tell her the truth about him, not without jeopardising their own situation and Allegra’s barely-there trust in him. The past, he determined, would have to stay buried.
* * *
The door to the suite opened and Allegra stepped inside, and the clear purity of her smile, the ivory blush of her skin made something twist hard inside Rafael’s gut. He suddenly felt breathless, which was entirely a new feeling and made him feel poleaxed, reeling from the strength of his own reaction. He forced a smile.
‘How was it?’
‘Wonderful. I feel more relaxed than I have...well, ever.’ She let out a little laugh, her grey eyes sparkling like silver. ‘I’ve never even had a massage before. And look at my nails!’ She held out her hands to him, her nails painted pale pink, and as a matter of course Rafael caught them up in his, drew her to him.
Allegra came easily, caught up in the moment, and he wasn’t even thinking as he bent his head to kiss her, already anticipating