Elene struggled to come up with an answer. She’d just always been anti about Danielle and Mattia. Shrugging, she admitted, ‘I don’t know. She was happy, especially when you stood up to that drunk for her.’
Mattia nodded. ‘He’d been ogling her all night in the pub, making her very uncomfortable. When he came across and made lewd comments I’d had enough and suggested we go out the back for a discussion.’ Flicking his forefingers in the air, he emphasised ‘discussion.’ ‘He declined.’
‘Go you.’ So chivalry wasn’t dead. But she wouldn’t expect it to be with a man like Mattia. One thing she couldn’t dispute: he was a gentleman and treated women as they deserved. Except they’d always rubbed each other up the wrong way. Was she in denial? Had there been sparks at other times than that one night she’d tamped down hard because he was seeing her friend? He was tall, good-looking in a dark and dangerous way, intelligent, funny, and—No. She was not noticing anything like that about him. No way. She looked around for something else to focus on.
Aimee was using the cot to pull herself up onto her feet. She slipped and banged down on her bottom.
Elene waited for the indignant shriek that usually accompanied a fail. Instead Aimee turned on her toothless grin and reached for the cot to start over. ‘She’s happy to be free of constraints.’
Mattia was watching his daughter, disbelief and something else on his face. Longing? He hadn’t touched Aimee yet. Not even a finger on her arm. Holding himself back until he’d thought through all the connotations? Afraid of where this might go? Still in denial? Who knew? She certainly didn’t, and right now working it out was beyond her.
For her own sake Elene felt a little bit glad he wasn’t rushing to fall in love with his daughter, if he accepted who she was. Being here was about deciding where Aimee should live and with who, though she was determined that would be her, but denying Mattia fatherhood wasn’t happening either. Bending down, she swung Aimee up to hold her out to her father. ‘Here. You look after her. I need to shower.’
* * *
Mattia automatically caught Aimee in his steady hands. Not that Elene would’ve let her drop, but he hadn’t even thought about not taking her. Holding his daughter out, he watched her kicking her legs and banging her hands on his arms, her face split in a gummy smile as she eyed him up. Hope I pass the test. Gulp. Really? Of course really. He was her father. He didn’t need a DNA test to prove that. Gut instinct brought about by the family likeness and Elene’s honest demeanour, even without putting it into words, told him all he needed—or didn’t need—to know.
‘Hello,’ he croaked around a tennis ball lodged in his throat.
‘Ma-ma-ma-ma.’
‘Is that right?’ A smile was stretching his mouth without any input from his brain. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘She won’t break,’ came a crisp quip from behind.
What? Oh, hold her against me. Was that what Elene was telling him? ‘Thought you were going for a shower.’ He glanced over his shoulder and saw the apprehension blinking back at him. She was worried about this development. What exactly was her role in Aimee’s life? Number one question to go on the list he suspected would be pages long before many hours passed. Elene’s usually sparkly green eyes were now dark, like the ocean depths. Her tiny, curvy body had shrunk ever smaller.
Trying to reassure, not that he knew what he was comforting her about, he said softly, ‘Go on. I’ll take Aimee out to the family room. Promise I know what I’m doing.’
The tip of her tongue played with the corner of her mouth, tightening his groin again. Then she nodded and headed to the bathroom. Those loose trousers did nothing to hide the curves of her butt, nor the slimmest of waists. An hourglass figure finished off with full breasts that he’d tried not to let his gaze linger on when she’d held Aimee against them.
Aimee. Dragging his attention away from Elene he refocused, bending his arms slowly, bringing Aimee closer and closer until she was against his chest, wriggling like a worm on hot concrete. This was so different to holding Marco or Giulia. This was—parenthood with a capital P. He jerked. I really am Papà. Being a parent meant being involved with a woman, a need Sandy had permanently finished off. Though apparently life had other ideas for him.
Air whooshed out of his mouth, ruffling the curls on top of his daughter’s head. He dropped a kiss on them. ‘Let’s get you some dinner, little one.’ Elene might like a meal too. He was starving. Lunch had been a quick bite hours ago, between a hip replacement and a shoulder reconstruction.
After placing Aimee on the floor out of harm’s way, Mattia poured two glasses of Sangiovese, put one on the table for Elene and studied the contents of the fridge. Anna, his housekeeper, kept it well stocked and there was a prepared meal to reheat, but not enough for two. It’d do for tomorrow’s lunch. Tonight he’d make comfort food, using the pasta dough Anna had also prepared earlier. Elene deserved a little care and attention. That was some trip she’d undertaken with a toddler. For her friend. For him? Something about that deep sadness in her eyes suggested yes to both. Bet she was wondering what he’d do, and where that’d leave her.
Hell. He combed his fingers through his hair. As reality trickled into his brain he tried not to overthink things. They had a lot to process. But not tonight. Because Elene was tired, and lovely and gorgeous. Don’t forget the snippy woman behind that exhaustion. She wouldn’t have stayed back in Wellington while this softer, kinder version made the trip.
Checking Aimee was still happy playing with the coloured wooden blocks he’d given her, he set about putting together the ingredients for an Alfredo sauce. The clock boomed out eight o’clock. Half an hour had passed since he’d brought Aimee through here. Had Elene fallen asleep in the shower? Should he check on her? Entering the bathroom might bring back the more familiar version.
‘Sorry.’ Elene burst through the doorway, her chest rising and falling as though she’d run through the house. ‘That’s one powerful shower. I’ve probably used all your hot water, but it was worth it. All the aches gone, leaving me feeling normal again.’
She certainly looked it. Standing tall for someone so short, her face was relaxed for the first time since he’d discovered her in his waiting room, her gaze clear of worry; she looked alert. Hot and sexy normal. The spoon he stirred the sauce with clattered into the pot. This is Elene. She doesn’t do sexy. Not around him, any rate. She did once.
With effort he rolled a shoulder. ‘There’s a glass of Sangiovese on the table. One of Italy’s best secrets.’ Getting back on track was essential. For his sanity, for the days ahead when they’d no doubt be battling over childcare issues. She’d once called him a fly-by-night. Well, Miss Lowe, I’m going to prove how wrong you were. He had not liked her contemptuous opinion of him, even when he’d understood she was trying to protect Danielle.
Not that he’d deny he’d spent a year living loosely after his fiancée, Sandy, had stolen from his charity and attempted to bring his esteemed family into disrepute by accusing him of taking the funds and setting her up to take the fall. Except Sandy was the one to languish in jail. His family had pushed him to take a year off and go live a little, put his mistake behind him. He’d gone reluctantly, the guilt heavy, but it seemed his parents knew what they were doing. New Zealand, with its great outdoors culture and the easy lifestyle, had been liberating and exciting. Yet from the day he’d landed back on Italian soil he’d been determined never to cause a ripple of trouble for his family again and got on with achieving his interrupted goals. With the exception of one—loving a woman enough to marry her and have bambini. His gaze drifted to Elene, now savouring the wine.
‘Delicious.’ Elene gave him a smile that slid under his skin as easily as cream over hot pie. ‘I haven’t had a Sangiovese since I was last in Italy.’
‘How long ago was that?’ Might as well learn as much as possible while she was in a good mood.
‘Three