Читать книгу The Italian's Love-Child - Сара Крейвен, Emma Darcy - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

SKYE enjoyed walking her five-year-old son home from school. Matt was always bubbling over with news of what he’d done: the activities in the classroom, praise he’d received from the teacher, games he’d played with his new friends. Today he was bursting with pride at having shown off his reading skills, having been asked to read a story to the whole kindergarten class.

‘What was the story about?’ she inquired.

‘A rabbit. His name was Jack and…’

Skye smiled as he recounted every detail of the story for her. Matt was so bright, so advanced for his age. She had worried about him fitting in with other five-year-olds who had yet to learn what he had somehow absorbed just through her reading bed-time stories to him every night. But he was still very much a little boy at heart and loved having play-mates.

It was now a month since he’d started school—no tears from him at having to leave his mother for most of the day. Excitement had sparkled from his lively blue eyes as he’d waved her goodbye, more than ready to charge straight into the new adventure of a bigger world for him. So far it was proving a very happy one.

Much to her relief.

It wasn’t easy being a single mother with no-one close to advise her or simply listen to her concerns. Matt seemed well adjusted to their situation. In fact, he’d coped extremely well with it, rarely pestering her when she was working with clients. Though now he was at school with children from normal families…what was she going to say when he asked about his father? As he inevitably would.

For so long there had just been the two of them. Matt didn’t remember his grandmother, who’d died only eighteen months after he’d been born. And Skye herself had been the only child of an only child—no aunts or uncles or cousins. Her pregnancy, having the baby, caring for her mother through the bouts of chemotherapy that had proved useless in the end…the friendships she’d made at university had just dwindled away. Then setting up her massage business…no time for making social contacts.

If she’d gone out to work…but she hadn’t wanted to leave Matt to a baby-sitter or put him in day-care. He was her child. Best to work at home, she’d thought. However, it had been a very closeted life these past few years. A lonely life.

Now that it was opening up for Matt, she should start re-thinking her own situation, look at other options for her future, maybe complete the physiotherapy course she’d had to drop, put herself in the way of meeting a possible husband, a father for Matt.

They turned the corner into the street where they lived and Matt instantly broke off his school chatter, pointing excitedly as he cried, ‘Wow! Look at that red car, Mummy!’

Her gaze had already jerked to it. A red Ferrari—instantly recognisable to her, having been driven around in one by Luc Peretti. It was like a stab to her heart seeing it here, opening up painful memories, especially as she’d just been thinking about a father for Matt.

‘Could we get a car like that?’ he asked, clearly awe-struck by its brilliant colour and racy style, as she’d once been.

‘We don’t need a car, Matt.’

Nor could she afford one. Paying the rental on their small, two-bedroom cottage, plus living expenses, ate up most of her income. What she saved was emergency money. In fact, given that this neighbourhood was very modest real estate, and relatively cheap because of being under the flight-path to Mascot Airport, she wondered why such a classy and extravagant car was parked in their street.

‘Other Mummies pick up their kids from school in cars,’ Matt argued.

Skye grimaced at the all-too-true comment. The comparisons were starting. She tried emphasising the positive side of their own situation. ‘I guess those kids don’t live so close to school, Matt. We’re lucky, being able to walk and enjoy the sunshine.’

‘It’s not so good when it rains,’ he pointed out.

‘I thought you liked wearing your yellow rain boots.’

‘Yes, I do.’

She smiled at him. ‘And splashing in puddles.’

‘Mmm…’ His gaze darted across the street to the red Ferrari. ‘But I like that car, too.’

Skye rolled her eyes to the seductive object of little boys’ dreams and shock ripped through her, thumping into her heart, halting her feet, making her stomach contract with tension. The driver’s door was open and the man emerging from the car…it couldn’t be, her mind reasoned frantically.

Then he turned his head, looking directly at her, and it was. It was Luc Peretti! No mistaking those distinctively carved features, the hard handsome maleness of that face, the riveting, heavily lashed, dark eyes, the thick black hair dipping with a wave at his right temple, just as Matt’s did.

Matt!

A wave of panic churned through the shock. Had Luc somehow found out she’d kept her baby—the money given to her not used for an abortion? But why look for a child who—in Luc’s mind, she thought savagely—might not even be his? Not Roberto’s, either, given he believed she was a bed-hopping slut.

He half-turned to close and lock the car door. Maybe she was panicking for nothing. One look…She and Matt were the only people walking nearby. He could have been checking them out before leaving his high-class car—harmless people, just a young mother escorting her son home from school.

She didn’t look eye-catching with all her hair drawn into a single plait down her back, no make-up apart from a touch of pink lipstick, unremarkable clothes—just white cotton slacks and T-shirt, which she wore to work in. He might not have recognised her at all, might have parked in this street for some other reason entirely, not because she lived here.

‘Mummy?’

She tore her gaze from Luc Peretti to look down at her son. ‘Yes?’

‘Why are we stopped?’

Because I’m frozen with fright.

Skye quickly drew in a quick breath and came up with, ‘I’ve just remembered I’ve forgotten something.’

‘What?’

‘Something… I meant to do for a client. I’ll do it tomorrow,’ she said, desperately temporising as she frantically willed Luc Peretti to be walking away from them, setting her free from this dreadful inner angst.

‘Better put it on your list,’ Matt advised, grinning at her habit of making careful lists for everything. ‘Then you won’t forget.’

‘I’ll do that as soon as we get home.’

‘Well, come on.’ He grabbed her hand to urge her forward again.

Skye forced her feet to move. She had to look, to see where Luc Peretti was now. The jolt to her heart was worse this time. He was crossing the road to their sidewalk, watching them, his face set in grimly determined purpose. If Matt hadn’t been tugging on her hand, Skye might have stopped dead again. As it was, she felt weirdly disembodied from her legs which kept pumping forward, matching her son’s steps.

There was no avoiding a confrontation now, she told herself. Luc Peretti was clearly intent on one. Having reached the sidewalk, he moved straight to the front gate of their house and stood there waiting for them, his gaze trained on Matt as they walked towards them.

Looking for some likeness to himself, Skye thought, the panic rising again, making her dizzy with turbulent fears. The Peretti family was so wealthy. If Luc decided to make a claim on Matt…and God knew she’d had experience of them playing dirty, getting some woman to look like her in the photos, stealing her bracelet and returning it so she’d be wearing it when Luc came to accuse her…accuse her and dump her for an infidelity she’d never committed.

Ruthless people.

Cruel people.

Callous people, uncaring of the lives of others.

She fiercely told herself Luc couldn’t be sure Matt was his child. Yes, he had olive skin, very dark hair and long thick eyelashes, but he also had her blue eyes, her mouth, and certainly her more sunny personality. Luc would have to get a DNA test to be sure. Could she refuse it, fight it?

‘Do you know that man at our gate, Mummy?’

No point in denying it. Luc was bound to address her by name. ‘Yes. Yes, I do, Matt.’

‘Can I ask him for a ride in his red car?’

‘No!’ The word exploded from the volcano of fear inside her. She instantly halted and dropped into a crouch, turning Matt for an urgent face-to-face talk. ‘You must never get in his car. Never go with him anywhere. Do you hear me, Matt?’

Her vehemence frightened him. She could see him trying to understand and her heart ached for the simplicity of their life which was being so terribly threatened.

‘Is he a bad man?’ His voice quavered, reflecting her alarm.

Was Luc bad? She had loved him once, loved him with an all-consuming intensity that had made his disbelief in her integrity totally devastating. Even now she couldn’t bring herself to say he was bad, though he’d let himself be deceived by his family, making himself one of them, against her.

‘You just mustn’t go with anyone unless I say it’s all right. No matter how much you want to, Matt.’ Her hands squeezed his anxiously. ‘Promise me?’

‘Promise,’ he repeated, troubled by her intensity.

‘I’m going to give you the door-key now. When we get to the front gate, you go straight inside and wait for me. Have your milk and cookies. Okay?’

‘Are you going to talk to the man?’

‘Yes. I’ll have to. He won’t go away until I do.’

Matt shot a frowning look at Luc. ‘He’s big. I can call the ’mergency number for help, Mummy.’

She’d taught him that—a necessary precaution since she was the only adult in the house and if something happened to her… Skye tried to calm herself, realising Matt was picking up on her fear, wanting to fix what he sensed was a bad situation.

‘No, there’s no need for that,’ she assured him. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes.’ She took the door-keys out of her pants pocket and pressed them into his hand. ‘Just do as I say, Matt. Okay?’

He nodded gravely.

She straightened up and they resumed their walk, hands tightly linked, mother and son solidly together. And let no one try to separate them, Skye thought on a savage wave of determination.

Luc had shifted his gaze to her, a dark burning gaze that made her pulse race and her inner muscles quiver. She lifted her chin high in a proud defiance of his power to affect her in any way whatsoever. The time had long gone when she had giddily welcomed him into her life, when she had so completely succumbed to his many seductive attractions.

He was big in Matt’s eyes but in Skye’s, that translated to powerful… tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, a strong muscular physique with not an ounce of flab anywhere. He had the kind of perfect masculinity that automatically drew a woman’s attention, looking strikingly sexy in any clothes, especially none at all.

He was wearing black jeans, no doubt with a designer label. A black sports shirt showed off the impressive width of his chest and the bared strength of his forearms. One hand was gripping the top of her gate, as though ready to block any escape from him.

He had no right to. No rights at all where she was concerned. And he still had to prove he had any paternal right to Matt. She glared furious independence at him, shifted her gaze pointedly to the trespassing hand, then back to him with a belligerent challenge. He dropped his hold on her property, moving the offending hand into a gesture of appeal.

‘Could I have a word with you, Skye?’

The deep timbre of his voice struck more painful memories, how he’d used it to make her believe he loved her, intimate murmurs in bed, reinforced by how he’d touched her, kissed her. A flood of heat raced up her neck and scorched her cheeks—shame at having let him remind her of how it had once been between them.

She kept a safe distance, halting a metre away from him, a blazing demand in her eyes. ‘Please move aside from the gate. I’ll stay and have a word with you but my son needs to go inside.’

He opened it before stepping back, giving Matt free passage. ‘I’d like you to introduce us,’ he said, smiling down at the boy that might be his, pouring out all his Italian charm in case it was.

Steel shot up Skye’s backbone. ‘He’s my child. That’s all you need to know.’ She released Matt’s hand and nudged his shoulder forward. ‘Go on now. Do as I told you.’

He obeyed, at least to moving past the opened gate. Then he stopped and turned, delivering his own childish challenge to Luc Peretti. ‘Don’t you hurt my Mummy!’

Luc shook his head, a surprisingly pained look on his face. ‘I didn’t come to hurt her. Just to talk,’ he answered gently.

Matt glared at him a moment longer, then glanced uncertainly at Skye who gestured for him to leave them. Much to her relief, he did, running up the front path to the door. She watched him unlock it and close it behind him before she looked back at the man who had no right to be here. No moral right. And he had to know it!

‘What do you want to say?’ she clipped out, hating him for what he’d put her through, was putting her through now with this intrusion on their lives.

‘He’s my child, too, Skye,’ he stated with not the slightest flicker of uncertainty in the darkly burning eyes.

‘No, he’s not,’ she retorted vehemently, needing to sow doubt, to make him leave them alone.

‘I’ve seen a copy of his birth certificate,’ he started to argue. ‘The date alone…’

‘No father was named on it,’ she whipped back. ‘I wrote unknown. After all, I was a bed-hopping slut, remember?’

He flinched at the hit. ‘I was wrong about that.’

She raised a derisive eyebrow. ‘A bit late to revise your opinion, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry. I should have believed you, Skye. You weren’t the woman in the photos. I know that now.’

She wrenched her gaze away from the glittering apology in his. It didn’t change anything. Nothing could change the deep, bitter hurts of the past, the grief, the hardships, the loss of all he’d taken from her on that one life-shattering night. And she would not let him soften her up with a facile apology.

Regathering her defences against the insidious attraction that could still tug at her, Skye swung her gaze back, hard and straight. ‘How do you know it?’ she mocked. ‘Your brother was a starring player in those photos. Who better to believe?’

His jaw tightened. The expression in his eyes clouded, taking on a bleak distance. ‘My brother…died…a month ago.’

Roberto dead?

So young?

The shock of Luc’s flat statement completely smashed Skye’s concentration on rejecting him as fast and as effectively as she could. An image of Roberto Peretti flew into her mind—a head of riotous black curls, wickedly flirtatious eyes, teasing smiles backing up his playboy charm, not as tall nor as solidly built as Luc, not as strikingly dynamic, but with a quicksilver energy that had instant appeal. She had liked him, laughed with him, but as far as serious attraction went, he’d always faded into insignificance beside Luc.

Roberto had been fun.

Until she’d seen him in the damning photos.

That reminder swiftly brought Skye back to her current crisis. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Luc,’ she said stiffly. ‘But it has nothing to do with me.’

‘You were on his conscience just before he died. His last words were about you, Skye,’ he said quietly.

So Roberto had confessed the truth, removing the totally undeserved stain on her character. And, of course, Luc would believe his brother’s deathbed confession. ‘It makes no difference,’ she muttered.

‘It does to me,’ he shot at her.

‘You don’t count,’ she flung back. ‘You ceased to count for anything in my life a long time ago.’

He grimaced, sucked in a deep breath, then slowly nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ The concession was swiftly followed by more resolute purpose. ‘But the fact of your pregnancy was kept from me until Roberto revealed it. And I now know there is a child to consider. Our child, Skye.’

‘No. Mine!’

Everything within her revolted at any claim of possession from him. His ignorance of her pregnancy had no bearing on Matt’s life—the life she had given Matt—the life the Peretti family had wanted to snuff out, along with all involvement with her.

Luc gestured an appeal for reason. ‘DNA tests can prove—’

‘Have you spoken to your father about this?’ she cut in, needing to know if Luc was acting alone, without the backing of the very powerful and wealthy Maurizio Peretti. The threat he embodied was bad enough, but if he had his father’s approval to make this approach…

‘It’s none of his business,’ came the terse reply.

‘He made it his business,’ Skye corrected him, relieved to be able to use her last piece of ammunition against any claim on Matt. ‘Your father paid out a thousand dollars for an abortion. He killed your child, Luc.’

‘No!’ He shook his head, appalled at the accusation. ‘He wouldn’t do that. He’d never do that.’

‘He did. So don’t think you can resurrect a paternity issue six years down the track. My son is my son. I chose to have him.’

‘Skye—’ an anguished appeal in his eyes ‘—I had nothing to do with any of this.’

She hardened her heart against him. ‘Yes, you did, Luc. You didn’t believe me. You accepted what your family told you. Go back to them and the life they planned for you. You’re not wanted here.’

The gate was still open.

He was clearly in shock over what she had revealed.

Skye took the chance he wouldn’t try to stop her. With bristling dignity she stepped past him, closed the gate behind her without so much as a glance at him and proceeded up the path to the front door, her ears alert to any sound that might indicate pursuit, her heart pounding hard with the fear of not making good her escape.

Matt had left the key in the door for her.

Good boy! she thought in fierce relief.

Her whole body was tense, expecting a call or some preventative action from Luc, but it didn’t come. She unlocked the door, moved into the protective shelter of the house and closed out the man who should never have re-entered her life.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

Luc Peretti could only bring her more grief.