Читать книгу The Secret Valtinos Baby - Ким Лоренс, Lynne Graham - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

‘LETTING ELYSSA’S FATHER visit is the right way to go,’ Fergus opined, scrutinising her troubled face with concern before turning to gaze out to sea. ‘He treated you badly but that doesn’t automatically mean he’ll be a bad father. Only time will answer that.’

Merry went pink. As Fergus had combined picking her up with an examination of the latest arrival at the rescue centre, he had heard about the fuss created by Angel’s visit earlier in the day and had naturally asked her about it. She looked up at Fergus, drawn by his calm and acceptance of her situation, wondering if it was possible to feel anything or even trust a man again. Fergus stood about an inch under six feet. He had cropped brown hair and cheerful blue eyes and she had never heard him so much as raise his voice while she had already witnessed his compassion and regret when he was treating abused animals.

‘Are you over him?’ Fergus asked her bluntly.

Merry vented a shaken laugh. ‘I certainly hope so.’

And then he kissed her, wrapping her close in the sea breeze, and she froze only momentarily in surprise. Suddenly she found herself wanting to feel more than she actually felt because he was a good guy, ostensibly straightforward and as different from Angel as day was to night. Angel was all twists and turns, dark corners and unpredictability and she had never had any genuine hope of a future with him. Furthermore, Angel had never been her type. He wasn’t steady or open or even ready to settle down with conventional expectations. Feelings were foreign and threatening to Angel yet he bristled with untamed emotion. As Fergus freed her mouth and kept an arm anchored to her spine she realised in horror-stricken dismay that she’d spent their entire kiss thinking about Angel and her face burned in shame and discomfiture.

* * *

Angel sat in his limo and perused the photo that had been sent to his phone while he angrily wondered if he was a masochist or, indeed, developing sad stalker tendencies. But no, he had to deal with the situation as it was, not as he would’ve preferred it to be. Even worse, Merry had just upped the stakes, ensuring that Angel had now to raise his game. He wanted to stalk down to that beach and beat the hell out of the opposition. Because that was what Fergus Wickham was: opposition, serious opposition.

And naturally, Angel was confident that he was not jealous. After all, with only one exception, he had never experienced jealousy. He had, however, once cherished a singularly pathetic desire for his mother to take as much of an interest in him as she took in her toy boys. He had only been about seven years old at the time, he reminded himself forgivingly, and a distinctly naïve child, fondly expecting that, his having spent all term at boarding school, his mother would make him the centre of her loving attention when he finally came home.

Well, he wasn’t that naïve now, Angel acknowledged grimly. From his earliest years he had witnessed how fleeting love was for a Valtinos. A Valtinos bought love, paid well for its upkeep, got bored in exactly that order. His mother ran through young men as a lawnmower ran through grass. By the time Angel was in his twenties he was dealing with blackmail attempts, compromising photos and sordid scandals all on his mother’s behalf. His mother had tremendous charm but she remained as immature and irresponsible as a teenager. Even so, she was the only mother he would ever have and at heart he was fond of her.

But he didn’t get jealous or possessive of lovers because he didn’t ever get attached to them or develop expectations of them. Expectations always led to disappointment. Merry, however, was in a different category because she was the mother of his daughter and Angel didn’t want her to have another man in her life. That was a matter of simple good sense. Another man would divide her loyalties, take her focus off her child and invite unflattering comparisons...

‘You heard the pitter patter of tiny feet and literally ran for the hills,’ his brother Vitale had summed up a week earlier. ‘Not a very promising beginning.’

No, it wasn’t, Angel conceded wrathfully while endlessly scrutinising that photo in which his daughter appeared only as a small indistinct blob anchored in a pram. He had screwed up but he was a terrific strategist and unstoppable once he had a goal. He didn’t even need an angle because his daughter was all the ammunition he required. Was Merry sleeping with that guy yet? Angel smouldered and scowled, beginning for the first time to scroll through the records he had studiously ignored to respect Merry’s privacy. To hell with that scruple, he thought angrily. He had to fight to protect what was his.

* * *

‘So, how are you planning to play it with Elyssa’s father tomorrow?’ Sybil asked that evening, having tried and failed to get much out of her niece concerning the date with Fergus.

Merry shrugged. ‘Cool, calm...’

‘He’s impossibly headstrong and obstinate,’ her aunt pronounced with disapproval. ‘I only cocked the gun because I didn’t want him landing on your doorstep unannounced but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

‘He isn’t familiar with the word no,’ Merry mused ruefully. ‘I do wish I’d treated him to it last year.’

‘Do you really wish you didn’t have Elyssa?’

Merry flushed and, thinking about that, shook her head in dismissal. ‘I thought I would when I was pregnant but once she was here, everything changed.’

‘Maybe it changed for Angel as well. Maybe he wasn’t lying about that. He does value family ties,’ Sybil remarked.

Merry frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

Sybil reddened, her eyes evasive. ‘Well, you told me he meets up with his father twice a month and never cancels...and naturally I’ve read about his mother, Angelina’s exploits in the newspapers. She’s a real nut-job—rich, stupid, fickle. If he’s still close to her, he has a high tolerance threshold for embarrassment. She’s not far off my age and the men in her bed are getting younger by the year.’

Merry’s eyes widened. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Shallow sexual relationships are all he saw growing up, all he’s ever had as an example to follow. It’s hardly surprising that he is the way he is. I won’t excuse him for the way he treated you but I do see that he doesn’t know any better,’ Sybil completed, recognising Merry’s surprise. ‘But you could teach him different.’

‘I don’t think you can domesticate a wild animal.’

Sybil rolled her eyes. ‘Elyssa has enough charisma to stop a charging rhinoceros.’

* * *

Merry tossed and turned in her bed, despising herself for her nervous tension. Angel had cast a long shadow over her afternoon with Fergus, depriving her of relaxation and appreciation. She had made hateful, unforgivable comparisons. On some secret, thoroughly inexcusable level, she still craved the buzz of excitement that Angel had filled her with and that unsettled and shamed her. After all, once the excitement had gone she had been left pregnant and alone and now her memory trailed back fifteen months...

Discovering that she was pregnant had proved a real shock for Merry because she had not seriously considered that that single accident was likely to result in conception and had hoped for the best. She had barely settled into a new and very challenging job, and falling pregnant had seemed like the worst possible news. She had suffered from severe morning sickness and at one stage had even feared she was on the brink of having a miscarriage. She had waited until she was over three months along before she’d even tried to contact Angel to tell him that she was carrying his child. She had never had his personal mobile number and had never got to speak to him when she’d phoned the office, suspecting that calls from her were on some discreet forbidden list. The prospect of sending a letter or an email that would probably be opened and read by a former colleague had made her cringe. In the end she had used her working knowledge of Angel’s diary and had headed to the hotel where he met his father for lunch twice a month.

That unwise but desperate move had put in motion the most humiliating, wounding encounter of Merry’s life. Angel had had a very tall and beautiful blonde with him when he entered the bar, a blonde with bare breasts on display under a gauzy see-through dress. She had looked like the sort of woman who didn’t ever wear underwear and every man in the place had stared lustfully at her, while she’d clung to Angel’s arm and giggled and touched him with easy confidence. Just looking at her, Merry had felt sick and ugly and plain and boring because pregnancy had not been kind to her. Her body had already been swelling and thickening, her eyes had been shadowed because she couldn’t sleep and the smell of most foods had made her nauseous. She had stayed concealed in the bar behind a book and round a corner while Angel, his companion and eventually his father had sat down to lunch on an outside terrace.

If Angel had not reappeared at the bar alone, she would probably simply have gone back to work without even trying to achieve her goal. But when she’d seen him she had forced herself up out of her seat and forward.

‘I have to speak to you in private,’ she had said. ‘It’s very important. It will only take five minutes.’

He had spun back from the bar to appraise her with cool, guarded eyes. ‘I’m listening.’

‘Could we go out into the foyer?’ she had pressed, very conscious of the number of people around them. ‘It would be more private.’

He had acquiesced with unconcealed reluctance. ‘What is this about?’ he had demanded as soon as they’d got there.

And then she had made her announcement and those expressive beautiful eyes of his had glittered like cold black diamonds, his consternation and annoyance obvious.

‘Do you want it?’ he had asked doubtingly, earning her hatred with every syllable of that leading question. ‘Scratch that. It was politically incorrect. Of course, I will support you in whatever choice you make.’ He had drawn out a business card and thrust it into her unwilling hand. ‘I will inform my lawyers. Please provide them with contact details and I will make provision for you.’

And that had been Angel’s knee-jerk response to unexpected fatherhood: brief and brutal and wholly unemotional and objective. Go away and I’ll give you cash to keep you quiet and at a distance.

Remembering that encounter, Merry shuddered and tears stung her eyes afresh. That was the final moment when she had faced the reality that she had given her body to a ruthlessly detached man without a heart. How could she let such a man come within ten feet of her precious, loving daughter? That question kept her awake until dawn. Suddenly keeping the peace and giving Angel another chance seemed the stuff of stupidity.

* * *

Having done his baby research diligently before his visit, Angel believed he was prepared for all eventualities. His second cousin had six-month-old twins and a toddler and lived in London. It was hard to say who had been most startled by his interest: his cousin at the shock of his curiosity or Angel at finding himself festooned in wriggling babies, who cried, pooped and threw up while poking and pulling at him. There were loads of babies in his extended family circle but Angel had always given them a very wide berth.

He put on his oldest jeans for the occasion and, after consulting his cousin, he purchased only one modest gift. Merry wouldn’t be impressed by a toyshop splurge. She was already saving every penny he was giving her into a trust for their daughter. Merry and her endless rainy-day fund, he thought incredulously, deeming her joyless, fearful attitude to spending money depressing. She was a natural-born hoarder of cash. If only his mother suffered from the same insecurity, he conceded wryly.

From upstairs, Merry watched the sleek, expensive car pull into the driveway. She had dressed smartly that morning. After all she had a potential new client coming at half eleven and she needed to look professional, so her hair was freshly washed, her make-up was on and she wore a summer dress that clung to her slender curves. What she wore had nothing whatsoever to do with Angel’s visit, except in so far as looking smart lifted her confidence, she told herself soothingly.

Angel sprang fluidly out of his car, his lean, powerful body clad in black jeans and a green sweater that was undoubtedly cashmere. He found English summers cold. She carried Elyssa downstairs. Her daughter wore one of the fashionable baby outfits that Sybil often bought her, a pretty blue floral tunic and leggings that reflected her eyes. The door knocker rapped twice and she hastily settled Elyssa down on the rug before rushing breathlessly back to the door, scolding herself for the unmistakeable sense of anticipation gripping her.

Angel stepped in and his stunning dark golden gaze locked to her with the most electrifying immediacy. Tension leapt through Merry along with a growing unease about the decision she had made. He looked amazing. He always looked amazing, she reminded herself mockingly, striving not to react in any way. But it was impossible. Her breath shortened in her tightening throat and her breasts tingled and a sensual warmth made her thighs press together.

Angel’s scrutiny roamed from the glossy bell of her dark hair, down to the modest neckline of the dress that clung to the delectably full swell of her breasts, before skimming down over her waist to define the feminine swell of her hips. He didn’t let himself look at her legs because she had fantastic legs and the heat pooling in his groin didn’t need that added encouragement. He didn’t know how she had contrived to get skinnier and at the same time more interestingly curvy but he especially didn’t like the feeling of being sexually drawn against his will.

‘Elyssa’s in here,’ she framed stiffly.

‘That’s a Greek name.’

‘Yes, she’s entitled to a Greek name,’ Merry proclaimed defensively.

‘I wasn’t...criticising.’ Angel registered the white-knuckled grip she had on the edge of the door and recognised that he would be treading on eggshells every time he spoke. He gritted his teeth on the awareness but as Merry pushed the door fully open he finally saw his daughter and for several timeless moments stayed rigid in the doorway drinking in the sight of her.

‘She’s got my hair,’ he almost whispered, moving forward and then dropping down onto the rug a couple of feet from his daughter. ‘But curls look cute on her...’

Merry watched him closely, registering that he had enough sense not to try to get too familiar too fast with a baby that didn’t know him. No, Angel was far too clever to make an obvious wrong move, she reflected bitterly, before catching herself up on that suspicious but hardly charitable thought and crossing the room to go into the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’

‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

‘Don’t go all polite on me,’ she said drily.

‘What do you expect?’ Angel shot her a sardonic glance of rebuke. ‘I know you don’t want me here.’

Merry paled at that blunt statement. ‘I’m trying not to feel like that.’

She put on the kettle and watched him remove a toy from his pocket, a brightly coloured teething toy, which he set on the rug at his feet. It was a strategic move and Elyssa quickly fulfilled his expectations by extending the toy she held to him in the hope of gaining access to the new and more interesting one. Angel accepted it and handed over his gift. Elyssa chortled with satisfaction and bestowed a huge smile on him before sticking the new toy into her mouth and chewing happily on it.

‘She has your eyes,’ Angel remarked. ‘She’s incredibly pretty.’

In spite of her desire to remain unmoved, Merry flushed with pride. ‘I think so too.’

‘She’s also unmistakeably mine,’ Angel intoned with unashamed approval.

‘Well, you already knew that,’ Merry could not resist reminding him. ‘She was DNA tested after she was born.’

Angel winced. ‘I never once doubted that the child you were carrying was mine but in view of inheritance rights...and us not being married...it was best to have it legally confirmed.’ He hesitated before turning his classic bronzed profile to study her levelly. ‘But I let the lawyers take over and run the whole show and that was a mistake. I see that now.’

Merry jerked her chin in acknowledgement, not trusting herself to speak.

‘I didn’t know any other way to handle it,’ Angel admitted grimly. ‘I took the easy way out...unfortunately the easy way turned out to be the wrong way.’

Taken aback by that admission, Merry dragged in a ragged breath and turned away to make the coffee. A fat burst of chuckles from her daughter made her flip back and she saw Elyssa bouncing on the rug, held steady by Angel’s hands and revelling in both the exercise and the attention.

When Elyssa tired of that, Angel turned out her toy box for her. Tiger slunk out from under the chair where he had been hiding since Angel’s arrival and moved hesitantly closer to investigate.

‘Diavolos!’ Angel exclaimed in surprise. ‘Where did the dog come from?’

Startled by Angel’s deep voice, Tiger shot back under the chair.

‘He’s been here all along. His name’s Tiger.’

‘Kind of nervous for a dog called Tiger and hardly a stream-lined predator.’

‘OK. He’s fat, you can say it. He’s addicted to food and he wasn’t socialised properly when he was young. He came from a puppy farm that was closed down,’ Merry volunteered, extending a cup of black coffee to Angel as he vaulted lithely upright, suddenly dominating the small room with his height and the breadth of his shoulders.

‘I didn’t know you were keen on dogs.’

‘I practically grew up helping in the rescue centre.’ Merry could hear herself gabbling because her heart was pounding wildly in her chest as Angel moved towards her and even breathing was a challenge beneath the onslaught of his gleaming dark golden eyes. ‘I—’

‘Tell it like it is,’ Angel urged sibilantly.

Her smooth brow furrowed. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You still want me as much as I want you,’ he breathed huskily, sipping his coffee as if he were merely making casual conversation.

‘I don’t want to have that sort of discussion with you,’ Merry told him curtly, colour burnishing her cheeks as she wondered if he really could tell that easily that she was still vulnerable around him. Not that she would do anything about it or let him do anything about it, she reasoned with pride. Attraction was nothing more than a hormonal trick and, in her case, a very dangerous misdirection.

‘Avoid? Deny?’ Angel derided, his beautiful wilful mouth curling, his smouldering gaze enhanced by unfairly long black lashes welded to her fast-reddening face. ‘What’s the point?’

‘If you continue this I’m going to ask you to leave,’ Merry warned thinly.

And genuine amusement engulfed Angel and laughter lit up his lean, dark features. ‘I’m not about to pounce on you with our daughter watching! Believe me, while she’s around, you’re safe,’ he assured her smoothly.

Inexplicably that little exchange made Merry feel foolish and rather as though she had ended up with egg on her face, which was burning like a furnace. Even now, many months after the event, she couldn’t laugh about what had happened between them. Looking back, it was as if blinding sunlight overlaid and blurred the explosive passion she couldn’t begin to explain and never wanted to experience again. Unfortunately for her, her body had a different ambition. One glimpse of Angel’s darkly handsome face and long, sleek, muscular frame and she was as tense as a bowstring, caught between forbidden pleasure at his sheer physical beauty and angry self-loathing at her susceptibility to it.

‘I brought lunch with me,’ Angel revealed, startling her.

Her eyes widened. ‘But I have a client due.’

‘I’ll return in an hour. You know we need to talk about Elyssa and how we move on from here,’ Angel pointed out as if it were the most reasonable and natural thing in the world when in truth they had never ever talked about anything.

‘Yes...yes, of course,’ she muttered uneasily, because she could see that a talk made sense and it was surely better to get it all over in one go and in one day, she told herself soothingly. ‘I should be free in an hour, but—’

‘I’ll make it an hour and a half,’ Angel cut in decisively as he moved towards the door.

Merry skimmed his arm with an uncertain finger to attract his attention. ‘I’m afraid Elyssa has...er...stained your sweater,’ she told him awkwardly.

His amused grin flashed perfect white teeth and enhanced the sculpted fullness of his wide, sensual mouth. ‘It’s not a problem. I brought a change of clothes with me.’

‘My goodness, you were organised,’ she mumbled in surprise as he strode down the path and leant down into his car, straightening to peel off the offending sweater and expose the flexing muscles of his bronzed and powerful torso. Her mouth ran dry and she stared, watching him pull on another sweater, black this time, before she closed the door.

She ignored her reeling senses to concentrate on what was truly important. Angel was unpredictable, she reminded herself worriedly, devious to a fault and dangerously volatile. What did he truly want from her? Why was he putting himself to so much trouble? Lunch? All of a sudden he was bringing her lunch? Merry was stunned by the concept and the planning that must have gone into that. Did Angel really want access to his daughter that badly? Did he have sufficient interest and staying power to want a long-term relationship with his daughter? And where did that leave her when she really didn’t want Angel to feature anywhere in her life?

You should’ve thought of that before you let him visit, Merry told herself in exasperation. Possibly Angel was only trying to smooth over the hostilities between them. And possibly she was a suspicious little shrew, still bitter and battered from her previous encounters with him. At the very least she ought to acknowledge that she would never ever second-guess Angel Valtinos and that he would always take her by surprise. After all, that was how he did business and how he thrived in a cut-throat world.