Читать книгу Modern Romance February 2020 Books 5-8 - Мишель Смарт, Natalie Anderson - Страница 17

ORLA WAS GLAD she was sitting down. There was a good chance she would have fallen over in shock if she’d still been on her feet. ‘Are you drunk?’

He didn’t look drunk. His hair was damp and even sitting far from him on the windowsill she could smell the heady scent of freshly showered Tonino. She was certain that if she’d been placed in a room blindfolded and made to smell his scent, that alone would have been enough to unlock her memories of him.

He hadn’t shaved but still looked razor-sharp, dark eyes clear and focused intently on her. The wedding suit he’d worn the day before had been replaced with charcoal chinos and a crisp navy shirt that fitted and enhanced his tall, muscular frame perfectly.

God help her but the man was a bigger sex bomb than her broken brain had remembered.

The four years that had passed since they’d conceived Finn had not been kind to Orla. The youthful body she’d taken for granted was now marked and scarred, unrecognisable from the body Tonino must remember. She’d never considered herself vain until she’d stood naked before a mirror for the first time after the accident and burst into tears at what had reflected back at her.

Where the time that had passed since Finn’s conception had been cruel to her, for Tonino it had been kind. Incredibly kind. Adonis himself would look at Tonino and weep at the unfairness.

It had been Orla’s suggestion that the nurse take Finn for a walk. She’d guessed Tonino would turn up early—although not this early—and had wanted to be ready for him. She’d wanted to be showered and dressed and armoured behind make-up. Instead he’d arrived at the same moment she’d been about to step into the bathroom for her shower and found her looking like a scruffy cat lady. She hadn’t even brushed her hair. She’d bet good money that he’d done it deliberately to catch her off guard.

She knew she shouldn’t care what she looked like in front of him but she did. Right then, her pride was all she had left.

Her shoddy appearance was just one more disadvantage she had against him and she could feel the heat of colour splash her face under the weight of his blatant scrutiny. At least her headache had gone so that was one small mercy.

‘Marriage makes excellent sense,’ he said with all the confidence of a man used to his words being heeded as if he really were Adonis.

Her stomach twisted violently. She empathised with him, she really did, but did he have to be so entitled and overbearing? And did her heart have to beat so hard and her skin thrum just to share the same air as him?

Speaking through gritted teeth, she said, ‘You’ve known about Finn’s existence for five minutes and you’ve spent most of that time threatening me and calling me a liar and now you want to marry me? Are you sure you’re not drunk?’

His eyes didn’t so much as flicker. ‘I want my son to have my name and to be recognised as his father.’

‘You can have that without marriage.’

‘My son deserves…’

The turmoil that had been with her all the previous day and had still been there the moment she’d opened her eyes that morning reached its peak. ‘Will you stop with all this “my son” malarkey?’ she suddenly exploded. ‘You know nothing about Finn and for you to keep referring to him as yours is doing my head in!’

He straightened, his face twisting with contempt. ‘If you hadn’t selfishly kept him to yourself, I would already know everything about him. I am his father, Orla, and I will damned well be a part of his life and take on all the responsibility being his father entails.’

Her temper evaporated to be replaced by shame at her outburst. Bowing her head, she covered her face with her hands and breathed deeply, in and out, in and out, trying desperately to hold back the threatening tears. Only when she was certain that she could speak without opening the floodgates did she look at him again.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I know you’re his father. I know you have every right to be a part of his life but it’s really hard to listen to all your threats and demands when you have no idea what our lives have been like and the struggles we’ve had to deal with. You can’t just snap your fingers and expect me to roll over and go with it. You need to earn your right to be Finn’s father.’

Just as she’d had to earn the right to be Finn’s mother.

When Orla had finally been allowed home from the rehabilitation centre, Finn had been eighteen months old and, although too young to understand the concept of parenthood, he’d regarded Aislin as his mother. She would never admit it to Aislin or anyone but seeing her own child naturally gravitate to her sister had been unbearable. It had taken a good year before Finn had turned to Orla when he needed help or comfort.

Tonino’s eyes narrowed. The weight of his scrutiny increased but she detected a softening in his stance. ‘Then stop fighting me and do what’s best for Finn.’

‘That’s all I’ve ever done.’

‘Then marry me.’

Her heart beating fast, Orla found herself scrutinising Tonino with the same intensity he scrutinised her, trying hard to look past the breathtakingly gorgeous features for what was going on in his head. Unfortunately, the mind-reading powers she’d always hoped to one day achieve were as elusive as ever. ‘Marriage is not the answer. An unhappy marriage does nothing but produce unhappy children. Finn’s a happy child who’s suffered enough disruption in his life.’

‘There is no reason we could not be happy.’ Eyes remaining fixed on her, he reclined back in his seat. ‘We were good together once.’

‘We were together for barely ten days.’ She would not cause another argument by pointing out that in that time he’d actively let her believe a lie. ‘We don’t know each other.’

‘We know the most important thing.’

‘Which is?’

‘Our compatibility.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You and me…’ He hooked an ankle on a muscular thigh. Something glimmered in his eyes that sent Orla’s pulses surging. His voice lowered to an appreciative murmur. ‘I remember us as being extremely compatible.’

Something deep inside her heated and throbbed with such force that whatever she’d been about to say stuck on her tongue. Gazing into his eyes was like looking into a chocolate pool swirling with brilliance, and the tight pulsations heating her core spread through her veins and danced onto her skin, every nerve ending in her body stirring, every atom screaming loudly its agreement at his words.

Suddenly fearful of being hypnotised by the whirling depths, Orla wrenched her gaze from him and stared back out of the window, trying her hardest to breathe normally.

She’d prepared herself for more threats and arguments. She had not been prepared for a proposal or caressing words. Given the sticky turmoil raging through her, she thought she preferred the threats and arguments.

Even with her back turned from him, she could feel the heat of his stare penetrating her skin.

Folding her arms across her chest, she rubbed her feeble biceps and closed her eyes.

She remembered waking in Tonino’s arms the morning after their first night together, dazed but replete. She remembered the sensation that had flooded her veins and heated her skin at his touch.

But the actual memories of them being intimate together remained locked away. She hoped they never returned. She didn’t think she could bear to remember how she had given herself to a man who’d only been using her for his own fun.

Dragging more air into her lungs, she cleared her throat. ‘I don’t want to marry you, period. It would be a disaster.’

Tonino had known getting Orla’s agreement for marriage would be a long shot but once the idea had come to him, he’d recognised it as the answer to all their problems. Marriage would solve everything in a neat, orderly fashion. How could he be an effective father if he lived in a different country from his child?

He would have to work on her and make her see that it would be in Finn’s best interest for them all to live under the same roof. Given a little time to dismantle the barriers between them, Orla would come around to his way of thinking. The chemistry that had drawn them together four years ago still burned. He felt its scorch with every word and look exchanged between them. And she felt it too. Every time she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears he was reminded of all the times she’d done that before and all the other little gestures he recognised as uniquely Orla.

She’d been a breath of fresh air in a world he’d never recognised as cynical until she’d entered it and liberated him. For ten magnificent days he had lived for the moment with the first woman he’d been intimate with who had no idea who he really was. Her every response had been organic. She’d been a virgin but making love to her for the first time…it had felt as if it were his first time too.

Their chemistry was the one thing he didn’t need a lie detector for. The urge to touch her breathed through his skin and it took all his strength to keep his focus on the job at hand.

‘If you won’t marry me then I will come to Ireland with you and have my name added to Finn’s birth certificate.’ He would not accept anything less than being a true father to his son.

Her body immediately struck a defensive pose. ‘That can wait.’

‘No, dolcezza, it cannot.’ Getting to his feet, he joined her at the window. She must have sensed his closeness for her back stiffened and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

How many nights had he dreamt of that simple non-seductive gesture?

Orla was the only lover whose scent he could remember simply by closing his eyes. Close his eyes and he could remember the feel of her skin beneath his fingers.

Close his eyes and he could remember the bewilderment to find her gone.

He would close his eyes no more. With Orla, he needed to keep his eyes open and his wits sharpened. Whatever happened from this moment, he would never let her disappear again.

‘I understand why I’ve not been named on it but it has to be done.’ He couldn’t force her to marry him—more was the pity—but he would do whatever was necessary to close off her options to flee.

Her head turned sharply to face him again. Tonino hadn’t realised quite how close to her he’d positioned himself until he saw the sprinkling of freckles across her pretty nose.

‘You understand…?’ She swallowed. ‘You believe me?’

‘I spoke to Dante after I left you last night,’ he admitted. ‘He confirmed your story about the accident and your memory problems.’

Dante’s confirmation had left him with a myriad emotions. There had been definite relief—Tonino’s instincts all those years ago that Orla was of a different mould from the unscrupulous, duplicitous bitches who lived in his world had not been as off the mark as he’d come to believe—but there had been something else there too, something that had made him feel as if acid had been poured into his guts.

Orla’s chest rose sharply then loosened slowly. She pressed her head against the window with a sigh. ‘I suppose it’s understandable you wouldn’t take my word on it.’

‘It doesn’t change how I feel about you not telling me about the pregnancy,’ he warned roughly. He doubted he would ever forgive her for that. ‘However, I feel it is in Finn’s best interest that I put that issue behind me.’

She gave a short bark of shaky laughter. ‘Your magnanimity does you much justice.’

Eyeing her carefully, he rested his hands on the windowsill either side of her thighs, effectively trapping her. ‘Are you being funny?’

Fresh colour heightened her cheeks. ‘I’m wondering where the proof is that you ended your engagement to Sophia before you took me to bed.’

‘I am not a cheat. I have never been unfaithful.’

‘I’m supposed to take your word on this?’

‘Sì. In my world, honour is everything. A man who cannot be taken at his word is no man at all.’

‘Now you’re being the funny one. Seriously? A man of your word? When you let me believe you were a humble hotel manager rather than a gazillionaire hotel owner?’

‘I never lied to you, Orla. Not in words.’

‘Well, that makes everything all right, then!’ She smiled brightly but her breaths had shallowed. He moved his face closer to hear her next words. ‘You didn’t lie to me with words. Grand. You’re only prepared to believe me about my amnesia because Dante’s backed me up, but I’m supposed to take you at your word on everything simply because you say so. Can you not see why that makes me uncomfortable having you named as Finn’s father on his birth certificate?’

A man could drown in the emerald-green pool swirling before him. Orla’s robe had parted at her waist, exposing her smooth legs. His blood thickened to see her thighs covered only by a pair of pyjama shorts.

‘All I want is to be a father to him.’ Dio, his voice was hardly above a whisper either. ‘Having legal recognition is important to me. I don’t want to be forced into taking legal action to get it.’

She swallowed a number of times then croaked, ‘That sounds like a threat.’

He clenched his tingling fingers into fists. If he extended either thumb he would be touching those delectable thighs. They were as close as they’d been on the dance floor and yet not a single part of their bodies touched.

Now he was the one to swallow, ridding himself of the moisture that had filled his mouth. ‘A threat I have no wish to act on.’

Last night, when he’d been full of anger, all he could think about were his rights and the fact that she had so cruelly kept him from his son. While his anger was still there—her insistence that she’d intended to tell him about the birth after the fact was something he doubted he’d ever believe—he could not escape the conclusion that she was correct that he didn’t know his son. And his son didn’t know him. Tonino and his mother’s relationship might be strained these days but as a child he’d worshipped the ground she’d walked on. To have been ripped from her arms would have destroyed him.

‘What do you intend to do with the legal recognition?’ she whispered.

His face inched closer to hers. ‘Be his father. Orla… I’m not going to launch a custody battle for him. All I want is to be involved.’

Her breaths quickened. ‘You’re not going to fight me?’

‘Our trust issues are a two-way thing we both need to work on but I give you my word that, provided you play fair with me, I will not take Finn away from you.’

‘That’s still a threat. What does play fair even mean?’

Their faces had got so close he could smell the faint mintiness of her toothpaste.

‘That you accept me as his father.’

A glazed quality washed over her eyes. Her face tilted, her voice dropping to a murmur. ‘I do accept you as his father.’

‘Then let us start again.’ His lips buzzed and the tingles on his skin deepened as their mouths drew closer still. ‘Put the past behind us for Finn’s sake and look to the future…’

Right at the moment their lips brushed together, the door to Orla’s suite opened and the nurse pushed Finn in.

‘Have you not had your shower…? Oh!’

A bullet ricocheting through the suite could not have parted them more effectively.

Cheeks the colour of beetroot, Orla jumped off the windowsill and hurried to Finn, frantically tucking strands of hair behind both ears. ‘Could you do me a favour, please, Rachel, and leave us alone for ten minutes?’

The nurse looked knowingly at Tonino. ‘Sure.’

The two Irishwomen’s conversation followed by the nurse’s abrupt departure from the suite were mere noise in Tonino’s head. The desire that had come so close to taking control of him had reversed as he stared at the tiny boy strapped in his wheelchair. Unlike the curious nurse, his innocence meant he had no idea his arrival had interrupted anything.

Orla knelt in front of him and carefully lifted him out. She carried him over to the sofa and placed him on her lap. ‘Finn, do you remember me telling you that you had a daddy but that mummy lost him?’

Tonino gave her credit for infusing strength into her voice.

The little head nodded.

‘And do you remember me telling you that one day we would find him?’

She’d told him that…?

Finn nodded again.

‘Well… I’ve found him.’

The dark brown eyes that were so like his own found his.

Tonino held his breath.

‘Finn,’ Orla continued. ‘This man… Tonino…is your daddy.’

There was a long moment of silence where father and son did nothing but stare at each other. Finn’s expression was one of frank curiosity.

Tonino waited with bated breath for his son to speak, waited for the little arms to open up and demand a carry as he’d done for his uncle in the cathedral.

He should have known better. Instead of the grand reunion he’d spent the night imagining, his son looked back at his mother and said, ‘Play blocks now?’