“I’m not going to Venice with you.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” Odette said in French behind her. Turning, Rosalie saw her tiny, hunched great-aunt glaring from the doorway.
“Excuse me,” she bit out to Alex, then stomped inside the restaurant, closing the door firmly behind her.
“You don’t understand,” she argued.
“I understand perfectly,” Odette countered. “The father of your baby would like you to live with him, to get to know you, and help raise the child he never knew about. Alex Falconeri is handling this like a gentleman.”
“A gentleman—are you crazy? He’s bullying me into living with him in Venice! In his palace!” Even Rosalie was aware of how ridiculous a complaint this must sound. Scowling, she felt herself on firmer ground as she argued, “He wanted to hire me as my own baby’s nanny!”
“You refused, of course.”
“Of course I did. I’m his son’s mother, not his employee.”
The elderly lady snorted. “As far as men are concerned, they don’t often see any difference,” she said tartly, then added, “You must get to know each other. Then, perhaps, for the child’s sake, you will decide to marry.”
Rosalie’s cheeks burned. “I already suggested that.”
“Mon Dieu, you are a fast worker.”
“It was a misunderstanding, that’s all. But he shot down the idea. He was married once already, and he takes his vows seriously. Perhaps a little too seriously,” she added, thinking about all the problems this had cause
d.
Odette regarded her with bright eyes. “A man who takes his vows too seriously? There is no such thing.”
“But Tatie—”
“You will give him a chance. The baby is his as much as it is yours. Does the child not deserve to have more family?”
“The baby has me. And you,” Rosalie said desperately. Her great-aunt smiled.
“Ma petite, I will not live forever. And a boy needs a father.”
“But it’s not right—why should I go live with him in Italy? I don’t know anyone there.”
“Is there so much for you back in California?”
Rosalie thought of her childhood home, burned to ash. And her parents, who’d died in the fire, and it was her fault, all her fault. If she’d married the boy next door like they’d wanted, she would have been there to save them. She would have known to get them out before it was too late.
All that she had waiting for her in California was ash and regret.
So what if she went to Italy with her baby’s father? What if, at least for a while, she agreed to live in his palazzo?
“But I don’t want to be the nanny,” she said in a small voice.
“Of course you do not,” her great-aunt sniffed. “You are pregnant with a rich man’s child. You will allow him to pay for everything.”
Rosalie stared at her. “I couldn’t!”
“Why?”
“It would be...charity! And my father always said, No one gets something for nothing.”
“Something for nothing indeed.” Odette snorted. “You are pregnant with his baby, Rosalie, creating the child in your body. You will go through hard, painful labor to give birth. Then you will be up night and day, nursing the baby, rocking him to sleep, boiling bottles and so forth.” Odette, who was childless, waved her hand vaguely. “If that is not work, what is? If anything, he is the one accepting charity from you. After all, what is he doing to help with all these tasks? Nothing! But nothing!”
Rosalie stared at her great-aunt. “You are crazy.” But she suddenly leaned over and gave the wrinkled cheek a fierce kiss.