The Italian Billionaire's Secret Love-Child

But he was finding he damned well wanted it to register! He had been young and arrogant and had let her go, thinking that it was the best for the both of them. He was beginning to wonder whether that had been a mistake from which he had never really recovered. But fate had given him this second chance. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice, not when there was so much at stake.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘WHAT’S going on?’ Charlotte stepped through her front door at a little after seven-thirty, to find Riccardo right there and apparently waiting for her. This was disconcerting. In fact, the past two-and-a-half weeks had been disconcerting. She could accuse him of a lot of things, but not making an effort for the sake of his daughter was not one of them. How long he could keep it up was anybody’s guess, but if the object of the exercise was to get close to his daughter then he was succeeding with flying colours.

He’d been getting back to the house by seven. He had taken Gina to the cinema twice to see shows which she couldn’t imagine he’d enjoyed in a month of Sundays. He had endured a Saturday evening meal in a fast-food restaurant surrounded by babies, toddlers, young children running about and harassed mothers without complaint. He had played Scrabble and contrived to lose, Monopoly—which he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to lose—and endless games of cards which Charlotte could only think he’d found supremely tiresome compared to his previous adult pursuits. On a scale of one to ten, where, she wondered, did gin rummy figure compared to a Friday evening in the company of one of his leggy blondes at a posh restaurant?

Charlotte had watched from a distance, joining in when she had to, but protecting herself from seeing all this effort as anything more than Riccardo approaching a situation with the one hundred percent desire to succeed with which he approached all situations.

Aside from her. Because he’d assiduously left her alone. He’d laughed, he’d joked, but his attention had been primarily for his daughter. There had not been the slightest hint that anything physical had taken place between them. He had been, she was forced to admit, the perfect gentleman. The cynical side of her couldn’t help but think that he was covering ground quickly with Gina so that he could clear out of the house, having realised that sex with her mother was no longer an option.

‘Food,’ Riccardo said succinctly. He began helping her out of her coat while Charlotte, bewildered, wondered what he was on about.

‘You’re wearing my apron.’

‘Well spotted.’

‘It looks ridiculous.’ But she had to smile. Riccardo, decked out in old chinos, a tee-shirt and sporting an apron bought by Gina that declared the joys of motherhood, was priceless. ‘I wish I had a camera,’ she said. ‘This is a moment worth capturing.’

‘Go upstairs and have a bath.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Gina’s with one of her school friends. Last-minute thing. Going to the movies, so she won’t be back home until about eight-thirty. I thought that would be all right as tomorrow’s Saturday.’

‘Well…’ Charlotte felt a little twinge of alarm. Gina had been their chaperone for the past couple of weeks, always around with them both and filling in potentially awkward silences with relentless chatter. When she hadn’t been around, Riccardo had disappeared to work and Charlotte had curled up in front of the television, always making sure to take a handy book to duck behind should he appear without warning.

‘It’s a good opportunity to discuss…domestic arrangements,’ Riccardo said vaguely.