“Let go of me, Dante.”
“There’s not a court in the land that would convict me.”
“This is America. Not Sicily.” Tally put her hand over his. “Damn you, do you think I planned to get pregnant?”
He stared at her for a long minute. Then he dropped his hand to his side.
“No,” he said. “I suppose not.”
He strode away from her, his back rigid, and paced her kitchen like a caged lion.
Her heart thudded.
What was going on in his head? Would he turn his back and walk away? Or would his pride, whatever it was that drove him, demand that he stake his claim to her daughter? She’d do anything to avoid that, anything to keep this heartless man from being involved in raising Samantha.
“Dante.” Tally hesitated. “I know you’re angry but—but you must believe me. I did what I thought was—”
“You told me you were using a diaphragm.”
“Yes. I know. But—”
He swung toward her. “But not with him.”
Tally blinked. “What?”
“I want to know who he is.”
“You want—you want to know—”
“The name of your child’s father. The man you took as a lover while you still belonged to me.”
She stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t angry because she’d left him without telling him she was carrying his baby. He was angry because he thought she’d cheated on him.
Was that how little he thought of her? That she’d betrayed him while they were lovers? God oh God, she wanted to launch herself at him. Claw his heart out, except he had no heart.
But then, she’d always known that. It was what had made her weep at night toward the end.
She’d never so much as looked at anyone else while they’d been together. She’d never looked at anyone in the years since, either, because she was a fool, a fool, a fool…
“I am assuming,” he said, “that you are not going to tell me I sired this child.”
Sired Sam? He made it sound like a procedure performed in a veterinarian’s office…but that was fine. Every word he said assured her she’d been right to leave him when she did.
“Damn you,” he snarled, catching her by the shoulders, “answer me!”
She could do that. She could do whatever it took, to get this man out of her life.
“You can relax, Dante. I promise you, I’m not going to tell you that you are Samantha’s father. If you want that in writing, I’ll be happy to oblige.”
A muscle bunched in his jaw. “You still haven’t said who he was, this man who took you to his bed while you were still sleeping in mine.”
Tally wrenched free. “You have it wrong. It was you who slept in my bed, remember?”
“Answer me, damn it. Who is he?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I told you, you belonged to me. That makes it my business.”