“And I told you, I am not property!” She looked up at him, hating him for what he was, for what he thought, for what she’d once felt in his arms. “What’s the matter? Have I wounded your pride? Will I wound it even more if I tell you I was only with him once? That’s all it took for him to give me his child.”
He grabbed her, his face so white, eyes so hot, that she thought she’d finally pushed him too far, but that didn’t matter. She’d wanted to hurt him enough to draw blood and she had…
With the truth.
She knew exactly when their child—when her child—had been conceived. On the night of his birthday. She’d learned the date by accident, when he left his wallet open on the nightstand with his driver’s license in view. She’d made dinner, baked a cake, bought him a present because she’d—because she’d wanted to.
After, Dante had made such tender love to her that she’d looked into her own heart and come as close as she’d dared to admitting what she felt for him.
“Stay with me tonight,” she’d whispered, as they lay in each other’s arms.
He hadn’t.
After he was gone, she’d felt more alone than she’d ever thought possible. Not just alone but abandoned. Used, not by his heart but by his body.
She’d cried softly as night faded to morning. Hours later, when she got up to shower, she’d discovered that her diaphragm had a pinpoint hole in it. She’d told herself it was nothing. It was her so-called safe time of the month and besides, what were the odds on becoming pregnant after just one night of unprotected sex?
Six weeks later, a home pregnancy kit proved that the odds were excellent.
Tally had considered the life she’d planned. A career, not for her ego but for security. Money in the bank that would guarantee she’d never have to depend on a man the way her mother had.
/> She’d visited her doctor. Asked tough questions, made tough decisions. And reversed herself on the subway ride home when she saw a young woman with a baby in her arms, the mother cooing, the baby laughing with unrestricted joy.
Her future had changed in that single instant.
Now, it was changing again. If she’d had any last, lingering doubts about her feelings for the man she’d once come close to thinking she loved, they were gone.
She looked pointedly at Dante’s hand, encircling her wrist, then at his face.
“I want you out of here,” she said softly. “Right now.”
He looked at her for a long moment. Then, slowly and deliberately, he took his hand from her.
“I thought I knew you,” he said in a low voice.
She almost laughed at the absurdity of those words. “You never knew me,” she said.
“No. I didn’t. I see that now.” He plucked his leather jacket from where she’d dropped it and slipped it on. “Get yourself an attorney. A good one, because I’m going to start foreclosure proceedings as soon as I return to New York.”
Panic took an oily slide in her belly. “I can make the payments on the loan. I have made them! All you have to do is check the bank records.”
“The amount you’ve been paying each month is a joke. It has nothing to do with the loan agreement.”
“But Walter Dennison said—”
“You’re not dealing with Dennison. You’re dealing with me.”
She watched, transfixed, as he strolled to the door. At the last second, she went after him.
“Wait! Please, you can’t…My daughter, Dante. My little girl. Surely you wouldn’t punish an innocent child for my mistakes. That’s not possible!”
“Anything is possible,” he said coldly. “You proved that when you took a lover.”
“Dante. Don’t make me beg. Don’t—”
“Why not?” He turned and clasped her elbows, lifting her to him until his empty eyes were all she could see. “I’d love to hear you beg, cara. It would fill my heart with joy.”
The bitter tears she’d fought to suppress streamed down her cheeks.