The Secret Kept from the Italian

‘I want,’ Antonio answered with slow deliberation, ‘for you and Ella to come with me to Milan.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘MILAN?’

Maisie could do no more than gape for a few soundless seconds as Antonio levelled her with a look that was both implacable and assured.

‘You mean,’ Maisie finally said, struggling to get her thoughts straight, ‘you want us to visit...?’

‘No, to live.’ Antonio folded his arms. ‘It’s the only option that makes sense.’

‘How on earth does that make sense?’ Maisie’s voice had risen and Ella stirred in her stroller.

‘How does it not?’ Antonio countered, and Ella started to cry.

He looked so stricken, as if it was his fault, that Maisie almost smiled despite the shock and terror battering her senses.

‘She’s just hungry. I need to feed her.’

‘Then why don’t we go somewhere more comfortable, such as my hotel suite? I have a limo waiting by your apartment.’

Maisie hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to negotiate with Antonio on his turf, as she had been last night, but also recognising that she needed to choose her battles. This certainly wasn’t a crucial one, whereas moving to Milan was. She’d save her strength for that.

‘All right,’ she relented. ‘But we’d better go quickly. Ella doesn’t like to wait for her dinner.’

Antonio took control of the stroller as they hurried back towards her apartment, a limo meeting them right outside the park. Fifteen minutes later they were pulling up in front of the luxurious hotel where Maisie had waitressed last night, which felt like a lifetime ago. Then they were soaring up to the penthouse suite, a fussy Ella clutched to Maisie’s chest.

She stepped into the suite, amazed at the sheer opulence of the place she had been too stunned to notice last night. Antiques and expensive art vied for space on the walls and floor, and competed with the floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded a view of the city.

‘This is amazing,’ Maisie said with a little, incredulous laugh. She’d waitressed in plenty of luxury hotels but apart from last night she’d never been in one of the guest rooms, never mind the penthouse suite. ‘Do you always stay in places like this?’ Antonio shrugged in reply. Of course he did. This was the norm for him. They really were from completely different worlds. And yet it seemed Antonio wanted her to join his. But Maisie knew she wasn’t ready to think about that yet, not when Ella was hungry and grizzly and everything felt so precarious and strange.

‘What do you need?’ Antonio asked, nodding towards their daughter.

‘Just a quiet space and a comfy chair,’ Maisie answered. ‘And maybe a glass of water.’

‘I can manage all those things,’ Antonio said with a small smile, and something inside Maisie lightened. This felt strange, but it also felt the tiniest bit nice, being taken care of.

A few minutes later she was sitting comfortably in a squashy armchair in one of the suite’s bedrooms, Ella guzzling happily at her breast. Outside the city stretched out, Central Park a haze of green in the distance. Maisie leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes—she hadn’t slept much last night.

A sound startled her out of her doze. She opened her eyes to see Antonio standing in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand and an odd expression on his face.

Belatedly Maisie realised how exposed she was, her shirt hiked up so Ella could nurse.

‘Sorry,’ she said, uncertain if she should apologise.

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’ Antonio crossed the room to place the glass of water on the table beside her. ‘It’s a lovely sight.’

‘It feels like she’s always hungry.’ Maisie lowered her gaze as she stroked her daughter’s head.

Antonio frowned. ‘Always hungry and never sleeping. It sounds as if she makes many demands.’

‘She’s just a normal baby,’ Maisie protested. ‘I don’t mean to complain.’

‘You aren’t. I’m just concerned for you. You look tired.’

Maisie prickled instinctively

. ‘If you’re implying that I can’t manage—’