The Italian's Unexpected Baby

She’d tucked her knees up to her chest and scrunched her eyes shut tight, trying to block out the memories that insisted on coming anyway, relentless and so awful. So embarrassing, so full of shame and regret, as well as pleasure and wonder.

She could hardly believe that she’d been so heedless, welcoming Alessandro’s kiss, begging him to touch her…and losing her virginity on Henry Dillard’s desk. How could she have let that happen? How could she have let herself be so shameless, so weak? What if this ruined everything?

Now, in the cold light of morning, she let out a choked sound, something between a sob and a horrified laugh, as she considered what she’d done.

Of course, it had been amazing. There was no denying or hiding from that stark truth. She’d been transported to a world of pleasure she’d never even known existed, and yet, despite that, she hated how in thrall she’d been to her own body, as well as to Alessandro’s touch.

He had a hold over her that she both resented and feared, and the result was she’d lost something precious, something that had been hers, in the blazing heat of a single moment…and to a man who most likely didn’t like her and intended to fire her in the foreseeable future.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid and shameful and wrong.

Slowly, still aching, Mia rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, more than ready to wash away the scent of Alessandro from her skin. She turned the water up to as hot as she could stand and let it beat down on her until her skin turned pink and then red.

She knew she needed to get out, get dressed for work, get going. She needed to face Alessandro, even if she dreaded it with every cell of her being. Judging from his reaction last night, he regretted their encounter as much as she did, something which was both a relief and an insult. Still, it was better for them to do their best to move past it, and pretend it had never happened…if they could.

Mia felt as if the memory of Alessandro, the strength of his body, the sureness of his touch, was emblazoned on her brain, branded into her skin. It was going to take a huge act of will even to pretend to forget it. Him. And yet she had to. The alternative was inconceivable.

Quickly Mia stepped out of the shower and dressed in a crisp skirt suit of navy blue with a pale grey blouse. She put her hair in a tight bun, determined to look every inch the efficient PA and not the kind of woman who had sex late at night in an empty office. Because she wasn’t that person. At all.

Since she was eighteen, Mia had been focused on one thing—finding her freedom and forging a career that would give her independence and security. She’d seen how her mother had been miserably beholden to her father throughout their entire marriage, before the release of her death; she’d lived through the awful ups and downs, her father’s sudden, inexplicable rages, his emotional blackmail and silent disapproval, his moods and tempers dictating the unhappy tone of their fractured home, and all the while her mother too scared and unsupported to leave.

Diana James had insisted she loved her husband, even when he’d never shown a reason to deserve that love. Mia had been desperate to escape it herself, as soon as she could. And she had vowed she would never lose her control because of a man—any man—the way her mother had. Yet last night, if just for a few moments, she had lost control, willingly, joyfully…and she was horrified by it.

Resolutely Mia gazed at her pale reflection in the mirror, determined to put last night behind her completely. Hopefully Alessandro would do the same, and she would return to being the useful PA he required…and nothing more.

The office seemed quiet as Mia headed up in the lift, everyone working quietly with their heads down, seeming apprehensive. Alessandro hadn’t started firing people yet, and perhaps if what he’d implied last night was true, he wouldn’t.

But who was the real man? The lover who had shown her a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, or the ruthless tycoon everyone said he was? Who did she want to believe in—and did it matter anyway?

At her desk, Mia let out a little sigh of relief as she looked around and didn’t see Alessandro anywhere. In an ideal world, she wouldn’t see him all day. She could organise the files he’d requested yesterday, and update her CV, just in case. After that, she’d just have to pretend to look busy until Alessandro issued some directives.

As it happened, Mia had barely sat down and clicked on her computer mouse before the lift doors opened and Alessandro strode onto the floor, emanating power and authority in a navy blue suit, looking freshly showered and shaven, reminding Mia of how he’d smelled. Felt.

She tensed where she sat, memories assaulting her senses, and then his steel-g

rey gaze clashed with hers before he nodded towards the office doors.

‘Miss James…?’

Wordlessly Mia rose on rubbery legs and followed him into the office. Her heart was thudding unpleasantly as she closed the door behind her, trying to avoid looking at the desk. Last night when he’d hoisted her up on it, she remembered papers falling, the phone skittering across the polished surface with a clatter. Now, at least, everything had been neatly replaced and there was no way to tell or even guess what had happened there last night.

But Mia remembered. As much as she was trying to forget, she remembered… Alessandro’s hands on her hips, her mouth pressed against his shoulder. The way she’d cried out…

Resolutely she looked away from the desk and fixed her gaze on an innocuous spot on the wall. She wasn’t ready to look at Alessandro’s face and see what expression resided there, derision, desire, or just remembrance. She couldn’t handle any of it.

Alessandro cleared his throat. ‘Last night…’ he began, and then stopped.

Mia reluctantly forced herself to look at him, even though everything in her resisted. His face was bland and closed. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she shivered just from the coolness in his eyes.

Last night. The two words did not bode well.

Somehow she forced herself to speak, even though her lips were dry, her voice a papery thread. ‘Last night didn’t happen.’

‘While I’d like to agree with you, I can’t.’ Alessandro met her gaze unflinchingly. ‘We didn’t use birth control.’

Shock jolted through Mia at the stark realisation but she kept her gaze and voice steady as she answered. ‘I’m on the pill.’

Alessandro raised his eyebrows, seeming sceptical. ‘You are? Even though you were a—?’