The Italian's Unexpected Baby
‘You don’t have to do—’ Alessandro began, and she gave him a piercing look.
‘I think it’s better this way, don’t you?’
Yes, he did. Of course he did. Even if he didn’t feel like it just then. ‘Enjoy LA,’ he said stiffly, and she gave him one last accusing look before she nodded and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER SIX
THREE WEEKS AFTER she’d left Alessandro Costa, Dillard Investments, and her home country, Mia came home from work, unlocking the door to her sumptuous apartment in Santa Monica, one of Los Angeles’ best neighbourhoods, with a tired sigh as she kicked off her heels.
Choosing to transfer workplaces had been the only way she’d known how to salvage what was left of her pride as well as her working life. She hadn’t been able to stand working with Alessandro, and in any case she’d sensed that he would have her transferred or even fired if she’d waited long enough; she was no longer useful in the way he required. In fact, she’d become rather inconvenient. Choosing it herself first had felt like the best way to take control.
Since she’d left she’d heard through the grapevine that at least half of Dillard’s employees had been made redundant with packages as generous as hers; the other half had been offered positions within Alessandro’s portfolio of companies. He wasn’t the ruthless tycoon she’d thought he was, at least not in that regard.
It was just in his personal relationships where he was truly ruthless. Because no matter how elegant her apartment, how cushy her job, Mia couldn’t escape the feeling that Alessandro had wanted her gone, more even than she’d wanted to go. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d walked out of her office, which was how she’d wanted it—and how Alessandro had seemed to want it, as well.
Sighing, she changed out of her work clothes into more comfy ones, anticipating another evening in front of the TV. She’d been invited out for drinks with some of her colleagues, but for the last few days Mia had been feeling a bit off, tired and nauseous. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with the stomach flu, and decided that a good night’s sleep, not to mention a healthy dose of Netflix, would knock whatever she was fighting off on its head.
The next morning she woke up with her stomach roiling, and she barely made it to the toilet in time before it emptied its contents. She called in sick, although by the afternoon she was feeling better again. When the same thing happened the next day, and then the next day after that, realisation sliced through her, as sharp as a knife, and just as shockingly painful, even though she’d known all along it had been an admittedly small risk.
She hadn’t had a period since she’d come to Los Angeles. Sick in the mornings, better in the afternoons, and so, so tired. She might have been a virgin, but she wasn’t completely naïve.
She’d missed two birth control pills, and even though she’d taken one later that day, Mia had read online that she’d opened herself up to a small risk of becoming pregnant. And a small risk was still a risk.
Yet even so, she had trouble believing it.
One night. Two pills. Surely not…
Her heart turned over, an unpleasant sensation, as realisation trickled icily through her.
She couldn’t be…
After work that day she went to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test, flushing in embarrassment as she paid for it, even though the pimply-faced teenaged boy ringing up her purchase looked completely bored and indifferent.
She took it home, unwrapping it with shaking fingers, staring at the slim white stick in disbelief that she was holding such a thing, needing it.
She couldn’t be…
She read the directions twice through, still in a haze of incredulity, and then she took the test, all the while telling herself this was crazy, impossible, nothing more than a needless precaution. The chances of falling pregnant after one time, and just two missed pills…
But she wasn’t stupid. She knew it could happen. She just couldn’t believe it could happen to her.
And then she turned the test over and stared down at the two blazing pink lines in disbelief.
She couldn’t be, but she was.
She spent an hour simply sitting on her sofa, staring into space, having no idea what to think, much less to do. Her mind felt fogged with incredulity, unable to think beyond the reality of those two lines. She couldn’t yet consider what they meant or would mean, or how she would respond to them.
Then, at some point, she roused herself from her stupor and made herself a cup of tea. Pregnant. She was pregnant. By Alessandro Costa, a man she barely knew and definitely didn’t like, a man known to be ruthless in both personal relationships and the business world. And he was going to be the father of her child.
Realisation slammed into her with that thought; this was her child. The family she’d never truly had. And she knew, no matter how inconvenient or unexpected, she was going to keep this baby, this child of her flesh and blood.
And Alessandro’s.
Armed with a cup of milky tea, Mia flipped open her laptop and did another internet search on Alessandro. She had deliberately not searched anything personal about him before. She hadn’t wanted to know, or to wonder.
Now she blinked as image after image came up on the screen of her laptop of Alessandro. The sight of his commanding profile, those steely eyes, that impressive form…it all battered her senses, made her remember far too many things. The lingering way he’d undone her zip. The press of his lips to the base of her spine…the sudden frenzy of passion they’d both felt, obliterating all thought and reason for those few crucial moments.
As she clicked through the photos, she noticed a common feature, and her expression hardened. In nearly every image, Alessandro was with a woman. A different woman. Over the last month he’d attended a variety of glittering events, in London, in Paris, in Rome, always with a sexy, pouting woman, and usually one who was poured into a dress, on his arm.