The Secret Kept from the Italian

‘I’ve already lost three months, Maisie. What’s really holding you here, besides an aversion to falling in with my plans?’

‘Lots of things!’

‘Name one, then.’

She stared at him, infuriated that he would reduce her life to a list that could be ticked off and discarded. ‘I have friends, you know.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m sure you do. But I also imagine that they are friends from school, and you don’t see them very often.’

Maisie bit her lip, not wanting to admit how close to the truth that was. Besides her old college friends, she’d made a few friends through a local baby group, but the relationships were new and she could hardly claim they were worth staying for.

‘And what about Max?’ she countered, because her brother was of course the biggest reason for her to stay. ‘How could I leave him?’ She could hardly imagine it.

Antonio stared at her levelly for a full minute, the look in his piercing blue eyes turning strangely gentle, which made Maisie even more nervous. She felt nervous just looking at him, as if she was approaching a magnetic force field, about to be sucked in. She’d never met such a compelling man before, never felt that relentless and exciting tug inside her as she had with Antonio, and it was all magnified when he was looking at her with such kindness.

‘What?’ she demanded, her voice coming out in little more than a squeak.

‘Don’t you think,’ Antonio said, ‘it might be better for Max if you came with me to Milan?’

Maisie jerked back as if he’d slapped her, and Ella stirred against her breast, opening her eyes to gaze up at her mother in sleepy frustration. She screwed her face up, about to let out a howl of protest, and Maisie quickly soothed her, bending her head so Antonio couldn’t see the expression on her face. How hurt she was. How afraid she was that he might be right.

‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked in a low voice when Ella had settled again, although she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

‘Only that Max is twenty-three years old, a single man in the city with a steady job and good prospects. He’s given up a lot to support you, just as you gave up so much to do the same for him.’

Maisie stared down at Ella miserably, a lump forming in her throat. She knew Antonio was right, and she hated it.

‘You don’t want him to sacrifice so many years the way you did, Maisie, do you?’ His voice was so very gentle. ‘You want more for him than that. That’s why you made the sacrifice in the first place.’

How could a man whose professional reputation as a ruthless destroyer of businesses and people’s lives have so much compassionate perception? It seemed unfair somehow.

‘There’s a difference between giving Max a bit of space and moving halfway across the world,’ Maisie finally said, the words feeling as if they had to be dragged from her.

‘Perhaps,’ Antonio acknowledged, ‘but only one of those options would truly give Max his freedom. He wouldn’t agree to give you the space you both need unless he was sure you were cared for. You know that.’

Maisie flinched and looked away. Yes, she did know that. But did that really mean moving to Milan with Antonio? With every word he spoke she felt the walls closing in. She didn’t want to move to Milan...and it had nothing to do with Max, or her friends, or her life in New York. It had to do with the man in front of her, a man who affected her now as much as he had a year ago. A man who would hold her life and her happiness in his hands, and it was that prospect that terrified her.

* * *

Antonio watched the emotions play across Maisie’s lovely, open face. She couldn’t hide anything—not her fear, her misery, or the realisation that he was right. He felt sorry for her, but he also felt a surge of satisfaction and triumph. She was going to agree. It was simply a matter of time.

‘So I’m doing this for Max,’ Maisie said in a shaky voice. ‘And you. And Ella.’

‘And you,’ Antonio said swiftly. ‘This doesn’t need to be a sacrifice, Maisie. Heaven knows you’ve made enough of those in your life.’

‘Right.’ Her lips trembled and she looked away, out at the azure sky and bright lemon-yellow sun sparkling over Manhattan’s midtown. Ella stirred again, her eyes opening, showing them to be a piercing, vivid blue, just like his. His daughter. The realisation hit him afresh yet again, making his heart tumble in his chest. He didn’t have space or time to feel sorry for Maisie. Not now, when his daughter’s life was at stake. His life.

‘You could

have a better life in Milan, you know, if you wanted to.’

She turned to him, her green eyes wide. ‘How?’

‘You’ll have better living accommodation, certainly,’ Antonio said. ‘And there might be more opportunities for music, who knows? Without having to worry about money, you could be free to pursue your own studies or ambitions.’

‘So,’ Maisie answered slowly, ‘you’re willing to pay child support if I do as you say and move to Milan, but not if I stay here in my home?’ Her eyes flashed and her lips trembled before she pressed them together. ‘That doesn’t seem exactly fair, Antonio. It feels like blackmail.’

‘And does it seem fair that I pay for you and Ella and never get to see her?’ Antonio countered, quashing the flicker of guilt Maisie’s words had caused to ripple through him. Was he strong-arming her into this? Why couldn’t she just see sense? ‘There has to be some compromise.’