“Oh, that's wonderful!” his sister exclaimed. “Our mother would be so proud.”
Ellie lifted her chin and pleaded, “But my grandmother…”
“My daughter's name is Ana,” he informed her coldly.
Ellie ground her teeth. Just like a man to not listen to anyone's feelings but his own! But on the other hand, if his adoptive mother really had saved him from starving on the streets, it seemed a small enough thing to ask.
She closed her eyes. “Ana,” she tried aloud. “Ana Jensen.” Opening her eyes, she nodded. “All right. Ana.”
But Diogo didn't look grateful. He stared at her, his dark brows lowered.
“Jensen?” he demanded. “Their last name will be Serrador.”
She shook her head. “You expect me to raise the babies in Flint with a name different from mine?” she protested.
“Raise them in Flint?” he thundered. “Are you out of your mind? You are going to live here with me—all of you!”
“I might stay until they're born. But longer than that? You can't honestly expect me to remain here forever, sequestered in your penthouse like some trapped princess in a tower!”
“I thought,” he ground out, “that we could raise the children together. I am their father.”
She nodded. “And you will always have access to the children. We'll work out custody. But—” she raised her chin “—you are not my husband. You will not have access to me.”
* * *
Twins.
Looking back at the heartbeats on the monitor, Diogo suddenly saw everything clearly for the first time.
He'd thought that it was enough for him to bring Ellie to Rio. To take care of her, to keep them all safe. But now he saw that he'd been wrong…so wrong.
A son. A daughter.
Without his name.
His precious newborn children wouldn't be protected. They would be…bastards. Just like Diogo had been.
He still remembered the pain of his childhood. First he'd had no father—then later, no mother. No money. No home.
He'd had to toughen up fast.
He didn't want his children to grow up that way. He had to protect them. He had to keep them safe.
His hands gripped the edge of the sofa as he looked up again at the blinking lights on the monitor.
He heard the plaintive whisper of a woman's voice from long ago. Will you marry me? Will you?
But he hadn't asked her questions; he'd just been furious. Marry her? He'd been incredulous that she would try to pin him down after three dates in as many weeks. If you don't care about me, she'd whispered, then I'm done with you.
He'd never seen her again. He'd forgotten her swiftly. Until he got the call from the Brazilian lawyer at Christmas last year. She was just found—beaten to death. Your name was in her will.
Diogo's whole body was tense as he clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. Too much was at stake. Ellie was his new chance to do it right—from the very start. The happiness of his children depended on it.
Allow Ellie to take them to the States?
What kind of home would it be for them, caught between two continents, between two families? His children would barely know their father. Perhaps they, too, would hate him….
Maldição, he swore soundlessly, no! He would not let his children suffer—not let them be torn away from the father that loved them! They would be respected. They would be loved.
By both parents.
Ellie was traditional, not like the modern women of the age who were happy to make a go of parenthood alone.
Isn't it bad enough that my baby will be born without a name? she'd cried. Bad enough that I'm an unwed mother—bad enough that everyone thinks I'm your whore? Are you so selfish that you want to make it true? To take the last bit of pride I've got left?
He could solve this problem. For all of them.
Suddenly, it was all so clear.
He looked straight into Ellie's eyes.
“You will marry me.”
Ellie's jaw dropped. “What?”
He'd never thought he would propose to any woman, but it was strangely easy. “You will stay here. We will raise our children together. It is simple, Ellie. You will be my wife.”
He waited for her to exclaim with joy, to throw her arms around him, to proclaim her thrilled gratitude. But she didn't.
She flinched.
“Stop it, Diogo. We know you're not the marrying kind.”
He frowned at her. “I've changed my mind.”
“Just stop it!” Blinking hard, she turned to the doctor. “The babies are healthy, aren't they? My cycle has never been even, so I didn't even take a pregnancy test until recently. But I never drank alcohol or—”
“Do not worry. They look fine,” the doctor said soothingly, glancing between them. “The pregnancy is going well. You'll just need to take good care of yourself.” She gave Diogo a hard stare. “You'll need to help her.”