“So will I! Ryan was supposed to send for me after Mamie died and instead—” She stopped herself. Her gaze averted as her face crumpled into anguished struggle to overcome unvoiced, but very intense pain.
Ryan had disappeared.
Paolo’s desire to punish her evaporated in a wrench of grief and self-disgust. Her pain hurt him. If she broke down, he didn’t know what he’d do. He couldn’t hold her, couldn’t touch her. He knew that way led to madness.
“Lauren,” was all he could say. He leaned forward, unable to help that her name came out like an entreaty. Don’t fall apart. Don’t make me bed you again.
She took his murmur of her name as an attempt to persuade.#p#????#e#
“No,” she refused truculently. “I won’t do it, Paolo. I spent all those years with Mamie because I wanted to and I don’t feel like I gave up my youth the way everyone said I would, but I do recognize that I have only this tiny window between now and when the baby will tie me down. This is my time and I’m taking it. Don’t try to stop me by having me questioned at the airport. You won’t like what I tell them.”
Her harsh threat, so surprisingly effective, chilled him to the bone. He couldn’t take it lightly. “You’re bitchier than you look,” he muttered with unmitigated contempt.
Lauren jerked as though that verbal slap had landed well, but tossed her head to shake it off. “I don’t want to do it. It’s up to you. I didn’t come here to start a war. I’ve told you, I don’t want anything from you. I’ll try to keep the secret as long as I can. Despite—”
Her voice caught and she hugged herself tighter, swaying a little.
He glanced at the plate and calculated she’d had two sections of orange and a bite of banana, chased by a little soda. Damned fool. He stood, prepared to catch her again.
“Despite the circumstances under which this baby was conceived, I’m happy about it,” she rushed to say.
What circumstances were those? his most cynical side longed to demand. Better that than dwelling on a memory so bittersweet he couldn’t let it out of its vault. He had to keep his attention on not taking her claim at face value. Paternity could be established in time but the reality of today was, no matter who had fathered her baby, once the pregnancy became evident, the world would look to him as the culprit.
And until he knew indisputably that it was his, he didn’t intend to be accused of it.
“My dress?” she prompted, turning her back again.
“How will you get out of it once you’re alone?” He slipped off his tuxedo jacket and dropped it across her shoulders, swamping her narrow back and making her look younger and more innocent than he could stand.
“There’s nothing I can say or do to keep you from going to Italy?” he demanded.
“I leave tomorrow. It’s a done deal.”
“Cosi sia,” he muttered. So be it. At least she’d be out of the States, the country that would be most scandalized by a pregnancy that spoke of a betrayal against their national hero.
Taking her elbow, he steered her toward the elevator. She was tense in his grip, her weight leaning into his hold more than he expected and she was very pale. The evening had taken a toll. Perhaps the baby had, as well. An unwanted clench of concern firmed his grip on her arm.
At the same time, his mind raced. He had intended to be in the air first thing with Isabella, Vittorio and Vittorio’s parents, delivering Isabella to her parents’ immediately upon arrival. All his Christmas arrangements would have to be reviewed and reconsidered. His entire calendar for the next quarter, perhaps the next year. Perhaps his entire life. Damn you, Lauren.
“You’re landing in Rome?” he questioned gruffly.
She paused to glance up warily as they stepped into the elevator. “Milan. Why?” she challenged with suspicion.
“Milan,” he repeated under his breath, thinking it was both more and less convenient. His agile mind leapt to possibilities.
Thankfully, they saw no one on the way to her room. He took her keycard and opened her door while she shrugged out of his jacket and returned it. When she lifted a strained look to him, he saw only pouted, tender lips, and a melancholy shadow in her eyes. And yet the sensuality was there, the child-goddess yet to be awakened to her full potential. Those conflicting signals of innocence and sin fascinated him. He wanted to kiss her.#p#????#e#
“You left Charleston so abruptly after the funeral. I never said—”
His heart clenched. “Don’t thank me, Lauren. I won’t like it,” he warned. And yet... No. He tamped down hard on feelings he never should have had, never should have given in to.