The Italian's Secret Baby

The impatience in Roman’s face visibly increased as she spoke. ‘Or I could have been really subtle and let you think it was your idea all along?’ he suggested.

‘Only you could call manipulative straightforward.’ She shook her head incredulously—he really was a one-off. ‘I don’t suppose that it occurred to you that I might have made other plans, did it? No,’ she added without giving him an opening to respond. ‘It wouldn’t, because you never consider anyone else but yourself!’ she declared angrily.

Roman’s eyes lifted. They were smouldering.

‘I didn’t consider that you’d made plans because as far as I can see you don’t have a social life.’

‘Not one like yours, certainly.’

‘Since Sam was born your life has revolved around him. Can you deny that?’

‘Are you saying I smother him?’

‘I’d say the possibility of you wearing yourself to a shadow trying to be the perfect mother is a more likely scenario.’

Scarlet threw a hand up. ‘You’ve been a father, what? Five minutes, and you’re telling me what I’m doing wrong.’

He opened his mouth to deliver a cutting rejoinder and his gaze settled on her face. Suddenly the anger drained out of him. She looked so tired, he thought, looking at the purplish bruises under her eyes. He experienced a wave of protective tenderness of shocking intensity.

‘Consider yourself asked.’

Scarlet looked at him blankly. ‘What?’

‘I’m asking if you and Sam will come to Ireland with me this weekend.’

‘It’s quite impossible. A trip like that will muck up Sam’s routine and I have work on Monday.’

‘You’re the impossible one!’ he flung, literally grinding his teeth in frustration. ‘Sam’s routine is not engraved in stone. I thought you said it was important with a child to be flexible?’

‘This wasn’t what I was talking about.’

‘Now there’s a surprise.’ The muscles in his taut jaw tightened another notch. ‘As for work, you have four weeks’ holiday to take before the end of next month and I happen to know there won’t be any objection to you taking some of it next week.’

‘And you’d know that because?’

‘It always pays to think ahead,’ he drawled, seemingly unaffected by the tremble of anger in her voice.

‘I can’t believe you went behind my back,’ she choked. ‘How dare you interfere in my life this way? This is exactly what I was talking about. I’m not some puppet you can manipulate.’

‘How much simpler life would be,’ he drawled.

Scarlet shot him a furious glance. ‘Well, there’s absolutely no way we’re coming now. What…what’s that?’ she said, stopping mid-sentence to stare suspiciously at the newspaper he had drawn from his pocket and thrown on the worktop.#p#????#e#

‘You’ll find the relevant article on page two. It’s an evening edition. I think we’ll make the front page tomorrow morning. What you read there might make you reconsider your decision. I don’t think London is going to be a very comfortable place for you.’

As he spoke his eyes were trained on Scarlet, who was turning the page with considerable trepidation.

‘I feel sick!’ she declared when the half-page picture headlined DOMESTIC BLISS…? jumped out at her. It was a cosy domestic scene. Roman was manoeuvring Sam’s pushchair up a pavement in the park. Sam himself was asleep, his head lolling to one side. Scarlet, her head turned slightly away from the camera, was looking up at Roman and smiling.

‘They didn’t catch my good side, but you look cute.’

‘How can you joke about this?’ Scarlet demanded, raising reproachful shell-shocked eyes to his face. She shook her head and protested in a dazed tone, ‘We’re not going to go public yet.’

‘I think we just have.’ Roman sounded remarkably philosophical about it. Although you’re still the mystery brunette and they’ve stopped short of saying that Sam is my son, I think it’s significant that there are five references to the uncanny resemblance.’

‘You didn’t arrange this, did you?’

He sucked in his breath audibly. ‘No, I did not. I’m pretty sure it was your neighbour upstairs who did that.’

‘Isobel wouldn’t do that!’ she gasped, appalled. ‘She’s my friend.’

‘One who you’ve known for what? A week?’

‘That’s only three weeks less than I’ve known you and you expect me to trust you?’