‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ Cass exclaimed softly. ‘I bet you looked exactly like this when you were born, Marco.’ Glancing up at him, Cass smiled and her expression warmed him. ‘Don’t you want to hold him?’
‘I’m not sure I should,’ he said, suddenly nervous when confronted by such a tiny life.
‘Of course you should,’ the midwife told him. Taking the infant from Cassandra’s arms, she placed him in his.
As his brutish arms closed around the small warm bundle, he sucked in a shocked breath. The tiny child was somehow familiar, as if he were seeing someone he knew well after a really long absence. It was a defining moment, a shock, a wake-up call, and also a dilemma he had never expected to confront. He hadn’t expected to feel anything, let alone this detonation of emotion inside his heart. His heart didn’t just beat faster, it took off—it swelled, it exploded.
He cried.
‘Marco?’
Cassandra’s voice was concerned—for him.
Rigid control allowed him to pull himself together and hand the child back.
‘Thank you,’ he bit out awkwardly. No words could explain.
‘He’s your son, Marco,’ she said, staring again into the tiny face. ‘There’s no mistaking it, is there?’
‘No mistaking it,’ the same midwife agreed in his place, beaming fondly as she stared down at the baby.
‘We don’t know that yet.’ He was reeling from reality, from his son—gut instinct told him this tiny, vulnerable child was his son, and that made him fearful. Could he protect the child as he had failed to protect his mother? Could he love his son, as the man he had called father had failed to love him? Overwhelmed by love, he was in danger of being destroyed by the fear of losing it again.
It was as if the air had frozen solid when he spoke. Everyone in the room remained motionless, as if they couldn’t compute what he’d said, let alone his reason for saying it now, at what had to be the most inappropriate moment possible. He felt as if time and space had slowed to take full account of his crass remark as everyone turned around to stare at him.
‘We can’t be sure that he’s mine,’ he said, reverting to the emotion-free tone he always used in business. He added a shrug for good measure. ‘Only science can do that.’
It was as if, having dug the hole, he had to go on digging. The midwife looked as if she’d like to push him into it and then fill it in with cement.
‘Oh, Marco,’ Cassandra murmured. Handing the baby over to the midwife to put in the cot that had been made ready nearby, she reached out to him as she had done when he’d first entered the room. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she whispered, so that only he could hear.
He stiffened and stared down at her as if she were a stranger. ‘I should go now.’
‘Must you?’ Her eyes implored him to stay.
‘Yes. Yes, I must. I didn’t realise how long this would take. I have appointments—’
‘Yes, I see,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I took so long.’
She was apologising to him? He was deeply ashamed. He had to get out of there or he would ruin her life. He needed time—space—the opportunity to counsel himself, so he could accept the truth—that he was afraid of love, terrified of it—terrified of losing it, terrified of losing Cassandra. He had kept his feelings bottled up since he was a child, and now they were threatening to drown him, just when Cassandra was at her most vulnerable—when she needed him most.
‘I’ll arrange the DNA test as soon as I can.’
‘You’ll...’ Cassandra’s mouth dropped open.
‘Haven’t you said enough?’ the midwife hissed, glancing pointedly at the door.
He hadn’t moved. Cassandra had gone white with shock, but then her shock turned to fury and, pulling herself up in the bed, she flung at him in anger, ‘Get your court order first! Then you can have your DNA test!’
As a nurse rushed across the room to calm her, the midwife ushered him to the door. ‘Get out,’ she murmured coldly.
She was right. He was a monster. He’d always known it. He was a monster who didn’t deserve to love or be loved.
He stood motionless outside the door, barely aware of the concerned murmurings inside the room. He couldn’t be sure whose life he was ruining—maybe all of them. He couldn’t bear to overhear Cassandra making excuses for him. But now he’d said this terrible thing he had to get it over and done with. He placed a call and asked the question. The Christmas holidays had produced a backlog in the lab, but for Marco di Fivizzano, anything was possible. And, yes, the answer would be with him within hours.