The Italian Boss's Secret Child(25)

'I … ' she flailed. 'You see … '

'I don't see, Philly,' he barged in. 'I don't see at all. You had ample  opportunity to tell me you were the woman behind that mask, and yet you  said nothing. Then, when we were up at the Gold Coast, I tried to kiss  you and you acted like I was mauling you-and yet we'd already made love.  What was that all about unless you were wanting to keep that first  night a secret?'

She gasped, her eyes wide open in protest. 'You didn't want me that  night. It was one thing to make love to some fantasy woman at the ball,  but you had no intention of making love to me then. You just didn't want  anyone else to. You couldn't stand the thought that anyone else might  be interested in me.'                       
       
           



       

No intention of making love with her? She had to be kidding. He'd burned  that night, back in his room, pacing away the tension she'd provoked in  his loins.

'No,' he said. 'That doesn't make sense. You wanted to keep your  identity secret. That's why you pushed me away that night. So there  would be no chance I might recognise my elusive boardroom lover.'

She was shaking her head. 'Things were already too complicated. You wouldn't have believed me.'

'And things are less complicated now? How do you work that out?'

He didn't wait for her answer. He took three strides, stopping at the  top of the steps leading down to the thirsty lawn below. 'How do you  expect me to believe you?'

'Because it's the truth.'

He sighed, long and deep, before he looked over his shoulder to where  she was still standing against the railing. 'So then, explain it to me.  Why did you keep that mask on? Why did you run away from me that night,  unless it was to ensure I'd never find out who you were? Why didn't you  tell me it was you?'

She didn't answer and a train rushed along the track, sounding its horn  over the crossing. Then gradually the quiet resumed, leaving only the  plaintive notes of the windchimes tinkling in the lame summer breeze.

'Have you forgotten what it was like back then? Forgotten how you were?'

She looked over to him and gave a wan smile. 'Remember the first day I  came to your office? When Sam had gone home sick? Remember how you were  then?'

'What do you mean?'

'I knew what you thought of me. You'd summed me up and written me off  with one glance. I was so low on the food chain I didn't even register.'

'It wasn't like that.'

'Of course it was. There was no way you'd look twice at me. And yet, at the ball … '

'You looked so different that night.'

She gave a shrug, a small laugh. 'You never suspected it was me. You  never had any plans to make love to plain old Philly Summers. And I  didn't want you to find out. Because I knew you wouldn't want to know.  It never would have happened if you'd known who I was.'

'That's not true.'

But he knew it was. He hadn't looked twice at her, not the way she was  back then. He'd had no idea what was hidden away under that brown suit  and those glasses.

'It was such a fantasy, that night,' she continued, her voice low and  wistful in remembrance. 'And afterwards, afterwards I got so scared.'

'Scared of what?'

'I couldn't believe what I'd done-what we'd done. I just panicked. I  knew you'd resent me for what had happened. I knew you'd be angry. And  even if I kept my job, I didn't think I'd ever be able to face you  again. I had to get out. So I ran.'

'You thought I'd fire you?'

'I didn't know what you'd do. I had no way of knowing. I just knew you  wouldn't be happy to find out that the woman you'd seduced in the  boardroom was only me.'

Only me. So she'd hardly been the type of woman that usually attracted  him back then. Heck, did she have any idea about how many nights' sleep  he'd lost since then thinking about his mystery lover?

And then there'd been the Gold Coast trip. That was when Philly had  started to look different. Her clothes, her hair, even getting rid of  her glasses. Ever since that trip she'd been a different woman. A sexier  woman. And he'd made it plain he thought so in her room that night. And  she'd been the one that night to turn him away.

He'd wanted two different women only to find out that they were the same  person all along. Surely that counted for something? He wanted to reach  out a hand to her then, to soothe her fears and assure her that he did  want her, but he wasn't ready to do that. This whole discussion had left  more than just a bitter taste in his mouth.

'How long will you wait until you tell your mother about the baby?'

She looked up at him, all hollow eyes and pale skin. 'I thought maybe  another month, just to be sure. That should get me over the most  critical time.'

'We'll schedule the wedding for a month's time, in that case. We can tell her together then.'

Her head jerked up. 'You still plan on going through with this? You still intend to marry me?'

'You have no choice. Your mother has been told and I certainly don't want to be the one to disappoint her. Do you?'

She dropped her eyes to the decking, her heart hammering in her chest.  There was no way in the world she'd do anything to upset her  mother-Damien knew that-she'd been effectively locked in this marriage  deal from the moment she'd walked through that door.                       
       
           



       

But if he thought she was trapped, it was nothing to how he was going to feel when he found out the truth.

He was determined to marry her to have control over their child and its  upbringing. He had no idea he had control over her heart.





CHAPTER TWELVE





SHE was married. No longer Miss Summers. Now she was Mrs DeLuca, wife to  Damien. His ring on her hand, his name in place of hers.

Teringa Park, his country property, had made the perfect setting for  their wedding vows. She'd imagined it was just another country home,  another executive hobby farm, but she'd been wrong. The lush property  dated back to early colonial times, the large home testament to the  success and wealth of its first owner.

Just as this wedding was testament to the success and wealth of its current owner.

A large marquee had been set up on the expanse of lawns, which were  green and lush in defiance of the dry summer heat. Filmy white fabric  had been hung in drifts along the veranda of the old stone homestead and  it billowed softly in the gentle breeze, while champagne-coloured  helium-filled balloons jostled together in large urns bedecked with  ribbons and bows, set about the gardens between bowls of fragrant  apricot roses.

The service itself had been brief, though the guest list surprisingly  large, considering how few family members there were between them. But  obviously Damien wasn't the kind of man who would do anything by halves.  The Who's Who of Melbourne society was in attendance along with a  contingent of society page reporters, and everyone wanted to meet the  woman lucky enough to snare Melbourne's most eligible bachelor.

By the end of the day Philly felt drained, emotionally and physically,  the stresses and tension of the day overwhelming her. She turned her  head to the man at her side, the man to whom her life was now linked,  and the magnitude of what she'd done moved through her like an  earthquake-a shudder of realisation, an instant of fear as her world  shook under her.

She had the perfect husband-rich, intelligent, drop-dead gorgeous. She  was the envy of every woman here, if the looks from the assembled guests  were any indication. She had everything, or so they thought.

Strange, how empty you could feel, when you were supposed to have  everything. Strange how those things everyone seemed to want did nothing  to fill the hole deep inside her, the hole that could never be filled  with mere luxury and a marriage built on control.

The one bright light was her mother. She sat on a shady terrace watching  the proceedings, unable to erase the smile from her face. She looked  serene today, even beautiful, in a silky soft aqua outfit Damien himself  had personally selected for her and it complemented her pale skin and  softly waved regrowing hair perfectly. Make up enhanced her features,  already looking healthier than they had in months.

Damien had been right. While news of the baby was sure to delight her  mother, knowing that Philly was married and that her grandchild would  therefore be raised within a family unit with both parents, would make  it all the more special. Already the bloom on her face made the hastily  arranged marriage worthwhile.

But it wasn't just her appearance. It was also the apparent improvement  in her health. Even the doctors were amazed by the sudden change in her  well-being, the steadying of her condition and the indisputable easing  of the pain. Quite simply, her mother seemed a different woman.

Philly hugged the thought to her chest. How much more so would her  mother be when she discovered the whole truth? That she would have a  grandchild again. And now, with her mother's progress, it seemed more  certain every day that she would get to hold that grandchild.