A Night of Living Dangerously(42)

His wife and children would never be poor. Never be ashamed of their father. His behavior would be above reproach.

He regretted the shabby wedding he’d given Lilley, in the chapel of a Las Vegas casino, with no family and friends. It had been shabby indeed, but expedient and quiet. He had to give Lilley time to complete her lessons, to be fully polished like a hard-edged gemstone before he exposed her to the cutting, subtle mockery of his friends, or the people who passed for his friends. It was the only way to protect her, helping her become strong enough to protect herself.

No man he knew in Rome would have married a pregnant mistress. He would have simply paid her off with a generous check and perhaps a few gifts at the child’s birth.

But Alessandro had always vowed his children would know who their father was. After his own father’s selfish, callous example, and even more after his mother’s sickening revelation after his death, Alessandro had known the risk of sex, and so he’d waited until he was truly in love. When he’d fallen hard for a twenty-five-year-old waitress in his freshman year at Stanford, he’d taken his time, wooing her for months like a perfect gentleman. Until Heather had dragged him to her apartment and begged him to make love to her. She’d told him he didn’t need a condom, because she was on the Pill.

“You trust me, don’t you?” she’d asked with big eyes. After so many years of waiting, sex had been a revelation. He’d been rapturous with joy. When she’d gotten pregnant, it had seemed like a miracle.

Until his father died, leaving a shocking amount of debt and creditors all suddenly clamoring to be paid. Alessandro had dropped out of Stanford, planning to get a job to support his mother, and to propose immediately to Heather, so she’d know he intended to take care of her and the baby. He’d rehearsed his speech the night he planned to propose. They’d be poor at first, he would say, but he would work full-time by day and invest every penny he could. Someday, he would promise, he’d give her the life of a princess.#p#分页标题#e#

He bought a cheap ring he could ill afford and made her a picnic, preparing bologna sandwiches and fruit salad to eat in the park. But things didn’t go according to plan. As he gave her the speech, Heather was silent, setting down her sandwich barely tasted. Afterward, he took her out dancing, his favorite thing to do. He was trying to show her how romantic their lives could be, even without money.

But in the middle of the first song, Heather had stopped on the dance floor. She’d looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.

“I like you, Alessandro,” she’d whispered. “I really do.

You’re lots of fun and an amazing, generous lover.” She exhaled. “But the baby’s not yours. I lied.”

“Not …” He staggered back. It felt like a physical blow. “Not mine?”

She flushed. “You kept saying you wanted us to wait for true love and all that. But I’m sorry, I couldn’t go for two long months without sex!” At his expression, her cheeks colored and she looked away. “The first night we slept together, I already knew I was pregnant.”

The loud dance music roared in his ears. His throat closed. “But why?”

“I thought you would make a good husband. A good father.” She bit her lip. “The other guy’s married. He’ll never marry me or help raise the baby. But he owns a tech firm in Cupertino. If I tell him, I know he’ll give me money.” She’d looked at Alessandro beneath the flashing lights and pulsing music. “I don’t want my baby to be poor,” she’d whispered. “I’m sorry.”

And just like that, she’d left him on the dance floor.

It was the last time Alessandro had ever gone dancing or made a fool of himself over anyone. The last time he’d fully trusted a woman.

Until Lilley.

He could have chosen not to marry her. She’d gone out of her way to make it easy for him to abandon her. She’d apparently had zero expectations of his moral character. It had astonished and angered him. Of course he wished to marry the mother of his unborn baby.

Although he hadn’t insisted on that paternity test.

A cold trickle went down his spine. He didn’t have any actual proof the baby was his. His hand felt clammy as he forked his fingers through his hair. Lilley wouldn’t lie to him, he told himself. He didn’t need a paternity test, and he wouldn’t insult her by asking for one. Lilley had been a virgin before he’d seduced her, and if she said he was the father, he was. End of story.

“Alessandro? Are you still in here?”