A Ruthless Proposition(32)
They both glanced around the tiny apartment and laughed at the thought of living any kind of “life of leisure” in the place.
“How long do we still have before we leave this pleasure palace?” He got up and stretched lazily before sauntering over to give her a casual hug and hand her a sliver of paper towel, the last bit on the roll.
“We’re out of paper towels,” he noted, and she giggled messily as she blew her nose.
“Well, we’re not replacing this roll. Our life of lavish spending has come to an end, my friend. We can no longer afford luxuries like paper towels.”
He laughed and sat down at the table opposite her.
“Jeez, girl, I’m getting sick of seeing you cry. Cheer up, will you?” She bravely presented him with her best smile. “Better. But not by much. Now when do we move out?”
“I’ll be speaking with the landlord tomorrow. So probably thirty more days before we have to vacate the premises.”
“A lot can happen in thirty days,” he observed.
“Not that much.” She traced a crease on the plastic tablecloth with her finger. “Do you want to come with me to my ultrasound appointment tomorrow?”
“I’d love to.”
“Well, well, well, two’s company but three is most definitely a party,” Cal observed the following morning as they climbed out of her car. Cleo was happy with the prime parking spot they’d found directly outside Dr. Klein’s office and was grinning like an idiot when she glanced up to see what Cal was talking about. The smile immediately dropped from her face when she saw what he was referring to.
“What the hell?” she whispered beneath her breath. “Why is he here? How is he here?”
“Take a deep breath, Cleo,” Cal advised softly. “You’re never at your sharpest when you’re pissed off.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” She marched up to Dante and put her face right up to his. “How did you know where to find me?”
“You sent your OB/GYN’s details to Grayson, and with that information in hand it was easy finding out the time of your appointment,” he revealed insouciantly. Her jaw dropped at that blatant invasion of her privacy. Those details should never have been used to spy on her! “I thought I’d come along and see what I’m paying for.”
“I didn’t ask you to pay for it,” she reminded.
“Look, I know I was an arrogant asshole before,” he said evenly.
“Was?” she asked, her eyebrows rising. He merely gave her one of those long, level looks that made her feel completely chastised. She hated that. “Dante, I don’t see what else we need to discuss. We had an agreement. Two, in fact. Remember? I signed yours and you signed mine. That makes us even.”
“I’ve recently come to appreciate that our previous agreement might not be exactly what I want.”
No, he was not doing this to her right now. Cleo tried not to panic as she kept her voice firm and her words succinct.
“Well, it’s what I want,” she said curtly. “Discussion closed.”
“Do you have to be so damned stubborn and difficult all the time?” he seethed.
“Yes. Look where being easy got me. Knocked up and alone!”
“You don’t have to be alone. I have decided that I would not mind sharing this experience with you.”
“Tough! We don’t get convenient do-overs in life, Dante. This has been settled before, and just because you suddenly developed a latent paternal instinct doesn’t mean I have to accept that. You have absolutely no right to insert yourself in here like you have some kind of stake in all of this. Stop stalking me and get the hell out of my life.”
“You know what?” he growled, taking hold of her arm firmly. “No.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I said no. You’ve been calling the shots from the beginning. You sprang this on me, and I barely had time to think about what it all meant before there were papers being shoved at me to sign. Sure, it all sounded great at the time—just sign on the dotted line and for a small fee you and kid disappear as if neither of you had ever existed. No fuss, no mess.”
“Legal documents being shoved at you without warning? That sounds remarkably familiar,” she said pointedly. “It’s no fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?”
“So what’s this, some kind of warped revenge? Punishment because I had the nerve to treat you like every other woman in my life? Because you’re so special, right? Not like all the other—”
She held up a hand to stop him, and it worked, because his mouth clamped shut.
“Let me stop you right there, Dante. I don’t have to hear any more of this. Stop trying to make yourself sound like some kind of victim. I presented you with the ideal solution to a problem I knew you didn’t want.” She backed away and folded her arms belligerently across her chest. Her eyes were challenging him to deny her words.
“No, you presented me with a fait accompli. And why would I argue? I could continue to live my life as if none of this ever happened. But I can’t. This baby exists and I can’t ignore that.”
His words were so eerily similar to the thoughts that had prompted her to have the baby that they made her pause and then panic. Her stomach plummeted to her feet and then back up into her throat until it took everything she had not to vomit on his stupidly expensive shoes.
“You can’t have him,” she whispered. “He’s mine.”
“He’s mine too.”
“No, you signed those papers. He’s not yours; he’ll never be yours.” Her hand dropped to her abdomen defensively, and his eyes darkened at the movement.
“I don’t want to take him from you, I just . . . I want to be there. I want to see him. I want to know him, and I want him to know me.”
“What changed? How could everything just change overnight?” Her voice rose almost hysterically, and she felt Cal’s arm curl around her shoulder protectively.
“Maybe you’d better get going, bud,” Cal warned.
“This has nothing to do with you, Mr. Faris. It’s between Cleo and me.”
“I want to know what’s changed!” she screeched, demanding to be heard and uncaring of the bystanders who paused on the street to glance at the unfolding tableau. If Dante Damaso insisted on doing this in public, then he would damn well get a scene.
“I have!” he snapped. “I’ve changed. I can’t stop thinking about this baby. In my head she’s a dark-haired, green-eyed little princess in a pink tutu and white leggings, and she’s been toddling in and out of my dreams since Monday.”
That made her pause and look at him. Really look.
His tie was crooked, she noted absently, one white cuff stuck out slightly longer than the other, one of his shirt buttons wasn’t fastened, his hair looked like he’d repeatedly run his fingers through it all morning, and he’d cut himself shaving that morning. Dante Damaso looked . . . undone. He looked like a man who no longer had a handle on his life.
“In my mind he has dark hair, your golden eyes, as well as your mouth and jaw, and he’s wearing the world’s smallest little sheriff’s uniform. He can’t walk yet, but he’s grinning a big, droolly, toothless grin.”
They were both silent for a moment, and her shoulders dropped.
“What do you want from me?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, which was quite a confession for the usually self-assured Dante Damaso to make. “I don’t think I’d be a great dad. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll be lousy at it.”
It so closely resembled her own fears about the type of mother she’d be that she was staggered by the lack of self-confidence from a man who always seemed to know exactly what to do.
“But I was hoping to be . . . someone she knows?”
“This is such a huge change of heart, Dante, and it isn’t at all what I want.”
“I know that. I’m just asking that you allow me to properly take care of her, and that I get to see her sometimes.”
“What does ‘properly take care of her’ entail?”
“Trust fund, private schools, decent living conditions.”
“No. You’re trying to dictate my life and the way I raise my child.”
He just stared at her and kept his face frustratingly blank.
“Does this have to be done right now?” Cal asked pointedly, and they both looked at him in surprise, having completely forgotten his presence. He rolled his eyes. “It’s starting to rain. And you, miss, have an appointment that you’re going to be late for.”
“Oh, crap,” she muttered, before tossing a sideways glance at Dante, who stared back at her with an uncharacteristically hangdog expression.
“Dante, you can’t show up here, tell me you’ve had a change of heart, and expect me to just be okay with that,” she said. “I don’t want you at my ultrasound. I don’t think I want to share something so . . . intimate with you.”
“You’re having my kid, lady,” he reminded, and Cal snorted. “It doesn’t get much more intimate than that.”
“Cal’s going in with me,” she maintained.