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Baby By Accident(83)

By:Caro LaFever


“Look at me.”

Her words were not sharp and dismissive as he’d expected. They were warm and giving. Still, a thread of steel, the part of his Lise he knew well, laced through each word.

Vico stared at the wall in front of him. Dio. He could not turn around to find whatever was there. He could not face whatever she had in store for him. The welter of pain, lust, confusion, love was too much to control in her presence.

“Look at me.”

His breath rasped in his chest. “Go away.”

“Never.”

The words hit him between the shoulders like a punch. Without thinking, he jerked around. “What?”

His wife stood in the middle of his office, looking like a round, fragile waif. Except her eyes were that radiant blue once more and her smile was wide. “I love you.”

The soul inside him soared, breaking free of his pain, lifting into his love and pulling it into a dance in the center of his chest.

However, his spirit knew. Knew it was hopeless. “No.”

Her smile faltered. “What do you mean, no? I know what I feel.”

“No, you can’t love me.”

A frown bladed her brow. “I can and I do.”

“You can’t.” A light film of sweat broke on his neck.

“I do.” His determined ex-CFO gave him a fierce glare. “And I always will.”

“I can’t—”

“Fine.” She took a deep breath in and crossed her arms over her chest as if protecting herself. “I can accept you don’t feel the same.”

“That’s not—”

“But I have enough love for both of us and our child,” she snapped. “So I’m not letting you go.”

A fury, born of the dead hope shattered in Italy only yesterday, reared its head. This must be a wicked payback for what he’d done to her. It was too much, too cruel of her to play with him as if he were some sort of terrible toy. “Don’t take me for a fool. I read those divorce papers.”

“My mother.”

The words stunned him. For some reason, Esther Helton had never entered his mind. The intelligent, incisive brain he’d depended on had immediately jumped the rails the moment he’d started to read the email. He’d only focused on one thing. His wife.

“Your mother?” he muttered.

“You have to believe me. I had nothing to do with it. She forged my signature.”

He gave her a blank stare, the facts churning in his head.

She glared at him. “I believed you. You have to believe me.”

Her mother had said those words. Not Lise. Her mother had hired the solicitors. Not Lise.

Her mother hated him. Not…

I’m not letting you go. I believe you.

I love you.

The words buzzed in his head and for a moment, he wanted to believe in the dream. He wanted to take this chance and hope he’d somehow make this work, that somehow he wouldn’t screw up.

Yet he loved her and his unborn son. Too much to take the chance.

“I believe you,” he said, turning to face her. And his fate. “But I still want this divorce.”





Chapter 19





I still want this divorce.

Lise’s heart stuttered, then broke into a panicked beat. The realization was hard to accept: Vico didn’t love her. She was willing to stick with it, though, willing to continue to hope that someday—

Did he hate her this much?

The whole change made no sense. The man who’d demanded marriage, demanded his son, demanded everything from her—now wanted nothing?

“Why?” she gasped through her pain. Pride was long gone.

He stood as far from her as possible. His stance was taut, tense and his gaze was completely cold as he surveyed her. “You heard what I said.”

“But I don’t—”

“I won’t contest the money your mother asked for.”

“I don’t want—”

“I won’t contest your full custody either.”

She looked at him. Stared at him. She’d given him everything, everything in her. The new Lise had been born only because he’d come into her life. If she didn’t have him, she wouldn’t exist. Not as the fully-realized woman she’d found being with him.

I love you.

She’d given him the words. The precious words she’d been too afraid to say for too long. Because the three simple words included so much more than an emotion. They included her hopes and dreams. Her need, her want. The simple words included herself, her essence.

Her everything.

“I’ll call security and have them meet you in the lobby to escort you back to Italy.” Her husband, the man who didn’t want to be her husband, walked to his desk and glanced down at his computer.

Dismissing her.