Boss Meets Baby(108)

He sat down beside her on another chair, suddenly content to wait until she awoke naturally. She must have only been dozing, because she started to stir almost immediately.

‘Ciao,’ he said, reaching out to tuck a blonde curl which had fallen forward behind her ear. ‘I thought I’d find you here.’

‘How long have you been sitting there?’ Lily asked, groggily pushing herself upright.

‘Not long. In fact I just arrived,’ Vito said, twisting on his chair to glance around. ‘You know, it’s years since I was in this courtyard. I used to play football here.’

‘Really?’ she said, looking at the citrus trees in terracotta— pots and the curved marble benches arranged around the trickling fountain-pool in the centre. ‘There’s a lot of obstacles.’

‘Good for my dribbling skills.’ Vito smiled as he remembered. ‘There’s nothing like getting tackled by marble bench—it gets you right in the shins.’

Lily blinked and rubbed her eyes, still feeling half asleep.

Why was he being so nice all of a sudden? His smile completely changed his face, erasing the vertical crease that had been gouged between his eyes in the weeks since they’d returned from the mountains.

‘There’s a lot of windows too,’ she added, trying to ignore the way his smile tugged at her heart. She couldn’t let herself start to fall for him all over again every time he decided to turn on the charm.

‘Yes—I smashed quite a few of them,’ Vito said. ‘The housekeeper covered it up at first, but when my grand-father— found out he certainly took me to task.’

Lily gazed at him, trying to imagine what he might have looked like as a boy. For the housekeeper to have covered up broken windows he must have been quite a charmer, even back then. She wondered if he had photos. It would be intriguing to get some idea what their son might look like.

An unpleasantly cold feeling washed over her. Vito wouldn’t show her photos because he was still denying the possibility that he could be the father. She slumped back on the recliner, suddenly feeling weary and washed out.

‘Are you all right?’ Vito’s voice sounded genuinely concerned.

‘I’m fine. Just tired.’ She picked up her glass of water, deliberately not letting herself look at his face. She knew his expression would reflect what she had just heard in his voice. If she saw that concern, combined with his heart-stoppingly good looks, she knew her defences would start to melt.

‘You look sad.’ Vito reached out to touch her arm, and the gesture of comfort sent a wave of warmth through her which was at odds with what her brain was telling her. ‘Why are you unhappy?’

‘Because you only married me for the baby inside me,’ she said, the honest words coming out as a reaction to the conflict she was feeling inside.

‘You knew that—I told you that from the start.’ Vito let his hand drop from her arm abruptly. ‘Why is that an issue now? Are you saying that you thought there was another reason?’

‘I thought—I hoped—there was something between us, more than just the child inside me that you still refuse to even consider is yours.’ She put her feet down onto the marble flagstones, looking beside the recliner to locate her flat sandals. ‘Now I know I was wrong. All I am to you is a convenient baby-machine.’

She rammed her feet into her sandals and pushed herself quickly to her feet.

Suddenly she felt a strange sensation inside her, followed by a gush of warm fluid down her legs. She stared down at the puddle on the ground in a moment’s bewilderment. The baby wasn’t due for another month. Then she heard Vito’s voice, strong and reassuring.

‘Your water just broke,’ he said, sweeping her up into his arms and striding swiftly to the palazzo’s water entrance. ‘We’re going straight to hospital.’





CHAPTER TWELVE


LILY stared in awe at the baby sleeping in her arms. He was utterly beautiful. Her heart ached with how small and perfect he was, and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to take her eyes off him again.

He had arrived so suddenly. By the time they’d reached the hospital her labour had already been well advanced. But everything had gone smoothly and he’d been born at nine-thirty in the evening, weighing a healthy six pounds.

Vito had been amazing during the labour and delivery, an absolute tower of strength and encouragement. He had known exactly when to hold her or rub her back, or whisper fortifying words of comfort in her ear. He had never left her side for a moment—until now, when she’d had to urge him to go and call his grandfather.