‘No idea. You didn’t name him as her father on the birth certificate and you’ve never lived together. Also he’s not a British national, so I should think it’s unlikely. I’ll ask Tom.’
‘Dante thinks Tom doesn’t approve of him.’
‘He’s right. Tom can’t get past the fact that Dante made you pregnant when he was about to marry someone else.’ Grace smiled wryly. ‘Yet at the same time he can’t help liking Dante either.’
Rose nodded ruefully. ‘I know the feeling!’
‘Have a cup of tea, then go off to bed for a bit. Tom and I will collect Bea.’
‘That sounds wonderful. I didn’t sleep much last night after all the excitement.’ Rose hugged her mother. ‘You spoil me.’
‘I prefer to think of it as helping. Take a hot shower and climb into bed. I’ll give Bea her lunch before bringing her home.’ Grace kissed her weary daughter and pointed her at the door. ‘Go.’
* * *
Rose felt better after the shower, and even managed a short nap. When she got up, she had come to a decision. This afternoon she would take Bea to the park, and then play all her favourite games with her and later watch her favourite cartoon film with her for the umpteenth time. Rose’s teeth clenched. Bea didn’t need a father! She’d done perfectly well without one up to now, and even had the benefit of a male presence in her life in the shape of Tom Morley.
When Dante rang that night, Rose was ready and armed, waiting for him.
‘How are you tonight, carina?’ he asked in the deep caressing tones which still had the power to raise the hairs on the back of her neck—something that infuriated her in the present circumstances. ‘And how is my little Bea? Is she recovered now?’
‘My little Bea, actually, and we’re both fine.’
Silence for a moment. ‘What is wrong, Rose?’
‘I’m afraid the deal’s off, Dante. I’m saying no to your demands.’
‘Cosa? Perche? What has happened?’
‘I’ve given it careful consideration and decided I can’t face the upheaval of making a new life in a strange country. I like my life the way it is. There’s no room for a man in it, even one as irresistible as Dante Fortinari,’ she added with sarcasm.
‘And so you will deprive me of my daughter, and Bea of a father? Can you think only of yourself?’ he demanded hotly.
Rose suddenly lost it. ‘I had to after you left me pregnant and took off to marry someone else,’ she spat at him. ‘Goodbye, Dante.’
Dante tried ringing back several times but eventually gave up, which made her even more furious. When her phone rang an hour or so later she snatched it up, ready to tell Dante to go to hell until she saw the caller ID.
‘When, Rose Palmer,’ Charlotte said belligerently, ‘were you going to tell me that Dante is Bea’s father? I had to hear it from Dad.’
‘I didn’t tell Dante until last night, so you were next on the list. Not even Mum knew, so don’t get angry with me.’ Rose’s voice broke. ‘Please.’
‘Oh, love, don’t cry; of course I won’t! But I demand details.’