‘I am your father,’ he ground out brusquely, bringing her to a breathtaking stop. Then, with a slash of a hand, ‘There,’ he said. ‘It is now in the open between us. So we may stop this civility. What do you want?’
‘I b-beg your pardon?’ Antonia blinked in astonishment.
‘You heard me,’ he said. ‘I want to know your price.’
Antonia could not believe she was hearing this. ‘But you came to see me,’ she reminded him. ‘I didn’t—’
‘It is called pre-empting your intentions,’ he cut in. ‘I decided that it would only be a matter of time before you came after me. So here I am.’ He gave a shrug. ‘All I want to know is how much your silence is going to cost me.’
Her silence? Antonia stared at him in disbelief. He had come here to face her because he thought she was about to start blackmailing him? ‘But I don’t w-want—’
‘Your kind always want.’
Suddenly it hurt to breathe. His voice held contempt. His eyes held contempt. He hated the sight of her! He didn’t even know her yet he was judging her to be mercenary. And, her kind? A flashback came to her of Marco’s mother wearing the same expression, showing the same arrogant superiority that they thought gave them the right to treat her like this!
Glancing up, he caught her expression; his own turned graven. ‘Anastasia let me down,’ he ground out bitterly. ‘You should not be here. It is most unfortunate that we have to have this conversation at all.’
Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Sickness began to claw at her stomach. ‘You thought my mother would go back to England and rid herself of me simply because it was what you expected her to do?’
‘Anastasia demanded money,’ he explained. ‘I automatically assumed she meant to use it to—rectify the problem.’
The problem? ‘I was not my mother’s problem!’ she cried. ‘You were that! She needed money to survive!’ God, she felt so disgusted. ‘You walked away, closed the lease on her apartment, bank accounts, everything!’
‘It is the way these things work.’ He was callously unrepentant. ‘As you will find out yourself, no doubt, when your moment arrives.’
Was this how he had treated her mother on that final confrontation? Was this the reason why she never really recovered her self-esteem? How could she have loved this man? How could she have not seen through him?
‘You make me feel sick,’ she breathed.
‘Don’t take the high moral ground with me, signorina!’ he suddenly barked at her. ‘For here you are, living with a man who makes you the scornful talk of all Milan!’ His face was hard again, his accent cold and his opinion of her set in stone. ‘Think before you speak, whether you would prefer me to announce to the world that Marco Bellini’s mistress is Anton Gabrielli’s bastard daughter! And the Mirror Woman is actually her cheap slut of a mother!’
She slapped him—hard. For which part she wasn’t sure, but the hand flew out when he insulted her mother. Standing there facing each other, both emanated intense dislike, and she did not feel even a small hint of remorse for that slap. His hand came up to cover his cheek and his eyes burned vows of revenge on her.
‘I heard what Isabella Bellini did to you last night,’ he said. ‘The whole gallery was buzzing with talk of the incident.’ And he smiled that thin smile again when she turned white. ‘Do you think you will still be here if this situation ever becomes public?’ he posed. ‘Do you think because you can lay claim to a father worth as much as the Bellinis they will turn a blind eye to what you actually are?’
‘How can you stand there and preach over me when your own sins are staring right at you?’ Antonia gasped. ‘And why come here at all, if you don’t care if I speak out? You have a wife. Don’t her feelings count for anything?’
‘My wife is dead,’ he said. ‘You cannot hurt her. But I can most certainly hurt your present position here in this place of luxury if you dare to make our connection public.’
‘But I don’t understand why you should think I’d want to!’ The whole thing had become so bewildering, she couldn’t follow his logic at all.
‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘I merely wanted to be sure that you understand your position here. For you don’t have one.’ He made the point plain. ‘I am no use to you as a lever towards marriage to Bellini. In fact I am most probably your biggest danger to that goal. But I am willing to accept you possess a certain right to lay embarrassment at my doorstep,’ he conceded. ‘And, bearing in mind that one day in the future Bellini is going to tire of you, I accept I owe you some—incentive to keep your silence about me when that time comes.’