Midwife in the Family Way (11 page)

The rest of the visit passed in a blur for Emma. She fumed and glared and cut short the visit so she could get him in the car and let him know what she thought of his underhand tactics. How dared he?

‘I can't believe you said that. In front of my mother, as well. There is no way I would have taken you if I'd known you were going to do that.'

He nodded his head. ‘So I believed.'

Emma threw her hands out in frustration. ‘Don't you listen? I'm not marrying you. I'm not marrying anyone. You saw my mother. You saw my father.' She pointed her finger at him. ‘I don't want a man tied to me like that.'

‘Calm yourself,
cara
. I shared marriage with a woman who lived a month into my marriage. And have spent the last ten years regretting I didn't have more time with her. Are you so certain you have so much life to waste that you can disregard what you have the chance of now?'

That wasn't fair. ‘My life is not a waste. I live each day as much as I can.' She tried every day to appreciate each new experience. ‘I'm more aware how precious my day is than a lot of people. I guess I can thank the disease for that. But the question is, Gianni, do you have the rest of your life to waste with me?' Her head was spinning as she searched for arguments he would understand.

Gianni shook his head. ‘My life has been a passage
of time and my work. That I have wasted. It is only now that I am beginning to enjoy. Now you are here. So it would be a tragic waste if I missed the birth of our child, the progress of your pregnancy. I have decided I will not miss that.'

If only he knew. She wished she could have that too, she thought, but he went on.

He shrugged away the futility. ‘It is too late to change that. I wish to spend my days and, of course, also the nights with you. The idea of you becoming ill in the future does not affect those wants and needs. Or my desire to be there for you.'

The notion was blissful but the reality unpalatable. ‘I don't want a man tied to me like my father is tied to my mother.'

Gianni shook his head, denying her statement. ‘Your father looked to be in the place he wanted to be and I admire him for that. He did not look tied. I liked your parents.' He paused to emphasise the next statement. ‘Both of them.'

Emma blinked. He'd liked her parents. The concept made her pause. Had Gianni seen past what she sometimes forgot to look past? Her father was a wonderful man and it was true, he did not look like a victim. Her mother was ill, but cared for, and loved, and flashes of the woman who had been there for her when she'd been young could still be seen. Was it true that maybe she, Emma, had forgotten to look for them as much as she should, in her own fear for Grace?

Gianni went on. ‘Of course you are scared of making
a decision to tie yourself to a man you do not know well, and it is natural to worry if your health suffers. But you must remember, my circumstances give me the resources to deal with anything.' He lifted his brows. ‘Wealth does not promise happiness but it is useful in certain circumstances. You are going to have to take a leap of faith too, and allow me into that part of your life.'

It sounded idyllic, but idealism wasn't reality. No. Never. Before yesterday she had to admit she'd been tempted. But the spectre of tomorrow had shown her she couldn't. ‘I can't do that, Gianni.' Emma glanced out the front of the car and realised that they'd pulled up outside the headquarters of Huntington's Queensland.

They'd driven through the city already. Her meeting started in ten minutes. Inside were people with the same dilemmas she had. But braver people than her.

‘Think about it,
cara
.' He glanced at his watch. ‘I will be back by six and we can discuss this at dinner. I will come to your room at seven.'

She wouldn't let him wear her down. He'd done a bad thing by involving her parents. ‘I won't be there. I'll stay somewhere else. I don't trust you.'

He didn't seem surprised by her outburst. ‘That is foolish. You cannot deny we need to talk and time is running out. In a week I must leave to complete what I have committed to. Stay for tonight. I have already booked the rooms.'

 

Emma didn't move out of the five-star hotel. She told herself it was because she hated waste and the room was to die for—and material comfort would substitute for another kind.

Fifteen-foot-high ceilings, velvet drapes from floor to ceiling, the deep blush of rosewood furnishings, a bath she could have floated a canoe in.

She stared at the ornate ceiling as she soaked. Even in the bathroom they had sculpted cornices. She thought about a man who wanted to marry her and be the father to her children. Who'd lied to her parents and said he loved her.

There was the strong chance he would shower her and her daughter with gifts, show them both the world, and continue to state that he loved her.

All strange things to complain of, and not the only dilemmas. She prided herself on her independence but how independent was she really going to be when the new baby was born?

It was a long way off, an embryo barely the size of a peanut, but there none the less. In seven months time he or she would certainly have an impact on her work and her finances and her ability to support herself.

And what if she wasn't positive for the gene? Was she throwing away her one chance at love? Because though Gianni didn't really love her, she did love him. She had realised that as she'd driven away from Grace. Was she wasting something precious, as Gianni said? She couldn't deny that Gianni touched her on a level no man had ever come near to. She could feel his presence,
felt complete when he was around, and he had rights too, rights to share his child. But she couldn't and wouldn't marry him if she was positive for the gene. It had been her whole focus in her life to prepare for the end as a single woman. She needed to keep her distance until after the result.

 

Dinner undid all her resolutions.

Gianni in a black tie made her mouth dry and her chest hurt. Since arriving at the hotel, one he apparently had stayed at before because every person knew his name and couldn't do enough for him, he'd changed.

He'd slipped into another, grander persona that blew her resistance to smithereens.

He emanated effortless command, far too much power and tightly leashed control for one man, and on their arrival in the restaurant she could see that the maître d' agreed that Gianni deserved special treatment.

The table was discreet, service invisible but incredibly efficient. The chef dropped by to ensure the meal was adequate and the wine tasted like ambrosia. She'd thought the Lakehouse amazing but this was on another level.

‘You've changed.' And she hadn't. Reality check.

He shrugged. Totally at ease in his persona. ‘No. This is me.' He gestured to the room. ‘At work I change.'

She frowned and the uncomfortable thought of extreme wealth perturbed her. ‘Just how well off are you?'

He raised one sardonic eyebrow in that autocratic
way he sometimes affected that annoyed her. ‘Are you really interested?'

Despite her irritation she thought about it. Like the time he'd asked if she was interested in cars. In the big picture it really was the least of her worries. She almost laughed. ‘Not really.'

His lips twitched and that tiny touch of amusement shared made her belly warm. ‘I didn't think so. But it is reasonable that you should know there is this side of me, as well.'

She looked at him. Looked like she remembered doing once before, and had to admit he was pretty spectacular. The black suit had a dull silk gleam that spared no detail of his magnificent physique. How could she sit opposite this man and ignore him when he blatantly told the world he was her man? That her wish was his command? That only the best was good enough for her? She had no idea but she'd try, and if she didn't succeed she could tell herself she'd done her best.

The meal passed in a blur—entrée, main course, dessert, half-finished plates removed—and suddenly the tragedy of it all overwhelmed her. It wasn't fair. She wanted him to look at her like he was looking now for the rest of her life. She ached to make plans and discuss her pregnancy and have someone she could share the highs and lows of life and parenthood, even her work, with, and Gianni could be that person. Was offering that dream, but there was a chance that after tomorrow she couldn't accept it.

It was tearing her apart and she bowed under the pressure of what was coming.

And then Gianni touched her. He must have seen the change in her expression.

He cupped her cheek in a caress that came from across the table but emptied the room of people and furniture and noise until she seemed to be suspended in the air, his hand on her cheek, floating in space, just the two of them. How did he do that?

When he took his hand away and she landed, mentally, back on her chair in a crowded restaurant, it was just as powerful a demonstration.

She dragged her eyes away, clawing for composure, until he captured her knee between his under the long tablecloth, deliberately, cleaving her back to him effortlessly.

These tables were two darned tiny for someone fighting to keep their head above water, she complained in her mind, but the complaint was overwritten by the heat and raw need she could feel bubbling up between them.

‘Bill, please,' he said quietly, and the waiter appeared as if it was his sole aim in life to be there when Gianni called.

Bill, please, her foggy brain echoed. It all seemed to be happening in a cloud now and that was without alcohol. The waiter had been and gone, and Gianni's eyes were back on hers and she watched him stand. Felt him move behind her and she half stood as he pulled the
chair out and dropped her wrap across her shoulders, along with his arm.

They moved to the elevator bank across from the restaurant and suddenly she was fiercely jealous of her space with Gianni. She glanced around and ‘their' elevator arrived, and she wanted to be in there with the door shut before anyone else intruded on the intimate space around them. She had no idea how she'd come to that frame of mind but she was locked into his gravity like his personal moon.

She even sighed with relief when the door shut and they were alone.

‘I'd hoped we'd have the elevator to ourselves,' he murmured, and his arm tightened as she turned to face him fully, and his eyes burned into hers as he kissed her. Somehow his back was against the rear wall and she was returning his kiss like there was no tomorrow.

With Gianni's mouth firm and hot against her own, it was impossible not to lose herself in the taste and texture of this long-awaited homecoming. But the doors opened and he put her from him with a small smile.

‘I think we need somewhere a little more private than this,' he murmured into her ear, and held his hand over the door edge while she dithered confusedly with her scattered wits and almost stumbled from the elevator. There was no time for tangos tonight.

 

Gianni watched Emma wake for the second time in his life and wanted to lock the door and never let her leave. It seemed she would have him, he thought with
satisfaction. He felt his cultural heritage very strongly this morning.
Amore.

‘
Buongiorno
, Emma,
dolce
. Or good morning, sweet Emma,' he said as he sat down beside her on the bed.

Emma blinked and sat up. He saw her look around and realise they had succumbed again. Judging by the way she inhaled the unmistakable aroma of fresh espresso, she was rapidly becoming grounded.

‘Un caffe?'

She didn't quite meet his eyes. ‘I gather that means coffee, and, yes, please.'

He liked the way she didn't clutch the bed sheet as tightly to her neck after all that had passed between them last night but lifted it over her breasts and tucked it loosely behind her back.

‘Did you sleep well?' she asked with that hint of shyness that told him she was pretending to be relaxed. He handed her a cup. Sweet Emma.

‘Eventually, like the dead.' He smiled wickedly at her. ‘And you?' Her cheeks dusted a delightfully rosy pink and he wanted to take the cup from her and see where the blush ended, but she was sitting there sipping the coffee with her elbows tucked into her sides as a safeguard from the sheet slipping.

She didn't look very comfortable, he thought with a wry smile.

‘Heavily enough not to hear breakfast arrive.' Her eyes skittered away and he saw where her thoughts led. He hastened to reassure her.

‘I took the tray at the door and you looked beautiful as you dreamt. I think your dreams were pleasant.'

‘So I had a silly smile on my face, did I?' More embarrassment, and this time he did take the cup and put it down on the bedside table.

‘Not silly. My dreams were sweet also.' He drew her into his arms. ‘Thank you for my sweet dreams, Emma.'

He ran the tip of his finger slowly down her shoulder and marvelled at the sensation. ‘Your skin is like silk, so soft and beautiful. Everything about you makes me aware of the beauty in this world. Things I haven't seen for years, like the sunrise this morning while you slept, the moon last night shining off your skin so that you glowed like a lustrous pearl, even the lights of the city were all more beautiful because I share this time with you.'

His mouth brushed hers and then settled against her, and Emma's eyes drifted shut as she savoured the taste of coffee and Gianni and the feel of his arms around her. She never wanted it to end but that time was drawing near. More quickly than she expected when his phone rang and they broke apart.

He frowned down at the instrument as it lay on the bedside table and finally he picked it up. By which time Emma was firmly grounded. And pleased to have the moment to regather her wits.

‘
Scusi
,' he said, and rose to stand at the window. Emma slipped from the bed, dragging the sheet, and took the moment to escape to the bathroom.