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He stilled. Marianna no longer expected his involvement. In fact, she’d told him she wanted him to forget they’d ever met. And she’d meant it. He ran a finger beneath his collar, perspiration prickling his scalp, his nape, his top lip. He could walk away.
Better still he could give her money, lots of money, and just...bow out.
His grandmother’s face suddenly rose in his mind. It made his shoulders sag. She’d saved him—from his parents and from himself—but it hadn’t stopped him from letting her down.
He fell onto the sofa. Why think of her now? He’d tried to make it up to her—had pulled himself back from the brink of delinquency. He’d buckled down and made something of himself. He glanced around at the opulence of the hotel room and knew he’d almost succeeded on that head. If he walked away now from Marianna and his child, though, instinct told him he’d be letting his grandmother down in a way he could never make up.
He’d vowed never to do that again.
You vowed to never have children...a family.
What kind of life would this child of his and Marianna’s have? He moistened his lips. Would it be loved? Would it feel secure? Or...
Or would it always feel like an outsider? When parenthood became too much for Marianna would this child be shunted to one side and—?
No! He shot to his feet, shaking from the force of emotions he didn’t understand. He would not let that happen. He didn’t want to be a father, but he had a duty to this child. He would not abandon it to a life of careless neglect. He would not allow it to be overlooked, pushed to one side and ignored.
He swallowed, his heart pounding. He didn’t have a clue about how to be a father—he didn’t know the first thing about parenting, but... He knew what it was like to be a child and unwanted. He remembered his parents separating. He remembered them remarrying new partners, embracing their new families. He remembered there being no place for him in that new order. He hadn’t fitted in and they’d resented this flaw in their otherwise perfect new lives. His lips twisted. His distrust and suspicion, his wariness and hostility, had been a constant reminder of the mistake their first marriage had been. They’d moved on, and it had been easier to leave him behind. That was his experience of family.
He would not let it be his child’s.
He might not know what made a good father, but he knew what made a miserable childhood. No child of his was going to suffer that fate.
He slammed his hands to his hips. Right. He glanced at his watch and then rang his PA. ‘I’d like you to organise a car for me. I’m going to Monte Calanetti tomorrow. I’ll continue working remotely while I’m there so offer my clients new appointments via telephone conferencing or reschedule.’
‘Yes, sir, would you like me to organise that for this afternoon’s appointment as well?’
‘No. I’ll be meeting with Signor Conti as planned.’ This afternoon he worked. He wasn’t letting Marianna’s bombshell prevent him from sealing the biggest deal of his career. He’d worked too hard to let the Conti contract slip from his fingers now. Clinching this deal would launch him into the stratosphere.
Conti Industries, one of Italy’s leading car-parts manufacturers, were transitioning their company’s IT presence to cloud computing. It meant they’d be able to access all points in their production chain from a single system. Every car-part manufacturing company in the world was watching, assessing, waiting to see if Conti Industries could make the transition smoothly. Which meant every car-part manufacturing company in the world had their eyes on him. If he pulled this off, then he could handpick all future assignments, and name whatever price he wanted. His name would be synonymous with success.
Finally he’d prove that his grandmother’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.
In the meantime... He fired up his laptop and searched for the village of Monte Calanetti.
CHAPTER TWO
RYAN GLANCED DOWN at the address he’d scrawled on the back of a Grande Plaza envelope and then at the driveway in front of him, stretching through an avenue of grapevines to a series of buildings in the distance. A signpost proudly proclaimed Vigneto Calanetti—the Amatucci vineyard. This was the place.
With a tightening of his lips, he eased the car forward, glancing from left to right as he made his way down the avenue. Grapevines stretched in every direction, up and down hillsides in neat ordered rows. They glowed green and golden in the spring sunshine and Ryan lowered the windows of the car to breathe in the fragrant air. The warm scents and even warmer breeze tormented him with a holiday indolence he had no hope of assuming.
Pulling the car to a halt at the end of the driveway, he stared. This was Marianna’s home? Her heritage? All about him vines grew with ordered vigour. The outbuildings were all in good repair and the spick and span grounds gave off an air of quiet affluence. He turned his gaze to the villa with its welcoming charm and some of the tension drained from him.
Good. He pushed out of the car. He’d never doubted Marianna’s assertion that she could stand on her own two feet, but to have all of this behind her would make things that much easier for her.
And he wanted things to be as easy for her as they could be.
A nearby worker saluted him and asked if he was wishing to sample the wines. Ryan cast a longing look at the cellar building, but shook his head. ‘Can you tell me where I might find Signorina Amatucci? Marianna Amatucci,’ he added. She’d mentioned brothers, but for all he knew she might have sisters too.
The worker pointed towards the long, low-slung villa.
He nodded. ‘Grazie.’ Every muscle tensed as he strode towards it. He had to make Marianna see sense. He had to convince her not to banish him from their child’s life.
Once he reached the shade of the veranda, Ryan saw that the large wooden front door stood open as if to welcome all comers. He stared down the cool shade of the hallway and crossed his fingers, and then reached up and pulled the bell.
A few moments later a tall lean figure appeared. He walked down the hallway with the easy saunter of someone who belonged there. ‘Can I help you?’
Ryan pulled himself up to his full height. ‘I’m here to see Marianna Amatucci.’
The suntanned face darkened, the relaxed easiness disappearing in an instant. ‘You’re the swine who got her pregnant!’
He’d already deduced from the hair—dark, and wavy like Marianna’s—that this must be one of her brothers. A protective brother too. More tension eased out of Ryan’s shoulders. Marianna should be surrounded by people who’d love and support her.
A moment later he swallowed. Protective was all well and good, but this guy was also angry and aggressive.
The two men sized each other up. The other man was a couple of inches taller than Ryan and he looked strong, but Ryan didn’t doubt his ability to hold his own against him if push came to shove.
Fighting would be far from sensible.
He knew that but, recalling the way Marianna had thrown the vase at him yesterday, her brother might have the same hot temper. It wouldn’t hurt to remain on his guard. He planted his hands on his hips and stood his ground.
‘So...you have nothing to say?’ the other man mocked.
‘I have plenty to say...to Marianna.’
The brother bared his teeth. ‘You don’t deny it, then?’
‘I deny nothing. All you need to know is that I’m here to see Marianna.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
He debated the merits of lying, but decided against it. ‘No.’
‘What if she doesn’t want to see you?’
‘What if she does?’
‘I—’
‘And if she doesn’t want to see me, then I want to hear it from her.’ He shoved his shoulders back and glared. ‘I mean to see her, one way or another. Don’t you think it would be best for that to happen here under your roof?’
The other man stared at him hard. Ryan stared right back, refusing to let his gaze drop. The brother swore in Italian. Ryan was glad his own Italian wasn’t fluent enough for him to translate it. With a grim expression, he gestured for Ryan to follow him, leading him to a room at the back of the house that was full of rugs and sofas—a warm, charming, lived-in room. Light spilled in from three sets of French doors that stood open to a paved terrace sporting an assortment of cast-iron outdoor furniture and a riot of colour from potted plants.
Home. The word hit Ryan in the centre of his chest. This place was a home. He hadn’t had that sense from any place since the day his grandmother had died. His lungs started to cramp. He didn’t belong here.
Another man strode through one of the French doors. ‘Nico, I—’ He pulled up short when he saw Ryan.
Brilliant. Brother number two.
Brother number one—evidently called Nico—jerked a thumb at Ryan. ‘This is Paulo.’
He glanced from one to the other. Marianna had told them his name was Paulo?
The second brother started towards him, anger rolling off him in great waves. Brilliant. This one was even taller than the first. Ryan set himself. He could hold his own against one, but not the two of them. He readied himself for a blow—he refused to throw the first punch—but at the last moment Nico moved between them, his hand on his brother’s chest halting him.
Ryan let out a breath and then nodded. ‘No. This is good.’
‘Good?’ brother number two spat out, his face turning almost purple.
‘That Marianna has brothers who look out for her.’
The anger in the dark eyes that surveyed him turned from outright hostility to a simmering tension. ‘You made her cry, you...’ A rash of what Ryan guessed must be Italian insults followed. Brother number two flung out his arm, strode away, and then swung back to stab a finger at him. ‘She returned here yesterday, locked herself in her room and cried. That is your fault!’
Ryan’s shoulders slumped. He rubbed a hand across his chest. ‘Yesterday...it was...it didn’t go so well and she—’ He pushed his shoulders back. ‘I’m here to make it right.’
‘What do you mean to do?’ Nico asked. His voice had become measured but not for a second did Ryan mistake it for a softening.
‘I mean to do whatever Marianna wants me to do.’ Within reason, but he didn’t add that caveat out loud.
Brother number two thrust out his jaw. ‘But are you going to do what she needs you to do?’
He thrust his jaw out too. ‘I will not force her to do anything. I refuse to believe I know better than she does about what she needs. She’s a grown woman who knows her own mind.’
The brothers laughed—harsh, scornful laughter as if he had no idea what he was talking about.
Ryan’s every muscle tensed and he could feel his eyes narrow to slits as a dangerous and alien recklessness seized him. ‘Have the two of you been bullying her or pressuring her in any way?’
Had they been pressuring her to keep the baby due to some outdated form of conservatism? Or... Had they been pressuring her to give the baby up because of scandal and—?
‘And what if we have, Paulo?’ brother number two mocked. ‘What then?’
‘Then I will beat the crap out of you!’
It was stupid, reckless, juvenile, but he couldn’t help it. Marianna was pregnant! She needed calm and peace. She needed to take care of her health. She didn’t need to be worried into an early grave by two overprotective brothers.
The brothers stared at him. Neither smiled but their chins lowered. Nico pursed his lips. The other rolled his shoulders. Ryan stabbed a finger first at brother number one and then at brother number two. ‘Let me make one thing crystal clear. I am not abandoning my child. Marianna and I have a lot we need to sort out and we’re going to do it without interference from either one of you.’
* * *
Raised voices drifted out across the terrace as Marianna marched towards the villa. She rolled her eyes. What on earth were Angelo and Nico bickering about now? She stepped into the room...
And froze.
Ryan!
A shock of sweet delight pierced through the numbness she’d been carrying around with her all day, making her tingle all over.
No! She shook it off. She would not be delighted to see him. Of all the low-down—
His gaze speared to her and the insults lining up in her mind dissolved.
‘Hello, Marianna.’ His voice washed over her like warm, spiced mead and she couldn’t utter a single sound. She dragged her gaze away to glance at her brothers. Angelo raised a derisive eyebrow. ‘Look what the cat dragged in, Marianna.’ He folded his arms. ‘Paulo.’
Ryan ignored his mockery to stride across to her. He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. Her heart fluttered like a wild crazy thing. ‘Are you okay?’ He uttered the words gently, his eyes as warm as the morning sun on a Thai beach.
While it wasn’t a hug and an ‘it’ll all be okay’ there was no mistaking the sincerity of his effort. She hadn’t expected to see him again. Ever. She’d thought he’d have run for the hills.
‘Marianna?’
She loved the way he said her name. It made things inside her tight and warm and loose and aching all at once. His grip on her hand tightened and she shook herself. ‘Yes, thank you.’ But the sudden sexual need that gripped had her reefing her hand from his. They were no longer Ryan and Mari, free and easy holidaymakers. They were Ryan and Marianna, prospective parents. That put a very different spin on matters and the sooner she got her head around that, the better.
This wasn’t about him and her. It was about him and the baby. Did he want to be involved with the baby? If he did, and if he was sincere, then they would have to sort something out...come to some kind of arrangement.
Shadows gathered in Ryan’s eyes. She swallowed, recalling the way she’d thrown the vase at him. ‘And you? Are you okay?’
She watched him as he let out a slow breath. ‘As you haven’t thrown anything at me yet, then yes—so far, so good.’
Behind him, Nico groaned. ‘You threw something at him?’ he said in Italian.
‘He made me angry,’ she returned in her native tongue, trying not to wince at how rash and impetuous it must make her sound.
With a sigh she glanced back at Ryan. ‘Have you been formally introduced to my brothers?’
‘I’ve not had that pleasure, no.’
His tone told her they’d been giving him a hard time, but he didn’t seem too fazed by it. A man who could hold his own against her two overprotective brothers? Maybe there were hidden depths to Ryan she had yet to plumb. Let’s hope so, mia topolino. She wanted her baby to have a father who would love it.
She couldn’t get her hopes up on that head, though. She recalled all the things he’d said yesterday and her stomach started to churn. He might just be here to offer her some kind of financial arrangement—to buy her off.
Keep your cool until you know for sure.
She tossed her head. She meant to keep her cool regardless.
She pulled herself back to the here and now and gestured. ‘This is my oldest brother, Angelo, and this is Nico. He manages our vineyard.’ She couldn’t keep a thread of pride from her voice. She adored both of her brothers. ‘And this—’ she went to touch Ryan’s arm and then thought the better of it ‘—is Ryan White.’
The men didn’t shake hands.
Angelo gave a mock salute. ‘Paulo.’
Ryan glanced down at her with a frown in his eyes. She waved a dismissive hand through the air. ‘It is a stupid joke of theirs. Don’t pay them any mind.’
‘Marianna’s boyfriends don’t last too long,’ Nico said. A deliberate jab, no doubt, at what he saw as her flightiness. ‘Angelo and I decided long ago it was pointless remembering names.’
Angelo folded his arms. ‘How long do you think this one will last, Nico?’
‘Six weeks.’
‘I’ll give him four. He doesn’t look as if he has what it takes to keep Mari’s interest.’
‘True. I can’t see that he has anything more to offer her than any of the others.’
A clash of gazes ensued between the men and in some dark, dishonourable place in her heart the silent interchange fascinated her.
She tried to shake herself from under its spell. What is wrong with you?
With a snort, Ryan turned back to her. ‘May I take you out to lunch?’
She glanced at Nico, who told her in Italian to take the afternoon off. ‘Give him a chance.’
‘You owe it to him, bella,’ Angelo added.
What on earth...? She pulled in a breath, grateful her brothers spoke in their native tongue. She recalled the raised voices she’d heard when she’d approached the villa. ‘How good is your Italian?’ she asked Ryan.
‘Very poor.’ He glanced at Angelo and Nico. ‘Which is probably a blessing.’
She folded her arms and glared at her brothers, reverting back to Italian. ‘Did you put him up to this?’
Nico shook his head. ‘But if this man is the father of your baby, you need to speak with him.’
‘I did that yesterday!’
His gaze skewered her. ‘Did you? Or did you merely drop your bombshell, throw a temper tantrum and run?’
Her face started to burn. It took an effort of will not to press her hands to her cheeks to cool them. Nico had a point.
Another thought slid into her then and she stared at each man in turn. If Angelo and Nico saw her dealing with the father of her prospective child maturely and responsibly, then that would help them see her as a responsible adult who could be trusted to make sensible decisions about her life, right? Not to mention the life of her unborn child. Maybe this was one way she could prove to them that she wasn’t a failure or a flake.
She glanced down at her hands. Ryan was the father of her child. If he wanted to be a part of their baby’s life...
Lifting her chin, she turned back to Ryan and reverted to English. ‘I need to talk to Nico about the vines for a few minutes and then we can go for lunch.’
He nodded and glanced around. ‘What if I wait over there?’ He pointed to a sofa on the other side of the room.
She pressed her hands together. ‘Perfect.’ She wasn’t so sure how perfect it was when Angelo followed him and took the seat opposite.
‘Is there anything wrong with the vines?’ Nico said, his face suddenly alive and intent.
‘The soil is perfect! You have done an admirable job, Nico.’
‘You set the groundwork before you left.’
Did he really believe that? Did he really think her an asset to the vineyard? She shook the thought off. She would prove herself to him. And Angelo. She was good at her job. ‘The grapes are maturing as they should, but if the long-range weather forecast is to be believed, then we need to consider irrigating the northern slopes sooner than usual.’
‘You mentioned last week something about new irrigation methods you’d picked up in Australia?’
She and Nico moved to the dining table to go over her report, but all the time her mind was occupied with Ryan. She heard him try to make small talk about the vineyard, but Nico asked her a question and she didn’t hear Angelo’s reply.
The next time she had a chance to glance up it was to see Ryan flicking a business card across to Angelo with the kind of mocking arrogance that would’ve done both of her brothers proud.
She dragged her attention back to Nico. ‘From what I’ve seen so far, Nico, the vines are in great shape. I’ll continue with my soil samples over the next week and checking the vines for any signs of pests or moulds, but...’ she shrugged ‘...so far, so good. Seems to me we’re on track for the fattest, juiciest grapes in the history of winemaking.’
It might’ve been an exaggeration, but it made her brother smile as it was supposed to. ‘I’m glad you’re home, Mari.’
Guilt slid in between her ribs at that. She’d been Irresponsible Marianna too long. She’d left Nico to run the vineyard on his own and now... She rubbed a hand across her chest. And now both of her brothers thought her an incompetent—a screw-up—that they needed to look after. They hadn’t said as much, of course, but she knew.
‘I’m not sure I like him.’
She glanced up to find Nico staring at Ryan.
She’d liked the man she’d met in Thailand. She’d liked him a lot. She hadn’t liked the man she’d met at the Grande Plaza Hotel yesterday, though. Not one little bit. The man sitting on the sofa...she wasn’t sure she knew him at all.
She touched Nico’s arm. ‘What matters is if I like him or not, I think, Nico.’
The faintest of smiles touched his lips. ‘You always like them, Marianna...for a week or two.’
‘This one is different.’
‘Is he?’
Yes. He was the father of her unborn child.
CHAPTER THREE
‘THE FOOD HERE is superb,’ Marianna told Ryan, staring at the arancini balls the waitress set in front of her. Very carefully she drew the scent into her lungs and then gave up a silent thanks when her stomach didn’t rebel.
It didn’t mean she had an appetite, though. When Ryan didn’t pick up his cutlery to sample his fettuccine, she figured he wasn’t all that hungry either. She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. ‘So...it wasn’t food you wanted after all.’
‘I wanted to talk to you...privately.’
Daniella, the maître d’, had taken one look at Marianna’s face and seated them in the most secluded corner of the restaurant. Marianna was glad now that she had. ‘Well...talk.’
He picked up his fork and tested each tine with his index finger. He made as if to stab at a mushroom, but he set the fork down again and shuffled back in his seat. Marianna had no interest in making the way easy for him, but his continuing silence started to stretch her nerves thin.
‘I did an Internet search on you last night.’
His gaze speared to hers.
‘I know you’re some hotshot consultant who comes in and saves companies who are on the brink of bankruptcy. I know you’re worth a lot of money.’ She shook her head. Her idea of him being some free and easy gypsy type must’ve had him laughing up his sleeve. She suspected her hope that he would love their child would prove just as ridiculous. ‘So let’s clear this up right now. I do not want your money. I have no intention whatsoever of making any claim on it. No doubt you’ve come prepared with papers you’ve had your lawyers draw up.’
The darkness in his eyes throbbed between them. Marianna swallowed. ‘C’mon, then.’ She beckoned with both hands. ‘Pull them out and let me sign them. Then, perhaps, we can enjoy our meal before going our separate ways.’
‘You think that’s why I’m here?’
She arranged her serviette in her lap and then folded her hands on the table. ‘Isn’t it?’
He reached out as if to take her hand, but pulled back to rub his nape instead. Marianna pulled her hands into her lap and glanced away. Looking at him... It was too hard. It hurt all of the sore places inside her.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t react well yesterday. Your news blind-sided me. I was...stunned. In shock.’
That was one way of putting it.
‘At the time I didn’t consider how hard it must’ve been for you to deal with the news all on your own. I’m sorry.’
His apology surprised her.
She grimaced. She hadn’t exactly broached the subject of her pregnancy gently, had she? She’d shot the news at him like a torpedo...and she’d expected him to deal with that with grace? Her brothers would blame it on her flair for the dramatic. The truth of the matter was she’d taken one look at the stranger who’d confronted her yesterday and had panicked.
He had another think coming, though, if he expected her to apologise for that! She seized her cutlery and sliced off a sliver of food, lifting it towards her mouth.
‘What I’m trying to say, Marianna, is that I have no intention of abandoning my child.’