Secret Heirs: His One Night Consequence

CHAPTER FIVE

THE woman was mad.

Or conniving.

Alessandro met her glittering eyes, dark now as a thunder storm, and saw lightning flash.

Did she even notice that he’d grabbed her wrist and yanked it from his face? That he still held it in an implacable grip?

She didn’t seem to notice anything except her own fury.

His cheek burned from her slap and pride demanded instant retribution. No one, man or woman, insulted Alessandro Mattani.

Yet he held himself in check. He would not resort to violence against a woman.

More importantly, he needed to know what she was up to, this mad woman with the wild accusations and glorious eyes.

‘Don’t be absurd. I don’t have a child.’ That was one thing he’d never forget, no matter how severe his injuries.

Besides, he’d always taken care not to lay himself open to paternity claims. He enjoyed short-term liaisons, but that didn’t mean he took risks with his health or his family honour.

‘Spare me the act, Alessandro,’ she hissed. ‘Others might be impressed, but I’m not. I gave up being impressed the day I left you.’

He frowned as he felt tremors rack her body and her pulse catapult into overdrive.

‘You’re angry because our relationship ended?’

Women never liked knowing they held a temporary place in his life. Too often they set their sights on becoming the Contessa Mattani. But he had no illusions about matrimony. For him it would be a duty, to carry on the family name. A duty he was happy to postpone.

Her mouth opened in a short, humourless laugh. ‘I wouldn’t have stayed if you’d paid me,’ she spat out. ‘Not once I knew what you were really like.’

Such vehemence, such hatred, was new to Alessandro. The shock of it ran through him like a jolt of electricity. It felt as if he held a jumping live wire in his hand, liable to twist unpredictably at any moment and burn him to cinders.

She was unlike anything or anyone in his well-ordered life.

She fascinated him.

‘What’s this about a child?’ That sort of claim was one he would never take lightly.

Her mouth twisted in a grimace. ‘Forget it,’ she muttered, turning her head away. Her dismissive tone would anger a less controlled man.

Carys tried to tug her hand free, but he held her easily. He had no intention of letting her take another swipe at him. Swiftly he captured her other hand, holding both effortlessly till she gave up trying to escape and subsided, chest heaving, against the back of the seat.

‘I can hardly forget it.’ He pulled her hands, making her turn. Studiously he ignored the way her rapid breathing emphasised the swell of her breasts. ‘Tell me.’

Thick dark lashes rose to reveal silvery-blue eyes that flashed with repressed emotion. Her pulse pounded beneath his fingers and she swiped the tip of her tongue over her lips as if to moisten them.

Instantly desire flared in his belly.

Just like that.

The immediacy of his response would have stunned him if he hadn’t experienced it last night. Whatever the secret of her feminine allure, he responded to it with every particle of testosterone in his body.

He watched her hesitate and kept his expression unreadable. All the while he was aware of the way her moist pink lips unconsciously invited him to plunder her mouth. His fingers tightened on her hands, as if ready to tug her close.

‘There’s nothing to tell.’ Her look was pure belligerence. ‘You have a child. But you already know that.’ She paused; for the first time the heat in her expression disappeared and her eyes turned glacial, stabbing him with invisible icy shards. ‘Why make me repeat what you know?’

‘I want the truth. Is that too much to ask?’ Finally anger exploded behind Alessandro’s façade of calm. A roaring flame of wrath at this woman who turned his life inside out. He strove to resist shaking the truth out of her.

He couldn’t remember ever being so irate.

But then no woman had ever dared make such accusations. Plus the frustration of not knowing his own past would drive any man wild. Alessandro abhorred that sneaking sense of powerlessness, not remembering.

Her chin lifted. ‘Is it too much to ask that you stop crushing my hands?’

Instantly he released her, flexing fingers rigid with tension. He hadn’t intended to hurt her. Another disturbing sign that his control was close to shattering.

‘Thank you.’ She paused, her gaze skating sideways. ‘I promise not to slap you again. That was…unintentional.’ She turned. ‘We’re here.’ She spoke quickly, relief evident in every syllable.

Already Bruno was opening the door to the pavement. The driver stood at Alessandro’s door, waiting for him to alight.

‘We’ll finish this discussion inside.’

‘I’m not sure I want you in my home,’ she countered.

‘You think I want to be there?’ Being with Carys opened a Pandora’s Box of conflicting feelings he could do without.

But he needed to fill the gaps and banish once and for all the nagging sense of something missing in his life. Besides, he had to end this nonsense about fathering a child. He would not countenance such allegations.

Alessandro unfolded his legs from the car and stood up. He felt stiff, as if his muscles had cramped during the drive. He pushed his shoulders back and looked around the street. Graffiti marred the building opposite and a couple of ground-floor windows were boarded up further down the block.

Carys scurried ahead into an ugly square building, not looking back. Her shoulders were hunched and her head bent.

But she couldn’t avoid him. He stepped forward.

‘Signor Conte.’ Bruno waited on the pavement for him.

‘Yes?’ Alessandro paused, his eyes on Carys.

‘On the way here I received answers to the enquiries I made this morning. I didn’t like to interrupt your discussion with la signorina.’

Bruno’s careful tone snared Alessandro’s attention, dragging it from his furious thoughts. He turned to meet his security chief’s blank stare, sensing he wouldn’t like this.

‘And?’

‘There’s no record of a marriage. Signorina Wells is single.’

So, she hadn’t bothered to marry the baby’s father.

Alessandro shoved his hands deep into his pockets, refusing to examine the emotions stirring at that news.

‘There’s more?’

Bruno nodded. ‘The birth was just over a year ago here in Melbourne.’ There wasn’t a hint of expression in his voice and a tickle of premonition feathered Alessandro’s spine.

‘What other details did you get?’

‘The mother is given as Carys Antoinette Wells, receptionist, of this address.’ Bruno gestured to the tired red-brick block of flats.

Alessandro waited, instinct making his skin crawl. ‘And the rest?’

Bruno’s eyes flickered away. He drew himself up straighter. ‘The father is listed as Alessandro Leonardo Daniele Mattani of Como, Italy.’

Despite the fact that by now he’d half expected it, each word slammed into Alessandro’s gut with the force of a sledgehammer.

His name. His identity.

His honour.

Damn her for using him in this way! She’d taken his name and dragged it in the mud with her petty manipulations.

What did she hope to achieve? Money? Position? A hint of respectability even though her child was born out of wedlock?

But why hadn’t she come forward if she’d wanted to try screwing cash from him? Was she waiting for the most auspicious time to approach him?

As if there would ever be a good time for such a plan!

He felt his lips stretch in a grimace of distaste that bared his teeth. His nostrils flared and the blood pounded loud and fast in his ears.

‘Wait here,’ he barked. Without waiting for a response, he strode up the cement pavement to the eyesore of a building. A red mist hazed his vision. The need for justice, for retribution, spurred him on.

This was about far more now than curiosity. More even than the stirring of a libido that had been dormant since he’d woken in hospital twenty-two months ago.

Carys Wells had gone too far. She’d sullied his honour.

For that she would pay.

Carys had only just collected Leo from next door and put him down, still sleeping.

The rap on her door came too soon. She looked at Leo’s peaceful form and felt a tug of intense protectiveness. There’d been no time to decide how to deal with Alessandro.

Who was she kidding? She’d always been putty in his hands. Even now when she almost hated him, she had no illusions about that.

She’d never be rid of him until they had this out.

Reluctantly she walked through the miniscule flat, wiping her damp hands on her skirt. Her legs shook as another tattoo of raps sounded.

The glorious surge of anger had seeped away, leaving her prey to nerves and bone-melting exhaustion.

Fumbling, she unlatched the door and swung it wide.

Alessandro stood there, vibrating with a dangerous energy that wrapped right round her, squeezing her lungs. His eyes sizzled with a fury she’d seen only once before. The day he’d told her, with arctic composure, she’d outstayed her welcome.

Yet even now his potent charisma tugged at her. She bit down hard on her lip, desperate for the strength to face him.

Wordlessly he strode past her into the small sitting room-cumkitchen. For such a big man he still managed to avoid brushing against her which, given the size of the entry, was a feat in itself.

Her lips turned up in a grimace as she pushed the door shut. He couldn’t bear to touch her now she’d called him on his behaviour. How different from last night when his hands had been all over her, marking her with his own special brand of sensual possession.

Hot shame suffused her.

‘You used my name for your bastard child.’

She spun round to find him towering over her, the image of disdain. But his anger was no match for hers.

‘Don’t ever talk about him like that!’ She ignored the blast of his disapproval and jabbed an accusing finger.

‘What? You’re telling me you married after all?’

‘No! Why would I go looking for a husband after my child’s father had already rejected us?’

Alessandro leaned forward, using his superior height to intimidate her. ‘For the same reason you perjured yourself, listing me as the father on the birth certificate. To try to claim some measure of respectability. Or financial support.’

The irony of his accusation hit her full force. If she’d expected support of any kind from Alessandro she’d been grossly mistaken.

She might have harboured a fatal weakness for this overbearing, arrogant, gorgeous man, but, where her son was concerned, she refused to be bullied. She stuck her hands on her hips and stared back, glare for glare.

‘It was for Leo. He has a right to know who his father is.’

‘Have you no shame?’ Alessandro’s dark green eyes sliced right through her self-possession.

‘Only about the fact that I was once foolish enough to…’ She stopped herself in time. She would not lay herself open to derision by admitting the feelings she’d once held for him. ‘To believe in you.’

But she sensed he wasn’t listening. He was absorbed in his own thoughts.

‘Leo? You called him—’

‘Leonardo. After your father.’ She hesitated, aware now of her sentimental folly in choosing a family name for her son. She’d wanted to give him a link to his paternal family, even though that family had roundly rejected him.

Had she secretly thought one day Alessandro might be pleased to have the baby named after the father he’d lost? How misguided she’d been. He looked as she imagined some aristocrat of old must have when confronted with a troublesome serf.

‘You dared to—’

‘I’m not ashamed of what I did,’ she bit out between clenched teeth. ‘Live with it, Alessandro!’

A muffled wail sounded. Immediately Carys spun round and hurried to the bedroom she shared with Leo. She refused to stay and be reviled by Alessandro Mattani of all men.

Moments later Leo was in her arms, a warm cuddly bundle smelling of baby powder and sunshine and little boy. Carys held him against her and shut her eyes, feeling the serenity and joy she always experienced holding him.

‘Mumum!’ He reached up and patted her face.

Carys nuzzled his soft cheek then held him away. ‘Hello, sweetie. Did you have a good day?’

His face split in a broad smile. ‘Mum!’ Then something over her shoulder caught his attention and he stared, his grin fading.

The skin on her neck prickled as she sensed Alessandro’s presence in the room. She didn’t have to turn to know he stood behind her.

She froze.

For so long she’d daydreamed about him coming to find her and Leo. He’d admit he’d been wrong and be devastated by the pain he’d caused. Carys would even find it in her heart to forgive him once he realised his true feelings for her and changed his ways. He’d take one look at Leo and his heart would melt like hers had when she’d first seen her son.

But that would never be.

There was no warmth in his heart for either of them.

Apprehension trickled like hot ice down her backbone. She couldn’t bear it if he took out his anger on Leo. She cuddled her son tighter, but he leaned sideways, craning to keep Alessandro in view.

‘Mumum!’

‘No, darling. Not mummy.’ For a split second she knew a hysterical urge to tell him it was daddy. But she wouldn’t invite Alessandro’s wrath.

She turned, shoulders braced and chin up, holding her baby close. If Alessandro dared make one more disparaging remark—

But she needn’t have worried. All trace of arrogance and anger had vanished. Instead her tormentor stood curiously still, arms loose at his sides. His brows were knitted and he stared at Leo as if he’d never seen a baby before.

Instinctively Carys cuddled her son nearer. She smoothed back his glossy dark hair, almost long enough to be cut. But Leo paid her no heed. He was busy gazing up at the man who refused to be called his father.

She remembered how Alessandro’s collar-length hair had once been like sable under her hands, just like Leo’s. Their eyes were the same too. Though Leo’s reminded her of a cheeky pixie’s, with their twinkle, and Alessandro’s showed no warmth at all. They might have been made of rock crystal.

She watched Alessandro’s hands clench. The tendons in his neck stretched taut.

And still he stared at Leo.

A shiver raced down her spine.

‘How old is he?’ Alessandro’s voice was curiously husky.

‘He had his first birthday six weeks ago.’

‘He was born early?’

‘No. He went to full term.’ Why all the questions?

Leo’s sudden movement took her by surprise. He wriggled in her arms and lunged forward with all his weight as if trying to swim across the gap between himself and Alessandro.

‘Mumum!’ His hands opened and closed as if trying to grasp the big man before him. But Alessandro didn’t move.

Carys felt her heart spasm at the sight of her little boy reaching for his father. He was doomed to disappointment.

Alessandro would never acknowledge him.

Would never love him. Or her.

Finally, after all this time, she shrugged off the last tarnished remnants of hope. The ache in her throat nearly choked her, but she felt freer than she had in almost two years. Surely, in time, the wounds would heal.

Meanwhile she had to protect Leo from the pain of knowing his dad didn’t want him. She’d make up for the lack of a father, she decided fiercely. Leo would never want for love or encouragement or kindness. Not like she had.

Her arms tightened and he wailed, turning accusing eyes on her. ‘Mum!’

‘Yes, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Are you hungry? Are you ready for something to eat?’ She took a step towards the door, studiously ignoring the tall man, standing as if riveted to the spot. ‘Let’s get you some food, shall we?’

It seemed a lifetime before Alessandro moved. Finally he stepped aside. ‘After you.’

Carys didn’t deign to respond.

She’d made it to the kitchen, Leo clamped safely on her hip, when a deep voice halted her in her tracks.

‘Tell me how you came to be pregnant.’

He had to be kidding!

She whirled round to find him only a metre away, his eyes glued to her son. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her and she stroked her palm protectively over Leo’s cheek.

‘Oh, come on, Alessandro!’ Her lips were stiff with fury. ‘I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, but I’ve had enough. This stops now.’

Dark green eyes lifted to pinion hers. Banked heat flared in that hooded gaze. Instantly a coil of reaction twisted in the pit of her stomach. Fear and something else she refused to name.

‘No, Carys.’ His words fell like blows, slow and heavy. ‘It’s just starting.’

Abruptly he turned to pace the room, but not before she read the bleak emptiness in his eyes.