From under the mistletoe...

...to down the aisle!

When brooding bachelor Gabe Arantini learns the innocent beauty he shared a steamy festive night with is the daughter of his business rival, he’s furious. The following Christmas, Abby returns with shocking news—she’s had his child! Gabe knows he must marry Abby to legitimize his son. But can this be a marriage in name only, or will their red-hot chemistry take over?

Feel the heat in this festive secret baby romance!

CLARE CONNELLY was raised in small-town Australia among a family of avid readers. She spent much of her childhood up a tree, Mills & Boon book in hand. Clare is married to her own real-life hero and they live in a bungalow near the sea with their two children. She is frequently found staring into space—a surefire sign she is in the world of her characters. She has a penchant for French food and ice-cold champagne, and Mills & Boon novels continue to be her favourite ever books. Writing for Modern Romance is a long-held dream. Clare can be contacted via clareconnelly.com or at her Facebook page.

Also by Clare Connelly

Bought for the Billionaire’s Revenge

Innocent in the Billionaire’s Bed

Her Wedding Night Surrender

Bound by the Billionaire’s Vows

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Bound by Their Christmas Baby

Clare Connelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07286-1

BOUND BY THEIR CHRISTMAS BABY

© 2018 Clare Connelly

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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To my fabulous

South Australian Romance Association friends:

smart, supportive and kind women

who sparkle like ornaments all year round.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

GABE WAS BORED. He always was at these damned things, but they were part and parcel of his life. His job. His all. And he’d never been a man to walk away from a challenge.

God knew Noah—his business partner and best friend—wasn’t going to step forward to attend a damned investors’ dinner. A party in a club, sure. Noah would be there in an instant. But this kind of entertaining fell to Gabe, and Gabe alone. He looked around the table, smiling blandly, wondering how much more he had to endure before he could make his excuses and leave.

There were a thousand better ways than this to spend an evening.

He hadn’t been to New York in a year, and the last time? Well, it had been a spectacular disaster. No wonder he’d avoided it like the plague. Too much melancholy at Christmas, that was the problem. He’d actually allowed himself to feel lonely, to feel alone, to feel sorry for himself. That was why he’d been stupid enough to fall for her ploy.

‘Calypso’s going to be game-changing,’ Bertram Fines said with confidence. ‘You’ve done it again.’

Gabe ignored the flattery. People were all too quick with praise now that he and Noah had established the foremost technology company in the world. It was the early years when they’d been without friends, without funds, and still made it work through sheer perseverance and determination. He reached for his glass. It was empty. He lifted a hand in the air, summoning a waiter without lifting his gaze.

‘This is the culmination of a lot of innovation, and even more research. Calypso isn’t just a smartphone, it’s a way of life,’ he said with a lift of his shoulders. It was the culmination of an idea he and Noah had years earlier, and they’d worked tirelessly to get it to this point—almost to the market. Calypso went beyond the average smartphone. It was smarter. More secure, guaranteeing its users more privacy.

His spine straightened with a frisson of alarm when he recalled how close he’d come, a year ago, to compromising the project. How close he’d come to seeing Calypso’s secrets taken to one of his business rivals.

But that hadn’t eventuated. He’d made sure of that. His eyes glinted with the ferocity of his thoughts, the strength of his resentment, but his smile was all wolf-like charm.

‘How can I help you, sir?’ A woman appeared to his left. A brassy redhead with a pleasing figure and a smile that showed she knew it. Once upon a time, Gabe might have smiled back. Hell, he’d have done more than smile back—he’d have laid on the charm, asked what time she finished her shift, and then he’d have seduced her. Bought her a drink, taken her for a drive in his limousine before inviting her to his hotel room.

But the last time he’d done that, he’d learned his lesson. He would never again invite a wolf in sheep’s clothing to his bed, nor a woman dressed like a temptress who’d come to betray him. Before he had met Abigail Howard, Gabe couldn’t have imagined going a month without the company of a beautiful woman between his sheets, but now it had been a year. A year since Abigail, a year without women, and he barely cared.

He named a bottle of wine, one of the most expensive on the menu, without smiling, and turned his attention back to his table of guests. Conversation had moved onto the cost of midtown realty. He sat back, pretending to listen, fingers in a temple beneath his chin.

The restaurant was quietening down. Despite the fact it was one of Manhattan’s oldest and most prestigious spots, it was late—nearing midnight—and the conservative crowd that favoured this sort of establishment were wrapping up their evenings.

Gabe let his eyes run idly around the room. It was everything he’d come to expect in this kind of place, from the glistening chandeliers that sparkled overhead to the sumptuous burgundy velvet curtains adorning the windows, to the menu and wine list that were both six-star.

The waitress approached with the wine and he gestured that she should fill up his companions’ glasses. For Gabe’s part, he wasn’t a big drinker, and certainly not with men he hardly knew. Discretion was the better part of valour—another lesson he’d learned a year ago. No, that wasn’t true. He’d known it all his life. She’d just made him forget.

His eyes wandered once more, this time towards the kitchens, concealed behind large white doors that flapped silently as staff moved quickly through them. Inside, he knew, would be a hive of activity, despite the calm serenity of the restaurant dining room. The doors flicked open and for the briefest moment Gabe was certain he saw her.

A flick of white-blonde hair, a petite figure, pale skin.

He gripped the stem of his empty wine glass, his whole body stilled, like a predator on alert.

It wasn’t her. Of course it wasn’t.

In the kitchen? Had that been a dishcloth in her hand?

Not possible.

He homed back in on the conversation at the table, laughing at a joke, nodding at something someone said, but every few moments his eyes shifted towards the doors, trying to get a better look at the ghost of Christmas last.

Gabe wasn’t a man to leave things to chance. He’d experienced enough random acts, enough of fate’s whimsy, to know that he would never again let life surprise him.

She had surprised him though, that night. What was it about the woman that had got under his skin? She was beautiful, but so were many women, and Gabe wasn’t a man who let a woman’s appearance overpower him. In fact, he prided himself on being more interested in a woman’s mind. Her intellect. The decency of her soul and conscience.

And yet she’d walked into the bar of his Manhattan hotel and their eyes had sparked. Then he’d held his breath for the longest time, waiting for her to say something, needing to hear her voice and to know all about her instantly.

What madness had overtaken him that night?

It hadn’t been a random spark though. Their meeting had been planned meticulously. He forced himself to return his attention to his guests, but his mind was on that long-ago night, a night he usually tried not to remember. A night he would never forget. Not because it had been so wonderful—though at the time he thought it had been—but because of the lessons it had taught him.

Don’t trust anyone. Ever. Except for Noah, Gabe was alone in this world, and that was the way he wanted it.

Still, the mystery of the vision of Abby remained, so that, as the night wore on and cars were called for the investors, he gestured towards the maître d’.

‘How has your evening been, Mr Arantini?’ the man asked with an obsequious bow. Gabe might have grown up dirt-poor, but he’d been phenomenally wealthy for a long time now; such marked deference was not new to him. He’d even come to find it amusing.

Gabe didn’t answer the question. There was no need. If he hadn’t found the evening a success, the maître d’ would have heard about it well before then. ‘I’d like to speak to Rémy,’ he said silkily.

‘The chef?’

Gabe lifted a brow. ‘Unless you have two Remys working this evening.’

The maître d’ laughed a little self-consciously. ‘Not at all, sir. Just the one.’

‘Then I’ll let myself into the kitchen.’ He stood and spun on his heel, stalking towards the doors without allowing the maître d’ a reply.

At the doors, though, he hesitated for the briefest moment, bracing himself for the likelihood that he might come face to face with her once more. And the greater likelihood that he would not.

So?

Why did that bother him?

If he’d wanted to see Abigail Howard again, he’d had ample opportunities. She’d called him relentlessly, desperate to ‘apologise’ for her part in the scam. Desperate to see him, to make amends. Didn’t she realise how futile those efforts were? As if Gabe could ever forgive such a betrayal! He’d left her in little doubt as to how he felt when she’d turned up at his office in Rome—for heaven’s sake—demanding to see him.

That had been six months ago. Six months after she’d bargained her innocence for a glimpse at top secret Calypso files on behalf of her father. His blood still curdled at what that night had been about—at what she’d been willing to give up for commercial success.

He’d known a lot of manipulative characters in his time, but none so abhorrent as she’d been.

The satisfaction of having his security remove her from his office had been immense. She’d come to Rome to see him and he’d made it painstakingly obvious that he’d never see her again.

So? What was he doing now? Hovering outside a restaurant kitchen because he thought he’d caught a glimpse of her? And how could he possibly have recognised her in the brief moment the blonde had walked past the doors? It wasn’t physically possible, he told himself, all the while knowing he had recognised something about the woman. The lithe grace of her walk. The elegance of her neck as she turned her head, hair that was like clouds at sunset, glowing with the evening’s rays.

Great.

Now he was becoming poetic about a woman who’d seduced him with the sole intention of ruining him.

He tightened his shoulders and pushed into the kitchen. It wasn’t so busy as he’d thought earlier. The dinner rush was over, and now there were chefs prepping for the next day’s service, some cleaning, some standing around talking. His eyes skimmed the kitchen and his stomach dropped unexpectedly.

She wasn’t here. This was a men-only zone at present—something he’d never allow in any of his hotels or restaurants. Within his and Noah’s company, Bright Spark Inc, they demanded equal gender representation across the board. They invested heavily in STEM projects for schools—they were both passionate about playing fields being levelled as much as possible, having been on the dodgy end of their own playing fields for a long time.

‘Rémy,’ he said smoothly, striding across the kitchen.

‘Ah! Arantini!’ The chef grinned. ‘You like your dinner?’

‘Exceptional.’ Gabe nodded, annoyingly put out by having come into the kitchens and not found the woman he’d seen.

‘You had the lobster?’

‘Of course.’

‘Always your favourite,’ Rémy chuckled.

Gabe nodded, just as the cold room door opened and the woman stepped out. Her head was bent, but he’d have known her body anywhere, any time and in any clothes.

True, the night they’d met she’d been dripping in the latest couture, but now? She wore simple jeans, a black T-shirt and a black and white apron tied twice around her slender waist. Her hair was pulled into a ballerina bun and her face, he saw as she lifted it, was bare of make-up.

His gut twisted and a strong possessive instinct hammered through him.

She’d been his in bed. That hadn’t been just about Calypso. She’d wanted him. She’d given him her virginity, she’d begged him to take her, and he’d thought it a gift. A special, beautiful moment. He’d never been anyone’s ‘first’ before.

She placed the containers she was carrying onto the bench and then lifted her eyes to the clock above the doors. She hadn’t seen him, and he was glad for that. Glad to have a moment to observe her, to remember all the reasons he had for hating this woman, to regain his composure before showing her how little he thought of her.

When he’d had her evicted from his office in Rome, he’d told himself it was for the best. He never wanted to see her again, and nothing could change that. But here, in this six-star Manhattan hotspot, looking nothing like his usual romantic quarry, Gabe knew he’d been lying to himself.

He’d wanted to see her again and again. He drank in the sight of her, knowing it could only ever be this minute, this weakness, this moment of indulgence, before he would be forced to remember that she’d planned to ruin him.

Bright Spark Inc wasn’t just a business to him. It was his and Noah’s life. It had saved them when their own futures had been bleak and they’d been desperate for a fresh start.

And she’d wanted to destroy it. She’d come to him specifically to steal Calypso’s secrets. It was a crime for which there could never be sufficient repentance.

‘Rémy.’ He spoke deliberately, slowly, and loud enough that she heard. He had the satisfaction of seeing her head jerk towards him the moment the word was uttered, saw shock flood her huge, expressive green eyes, saw the colour drain from her face and the telling way she pressed her palms into the counter. ‘You have a traitor in your midst.’

Rémy frowned, following Gabe’s gaze across the restaurant. ‘A...traitor?’

‘Sì.’ Gabe moved across the room, closer to where she stood. She was trembling slightly now, her expression unmistakably terrified. His own expression remained cool and dismissive, the aloofness he was famed for evident in every line of his hard, muscular frame. No one in that kitchen could have known that beneath his autocratic face and strong body was a pulse that was rushing like a stormy sea.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘This woman,’ Gabe said with quiet determination, ‘isn’t who you think.’ He flicked his gaze from her head to her stomach—which was all he could see of her, owing to the large bench she stood behind. ‘She’s a liar and a cheat. She’s no doubt working here to pick up whatever secrets she can from your customers. If you care at all about your reputation, you’ll fire her.’

Rémy moved to stand beside Gabe, his face showing confusion. ‘Abby’s worked here for over a month.’

‘Abby...’ Gabe lifted a brow, his expression laced with mockery. It was the name she’d given him too. Far more endearing than Abigail Howard—billion-dollar heiress. ‘I think Abby is having a laugh at your expense.’

The woman swallowed, the slender column of her throat moving overtime as she sought to moisten her mouth. Gabe caught the betraying gesture with a cynical tilt of his lips.

‘That’s not true, I swear,’ she said, her fingers trembling when she lifted them to her temple and rubbed. Gabe’s eyes narrowed. She looked tired. As though she’d been run off her feet all day.

‘Oh, you swear?’ he drawled, moving closer, pressing his palms against the bench. ‘You mean we have your word that you’re telling the truth?’

The words were dripping with sarcasm.

‘Please don’t do this,’ she said softly, with such an appearance of anguish that Gabe could almost have believed her. If he hadn’t personally seen what she was capable of.

‘Did you know this woman is worth a billion dollars, Rémy? And you’ve got her, what? Ferrying things from the cold rooms?’

Rémy’s surprise was obvious. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong idea about Abby,’ he said with a shake of his head, dislodging the pen he kept hooked over one ear.

Gabe’s laugh was a short sound of derision. ‘I know, better than most, what she’s capable of. And, I can tell you, you don’t want her anywhere near your patrons.’

‘Abby?’ Rémy spread his hands wide. ‘What’s going on?’

She opened her mouth to say something and then shut it again.

Rémy pushed, ‘Have you met Mr Arantini before?’

Her eyes flew to Gabe’s and, damn it, memories of her straddling him, staring into his eyes as she took him deep within her, spread like wildfire through his blood, burning him from the inside out. He didn’t want to remember what she’d been like in his bed. He needed to recall only the way it had ended—with her taking photographs of top secret Calypso documents when she’d believed him to be showering.

His jaw hardened and he leaned forward.

‘Tell him how we met, Abigail,’ he suggested, and a cold smile iced his lips, almost as though he was enjoying this. He wasn’t.

She blinked her eyes closed. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘It’s ancient history.’

‘If only it were,’ he said softly. ‘But here you are in my friend’s kitchen and knowing you, as I do, I can’t help but believe you have an ulterior motive.’

‘I needed a job,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘That’s all.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you did.’ Gabe laughed, but it was a harsh sound, without any true mirth. ‘Trust funds are so hard to live off, aren’t they?’

‘Please—’ she focused her energy on Rémy ‘—I do know this man...’ Her eyes shifted to Gabe and her frown deepened. She was an exceptional actress. He could almost have believed she was truly feeling some hint of remorse. Pain. Embarrassment. But he’d been wrong about her once before and he’d never make that mistake again. ‘A long time ago. But that’s not relevant to why I’m here. I applied for this job because I wanted to work with you. Because I wanted to work. And I’m good at what I do, aren’t I?’

Rémy tilted his head. ‘Yes,’ he conceded. ‘But I trust Mr Arantini. We’ve known one another a long time. If he says I shouldn’t have you working here, that I can’t trust you...’

Abby froze, disbelief etched across her face. ‘You can trust me.’

‘Like you can trust a starving pit bull at your back door,’ Gabe slipped in.

‘Monsieur Valiron, I promise you I’m not here for any reason except that I need a job.’

‘Needing a job? Another lie,’ Gabe said.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She glared at him and the heat in that look surprised him. The vehemence of her anger. It was as though she were driven to defend herself by something other than pride, by true desperation. He’d felt it often enough to recognise it.

‘You forget how well I know what I’m talking about,’ he said smoothly. ‘You’re just lucky I didn’t press charges.’

She drew in a shaky breath. ‘Mr Arantini,’ she said crisply, ‘I’ve moved on from...that...how we met. And you obviously have too.’ She blinked her eyes and he had a sinking feeling in his gut that she was trying not to cry.

Hell. He’d never made a woman cry, had he?

Even that night, when he’d accused her, she’d been shocked and devastated, but she hadn’t cried. She’d taken his tirade, admitted that her father had asked her to contrive a way to meet him, to get close to him and find out all she could about Calypso, and then she’d apologised. And left.

‘I’m not asking you to forgive me for what happened between us.’

‘Good,’ he interrupted forcibly, wishing now he had a glass of something strong he could drink.

‘But please don’t ruin this for me.’ She turned back to Rémy. ‘I’m not lying to you, monsieur. I need this job. I have no plans to do anything that will reflect badly on you...’

Rémy frowned. ‘I want to believe you, Abby...’

Gabe turned slowly towards his friend, and his expression was cold, unemotional. ‘Trusting this woman would be a mistake.’

* * *

Abby was numb. It had nothing to do with the snow that was drifting down over New York, turning it into a beautiful winter wonderland, nor the fact she’d left the restaurant in such a hurry she’d forgotten to grab her coat—or her tips.

She swore softly, her head dipped forward, tears running down her cheeks. What were the chances of Gabe Arantini walking into the kitchen of the restaurant she happened to work in? Of his being friendly enough with her boss to actually have her fired?

A sob escaped her and she stopped walking, dipping into an alleyway and pressing herself against the wall for strength.

She’d never thought she’d see him again. She’d tried. She’d tried when she’d thought it mattered. She’d tried when she’d thought it was the right thing to do. But now?

Another sob sounded and she bit down on her lip. He hated her.

She’d always known that, but seeing his cold anger filled her with doubts and fears, making her question what she knew she had to do.

When had he come to New York? Had he been here long? Had he thought of her at all?

She had to see him again—but how? She’d tried calling him so many times, and every call had been unreturned or disconnected. Emails bounced back. She’d even flown to Rome, but he had two burly security men haul her from the building.

So what now?

It would serve that heartless bastard right if she didn’t bother. If she skulked off, licking her wounds, keeping her secrets, and doing just what he’d asked: staying the hell away from him.

But it wasn’t about what she wanted, nor was it about what Gabe wanted.

She had to think of their baby, Raf—and what he deserved.

Her chest hurt with the pain of the life she was giving their son. Their tiny apartment, their parlous financial state, the fact she worked so hard she barely got to see him, and instead had to have a downstairs neighbour come and stay overnight to help out. It was a mess. And Raf deserved so much better.

For Raf, and Raf alone, Abigail had to find a way to see Gabe—and to tell him the truth.

And this time she wasn’t going to let him turn her away without hearing her out first.

CHAPTER TWO

‘THERE’S A MISS HOWARD here to see you, sir,’ Benita, his assistant, spoke into the intercom.

From the outside Gabe barely reacted, but inside he felt surprise rock him to the core. She’d come to his damned office? What the actual hell? How many times did he have to tell her to stay away from him?

He reached for his phone, lifting it out of the cradle. ‘Did you say...?’

‘Miss Howard.’

He tightened his grip on the receiver and stared straight ahead. It was a grey day. A gloomy sky stretched over Manhattan, though he knew at street level the city was buzzing with a fever of pre-Christmas activity.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell his assistant to call the police, when he remembered a small detail. The way Abigail had been two nights earlier, her eyes wet with unshed tears, her lip quivering. As though she really did need that menial job.

He knew it to be a lie, of course. But what was the truth? What ruse was she up to? What game was she playing? Was she looking to hurt Rémy? Or was her latest scheme more complex?

He owed it to his friend to find out. But not here. His office was littered with all manner of documents someone like Abigail would find valuable.

‘Tell her I’m busy. She can wait for me, if she’d like,’ he said, knowing full well she would wait—and that he’d enjoy stretching that out as long as possible.

He stayed at his desk for the remainder of the day. Hours passed. He caught up on his emails, read the latest report from his warehouse in China, called Noah. It was nearly six when Benita buzzed through.

‘I’m all done for the day, Mr Arantini. Unless there’s anything else you need?’

‘No, Benita.’

‘Also, sir, Miss Howard is still here.’

His lips flattened into a grim line. Of course she was.

‘Tell her I’m aware she’s waiting.’

He disconnected the call and picked up the latest report on Calypso’s production, but struggled to focus. Five hours after she’d arrived, the suspense was getting under his skin.

With a heavy sigh, he stood, lifted his jacket from the back of a conference chair and pushed his arms into it, before pulling the door between his office and the reception area open.

It was still well-lit, but the windows behind Abigail were pitch-black. The night sky was heavy and ominous. Despite the fact Christmas was a month away, an enormous tree stood in one corner, and it shone now with the little lights that had been strung through its branches. They cast an almost angelic glow on Abigail. An optical illusion, obviously. There was nothing angelic about this woman.

Her eyes lifted to him at the sound of his entrance, and he ignored the instant spark of attraction that fired in his gut. He was attracted to character traits—intelligence, loyalty, strength of character, integrity. She had none of those things. Well, intelligence, he conceded, but in a way she used for pure evil.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, deliberately gruff.

She seemed surprised—by his tone? Or the fact he’d actually appeared?

‘I didn’t think you were going to see me,’ she said, confirming that it was the latter. ‘I thought you must have already left.’

‘My first instinct was to have you removed,’ he said. ‘You know I’m capable of it.’ Now heat stained her cheeks, and her chin tilted defiantly towards him. ‘But then it occurred to me that I should find out what you’re planning.’

‘Planning?’

‘Mmm. You must have some reason for working in my friend’s kitchen. So? What is it?’

She shook her head. ‘Gabe...’

‘I prefer you to call me Mr Arantini,’ he said darkly. ‘It better suits what I think of you and how little I wish to know you.’

She swallowed, and the action drew his attention to the way she’d dressed for this meeting. That was to say, with no particular attempt to impress. Jeans again, though she did wear them well, and a black sweater with a bit of beading around the neckline. She wore ballet slippers on her feet, black as well, but scuffed at the toes.

Her eyes sparked with his, emotions swirling in them. ‘Gabe,’ she repeated, with a strength he found it difficult not to admire. Not many people could be on the receiving end of Gabe’s displeasure and come out fighting. ‘The night we met, I was...’

‘Stop.’ He lifted a hand into the air, his manner imperious. ‘I do not want to rehash the past. I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your father. I don’t care about that night except for one reason. You taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. I let my guard down with you in a way I hadn’t done in years. And you reminded me why I don’t make a habit of that.’ He said with a shrug that was an emulation of nonchalance, ‘Now I want you to get out of my life, for the last time.’

‘Listen to me,’ she said.

‘No!’ It was a harsh denial in a silent room. ‘Not when every word that comes from your mouth is a self-serving lie.’

She clamped her lips together and his eyes chased the gesture, remembering how her pillowy lower lip had felt between his teeth. A kick of desire flared inside him. Desire? For this woman?

What was wrong with him?

Celibacy, that was what. He should have found someone else for his bed before this—why had he let the ghost of Abby fill his soul for so long?

‘You traded your body, your looks, hell, your virginity, because of what it could get you. That makes you no better than...’

He didn’t finish the sentence but his implication hung between them, angry and accusing.

‘I wanted you, Gabe, just like you wanted me. Calypso wasn’t a part of that.’ She blinked up at him, and he felt it. The same charge of electricity shot from her to him that had characterised that first night, their first meeting. It was a bolt of lightning; he was rattled by heavy, drugging need. God, would he forgive himself for acting on it? For leaning down and kissing her, for pushing her to the floor and making her his one last time before kicking her out of his life for good?

No.

She had used him; he wouldn’t use her.

That wasn’t his style. And, no matter how great the sex had been, he sure as hell wasn’t going to compromise his own morals just because he happened to find her desirable.

He jerked his gaze away and thrust his hands onto his hips with all the appearance of disregard. ‘I don’t want you now,’ he lied.

‘I know that,’ she said, a hint of strength in the short words.

‘So? What’s your plan, Abigail? Why work for Rémy?’

‘I need the job—I told you.’

‘Yes, yes.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘You think I’m stupid enough to buy into your lies for a second time?’

She looked startled. ‘It’s not...it’s complicated. And I can’t tell you what I came here to say with you glaring at me like you want to strangle me.’

He almost laughed—it was such an insane accusation. ‘I don’t want to strangle you,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to touch you. I don’t want to see you. I’d prefer to think you don’t exist.’

She let out a slow, shuddering breath. ‘You actually hate me.’

‘Sì.’

‘Okay.’ She licked her lower lip. ‘I get it. That’s...actually strangely good to know.’

‘You didn’t know this already?’

She shook her head and then changed it to a nod, before pacing slowly across the room. She jammed her hands into her pockets, staring at the shining doors of the lift.

Gabe’s impatience grew. He couldn’t have said if it was an impatience to be rid of her or a need to know what the hell she’d come to him to say. Why had he been able to ignore her for a year and now suddenly he was burning up with a desperate need to hear whatever the hell she’d come to him for?

Because he’d seen her again. And he’d felt that same tug of powerful attraction, that was why. He needed to exercise caution—it was a slippery slope with Abigail, almost as though she were a witch, imbued with magical powers to control and contort him. There was danger in her proximity. The sooner he could be free of her, the better.

‘So?’ he demanded when she didn’t speak. ‘What’s going on? Why are you here? What do you want this time?’

She was wary. ‘Well, I’d like my job back,’ she said, somewhat sarcastically.

‘Pigs might fly,’ he said. ‘You’re just lucky I didn’t tell Rémy the full sordid story of how we met.’

‘Would it have mattered? He fired me anyway.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Did that give you satisfaction? To see me embarrassed like that? To see me thrown out?’

He considered it for a moment, his expression hard. ‘Yes.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head towards the ceiling, breathing in, steadying herself. ‘You’re a bastard.’

‘So I’ve been told.’

He looked down at her again. She was slim. Too slim. Her figure had been pleasingly rounded when they’d met, curves in all the places Gabe—and any red-blooded man—fantasised about. Now, she was supermodel slender.

Her body was a minefield of distraction, but he’d been down that path before. No good would come from worshipping her physical perfection. He refocused his attention on the matter at hand: the sooner they dealt with it, the sooner she’d be gone and this would be over.

‘Why does it matter?’ he demanded. ‘We both know you don’t need to work—even if poor Rémy was foolish enough to believe your act. So, what’s the big deal?’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘Rarely.’

‘I needed that job. I needed the money.’

‘Your father’s company?’ he asked, frowning, a hint of something like genuine interest colouring the words. ‘It hasn’t gone bankrupt?’ He’d have heard, surely.

‘No—’ she shook her head ‘—I think he’s holding it together. But I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in a long time.’

‘Oh?’ Gabe was no longer losing interest in this. His blood was racing through his body and he took a step towards her, unconsciously moving closer. ‘Why is that?’

She swallowed, and appeared to be weighing her words—something Gabe hated. Liars always thought about what they wanted to say, and she was an exceptional liar.

‘He threw me out,’ she said, the words tremulous even though her eyes met his with a fierce strength.

‘He...threw you out?’ Gabe, rarely surprised, felt that emotion now. ‘Your father?’

‘Yes.’

Why was he so shocked? He knew enough of cruel fathers and their ability to abuse their children’s affections to know Lionel Howard was capable of everything Abigail claimed.

‘Because of me?’

She nodded.

Gabe’s curse was softly voiced but forceful, and it filled the room. ‘Your father threw you out because you didn’t have photos of the Calypso project?’

‘No.’ She shook her head, her skin pale. ‘Not exactly.’

Gabe waited, but his impatience was making it difficult.

‘I mean, he was furious that morning. Furious that I had come back empty-handed. But it was a fury born of desperation, you know? He was desperate, Gabe. My dad isn’t a bad person, he’s just...’

‘Why,’ he interrupted coldly, ‘do you think I want to talk about your father?’

‘You have to understand...’

She was quicksand. He’d let her in and now he was sinking—back into her web of lies, her intriguing fascination. What a fool he’d been to think he could talk to her and not fall down this rabbit hole of desire.

‘No, I don’t. I don’t “have” to do anything where you’re concerned. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why I didn’t have you escorted from the building. But I’m done. This is over.’

‘Wait.’ She licked her lower lip and then lifted her hand to her hair, toying with the ends in an unmistakably nervous gesture. ‘I’m trying to explain.’

‘Explain what?’

‘That night—it wasn’t what you think. I mean, I know I came to you because of Calypso, but from the minute I met you, that was just about you and me, and the way we felt.’

‘And yet you still took photographs. You thought you could have your cake and eat it too? A night with me and the chance to salvage your father’s company thrown into the mix?’

‘No. I didn’t think it through, obviously.’ She pulled a face. ‘I know it’s no excuse and it must sound pathetic to someone like you. It’s just... I’ve always done what he asked of me. It’s hard to rewire that.’

‘He asked you to do something borderline illegal.’

‘I know!’ she growled—a growl born of self-disgust. ‘I wish, again and again, I could undo that night.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I mean, not all of it.’

‘Ah,’ he said with dangerous softness. ‘Here we differ. Because if I had my way I would go back in time and never meet you. Never set eyes on you, never kiss you, never ask you to my room. I would undo every little bit of what we shared. I regret everything about knowing you.’

Her mouth dropped open. He’d hurt her. He’d shocked her. Good. He recognised, in the part of his brain that was still working properly, that he liked that. He liked seeing that pain on her face. She deserved it. It was only a hint of how he’d felt when he’d discovered that his lover was actually some kind of corporate spy.

‘And now,’ he said, ‘if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.’

Yes. He’d definitely landed that blow successfully. She physically reeled, spinning away from him in a poor attempt to conceal her reaction.

‘When I told Dad I hadn’t met you, he was angry. Angry because he’d told me exactly where you’d be. Angry because he thought I hadn’t tried hard enough.’

‘Yet you’re an accomplished liar,’ Gabe pointed out. ‘So I’m sure you managed to win him over.’

She didn’t react. Her eyes were glazed over, as though she were in the past. ‘Not really. I mean, he stopped being mad with me, but his business worries grew. He was losing his market share to you; he has been for years—’

‘It’s not his market share. It’s anyone’s for the taking. And the only reason Bright Spark is at the top of the ladder is because we release better products than our competitors.’

‘I know.’ She nodded, almost apologetically. ‘I’m just explaining his mindset.’

‘Whatever his mindset, you are your own person. You made a decision to manipulate me...’

‘I’m talking about after that,’ she said with quiet determination. ‘You know I’ve been trying to contact you.’

He tilted his head. ‘Apologies are fruitless, Abigail. There is no apology you could offer that would inspire my forgiveness. You’re a liar and a cheat.’

She shook her head but didn’t say anything. ‘It was bad at home. I was worried about him, and I didn’t feel well.’

Gabe lifted his brows.

‘When did you not feel well?’

‘A few months after we...after that night. I’d been tired—yet not sleeping.’

‘Guilt will do that to a person. Then again, I don’t know if you’re capable of feeling guilt.’

‘Believe me, I am,’ she promised, the words steady, so that he was at risk of believing her despite everything he knew her to be. ‘I’ve felt a bucketload of it since I met you. Anyway, I went to the doctor and...you can probably guess where I’m going with this.’

‘No,’ he said with a lift of his shoulders. ‘And frankly I’m bored of our conversation.’

‘Right, you have your date,’ she said, the words almost manic.

‘Yes,’ Gabe lied. Well, not strictly a lie. There were any number of women he could call. Just because he hadn’t done so in over a year didn’t mean they wouldn’t jump at the chance for a night with Gabe Arantini. He stared at Abigail for one long moment and then made to walk past her, only she reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘Gabe, stop. You need to let me say this.’

‘Why do you think I owe you anything?’

‘I was pregnant,’ she said, arresting him in his tracks completely. His eyes locked onto hers and in his face was a torrent of emotions. There was anger, disbelief, confusion, fury and, finally, amusement.

‘Nice try, Abigail, but I don’t believe you. You think this is a way to extort money from me? Or ruin me somehow? Is this your father’s idea?’

‘No!’ She was pale and shaking. ‘Gabe, I’m not making this up. I went to the doctor and they ran some tests. I was pregnant. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with.’

His eyes narrowed.

‘I didn’t tell Dad until I was five months along and I started to show. He demanded to know who the father was and when I told him he...’

Gabe could barely keep up, but somehow he answered calmly. ‘Yes?’

‘He kicked me out. He cut me off. I haven’t seen him since.’

Gabe felt as though he’d been punched in the solar plexus. He couldn’t speak.

‘It’s why I need that job. Why I’m working nights. I have a good babysitter who sleeps over, so I can work at night. And in the days I’m with Raf.’

His eyes flew wide. ‘Raf?’

‘Rafael,’ she said with a small, distracted smile. ‘Our son.’

Silence fell, heavy and caustic, in the room. Gabe processed what she’d said, but it simply didn’t make sense.

‘We used protection.’

‘I know.’

‘It’s not possible.’

‘The three-month-old I have at home would beg to differ,’ she said calmly, even when her nerves were jangling.

Gabe nodded, a coldness to his expression. ‘What is this? You want money? Or something else?’

‘I thought you should know,’ she said with hauteur, reminding him of the silver spoon she’d grown up with.

‘You thought I should know that I’m a father. That supposedly the night we were together, you fell pregnant. How convenient!’

‘Not particularly,’ Abby said with a soft laugh.

‘Do you think I am this stupid? That I’ll listen to these lies? I should have followed my first instincts and had you kicked out. What the hell are you playing at?’

‘It’s the truth,’ she said. ‘I have a son. His name is Raf Arantini and he’s the spitting image of his father.’

Gabe glared at her. She’d even used his name? Could it be true?

Presumably she hadn’t been on birth control, but he never slept with a woman without protection. And he’d never had any consequences come from his sex life before. So why now? And why this woman?

Because she was a liar. And though he couldn’t see the full picture, he knew with confidence that there was more to this story than she was telling him. It couldn’t be the truth. There was no way on earth he had a baby.

He needed time and space to think, and he sure as hell couldn’t do that with her in the room.

‘Get out of my office, Abigail. And don’t contact me again.’

He walked to the lift and pressed the button; it pinged open almost instantly.

She walked slowly and as she passed him he caught just a hint of her sweet vanilla fragrance. His whole body clenched.

‘You don’t believe me?’ she asked.

‘Do you blame me?’

Tears welled in her eyes but she met his eyes with obvious defiance. ‘It’s the truth.’

‘I don’t think you’d know the truth if it bit you on that perfect little arse of yours.’

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