Page 19 of Hidden Heir, Italian Wife

He ran his hand down his face and a shaken breath left him. “We’ll do one because others will expect it, but okay. I have a daughter.” His expression flexed as he fully took this information on board. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Maybe she was judging him too harshly. Of course this was a shock.

“What, um…” She hugged herself. “What do you want to do now? Take some time to process? I can leave. We can talk again later this week.”

“No,” he said abruptly. “You’ve been around Eve enough to know that family is important to us. If Sofia is my family, then she is part of my life now. In a meaningful way.” He threw her own words back at her.

“And what does that mean to you?” She lifted haughty brows.

“I don’t know yet. Shared custody? Isn’t that what most involved parents have?”

“You’ll move back here to New York?” A small chill of threat moved through her. “Just like that?”

“No.” He dismissed that with a scowl.

“How do you see that working then? I’m not dragging a three-year-old across the Atlantic every two weeks.” She waved toward the windows.

His restless gaze moved around the room, but she had the sense he was looking inward. “You’ll have to live in Italy.”

“What? No! Our life is here. You can visit her whenever you’re in town.”

“How is that meaningful?” he rejected impatiently. “I’ll support you,” he added as though money was the only thing that worried her. “You won’t have to work.”

“I happen tolikeworking.” Financial independence was deeply important to her.

“Then work remotely. Or I’ll find you something in my office. You’re throwing up arguments that have no bearing.”

“And you’re acting like I’m that pushover you met in Italy. You can’t throw money around and expect me to lie down for you.”

He held her stare while her words hung in the air.

She started to blush, thinking about exactly how easy she’d been for him that day. He was remembering it, too. She could tell.

The air had already been crackling with heightened emotions. Now her awareness that they were alone in this suite hummed even louder. Her body tingled as though she was a receptor for the specific sexual energy he radiated.

“I wasn’t talking about sex.”

“It was a Freudian slip?” he mocked lightly. “Because we can take this into the bedroom and work out the sexual tension.”

“I wouldn’t trust your condoms.”

“Keep throwing that at me, Bree. You said you were on the pill. I happen to know the medicine chest in a room like this is very well stocked, by the way.” His mouth curled with cruel enticement.

He was taunting her, but the atmosphere had altered, shifting from animosity to something more provocative. His gaze skimmed her and temptation began to hum in her ears.

I haven’t even begun to seduce you.

“This is a power move,” she said shakily. “You don’t even like me.”

“You’re the mother of my child.” He held her gaze as he approached. She could practically smell the pheromones coming off him. “I could never hate you. Or harm you. I’m merely angry with you.”

“And I’m supposed to want angry sex?” She couldn’t remember where she’d put her purse. She had a clear line to the door, but didn’t move. Because she wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of herself. Of the yearnings that gripped her. Her feet were magnetized to the floor. The rest of her willed him to make a move. It was foolish, so foolish.

“If you don’t want sex, say that. We’ll stick to arguing.” He cradled her jaw, warm and gentle and devastating. His thumb grazed her bottom lip.

She caught at his wrist, but it was too late. He had already cast his spell. Or broken one. Her slumbering senses leaped awake. Tingling heat suffused her, tightening her skin while loosening sinew and inhibition. Swirls of desire twisted through her belly. Against her will, a sob of need panged in her throat.

He heard it and answered with a gruff noise. He dipped his head and sealed his mouth to hers.

---