Page 36 of The Tycoon's Shock Heir

Her face twisted wretchedly. ‘I still can’t believe it. I still can’t believe my whole life is over because of one stupid mistake.’

A burst of pride flared up in him. He’d never heard a woman describe him as a ‘mistake’. Since Sophie, he’d been damned sure to keep women where he could manage them. The only stupid mistakes happened when he didn’t.

‘Your life isn’t over,’ he said coldly. ‘This is a child we’re talking about here. My child. But there are people waiting downstairs for me. I still have a business to run and I really need to go and sort it out. I’ll come back and discuss this with you afterwards. Like adults.’

‘Don’t patronise me. Don’t you think I know we’re talking about our child? But you’d rather go and discuss business—that says it all.’

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He stared at her. Almond eyes, blurred and wild. Outside the band struck up another tune...a wave of laughter rolled in through the open windows.

‘I will stand by you,’ he heard himself say. ‘My family means the world to me, and if there’s going to be another part of it then I will do the right thing. There is no question of that. But this isn’t the only thing going on right now...’

The phone continued to vibrate. It could only be David. The Arturos... He pulled it out.

‘It was the west terrace, Matteo...?’

‘On my way.’

‘I have to go down there,’ he said, slipping his phone back in his pocket. ‘I know this is the worst possible timing, but David will come up and make sure you’re comfortable. We can work out the other arrangements as soon as this is over. Just give me some time.’

‘Do I have any choice?’

‘No.’

He couldn’t look at her face, but those dark eyes burned all the way to his heart as he strode to the door and out into the hall. The sounds of the party rumbled up to meet him. There were people smiling, posing, cameras everywhere. He pushed back through them, some sort of smile fixed on his face, giving a white-knuckled handshake to the people who stopped him.

He made his way to the west terrace. There they were. Marie-Isabelle was sitting on an elegant wicker chair, with a glass of champagne and a beatific smile. Augusto stood over her, and both were staring out over the marina to where the dipping orange sun was sinking low on a slick indigo sea.

‘Ah. You’ve found the marvellous sunset,’ he said, hearing words that meant nothing dripping out of his mouth. ‘The best night of the year so far, don’t you think?’

‘Indeed... A night to talk about love, not money,’ said Augusto. ‘Where is your young lady? You should be spending time with her, not sitting with a pair of old fogeys like us.’

Matteo looked at him sharply, guilt settling in his stomach like acid. Augusto couldn’t possibly know that he’d left his ‘young lady’ abandoned upstairs with her terrible secret. He had to swallow it down and get on with the job in hand, even though he felt it was already slipping out of his grasp.

He’d just put the whole Lady Faye nonsense behind him and now along rolled the next situation to deal with. The heavy yoke of his life suddenly felt like iron around his shoulders. He couldn’t take much more, and now there was a child on the way, and Claudio would be standing and watching, waiting for a single slip-up so that he could come over and trample what was left of his family into the dirt.

He looked around at the sparkling boats on the marina, at the couples wandering on the grass, at the dance floor pulsing with bodies, the terrace, the long sweep of the driveway where cars were still coming and going. People with nothing to worry about other than having a good time.

For a moment he saw only the cloudless skies of their liberty, and jealousy rumbled like thunder in his heart. He’d never asked for any of this. This bank...this life. He’d never been given a choice.

What if he were given a choice? What if he turned his back on his duty? What was the worst that could happen? The bank would be sold off. But money would still move about from London to New York to Geneva. Everyone would be all right. No one would die.

‘The party is going very well. The youngsters who won the Medaille are in fine spirits, don’t you think?’ asked Augusto.

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