Page 24 of Pregnant in the Italian's Palazzo

‘My office has an open-door policy, Aria. There is no need to hover.’

His voice startled her; he hadn’t once looked up from his work but evidently she hadn’t been quite as stealthy as she thought. Slowly, he slid the glasses from his face and placed them down on the desk beside what she could now see was not a live screen of stock markets or accounts but a book with a pregnant woman on the cover. The title read,What To Expect...He quickly pushed it out of sight, clearing his throat.

‘You look well rested.’ His gaze slid down to take in her simple jeans and T-shirt.

She knew he had to be able to see her dark under-eye circles, her hair tied up in a messy bun, and her appearance was infinitely more casual than his sleek white shirt and tailored trousers. ‘I’m as well rested as a captive can be, I suppose. Who knew prison cells had four-poster beds?’

The corner of his mouth quirked. ‘Your sense of humour has recovered, I see.’ He stepped around the desk, lazily propping his lean lengthy frame against the front edge. ‘I had thought we might engage in some banal pleasantries before we jumped at one another’s throats today, but then I’m reminded that this is infinitely more entertaining.’

‘Glad to be of service,’ she said dryly, entering the office and feeling his gaze lower to her bare feet. His eyes darkened for a moment on her red-painted toes and she felt a hint of self-consciousness creep in. Being in his fancy home and seeing him in his polished suit, aware of how he very much belonged here...it only seemed to cement the fact that she didn’t. She was just the quirky stranger that had entertained him for a while. Even when he’d said he wanted her to stay, he’d wanted to hide her away in his town house; he had never meant to bring her here, into his inner circle.

He’d wanted to discuss all of their options for the baby...but he had already moved them to separate bedrooms without even a conversation and had not once tried to touch her romantically since the night they’d found out she was pregnant. And despite her anger at his heavy-handedness in getting her here...she missed him.

She shook off that vulnerable thought, reminding herself that she had logistics to sort through with this man. Plans to decide upon and details to iron out. This was essentially a negotiation and she needed to be on her guard. ‘I decided that I may as well make the most of my time here. Explore the grounds, clear my head.’

‘You should have come to me. I’m happy to give you a longer tour.’

‘I’m okay exploring alone,’ she answered quickly. ‘I needed the time to get my thoughts in order. I was already stressed about my business plans, before we found out about...our situation.’

‘Is that what we’re calling it?’ His mouth tipped up at one corner but he remained thoughtful as he watched her. She wandered along one bookshelf, touching the few leather-bound tomes and classics she could recognise by title. She’d never enjoyed reading as a child—it had always felt too slow. Now, she’d found that audiobooks were a little easier to process and she could actually enjoy reading that way. But there was something so romantic to her about a shelf of dusty old books.

‘My career problems probably seem a bit trivial when you’re managing millions...or billions.’

‘Success is a relative concept, in my experience. Even the most outwardly successful people can still be unsatisfied.’

She looked up, seeing a hint of something vulnerable in his gaze. He was the kind of man that gave his full attention to every conversation, a fact that was fast becoming quite disconcerting. He was so observant and so effortlessly polished and articulate. She cleared her throat, taking another few steps into the room, and spotted a large marble chess set that sat propped on a table in the corner.

‘Do you play?’ he asked.

‘My older sisters taught me.’ She laughed softly. ‘They quickly regretted their decision when I started to beat them every time. My parents had to give away our chessboard to stop the arguments.’

‘You have a temper, then?’

‘I’m a redhead, most people simply assume that I have a temper.’

‘I am not most people.’

Aria blinked, a pithy retort dissolving on the tip of her tongue. She stared around at the rows of thick books that lined the shelves of his study, books that were clearly not just for aesthetic purposes judging by the stack in disarray on the floor beside a tall wing-backed chair near the windows.

‘Well, I definitely had a temper as a child.’ She sat down at the chessboard, running a hand over the pieces. ‘Too little patience and far too much energy. Once I learned that my brain works differently, that part of my life made a lot more sense.’

Nysio frowned, taking a seat on the opposite side. ‘Did no one mention ADHD when you were a child?’

‘No. My parents are very calm, academically driven people. They didn’t understand me and I didn’t really want to be understood.’ It was hard enough not being able to understand or cope with the challenges without the added pressure of trying to explain her challenges to others. Her three older sisters had been such high achievers growing up, busy with piano concerts and dance recitals and sports tournaments. She frowned, not knowing how she had got onto this topic and why she was oversharing so much. ‘Things were very different back then. I don’t blame them. Our family has drifted apart a lot, we’re not close.’

‘It’s hard when you don’t fit the plan of who your parents want you to be.’

She studied his face, seeing another hint of that restlessness she’d noticed the first time they’d met. ‘Is that how yours made you feel?’

‘My anxiety attacks have always been a part of me. My father never accepted that I struggled with large events, just told me to be a man. He’s old-school that way, he doesn’t really believe in talking about feelings or emotions...’ A dark look came over his face and he was silent for a long moment.

‘It must be hard, with your father’s illness and them moving so far away.’

‘I had a very privileged life.’ He shrugged. ‘I was taught to appreciate the position I was born into. I was trained to take over all of this from the moment I could talk so even though I struggled to begin with, I eventually fitted their plan. I am who they needed me to be.’

She remembered his story of the poetry and wondered if he had ever wanted to be something different. If his entire life had always been centred around being this intense Florentine prince...if he had ever been allowed to just be him. It seemed impossibly sad to think of a little boy beingtrainedto play a role.

She didn’t remember accepting his offer to play, but suddenly they were both moving pieces on the chessboard. He didn’t let her win, and he was clearly an expert player, but she managed to get a few moves in before he hammered her with a quick checkmate.

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