Page 48 of The Italian's Pregnant Enemy (A Diamond in the Rough)

Exactly perfect. Their table was right in the center.

“Let’s go, then,” he said, opening the door and getting out, and helping her out of the car. He put his arm around her waist, and she let out a small sound. He looked at her. “Yes?”

“I don’t know. This is strange. We... We might’ve been together quite a bit when we were snowed in, but that wasn’t real life. This... This feels more real. And it’s scary. Different. Because you’re Dario. And I...”

Her eyes glittered, and he had to look away. “It was always going to be this way between us. I understand why you didn’t see that.” It wasn’t like he had seen it either. He had great faith in his ability to resist her. Why wouldn’t he? He had never been given any reason to suspect he wouldn’t be able to resist their attraction. Because attraction when it came to feeling something for a specific woman had never meant much of anything to him. And yet, there she was. At his side, because he simply hadn’t been able to turn away from the fire that built to his stomach every time he saw her.

He was undone by this woman that he had known all these years. And yet, had they truly known each other? There had been honesty between them. But it had been rooted in the present. In the moment. They’d volley back and forth and in those moments he felt he saw her, the her she really was. But this was different. They were peeling back layers, excavating each other’s pasts, their feelings. Not a single person on earth knew these things about him. None but her.

He was as blindsided by all of it as she was, but he refused to let her know that.

Instead, he swept her into the restaurant where they were greeted by a spate of staff. “Bring us your specials,” he said, as they took their seats.

“We’re not even going to order off the menu?” she asked.

“No. You will trust me.”

He wanted her trust, he realized.

Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who still felt like she was earning her place.

He knew that she wasn’t. If he wasn’t still earning his way, then he wouldn’t feel so strongly about marriage. He wouldn’t feel so strongly about making sure they did this in such a way that he was above reproach.

He didn’t want their child reading stories about him being some sort of predator, of course. But he also just didn’t want... He had worked hard to get where he was. And he didn’t want baseless assumptions made about him. Not for any reason.

He had earned more than that.

It was impossible, he realized that, to completely avoid judgment in the court of public opinion. It was how the internet worked. Everyone had a method by which to share their opinions, and every opinion was treated as discourse, often printed in the news.

He would mitigate as much as possible.

Dinner was served, and Lyssia went straight for the bread, and the pasta, and he could tell by the look on her face that she agreed with his choices.

He watched her enjoyment and felt a strange sort of satisfaction regarding it. He had done this. He had satisfied her in this way. Yes, he had satisfied her sexually the whole time they were together at the chalet. But tonight, he had satisfied her in a different way. He was caring for her. Whether she knew it or not. And yes, some of this was to guard himself and his own reputation. But a substantial amount of it was about her.

He had, on a whim, earlier today, looked her name up online. He didn’t care much for those things, though of course he had an awareness of his own reputation. It was part of managing his image. Which was part of good business.

He’d never looked her up. The internet was harsh and cruel about her. They saw her as a socialite playing at having a business, and he could see where much of her insecurity had come from. If her father didn’t rush in to fill the void left by her mother, then those voices were going to do it.

He didn’t want that for her. Perhaps, what he needed to do was begin to fill that void. With words of his own. Today, she had been a different version of herself than he had seen before. Confident and fiery. She had a plan. She’d been self-assured. The ability for her to do that had always been there. But she was afraid. Afraid to try because it might lead to rejection.

It was difficult to see that, because she spoke freely. At least, she did with him.

“I have seen now,” he said. “Those online articles you were referencing before.”

“Oh, the ones talking about how I’m bad at things?”

“Yes. They don’t know you. They are strangers.”

“Are you really going to talk to me about how public opinion doesn’t matter when we’re sitting here engaged in a big PR gambit?”

“I’m not going to talk to you about that. Public opinion does matter, to the extent that it affects your business. And for a child, I worry it would affect how they felt about themselves, about us. But it doesn’t affect how I feel about myself. And I feel that you have been made to feel bad about yourself because nobody was working to say good things to you. Positive things. You proved today that you were capable of putting together an amazing business plan. You are smart. Talented. Capable. You’re artistic. You design the furniture and the home goods yourself, do you not?”

She was the mother of his child. And further to that she’d asked what he would do to support their child. So that their child didn’t feel like she did. So that he didn’t repeat the mistakes her father had made, and God knew, he didn’t truly think he was a better man than Nathan Anderson. But he wanted to try.

“Yes,” she said. “Everything in my apartment is something from my collection. You should... You should come see my studio sometime.”

“You’re right. I should.”

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