Saving His Little Miracle. Jennifer TaylorЧитать онлайн книгу.
coming here?
Lowri Davies took a deep breath as she watched the taxi drive away. It was too late to be having second thoughts at this stage. If there had been another option open to her, she would have taken it months ago. However, the fact was that Vincenzo was the only person who could help her.
If he would.
A shiver ran through her at the thought of what she was going to ask him to do. It might have been easier if she’d had some idea of how he would react but she knew too little about him to predict his response. All they’d had were those few weeks together and it hadn’t been enough to get to know what sort of a person he really was. Would he agree or would he refuse to get involved? The fact that he hadn’t replied to her letter didn’t bode well but she couldn’t let that deter her. She needed his help, needed it desperately if she hoped to save Megan!
Lifting her hand, Lowri pressed the button on the intercom speaker. The villa was huge, much bigger than she had expected it would be. Built on the hillside overlooking the glittering waters of Lake Garda, it was an imposing property. Through the ornate wrought-iron gates she could see immaculately tended grounds and grimaced. Although it had been apparent even from the brief time they had spent together that Vincenzo was wealthy, she hadn’t realised just how rich he was.
A house like this must cost a small fortune to maintain, and then there was his apartment in an exclusive part of Milan as well. Even a top surgeon like Vincenzo couldn’t afford two such properties on his salary. He had to have private means, family money that helped to pay for this kind of luxurious lifestyle. The thought was unsettling. The last thing she wanted was him thinking that she was after his money.
‘Sì?’
The sound of a deeply masculine voice coming through the speaker made her jump. Lowri pressed her hand to her racing heart. It was five years since she had seen Vincenzo and she’d not had any contact with him since yet she had no difficulty recognising his voice. It was as though it had imprinted itself into her brain and lain there, dormant, for all that time. Now all of a sudden it had awoken a lot of memories, especially of that last night they had spent together...
‘Vincenzo, it’s Lowri,’ she said quickly, not wanting to go down that route. Nothing would change what had happened that night, the same as it wouldn’t change what had happened afterwards. She and Vincenzo had slept together and there had been unforeseen consequences.
‘Lowri?’
He repeated her name, his voice holding the faintest hint of puzzlement, and Lowri felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Had he forgotten her, erased her so completely from his memory that he didn’t even recognise her name? If truth be told, she was probably just one of many women he had slept with. No more and no less than that.
‘Lowri Davies,’ she said, feeling her temper inch its way up the scale. Maybe she was merely another notch on his bedpost but he could hardly claim not to remember her after that letter she had sent him. It made her wonder if it was all an act aimed at getting rid of her. Well, if that was the case, he was in for a shock.
‘You must remember me, Vincenzo. Whilst I’m sure there’ve been a lot of women in your life, I doubt if many have written to tell you they were expecting your child.’ She gave a brittle little laugh. ‘Does that ring any bells?’
* * *
Vincenzo Lombardi felt the air rush from his lungs. Just for a moment, he stood stock still and stared at the entryphone. Was this some sort of a sick joke?
Oh, he remembered her all right, remembered her far better than he would have expected. All they’d had were those few weeks yet he could recall with perfect clarity every second of the time they had spent together. He closed his eyes, surprised by the speed with which he conjured up her image: light brown hair falling softly to her shoulders; hazel eyes that could turn from green to gold according to her mood. Her body had been slender but womanly with full breasts and a narrow waist.
His own body gave its pronouncement on that memory and his eyes shot open. What in heaven’s name was he doing? He should be focusing on what she had said, not on how he had felt when they had made love.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, signorina. If this is some sort of a joke then it is in very poor taste.’
‘It isn’t a joke. I wrote to you a couple of months after we’d spent that night together, as soon as I discovered I was pregnant, in fact. Are you claiming that you never received my letter?’
The scorn in her voice made his face burn. Vincenzo stared at the receiver again, stunned that she could have this effect on him. It had been years since he had blushed, years since he had felt anything akin to shame. He had trained himself not to show his emotions, not to feel them most of the time even. He knew that his colleagues at the hospital in Milan considered him to be cold and arrogant but it didn’t worry him. In his view, it was better to be in control than to suffer all the emotional traumas they did.
‘I am not claiming anything, signorina. I never received any letter from you. That is a fact. Now, I’m sorry but I don’t have the time to continue this discussion.’
Vincenzo replaced the receiver in its rest. Picking up the towel that he had tossed over the back of a chair, he headed to the bathroom. He had overdone things today and his body was aching from the punishing routine he had put it through, but the only way he was going to regain full fitness was by pushing himself. It had been six months since the skiing accident that had caused such havoc in his life and he needed to step up his training if he hoped to get back into Theatre. Surgery was his raison d’être, the thing that gave him the most pleasure. He couldn’t imagine how empty his life would be if he couldn’t do it any more.
The sound of the intercom buzzing brought him up short. Vincenzo swung round and glared at the receiver. So she hadn’t gone away. She was still here, still intent on perpetuating that ridiculous lie. Tossing the towel onto the floor, he strode out of the room, determined that he was going to put an end to this situation. He had no idea why she had decided to come here and make that ridiculous claim but he wasn’t going to be a party to it. If Lowri Davies had had a child, it certainly wasn’t his!
She was standing outside the gates when Vincenzo left the house and he slowed when he saw her. All of a sudden he felt the need to prepare himself and it was a surprise to feel that way. His confidence was legendary, his self-assurance absolute. He always knew what to do even when presented with the most difficult of situations, yet for some reason he felt unsure about how to handle this.
After all, there had to be a reason why she had come here today. It had been five years since he had seen her and if she’d had a child in that time, he or she must be at least four years old. So why had she left it until now to make that claim about him being the father? Intuition warned him that there was more to her visit than first appeared, although he had no idea what it might be. He would have to rely on his instincts to deal with this and if there was one thing Vincenzo hated it was trusting to luck. He preferred his life to be free of surprises, mapped out to the nth degree. That way there was less chance of him getting hurt.
The thought stunned him, mainly because it was the first time he had admitted that he might be vulnerable in any way. Vincenzo’s mouth thinned as he strode down the path. Maybe his self-control wasn’t as absolute as he had believed, but it was good enough to deal with this unwelcome intrusion. It made no difference why Lowri Davies had come to see him. Whatever her motives were, he had no intention of being manipulated!
* * *
Lowri could feel her heart pounding as she watched Vincenzo stride down the path. That he was less than pleased to see her was obvious but she wouldn’t let that deter her. In a fast sweep her eyes ran over him, taking stock of the changes the past five years had wrought.
Physically he had changed very little, she decided. His black hair was as thick and lustrous as ever, his skin gleaming with good health and vitality. He was wearing black running shorts cut high at the sides with a black vest and she could see that his body was still taut and honed.
It was only as he drew