Her Sicilian Baby Revelation / The Greek's One-Night Heir. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
taking one look at him and her insides and brain melting into hot goo.
She remembered lying naked in his arms, half awake as the morning sun filtered into the bedroom, and thinking she had never been so happy.
And she remembered learning that everything he’d told her about himself had been a lie.
Orla stared at Tonino’s family, her stomach churning violently. These impossibly glamorous, impossibly wealthy, impossibly powerful people were her baby’s family. How would they react when they learned of Finn? She knew it was her broken brain’s fault that they were not a part of Finn’s life but, even as she breathed relief to remember her intentions had always been to tell Tonino about their child, she still felt wretched for them. All she’d wanted was to get through the pregnancy, have her baby on Irish soil and then seek legal help before telling him…
Suddenly finding herself meeting Sophia’s coldly furious stare, she hastily looked away, straight into Tonino’s equally cold and furious stare.
The churning in her stomach increased as she found herself gazing at the handsome face she remembered sighing with pleasure to wake beside.
He was just so…masculine. Thick, dark stubble was already breaking out over his chiselled jawline and perfectly complemented the thick, dark hair he wore short at the sides and longer at the top. But, for all his sculptural perfection, it was his eyes she’d always found the most arresting. They were like the darkest melted chocolate. They had made her melt.
Their son had his eyes.
Wrenching her stare from Tonino, she found her son bouncing happily in his walker and took a deep breath.
From the moment the pregnancy had been confirmed, her child’s welfare had been the focus of her life. When she’d woken from the coma with all memories of the previous six months lost, she’d known, even while everything else had been a blank, that she’d been carrying a child. She would fight to the last breath to keep him safe.
Suddenly desperate to hold Finn in her arms, she dropped her light touch against Tonino’s waist and took a step back. ‘Please, I don’t want a scene but this is not the time or place for this conversation.’
His features darkened. He snatched at her wrist before she could take another step away from him. ‘Then let’s go somewhere private—this is a conversation we should have had four years ago. You have kept my son in the dark about me for long enough. Finn doesn’t have a daddy? He damn well does and he deserves to know it.’
‘I agree but take a look at him. Look,’ she insisted when his now blazing eyes stayed locked on hers. ‘You must see he’s not a well boy. He’s looked forward to this day for ages and looked forward to dancing and playing with other children. Let him enjoy the party for another hour and then I’ll put him to bed. Give him time to fall asleep and then come to my suite. Please? We can talk then.’
He turned his head to the direction of their son. His chest rose and fell heavily.
Eventually he inclined his head sharply, dropped his loose hold on her wrist and faced her again. ‘Two hours, Orla, and then I come to your suite.’ He bowed his head to whisper in her ear, ‘And if you have thoughts of running away, know I have put measures in place to prevent it. You will never escape from me again.’
The nurse helped Orla get Finn into his pyjamas and put him to bed before Orla told her to go and join the party for a few hours.
Alone, she stripped off her bridesmaid dress, avoiding the reflection of her bare figure in the mirror. Her scars were itching but she didn’t dare apply the topical lotion her doctor had prescribed for it, not when the knock on the suite door could come at any moment. Instead, she dressed hastily, donning a pair of checked trousers and a long-sleeved black top.
When Tonino came she wanted to be ready.
Could she ever be ready for this?
She’d spent three years trying desperately to remember who Finn’s father was and unearth the memories of their time together. Now that many of them had popped out of the box they’d been contained in, part of her wished she could shove them back in and nail the lid back down while, contrarily, her search for the still-hidden memories became more frantic.
Much of the time they’d shared together had come back to her, but she still didn’t remember what had happened with her father. Her return to Ireland was still a blur too.
When the loud rap on her suite’s door finally came, it took more effort than she could believe to drag her legs to it.
Tonino loomed at the threshold looking exactly as she imagined a vampire would in the moments before it swooped to strike its helpless victim.
A vampire should not send her pulses soaring with just one look. That was dangerous by any stretch of the imagination.
Without a word being exchanged, he stepped into the suite and closed the door. Folding his arms across his broad chest, he slowly looked her up and down.
The intensity of his scrutiny sent something thick and warm trickling through her feverish veins. Shaken, Orla hastily sat herself on one of the suite’s plush sofas.
She didn’t want to look at him but found herself helpless to do anything else. Tonino had such presence, a magnetic energy he carried with him. All the words she’d prepared stuck on her tongue as she gazed into the dark brown eyes of the man who’d swept her off her feet and then broken her heart in the space of ten days. That same broken heart thundered in her chest. Its thuds pounded in her head. Her thoughts, like her words and memories, were a messed-up jumble.
She had no idea how to play this. The man she’d had the time of her life with had been a lie, but he was still Finn’s father. He might have all the wealth and power, but he was still Finn’s father. When all was said and done, that was the one inescapable fact. Finn deserved to know his father and Tonino deserved to know his son.
After a long period of charged silence, he dragged his fingers through his hair and headed to the minibar. ‘I don’t know about you but I need a drink. Do you still drink gin?’
Startled that he remembered something so innocuous, she shook her head.
He arched an eyebrow then opened the bar door and pulled out a bottle of red wine.
He took a corkscrew from a drawer and opened the bottle effortlessly. ‘Will you have one?’
This time she managed to croak, ‘No, thank you.’
Since the accident, Orla had lost all tolerance for alcohol, which was a great shame. Before the pregnancy, she’d loved nothing more than going out with her friends, drinking way too much and dancing until the sun came up. She’d been free. No responsibilities, no pain, no dependency on anyone else. No one dependent on her.
Those days belonged to another woman.
He poured himself a hefty glass, swirled the red liquid, put the rim under his nose then took a sip. It must have pleased his palate for he then took a much larger sip.
Tonino, she suddenly remembered, loved good wine.
When his eyes locked on to hers, a shiver ran down her spine. He looked murderously cold.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ she suggested quietly.
Tonino, propped against the bar, took another drink as he looked at Orla, dwarfed by the sofa she’d sat herself on, fingers twisting together. She reminded him of a newborn deer that had come face-to-face with its first predator.
‘I’m fine where I am,’ he answered.
She raised a shoulder and breathed in through her nose. ‘Then would you mind not glowering at me?’
That voice…
Orla was the only woman who’d turned him on with