The Blackmail Baby (4 page)

‘I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about my intention to adopt Emma,’ she said immediately, seizing the opportunity to speak first. ‘I understand why you are upset about it, but it doesn’t have to have any impact on you at all.’

‘Of course it does,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Don’t be so foolish—we’re married.’

He stared down at her impatiently. His body was already responding to her presence—she looked as sexy as hell in her figure-hugging jeans and T-shirt. But for the first time he was struck that he hardly recognised her as the woman he’d married just three months earlier. She seemed so different.

It was clear that she hadn’t had much time to spend on her appearance, but that was understandable. She looked tired and washed-out, and her freckles were more pronounced than ever against her milky complexion.

Her pale blonde hair had grown out of the sleek, tailored bob into a shapeless, uneven curtain that brushed her shoulders, with a tendency to fall forward and obscure half of her face. Her clothes were verging on scruffy and her flat shoes had seen better days.

The physical differences were distracting, but what he really found disconcerting was the change in her attitude. She had behaved badly and, even though she’d just offered him a partial apology, there was still a determined set to her shoulders and a defiant thrust to her chin.

‘No, it needn’t affect you—not if we hurry the divorce through before I take the adoption any further,’ Chloe said.

A flash of anger surged through Lorenzo and for a moment he could not believe what he was hearing. Chloe had walked out on him on their wedding day without a backwards glance, and now she had the audacity to tell him this!

It was unacceptable—there was no way that he would tolerate Chloe telling him their marriage was over.

‘No.’ The word fired out of him like a bullet. ‘There will be no divorce.’

‘Why not?’ Chloe gasped, staring at his furious face in disbelief. ‘After all the things that have happened, I thought it was what you would want.’

‘It is
not
what I want,’ Lorenzo grated. ‘A string of broken marriages is exactly what I intend to avoid.’

‘One divorce is not a string of broken marriages,’ Chloe said. ‘Anyway, this is hardly a marriage. It was only a few hours after the ceremony when I found out that you didn’t…’ She hesitated, searching for words that were not too painful to say. The
memory of him saying that he didn’t want her love had haunted her every day for the last three months. ‘I had to leave. We could probably even get an annulment if you don’t want a divorce.’

As soon as she had spoken, she knew it was a mistake. A storm of powerful emotions raged across Lorenzo’s face but before she had a chance to react he stepped forward and seized her upper arms, pulling her roughly towards him.

‘We may not have made love on our wedding day,’ he grated, lifting her onto her tiptoes and leaning down so their faces were only inches apart, ‘but that doesn’t mean that this union was never consummated.’

Sexual energy crackled in the air between them, making it hard to think straight. But Chloe knew that was all it was. Just sex.

‘We never made
love
!’ She struggled in his vice-like grip, trying to pull away—but her mind was spinning with images of the many mind-blowing nights she’d spent in his arms. ‘That was the problem. I thought it meant something—that what we had was real. But it was all meaningless. You misled me into this marriage. Surely that alone is enough to make it null and void!’

‘It was never meaningless,’ Lorenzo said.

He glowered down at her, his expressive black eyebrows drawn low and menacing, and there was a dangerous predatory glint in his eyes. For a moment Chloe half expected him to kiss her—and
to her utter confusion and shame she almost wanted him to.

‘Well, it clearly didn’t mean the same to you as it did to me,’ she cried as she finally managed to wrench herself out of his hold.

She stood her ground and met his eyes boldly, aware that she was still easily within the reach of his strong arms. That knowledge sent a startling jolt of excitement through her, and she felt her cheeks start to burn. She lifted her chin and glared up at him, desperately trying to ignore the way her pulse rate was suddenly responding to his physical proximity.

Her body might be attuned to his—every inch of her skin tingling with a growing desire to feel his hands on her again. But it was just hormones. Emotionally he was a million miles away.

‘You have no idea what our marriage meant to me,’ Lorenzo said.

‘No, I don’t,’ she agreed, remembering the confusing and heartbreaking argument they’d had on their wedding day, ‘but I do know that
I
thought I’d found my soulmate—my partner for life. Instead, all I’d found was a lie!’

‘I never lied to you,’ Lorenzo said, ‘and I thought the same thing as you—that I had found
my
partner for life.’

‘How can you say that?’ Chloe demanded. ‘After everything you told me about not believing in love, how can you say that?’

‘Because that is what I wanted,’ Lorenzo said, ‘and it is what you agreed to when you married me.’

‘But…’

It was impossible to think with his penetrating gaze holding her captive. She sensed her body responding to him again. Her heart was racing and her skin felt hot and sensitive. She tipped her head a little further back and frowned, trying to make her gaze cold and stern—but the feel of her own hair brushing her shoulders felt like a caress, sending a ripple of sensual anticipation through her.

‘Finally, a bit of colour in that face,’ Lorenzo said, lifting his hand to cup her blazing cheek.

Chloe gasped as his fingers made contact, releasing another torrent of desire storming through her body.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she said, in feeble protest.

‘Why not? You want me to,’ he said. ‘And you still owe me our wedding night.’

‘Our wedding night? You mean sex?’ Her voice was no more than a startled whisper and her eyes were wide. ‘After everything that has happened—everything we’ve said—you want sex?’

Lorenzo raised his brows and his full, sensual lips twitched into a smile that was mocking and knowing at the same time.

‘Are you offering me sex?’ he asked, sliding his fingers deep into her hair and pulling her close to his hard body.

‘Y
OU
know I’m not offering you sex!’ Chloe exclaimed. She tried to step back, out of his grip, but he held her firmly.

‘That’s what it sounded like,’ Lorenzo drawled, leaning down and brushing his lips across the sensitive skin he had exposed by lifting her hair up off her neck.

A delicious shiver skittered down her spine, and he was holding her so close that she couldn’t help letting him feel her very physical response to his gentle kisses. Trying to hold her body stiff and straight in denial of how she was feeling was pointless—he knew her well enough to know that she was suddenly yearning for him to make love to her.

But it was
not
love, she reminded herself. That made a difference. That
had
to make a difference.

But then why was her body slowly melting into his embrace? Why was she becoming pliable in his
arms, as he arched her backwards and brought his mouth down on hers?

He kissed her with devouring heat, ignoring her feeble attempts to pull away, as he plundered her tender mouth in an overwhelmingly sexual onslaught. His body was big and strong, but it wasn’t his sheer physical size and strength that overpowered her. It was the fervour of her own response to him that left her defenceless.

Her eyelids slid down and she was lost in a moment where only she and Lorenzo existed. She was aware of his potent virility with every inch of her body. His tongue moved against hers, making her want more—so much more that she trembled with pure, naked desire. Her blood was singing in her ears and her whole being was buzzing with longing.

His hands skimmed over her, then suddenly he swept her right off her feet and up into his arms.

Her eyes flew open in surprise, and her conscious mind plummeted mercilessly back to the cold light of day. Her body was still yearning for Lorenzo, muddling her grip on the situation, but she knew she had to stop him before things went any further.

Intimacy was not love. Chloe knew that she was fooling herself if she let herself believe a true connection could form between them, when Lorenzo felt no love for her.

‘Put me down,’ she gasped, pushing her hand
against the powerful wall of his broad chest and staring up into his face.

He stood still, as solid as a rock, and held her gaze with his own. She knew what he must see in her eyes—after all, she could see the same thing glowing in his: smouldering arousal.

‘On the desk—or the sofa?’ he asked, his voice dangerously deep and loaded with sexual intent.

Chloe swallowed reflexively, trying to stop her mind replaying the many times they’d made love on his desk. And on various bits of furniture, and in other unusual places. During the time they’d been lovers they’d often been so wrapped up in their passion for each other that they failed to make it to the comfort of their bedroom.

At the time she’d found it thrilling. And she’d taken it as proof of the depth of his feeling for her. Now the knowledge that Lorenzo wouldn’t hesitate to get physical in almost any location filled her with a mixture of excitement and panic.

‘Three months is a long time,’ Lorenzo said, lifting her slightly so that his face was only inches above hers. ‘I’ve waited long enough.’

‘You waited…’ Chloe drew in a shaky breath and stared at him, lost for words.

Somehow, over the months they’d spent apart, it had never occurred to her to think of Lorenzo with another woman. Now that suddenly seemed naive. She knew what a hot-blooded alpha male he was,
and she knew he had never spent long without a woman in his bed.

‘Did you think I’d taken another lover?’ he asked, his voice harsh with an emotion she couldn’t identify.

‘No, I…’ She hesitated. ‘I never thought about it until now.’

A sudden flare of anger crossed his face as he dumped her back onto her feet.

‘You never thought about it!’ Lorenzo exploded. ‘You didn’t care enough about the man you professed to love to wonder whether he’d replaced you in his bed?’

She stared up at him, suddenly feeling cold away from the warmth of his arms, despite the huge and intimidating way he loomed over her. But she realised her words had been an affront to his masculine pride.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Chloe said. ‘You know what the last few months have been like for me.’

‘No,’ Lorenzo barked. ‘I don’t know. You walked out of my life—the life I thought we were building together—and shut me out completely.’

‘What did you think I would do when you denounced my love?’ Chloe cried, spiralling back to the soul-crushing moment in the
palazzo
on their wedding day. ‘I opened my heart up to you—and you were angry with me! You tore my heart to pieces and shredded everything I believed in.’

‘I did not expect you to turn your back on me—on our marriage—so easily,’ Lorenzo replied. ‘You said you loved me. Then you behaved as if I was nothing to you.’

‘What was I to you?’ Chloe demanded. ‘Someone you tricked into marriage for your own convenience—someone you didn’t care enough about to be honest with?’

‘You were my wife.’

Lorenzo’s voice was hard with the clipped tones of finality. He turned abruptly and strode towards the door of the study.

Chloe stared after him, feeling as if a hurricane had just ripped through the room. Her heart was racing and her scalp was prickling with the static electricity—but now that neither of them was speaking the space was filled with an unnatural silence.

Suddenly, just as his hand reached the door handle, Lorenzo turned and fixed her with his penetrating eyes.

‘You are still my wife,’ he said. ‘And that is how it will stay.’

He closed the door behind him and Chloe sagged against the desk, feeling all the strength drain out of her body.

She’d felt as if a hurricane had torn through her, but she knew the quiet emptiness was simply the
eye of the storm. It wasn’t over yet. In fact it was going to get a whole lot worse before she was out the other side.

Chloe climbed back up the stairs to the bedroom where Mrs Guest was watching over Emma. Her eyes felt warm with the telltale heat of tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. She didn’t have the resilience to cope with the kindly housekeeper’s sympathy. She knew her heartache was something she would have to deal with on her own.

‘There you are, dear,’ Mrs Guest said, smiling warmly as she walked back into the room. ‘The little darling hasn’t stirred since you’ve been gone.’

‘Thank you,’ Chloe said, returning the older woman’s smile.

She crossed the room to look down at Emma, who was lying in exactly the same position as when she’d left her. It seemed like hours since she’d gone down to see Lorenzo, but in fact she realised only very few minutes had passed.

‘You look wiped out, dear,’ Mrs Guest said. ‘Why don’t I stay a few more minutes while you relax in the bath? You don’t want to be popping your head in and out of the en suite all the time, wondering if the baby is still sleeping.’

‘Thank you.’ Chloe accepted the offer gratefully, suddenly desperate to lock herself safely away from
the world—or, if she was completely honest with herself, away from Lorenzo. She had no idea where he was and it was perfectly possible that he could appear at any moment. She knew that he had been using this bedroom too, and right at that moment she couldn’t bear the thought of coming face to face with him again. ‘But actually I’ll take a shower,’ she added, trying to keep her voice from cracking with the wave of emotion that was rising up through her. ‘I think I’m too tired for a bath.’

She locked the bathroom door and a sob broke raggedly from within her. She clamped her hand over her mouth so that Mrs Guest wouldn’t hear and stumbled across the room, shedding her clothes as she went.

A moment later she turned on the shower. A torrent of warm water gushed out and she stood beneath it, finally letting go of the tears that she’d been holding back for so long. She wept with abandon, unable to control the anguished sobs that racked her slender body.

Eventually, all cried out, she leant back against the tiled wall and smoothed her hands over her hot face. Everything had come together in an unbearable build-up of misery. And at that moment it was impossible to separate her grief for her friend from her distress over the intolerable situation she’d found herself in with Lorenzo.

The water continued to pour down and she
reached automatically for the shampoo. For a few minutes she would take refuge in everyday necessities and routines.

A little while later, wrapped securely in a fluffy white bathrobe, Chloe emerged from the en suite. Mrs Guest put down her book and looked up with a smile.

‘Mr Valente popped in,’ she said, making a knot tighten inside Chloe’s stomach. ‘He said that unfortunately he had to work late. But because he knew how tired you were, he would sleep in the guest room tonight—he said he didn’t want to disturb you or little Emma.’

‘Thank you for telling me,’ Chloe said. As Mrs Guest left, closing the door behind her, she wondered what the older lady had made of the message. While she and Lorenzo had been together they’d never slept in separate bedrooms.

Chloe crawled into bed and tried to sleep, but although she was exhausted she couldn’t relax. All she could think about was Lorenzo’s final comment that she would remain his wife.

She couldn’t understand why he had said that. It didn’t seem to make any sense. Deep in her heart she longed to stay married to Lorenzo—she still wanted everything she had wanted when she accepted his proposal to be his wife.

But the situation was completely different
now. She had Emma to consider. And now she knew that he did not love her.

The following morning Chloe found herself alone in the house. Or rather, Lorenzo was not there. Mrs Guest was in the kitchen and her husband was working in the garden.

Chloe busied herself looking after Emma, but her mind was full of confusing thoughts about the future, making it impossible for her to relax. So she carried Emma out into the garden, hoping to find a way to distract them both.

Once again she was struck by what a beautiful place Lorenzo had bought. Chloe knew he hadn’t intended it to be their main home—he would never leave the grand Venetian
palazzo,
which had been in his family for generations. But this house with its clean modern lines and light, airy feel made a very pleasant complement to the ornate, history-filled palace.

‘Good morning!’ Mr Guest appeared around the corner of the house carrying a box, which appeared to contain some kind of baby’s toy.

‘Hello.’ Chloe smiled. It was a relief that Lorenzo had employed such a friendly, down-to-earth couple to look after the house. She’d always felt slightly uncomfortable around his formal and super-efficient staff in Venice.

‘I thought the little one might like a turn in this.’
He held up the box and Chloe realised that it contained a high-backed baby’s swing seat. ‘I don’t know how old she is, but it says on the box that it’s suitable for infants six months and up.’

‘She’s five and a half months now,’ Chloe said, looking down at the baby in her arms, ‘but she holds herself well, and I’m sure she’d love to try it.’

She followed Mr Guest back round the corner, to a charming children’s play area, complete with swings, slides, a climbing frame and a covered box that Chloe assumed was a sandpit.

‘This is amazing,’ she said as she watched Mr Guest attach the swing seat to the wooden frame. ‘Did the previous people have children?’

‘I don’t think so. Mr Valente had this done when he bought the place. I know neither of you realised you’d have a little one so soon, but your husband is obviously very keen on kids. There we are,’ he added, stepping back and eyeing his work to ensure the seat was hanging level. ‘Give that a try.’

‘Thank you,’ Chloe said, as she carefully secured Emma in the seat and gave her a little push. But Mr Guest’s comment about Lorenzo had taken her aback. She’d never thought of him as being keen on children. And after she’d seen him with Emma the previous day, the opposite seemed more likely to be true.

‘She likes that!’ Mr Guest chuckled as the baby gave a squeal of delight. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.
If you need anything, just give me a shout. Or call my wife—that’s the back door to the kitchen right there.’ He picked up the empty cardboard box and his tool bag, and headed off around the house.

Chloe glanced up and saw Mrs Guest through the kitchen window. She lifted her hand to wave, then turned back to Emma, who was clearly having a wonderful time in the swing.

But Chloe’s thoughts were on Lorenzo, and his attitude towards children.

As far as she could remember, she’d never actually seen him interact with any babies or older children—although that hadn’t ever seemed unusual because no one they spent time with had a young family.

But yesterday in the limousine he’d seemed truly uncomfortable around Emma, and that had made Chloe start to wonder if he only wanted children inherit his Venetian legacy. Now she realised that
must
be the reason why he’d married—to secure himself an heir.

She pushed her hair out of her eyes, unaware of the cloudy expression on her face.

‘Hello, Chloe.’

Lorenzo’s deep voice startled her, and she spun round to see him standing just a few feet away. He was dressed in a dark suit, as if he’d just come from a business meeting, and his clothing seemed incon
gruous in the garden, especially standing next to a wooden climbing frame.

‘Why did you marry me?’ she suddenly blurted. ‘If love didn’t come into it—then why did you pick me? I’m short and ordinary-looking. I have no money or connections. You could have had anyone you wanted. Why me?’

‘I already told you,’ Lorenzo said, without missing a beat. ‘Because I thought you’d make a good wife.’

‘Don’t you mean a good
mother
?’ Chloe accused him, tipping her head back to shake the hair out of her eyes. ‘You just married me to have children.’

‘You want children too,’ Lorenzo replied flatly but, despite his level tone, his gaze slid across to the baby in the swing seat. ‘In the circumstances, it’s fortunate that you didn’t marry someone dead set against children.’