Page 2 of Italian Baby Shock

She hoped the assistant she’d dealt with had passed on to him that he’d be meeting her instead of Mr Ravenswood. She hoped he wouldn’t mind too much. He might even be too busy to meet with her, which would be fine since she didn’t relish the thought of having to deal with a man like him. Her own father had been wealthy and powerful, and she and her mother had spent years running from him, so she knew what that type of man could be like.

Then again, she was good with people, and anyway, maybe speaking to Signor Donati would only take a few minutes. Maybe this whole thing would only take an hour or so, and then she might even be able to change her flight and leave Rome tonight. The flights had been full when she’d last checked, but being waitlisted was a possibility. Then she would get back to London and be there for when Maya woke up the next morning.

That was a bolstering thought and she felt much better, until her phone vibrated on the table again. She reached out to grab it, just as the salon’s ornate double doors opened and a man stepped in the room. He closed them with a brisk click then turned to her.

And Lark’s breath caught in her throat.

He was exceedingly tall—almost a foot taller than her modest five foot four—and powerfully muscled, the width and breadth of his shoulders and chest emphasised by the perfectly tailored dark suit he wore.

He was also beautiful, his face a work of art in the sculpted planes and angles of cheekbones, nose and forehead. His hair was black and short, the same colour as his winged eyebrows and sooty lashes, all of which made the deep, piercing blue of his eyes even more astonishing.

The same piercing blue of the man in the painting above the fireplace. Though unlike the painting, this man brought a crackling energy and force into the room, as if a fierce storm had come through the doors after him.

For a second Lark sat there, her phone forgotten, utterly transfixed.

She’d seen his face in many media articles, both online and in print. It was instantly recognisable. But that crackling energy he’d brought with him, the magnetism of his physical presence, made him completely unforgettable. And utterly mesmerising.

It was Cesare Donati, head of Donati Bank.

Her mouth dry, her heart pounding, Lark pushed herself to her feet, trying to resist the urge to wipe her sweaty palms down her skirt. She felt self-conscious all of a sudden, deeply aware that she was here as Mr Ravenswood’s representative and yet not knowing a great deal about antiques. She’d learned a lot in the past six months, but that wasn’t the same as someone whohad a lot of experience in the field. And no doubt Signor Donati would expect her to have a lot of experience.

Well, there was nothing to be done about that now. She’d just have to be her normal bright, cheerful self, and hopefully that would be enough. He was a human being like any other and most human beings liked her.

Apparently, according to her mother, her smile could heal the world.

Signor Donati’s attention was on his phone as he stopped near the couch, typing a message out to someone before slipping the phone back into the pocket of his impeccably tailored suit trousers. Then he looked at her and those piercing blue eyes of his widened, a look of shock rippling over his handsome face. He stared at her as if he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart was already beating far too fast and she had no idea why he was looking at her that way—perhaps he hadn’t been informed that Mr Ravenswood wouldn’t be here? Regardless, being friendly always put people at their ease, so she took a step towards him and held out a hand.

‘Buongiorno, Signor Donati,’ she said in her hastily practised and atrocious Italian. Then, switching to English, she went on, ‘I hope my message was passed on? I know you were expecting Mr Ravenswood, but unfortunately he was unable to come due to illness, and he sent me in his stead. My name is Lark Edwards and it’s a great pleasure to meet you.’

Cesare Donati made no move to take her hand. In fact, he didn’t move at all. He only stared at her, his gaze twin spears of sapphire pinning her in place. ‘You,’he murmured, his voice deep, rich and full of shock. ‘What the hell areyoudoing here?’

Lark blinked. He’d said it as if he knew her, which was strange, because she’d never met him. She’d remember if she had, very definitely.

‘Uh...me?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘Well, as I said, Mr Ravenswood was sick so I—’

‘I told you there would be no contact between us,’ he interrupted and then took an abrupt step towards her, his gaze sweeping over her as if he was meticulously recording every aspect of her appearance. ‘I told you not to go looking.’

Lark blinked again, her surprise deepening into confusion. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said carefully, not wanting to offend him. ‘Have we...met before? Or perhaps you’ve mistaken me for someone else?’

He said nothing. His fallen angel features were drawn tight to the perfect bone structure of his face, his beautifully carved mouth hard. A muscle leapt in his impressive jaw, his astonishing blue eyes studying her so intently she felt almost consumed by them.

A disturbing heat bloomed inside her, making her skin prickle and her breath catch yet again. It was physical attraction, she knew that, but a worse man to be attracted to she couldn’t imagine, and not only because he’d never be interested in someone like her. He was also the very epitome of all she disliked about the male species: rich, arrogant and entitled, and even if he had been interested in her, she would have avoided him like the plague.

You did like one man, remember?

Yes. Maya’s father. Except the problem was that shedidn’tremember.

Oh, she remembered her mother’s death from cancer and then the dreary London winter that had felt as if it would never end. Then that fateful trip to Italy she’d taken to cheer herself up. And she remembered her handbag getting stolen in Rome but...the next thing she knew she’d woken up in hospital. Apparently she’d been hit by a car crossing the street and hadbanged her head hard, though she had no memory of it. No memory of the night she’d had either.

But she must have spent it with a man, because nine months later, Maya was born.

At first, she’d dismissed that night, because she hadn’t had any long-term injuries and she seemed to be fine. But then, when the fact of her pregnancy had become apparent, she’d been terrified, and no amount of looking on the bright side and being positive had helped.

That her baby was healthy according to the midwife made no difference. She’d always wanted children, but hadn’t expected to have them so soon let alone not have the slightest idea who’d fathered her child. In the end she’d visited a psychologist to talk through her fears, because no matter how her baby had been conceived, there was no doubting Lark would be a mother and she wanted to be the best mother she could be. She wanted to keep her baby and love it when it was born. The psychologist had helped, and after a few sessions, Lark had decided that her pregnancy wasn’t something to fear. It was a last mystical gift from her mother, a blessing even. Because a blessing was exactly what a child was.

But there was no possibility though, that the man she’d spent the night with was this man. None whatsoever. She’d remember if she had, she was positive. He was so memorable in every conceivable way; it was impossiblenotto remember him.

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