Page 50 of Italian Baby Shock

Lark swallowed. Maya had been finding Cesare’s absence difficult and that had upset Lark too.

‘It’s okay,’ Lark murmured, reaching for her daughter and cuddling her on her lap. ‘Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, Emily? I’ll look after her.’

Lark held her daughter’s warm little body after Emily had gone, rocking her gently while Maya curled up against her.

Every part of Lark hurt. Every part of her ached. She couldn’t let it break her, though. She couldn’t afford to be broken, not for Maya’s sake. And if Cesare didn’t return? Well, she’d fill in the gap he’d left in her daughter’s life. Maya had started out without a father and luckily she was young enough that she’d forget him if he never returned.

If this was what life was like from now on, then so be it. She would endure for her daughter.

But she wasn’t going to love again, that was for certain.

Cesare was the only man for her and always would be.

Cesare sat in his office in the Donati Bank building in central Rome, a nearly empty bottle of whisky sitting open on his desk, the couch he’d been sleeping on for the past few days still covered with the blanket he’d found from somewhere.

He hadn’t been back to the palazzo. He missed his daughter and his wife so badly it felt as if he’d lost part of his soul.

But he couldn’t go back, not now. He’d thought he could keep Maya and Lark safe from him, from his anger and his selfishness, but it was clear that he couldn’t.

He’d hurt Lark, he knew. He’d made her cry. And he wished he could go back and soothe her, comfort her, tell her he’d never hurt her again, but he couldn’t promise her that.

Because he would. She loved him and he couldn’t bear that, not when love always ended in destruction. Far better he steer clear of both her and Maya for the foreseeable future. That seemed to him to be the only way forward.

He poured the rest of the whisky into his glass and sipped at the fiery liquid.

Why couldn’t she have kept it to herself? Why couldn’t shenothave fallen in love with him? He couldn’t give it back to her and eventually that lack would fester, and then who knew what would happen? She had a fiery temper and love could turn that toxic.

You know it wouldn’t. She’s nothing like your mother.

Maybe, maybe not. There were no guarantees.

Love ruined everything.

His phone was sitting on his desk, the screen full of missed call notifications from Lark. He hadn’t contacted her since he’d walked, mainly because he had no idea what to say to her, not when the only things he could think of would hurt her and badly.

Just then his phone buzzed, but it wasn’t Lark this time. It was Aristophanes.

Reluctantly, Cesare answered it. ‘What?’ he demanded gracelessly.

‘I see,’ Aristophanes said, as if something had been confirmed for him. ‘You’re sulking.’

Cesare glowered at his office windows, at the sun sinking over his ancient city. ‘I am not. Why are you calling me anyway?’

‘Because your lovely wife asked me to.’

Cesare’s heart contracted. ‘Why did she do that? I didn’t ask her to.’

‘I know you didn’t.’ There was the faintest hint of censure in his friend’s tone. ‘She’s desperately worried about you. Apparently she told you she loved you and you left.’

His jaw felt tight, all his muscles tense. ‘I had to. You know my past. You know that I can’t—’

‘I know that you’re lying to yourself,’ Aristophanes interrupted mildly. ‘And I know you’re being a coward.’

Cesare growled. ‘I had to leave her. She seems to think that I’m this paragon and I’m not. I never have been.’

‘No,’ Aristophanes agreed. ‘You’re not a paragon. But you’re not as bad as you seem to think you are. And anyway, it doesn’t matter what you think. She’s the one that really matters to you and I think you know that.’

Deep inside, something shifted painfully in his chest. ‘It’s my legacy that matters,’ he said, but even to himself his voice sounded uncertain. ‘Not her.’

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