Page 131 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

He saw her throw herself back against the squabs of the banquette. Eyes flashing like gunfire. Directed straight at him, full-on.

‘Ah, now we have it, don’t we?’ Her tone was withering and scornful. ‘This isn’t about babies, or sex, or anything else at all, is it? It’s about your money! And you think I want to get stuck into it! Well, I’ve told you—and I will tell you again and again if I have to—that I amnot taking a penny from you! So go and take a running jump andleave me alone!’

She moved to push herself to her feet, but the waiter was just arriving with their meal, lowering plates, making a fuss over them, and then the wine waiter was there with his glass of wine, making a fuss over that too.

He could see her fulminating, but she stayed seated. Vincenzo used the time to take several deep breaths and regain his composure. She had an ability to rile him that got right under his skin...

For the next few minutes, as they started to eat, neither of them said anything. Then, knowing he had to resume battle, he spoke again.

‘Whether or not you wish or don’t wish to accept maintenance from me, I shall create a trust fund for the child.’

‘We don’t need anything from you!’ she retorted, barely glancing up from her food.

‘It will pay out when he or she reaches majority,’ he went on.

She didn’t answer—just went on eating. Not looking at him still. For a moment he let his eyes rest on her. His expression darkened, his jaw tightening.

‘Siena, please co-operate on this,’ he said tautly. ‘I have acknowledged paternity. I acknowledge the responsibility that comes with that.’

‘I absolve you totally of that responsibility.’

She spoke indifferently, and something snapped inside Vincenzo. He set down his knife and fork abruptly.

‘That,’ he gritted, ‘is not within your remit. As you said only a few moments ago, it takes two to tango. Now that I know the child you carry is mine, you arenotthe sole arbiter of what is to happen. So be sure—be very, very sure—that I will not hesitate to resort to the law, if necessary, to claim my right for involvement.’

Her eyes snapped up then, and she looked straight at him. ‘Are youthreateningme?’ she bit out.

‘I am warning you,’ he corrected.

He could feel anger rising within him—or something that he thought must be anger...anger at her obstinacy, her obstructiveness, her dogged, relentless opposition to him.

‘I would far prefer not to have had to give you that warning, and would prefer even more not to be given reason for making my claim in that manner. But make no mistake: I am making that claim. And nothing you can do, or say, or attempt, will prevent that. Understand that, or things will become highly unpleasant.’

She glared across at him. ‘They already are,’ she said bitterly.

Her expression changed. Became questioning. She looked at him, frowning, and when she spoke her voice had changed, incomprehension in it now.

‘I don’t understand why you are making such an issue of this! Look—we met, we fell into bed, we had a single night of torrid sex and then you left, never to see me again. The last thing you want is to leave me—or any female you have sex with—in such circumstances! Pregnant. You went into total denial when I came to your office, and you couldn’t have made it clearer that you didn’t want to know. And now that you’ve insisted on a paternity test—completely against my will and consent, as I have made very clear to you—and the results are what they are, you are equally insistent on bringing money into the situation. When I have told you to your face I don’t want a single penny of it—neither for me, nor my baby. And yet you are...just going on and on about it! Give me a piece of paper, right now, and I’ll absolve you of all responsibility—past, present or future—in writing! I’ll sign it in blood if it makes you any happier!’ she bit out. ‘I will do anything and everything to get yououtof my life and out of my baby’s life!’

‘Why?’

She stared across at him. The single word seemed to have silenced her.

‘Why?’ he said again.

He wanted an answer.

He got one.

He saw her expression change. ‘Because,’ she said, enunciating the word, holding his gaze rigidly, ‘you are a total and complete jerk. And falling into bed with you was the worst mistake I have ever made in my life.’

She dropped her eyes, picked up her knife and fork, and went on eating. She looked calm, but obviously she was not. The white-knuckled grip on her cutlery showed him that.

But then neither was he calm either. Anger was trying to break free—anger at her obduracy, her insults, the very fact that he was in this damnable situation.

He felt his teeth grit again as he spoke, his voice tight.

‘I suggest we leave such puerile comments aside,’ he said dismissively, resuming his meal. ‘Understand and accept that, whether you want it or not, Iwillhave an involvement in your pregnancy—and thereafter. All that is required, therefore, is for us to reach agreement on it. Starting with your accommodation. I will find an apartment for you, where you can live at least until the baby is born. We can use the time to discuss what is to happen once he or she makes an appearance.’

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