Page 136 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

That was all he must focus on.

As they made their way into Holland Park Siena was churning inside. Vincenzo walking in like that had been a shock, unexpected and totally unwelcome. Why the hell couldn’t the man stay away? Stay in Italy. Wash his hands of the whole damn business, like she kept telling him to. He should begladshe didn’t want anything to do with him!

Her eyes darkened. He thought her a slut for falling into bed with him the way she had, and now a gold-digger, trying to get a free meal ticket off him because she was pregnant.

Well, I am neither, thank you! And you—her glance went malevolently to him as he fell into step beside her, heading towards the nearby park—are a total jerk!

She waited for anger to fill her again—the anger that had been spearing in her ever since that hideous afternoon when she’d been thrown out of his office. It had more than enough, to feed on. And yet right now all she could feel was a deflation of her spirits. A dullness and tiredness and sense of depression.

About everything—justeverything.

This was all wrong. Wrong, wrong,wrong. She should not be pregnant, and she shouldn’t be staying in an apartment which the man responsible had forced her into—the man who obviously thought she was after his money.

This wasn’t what I wanted—none of it!

Even as she thought it she felt guilty, and that only added to her darkness of mood. The creation of new life was precious—she should not feel so bitter, should not so resent what had happened. How could her poor, innocent, hapless baby be to blame for anything? How could she blight the start of its existence by wishing she were not pregnant at all?

Yet still something cried within her.

This is not how it should be!

Babies should be born into joy and happiness, welcomed and rejoiced over, bringing blessings and being infinitely blessed themselves. To grow in love, become happy, healthy children...

Yet the cry inside her came again.

This is not how it should be!

But this time it was an echo. A terrifying echo. She felt it clutch within her, like a vice around her heart, her lungs, her throat. Memory stabbed at her, infinitely painful.

‘What is it?’

Vincenzo’s voice pierced her dark thoughts. He was walking beside her, along one of the paths in the park.

She didn’t answer, and he spoke again. ‘What is it,’ he repeated.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said.

She didn’t want to talk to him, to walk with him, to be with him at all. She wanted absolutely nothing in her life right now—the life that had finally been heading in the direction she had waited so long for it to go in, and which had now been derailed.Again.

She felt her arm taken, and halted in her pacing. Vincenzo stepped in front of her, looking down at her. His face had a taut expression.

‘It is not “nothing”,’ he said. ‘It is not “nothing” that both you and I find ourselves in a situation neither of us wished for.’

‘No? But you think I’m definitely thinking it’s a bit of luck for me, don’t you? It’s got my greedy little fingers into your nice rich pie, hasn’t it? A meal ticket for life! That’s what you think!’

His brow darkened and he dropped her arm.

Siena’s mouth set tight. ‘Despite my repeatedly telling you to walk away—that I don’t need your financial support or want it!’

‘So how will you support yourself?’ he countered immediately. ‘Live on state benefits in a council-paid bedsit? That was the graphic image painted by your friend Megan to get my attention,’ he said witheringly.

‘She acted totally without my consent!’ Siena threw back instantly. ‘I never wanted her to interfere. Just as I never wanted you to come anywhere near me again! And just as I donotwant any of your damn money!’ she bit out. ‘Just believe me when I say I’ve got enough to live on.’ She took a slicing breath. ‘If you really want to know, I’ve inherited some money and it’s safely banked. It’s quite enough to let me live somewhere a lot cheaper than London and look after my baby, so I neither need, let alone want, a single penny from you!’

Dear God, how many times had she got to say that before he got the damn message?

But it seemed he was set on moving on to a new subject.

‘Even setting that aside—for the moment at least,’ he said repressively, ‘there is more to the situation than financial considerations.’ Vincenzo’s voice was still tight. ‘I told you I would not walk away—and I do not mean only from my financial responsibilities.’

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