Page 127 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

He dismissed the memory summarily. Frowned. Why did she want him to get out? Her PR friend had clearly been the one to bring him here by the means she’d used so effectively twenty-four hours ago. So why object to his arrival? Did she think his lawyers would be easier to deal with? If so—tough.

He cut to the chase.

‘If you want to claim maintenance you must prove paternity. I told you that in my office. Since you have not done so, I have drawn my own conclusions.’ He spoke briskly, and coldly. ‘Now, however, you are pursuing that claim. So, which is it?’ He levelled his gaze at her.

She didn’t answer—the other woman did. The one who’d made the call yesterday. Megan Stanley was her name, he recalled.

‘Mr Giansante,’ she said, eyeballing him. ‘You are, without doubt, the father of Siena’s baby. As such, she is entitled to maintenance from you. She is perfectly prepared to substantiate that claim, and anin uteropaternity test will do so. All that is required is for you to provide the appropriate DNA blood sample for her claim to be verified. Then it is simply a question of the level of maintenance required by Siena from you.’

Vincenzo turned his laser gaze on her, saying nothing. He saw her start to quail, for all her bravado. Then another voice cut across.

‘There will benopaternity test—now or ever! Andnoclaim for maintenance!’

Vincenzo’s eyes snapped back to Siena. ‘Because,’ he directed at her quellingly, ‘you know perfectly well the baby is not mine.’ It was not a question—it was a statement.

Something flashed in her eyes. He’d seen it in his office, and now he was seeing it again.

‘Because,’ she echoed, ‘you are the verylastman onearthI would want to be the father ofanybaby—let alonemine!’

He saw her take a heaving breath and point towards the hallway.

‘So, having established that, you can now give me theonlything I want from you—and it isnotyour precious money!—which is for you toget out!’

She stalked ahead of him and he saw her yank open the front door. Hold it pointedly open.

He did not hesitate. He walked out of the room, across the hallway. He paused by the door and looked into her face. Anger was in it...and something more. For one long, timeless moment he held her eyes. Then he walked out.

Decision made.

He heard the door slam shut behind him as he headed downstairs.

Siena slumped back against the wall. Her heart was racing, her breathing shallow, her colour high.

Megan came hurrying out, and Siena turned on her. ‘Well, now you know why I will not—will not!—haveanythingto do with him!’

‘No,’ Megan bit back, ‘I donotknow why.’ Then her voice changed, sounding quite different. ‘But I’ll tell you something for free. I know exactly why you fell into bed with him! Dear God, but he’s justlethal!’

Siena’s teeth gritted. ‘Lethalis exactly the right word. And, no, I don’t mean it the way you damn well mean!’

Megan made a face. ‘Well, the one adds to the other,’ she said. Then her expression and her voice changed again. ‘Oh, Si...why on earth did you send him packing? OK, so I never dreamt he’d actually turn up like that—I assumed he’d be too high and mighty to want to do anything except through lawyers. Speaking of which—what I said back there is absolutely what you must do next. I know a good law firm who will sort it for you. Yes, it will cost, but since he’ll have no option but to concede to pay maintenance, once the paternity test is done, you’ll cover the legal costs with that, so—’

Siena held up a hand. When she spoke her voice, still shaky, was nevertheless adamant. ‘Megan, I know you mean well, but just stop. Stop interfering in my life. I am abjectly grateful hedoesn’tthink he’s the father! Because I meant every word I threw at him. He’s the last man on earth I want to have anything to do with either me or my baby. I amdonewith him.’

She went back to the breakfast table, her hand still trembling, she could see, as she picked up her now cold mug of tea. Her heart rate was subsiding, but slowly, and shock waves were still going through her.

She must calm herself down...it would upset the baby.

My baby—as in mine and mine alone.

It was sentiment she clung to for the rest of the weekend. Until, on Monday morning, by registered hand delivery, she received a summons to co-operate with a claim for paternity or face legal action for refusal.

It seemed, she thought, with a hollowing out of her insides, that she might be done with Vincenzo Giansante, but he was not done with her.

Or with the baby she carried...

Vincenzo sat behind his desk in his London offices, staring at the screen of his computer. His face held no expression, yet behind its frozen surface emotions were scything.

He was the father of the baby Siena Westbrook was carrying. The baby conceived on that single, fateful night with her.

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