Page 32 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

‘Right.’ She nodded jerkily. The woman from behind the counter appeared, placing two short black coffees down onto the table before swiftly disappearing.

Abby cupped one of the small glasses, simply to have something to do with her hands. It was warm and strangely comforting.

‘As I said last night, sleeping together isn’t on the agenda.’ The words were so cold that Abby couldn’t doubt their truth. ‘My preference would have been never to see you again, after that night. As you know.’ He paused for a moment. ‘But I’m prepared to put that aside for our son. I truly believe this is the right decision.’

Abby nodded, though she could no longer separate sense from stupidity. A thousand and one questions raced through her mind. If they weren’t sleeping together, would he sleep with someone else? Would her life include putting up with a series of Gabe’s mistresses? What if he fell in love with one of them? What if he wanted to marry one of them? And they sued her for custody of Raf and won?

Suddenly her heart was thumping too hard, too fast, and she knew she had to fight her natural reserve to do what was best not just for Raf but also for herself.

‘But there’ll be no one else,’ she said, her chin tilted forward defiantly.

His smile was smug and condescending. ‘Does the idea make you jealous?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re the one who’s worried about exposing Raf to gossip. Don’t you think extramarital affairs might qualify?’

He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘I have every intention of doing what is right for our son, at every step of the way.’

It was strangely worded and yet his statement reassured Abby. It hadn’t been a promise, yet she trusted him. She believed him.

Did that make her a fool?

‘And for how long?’

He lifted a brow in silent enquiry.

‘How long do you see this “marriage” of ours lasting?’

‘As long as he needs us,’ Gabe said, and something in the words pierced Abby’s heart. ‘At some point in the future we will separate. When he is older, when he’s happy and settled. It’s impossible to say now when that time will come.’

Abby nodded, wondering why his words didn’t offer more relief.

‘Rest assured, tempesta, I will not keep you at my side longer than is necessary.’

He threw his coffee back, oblivious to the way Abby’s face went ashen at his throwaway sentence. She hid her reaction quickly, grateful when a waitress appeared with food. There were piadini and zeppole, biscotti and fruit. He hadn’t been kidding about being hungry—he’d ordered enough to feed a family of five.

But her appetite had diminished; his final statement had left Abby with a sinking feeling deep in her gut. He hated her, he hated that they were marrying, yet he was prosaically willing to accept it—but only for so long as was absolutely necessary.

‘How long did you study dancing?’ he asked, changing the subject neatly.

Her ballet career was a subject she generally took great care to avoid. But with Gabe Arantini? She was emotionally disorientated.

‘A while.’

‘A year? Two? Five?’

‘Does it matter?’

He leaned closer and surprised her by putting his hand on hers, his fingers grazing over the top of the engagement ring. ‘We are going to need to get better at pretending we don’t dislike one another,’ he said softly. ‘It is natural that I should know this about you. So?’

He was right, and that annoyed her. ‘Eleven years,’ she said quietly. And then, surprising herself, she continued to speak, her eyes trained on the table top, her lips moving without her consent. ‘My mother was a prima ballerina, so beautiful and graceful. I wanted to be just like her.’

He nodded. ‘How old were you when she died?’

She’d mentioned this on their first night together, though she’d been careful to omit any details that might give away her identity.

‘I was eight,’ she murmured, the memories heavy on the periphery of her mind. ‘It was a month before Christmas. A traffic accident. Very unexpected.’

‘I’m sorry.’ His civility surprised her.

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