Page 4 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

‘Needing a job? Another lie,’ Gabe said.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She glared at him and the heat in that look surprised him. The vehemence of her anger. It was as though she were driven to defend herself by something other than pride, by true desperation. He’d felt it often enough to recognise it.

‘You forget how well I know what I’m talking about,’ he said smoothly. ‘You’re just lucky I didn’t press charges.’

She drew in a shaky breath. ‘Mr Arantini,’ she said crisply, ‘I’ve moved on from…that…how we met. And you obviously have too.’ She blinked her eyes and he had a sinking feeling in his gut that she was trying not to cry.

Hell. He’d never made a woman cry, had he?

Even that night, when he’d accused her, she’d been shocked and devastated, but she hadn’t cried. She’d taken his tirade, admitted that her father had asked her to contrive a way to meet him, to get close to him and find out all she could about Calypso, and then she’d apologised. And left.

‘I’m not asking you to forgive me for what happened between us.’

‘Good,’ he interrupted forcibly, wishing now he had a glass of something strong he could drink.

‘But please don’t ruin this for me.’ She turned back to Rémy. ‘I’m not lying to you, monsieur. I need this job. I have no plans to do anything that will reflect badly on you…’

Rémy frowned. ‘I want to believe you, Abby…’

Gabe turned slowly towards his friend, and his expression was cold, unemotional. ‘Trusting this woman would be a mistake.’

* * *

Abby was numb. It had nothing to do with the snow that was drifting down over New York, turning it into a beautiful winter wonderland, nor the fact she’d left the restaurant in such a hurry she’d forgotten to grab her coat—or her tips.

She swore softly, her head dipped forward, tears running down her cheeks. What were the chances of Gabe Arantini walking into the kitchen of the restaurant she happened to work in? Of his being friendly enough with her boss to actually have her fired?

A sob escaped her and she stopped walking, dipping into an alleyway and pressing herself against the wall for strength.

She’d never thought she’d see him again. She’d tried. She’d tried when she’d thought it mattered. She’d tried when she’d thought it was the right thing to do. But now?

Another sob sounded and she bit down on her lip. He hated her.

She’d always known that, but seeing his cold anger filled her with doubts and fears, making her question what she knew she had to do.

When had he come to New York? Had he been here long? Had he thought of her at all?

She had to see him again—but how? She’d tried calling him so many times, and every call had been unreturned or disconnected. Emails bounced back. She’d even flown to Rome, but he had two burly security men haul her from the building.

So what now?

It would serve that heartless bastard right if she didn’t bother. If she skulked off, licking her wounds, keeping her secrets, and doing just what he’d asked: staying the hell away from him.

But it wasn’t about what she wanted, nor was it about what Gabe wanted.

She had to think of their baby, Raf—and what he deserved.

Her chest hurt with the pain of the life she was giving their son. Their tiny apartment, their parlous financial state, the fact she worked so hard she barely got to see him, and instead had to have a downstairs neighbour come and stay overnight to help out. It was a mess. And Raf deserved so much better.

For Raf, and Raf alone, Abigail had to find a way to see Gabe—and to tell him the truth.

And this time she wasn’t going to let him turn her away without hearing her out first.

CHAPTER TWO

‘THERE’S A MISS HOWARD here to see you, sir,’ Benita, his assistant, spoke into the intercom.

From the outside Gabe barely reacted, but inside he felt surprise rock him to the core. She’d come to his damned office? What the actual hell? How many times did he have to tell her to stay away from him?

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