Page 7 of A Baby Scandal in Italy

‘You will have to reschedule your flight.’ Rafa followed her into the bedroom. ‘I have arranged for samples to be taken from me and the baby today. The DNA testing company guarantees that the results will be ready in twenty-four hours.’

‘The airline doesn’t allow changes to bookings at short notice, and I can’t afford to pay for another flight or stay at a hotel tonight. It will be better if I go home today. When you receive the test results, you can let me know what, if any, involvement you want with your son.’

‘Dio, you don’t give up, do you?’ Rafa said tersely. He wasn’t going to admit he was rattled by Ivy’s certainty that he was the baby’s father.

‘Poor little mite. He’s wet through.’ She scooped Bertie out of the cot and, from the way her breath hissed between her teeth, Rafa guessed the movement had hurt her shoulder. Whatever else she might have lied about, her shoulder injury was genuine, and she’d almost passed out in the bathroom. ‘I should have changed his nappy before I put him down, but I didn’t want to risk waking him. Will you pass me one of his sleep suits from the backpack? Tip everything out if it’s easier.’

Rafa spotted the backpack on the floor. He opened it and dumped a pile of baby clothes onto the bed. Caught up among the clothes was a business card. He picked it up and gave a harsh laugh.

‘Di Oggie!The most popular daily newspaper in Italy. I hope they paid you a lot of money. You will need a good lawyer when I sue you for defamation of my character. The fine is likely to be thousands of pounds, or you could be sent to prison.’

He refused to be taken in by Ivy’s stricken expression. The reporter’s business card was proof that he was right not to believe a word Ivy uttered.

‘The man I met in the street gave me the card, but I didn’t call the number and speak to the reporter. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

She was good at playing the innocent victim, but Rafa wasn’t fooled by her denial. He was exasperated that he could not control his body’s response to Ivy’s elfin beauty. ‘I suppose you told the journalist the name of your hotel,’ he accused when he moved away from her and looked out of the window. ‘There is a crowd of reporters outside. Did you tip them off that I was here?’

‘No. How could I have done? I haven’t been out of your sight since you arrived, and my phone is over there.’ She glanced towards her phone on the bedside table.

Anger had brought colour to her pale cheeks and there were sparks of fire in her eyes. Rafa preferred her temper to her earlier sadness. He had an intense horror of tears—a throwback to his childhood when his mother had suffered deeply from depression and Rafa would often hear her crying desperately when she’d thought he was out of earshot.

When Ivy had spoken about her sister, Rafa had seen that her grief was raw and, despite his mistrust of her, he’d felt an urge to comfort her. He understood the gut-wrenching sense of loss. His father had died not long after Ivy’s sister. Rafa hadn’t realised how much he’d loved hispapàuntil it had been too late to tell him. Why did this woman stir his emotions that, like a hornets’ nest, were better left alone? he wondered.

‘Get dressed,’ he told Ivy curtly. ‘You and the baby will spend tonight at my apartment. Tomorrow, when the paternity test result exonerates me from any responsibility for the child, I will personally drive you to the airport and put you on the first plane to England on the understanding that I never hear from you or see you again.’

CHAPTER THREE

IVYEMERGEDFROMthe bathroom, where she had gone to get dressed, and found Rafa’s driver in her hotel room. The two men were talking quietly in Italian and there was an infant car seat on the bed. The driver gave her a curious look before he left.

‘Aldo says it’s a scrum downstairs,’ Rafa told her grimly. ‘When we leave the hotel, stick close to me and do not say anything to the reporters.’

‘It’s not my fault that they’re outside.’

The scathing look he gave her said he did not believe her. His eyes narrowed as he studied her canary-yellow sundress with a shirred bodice that supported her small breasts. Any movement of her shoulder was agony and she’d given up trying to reach behind her back to do up her bra.

She was conscious that her nipples had tightened and hoped Rafa did not notice her body’s response to him as his gaze lingered on her breasts before moving up to her pink hair.

‘Very colourful,’ he drawled.

‘I like bright colours,’ Ivy said defensively, wishing she was taller and more elegant and could afford to wear designer clothes like the women she’d seen with Rafa on social media. She was angry with herself for wanting his approval and wishing that he found her attractive.

Her heart sank as she wondered if she had inherited her mother’s poor judgement in men. Her mum had always fallen for bad boys, convinced that she would be able to make them love her. As a child, Ivy had felt that her mum had cared more about her pursuit of romantic relationships than her. Seeing how her mum had been badly treated by her husbands and lovers had been a warning that falling in love was a risk that too often resulted in disappointment and heartbreak. When Ivy’s first romance as a teenager had ended with Luke heartlessly dumping her because he couldn’t cope with her illness, it had reinforced her belief that men were unreliable and likely to let her down.

‘You are certainly noticeable,’ Rafa told her. ‘Is that the point, to grab the paparazzi’s attention and sell them another fantasy story? Your plan will backfire when I can prove that I am not Bertie’s father.’

Frustration at Rafa’s refusal to believe her made Ivy halt on her way over to the cot. She was tired of trying to defend herself. ‘We could just stop this now,’ she said tautly. ‘It’s obvious that you don’t want Bertie. I’ll take him back to England and care for him on my own, and I won’t ask you to contribute a penny for him.’

Rafa gave a cynical laugh. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to try to back out of the paternity test, but your luck’s out, little lady. Your publicity stunt when you involved the press has damaged my personal reputation and my business credibility, and I have lost the support of many of my board members and shareholders. If you refuse permission for the test, I will seek a court order for it to go ahead.’

‘Fine.’ She leaned over the cot, but as she lifted Bertie out she felt a tearing pain in her shoulder and could not restrain a sharp cry.

‘You had better let me hold him.’ Rafa crossed the room in a couple of strides and took the baby from her. A curious expression flickered on his face as he looked down at Bertie lying in his arms. Ivy supposed she was biased, but anyone would have to admit that Bertie was an adorable baby, with his olive-toned complexion and mass of almost black hair. Like father, like son, she thought ruefully. But Rafa did not want his little boy and he believed that she had an ulterior motive for bringing Bertie to Italy.

‘Have you seen a doctor about the pain in your shoulder?’ he asked her while he strapped Bertie into the car seat. His confident handling of the baby was a surprise, as he’d given the impression that he’d never been within a million miles of a small child before.

Ivy stuffed the baby’s clothes into the backpack. ‘I had it checked out by a medic on the cruise ship. He thought I’d pulled a muscle from a fall while I was dancing. But that was a few months ago and my shoulder still hurts.’

‘It might be a rotator cuff tear, although it’s more likely to be a strain where the muscles and tendons that keep your shoulder in its socket are damaged. It’s a common injury for basketball players,’ Rafa explained when she stared at him. ‘At one time I considered training to be a sports physiotherapist when my playing career was over.’

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