Page 15 of A Baby Scandal in Italy

She believed that he wasn’t Bertie’s father, and without that barrier she could not stop herself from falling deeper under his spell. He used his mouth to enchant and entice her, and she held her breath when he slid his hands up her body to rest just beneath her breasts. Her nipples felt tight and hot, and when he brushed his thumb pads across the swollen peaks the pleasure was so intense that she shuddered.

It was too much, yet not enough. Her eyelashes swept down as she focused on the new sensations Rafa was arousing in her. No other man had made her feel so needy. Privately, she’d been scathing when friends, or her mum, had confessed that they had been carried away and unable to stop themselves from having sex with a guy they’d just met.

Surely it was a matter of self-control? Ivy had thought to herself. But now for the first time in her life she exalted in her femininity, and she felt empowered, but at the same time helpless to control her tumultuous desire for Rafa.

When he abruptly released her and stood up, she blinked at him, struggling to comprehend that the kiss was over and the passion that had blazed for her had not burned as fiercely for him. His expression was unreadable and that made things worse. She felt used and discarded, not good enough. Her old insecurities surfaced. From way back when her father had abandoned her for his girlfriend at the time who’d had a cuter kid, Ivy had never met a man who was genuinely interested in her.

‘I will prepare a press release to announce our engagement first thing tomorrow.’ Rafa’s voice was huskier than usual, and his Italian accent was more pronounced. He strode across the room and Ivy wondered if she imagined that he was avoiding making eye contact with her.

She ran her tongue over lips that were still tingling from his kiss, and was intrigued when she saw his jaw clench. It occurred to her that perhaps he had enjoyed the kiss as much as she had but, like her, he was fighting the attraction they both felt.

‘Tomorrow evening we will host an engagement party,’ he continued. ‘You will need some clothes, so I have arranged for you to meet a personal stylist who can advise you on a suitable wardrobe. People will be curious about my new fiancée, and doubtless we’ll receive a flurry of invitations to dinner.’

‘I can’t afford to buy new clothes.’

‘I’ll give you my credit card.’

Her pride objected. ‘I won’t use it.’

‘I thought it was every woman’s dream for a billionaire to provide unlimited access to his bank account,’ he drawled.

‘It’s not my dream. You are not paying for my clothes. I haven’t even agreed to your crazy idea of a pretend engagement.’

‘If you are thinking of running to the newspapers and revealing the likely true identity of Bertie’s father, I strongly advise you against it.’

‘That sounds like a threat.’

He exhaled heavily. ‘Do you want to break my mother’s heart and make her miserable for the time she has left?’

Ivy remembered how devastated her mum had been when she’d discovered that her dad was having an affair. Ivy did not want to cause Rafa’s mother the distress of finding out that her husband had cheated.

Rafa was pretending that Bertie was his son to protect his mother’s feelings. But now he faced the loss of support from his board of directors because of the news story that he had abandoned his illegitimate child. It still rankled that he believed she had spoken to a journalist. If she hadn’t brought Bertie to Italy, none of this would have happened, Ivy thought dismally.

‘All right,’ she said grudgingly, turning to face him. ‘I’ll be your fake fiancée. But I don’t want money or clothes or anything from you.’

‘Dio, are you always so argumentative?’

‘Are you always so bossy? Anyway, taking Bertie on a shopping trip would be a nightmare.’

‘While you are with the personal stylist, the baby will remain at the apartment with the nanny I have hired.’

She saw red. ‘Well, you can damn well un-hire her. I am perfectly capable of caring for Bertie on my own.’ Her voice thickened with emotion. ‘He is all I have of Gemma, and I refuse to hand him over to a stranger. Bertie needs me...and... I need him.’

Rafa ran his hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. ‘Anna is from a highly reputable agency and has excellent references. I met her earlier today and she is charming. She will help out when you cannot be with the baby—for instance, when we are at the party.’

There was sense in his words, Ivy conceded reluctantly. But Rafa was so forceful, and he was clearly used to getting his own way. ‘You have no idea how it feels to be responsible for a defenceless little baby.’ She was puzzled by an odd expression that flickered across his chiselled features.

‘If my suspicion is proved correct, and Bertie is my half-brother, he will not be solely your responsibility,’ he said quietly. ‘You will have my support in whatever way we decide is best to care for him.’

Ivy watched Rafa stride out of the room. She was startled by his stated intention to share responsibility for Bertie. He had sounded genuine, but she cautioned herself against believing him too readily. Having witnessed her mother’s disastrous relationships, Ivy had learned to be wary of handsome and persuasive men—and she would be a fool to trust Rafa.

Rafa fixed the cufflinks on his shirt and slipped his arms into his jacket. The party was an informal event and he decided against wearing a tie with his casual but nevertheless impeccably tailored linen suit from an Italian couture house. He ran his hand over the trimmed stubble on his jaw—he disliked being clean-shaven. A visit to the barbers had resulted in a shorter hairstyle and a sharper look in preparation for the damage limitation exercise he was hoping to pull off.

Many of Vieri Azioni’s board members had accepted invitations to his engagement party, although the deputy CEO, Sandro Florenzi, had apologised in advance for his absence due to his wife’s poor health. Rafa walked into the lounge and poured himself a generous Scotch before he stepped outside onto the balcony.

It was early evening, and the Colosseum looked even more spectacular with the fiery rays of the setting sun sinking behind the ancient structure. Once, gladiators had stepped into the arena to fight to the death. Fast forward a few thousand years, and Rafa was facing the fight of his life to retain control of his company. But, instead of a sword or spear, the secret weapon he was banking on to secure his victory was a mock engagement to a young woman who constantly confounded him.

He glanced at his watch. Ivy should make an appearance soon, and he acknowledged that he was curious to see what she was wearing. Hopefully the stylist had persuaded her out of her hip-hugging jeans and into an evening dress that was elegant and demure, suitable for his fiancée.

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