Page 65 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

Alessio shrugged. ‘I had to learn for myself. My father was too busy enjoying a life of luxury elsewhere to worry about his commitments here. But I wouldn’t do that to my...’ He paused. ‘If the child is a boy, when he’s old enough, I’ll make sure he learns what he needs to know.’

Charlotte looked at Alessio’s set face, the determined angle of his jaw and those broad shoulders that carried so many burdens. He was so resolute that she felt the last of her hopes tumble and crash. It didn’t matter what she said or did. She wouldn’t change his mind.

‘It’s all about duty with you, isn’t it? You married out of duty. You tried to be the perfect husband because it was your duty. Now, when the very mention of a new baby makes you turn green with nausea, you’re determined to do your duty, to ensure there’s someone else to carry on your responsibilities when you’re gone.’

She couldn’t look at him anymore. The pain was too great, clamping her lungs so she could barely breathe, making her heart ache as if it bled. She turned to the window, where she could see a glorious sunny day beginning.

‘Let’s leave that discussion about the arrangements you want to make. I can’t face it today. I’ve had enough of your concern and your duty.’

Charlotte spun away and walked to the door, conscious all the time of Alessio’s gaze heavy between her shoulder blades. She waited for him to speak, to acknowledge the truth of what she’d said. Or even protest she was wrong about his feelings for her and their unborn child.

But he said nothing. His silence enveloped her like a chill cloak, dousing the heat in her cheeks and frosting her heart.

She’d lost. There was no argument she could make that would reach him. Nothing she could do to make him love her.

Midnight had struck. The Cinderella fantasy which had crept into hopeful life was dead.

Alessio stood at his office window, staring sightlessly at the view.

Instead of the lake, in his mind’s eye he saw Charlotte, her mouth crumpled with hurt while her eyes blazed with desperate determination. Charlotte walking out on him, her shoulders stiff and head high while he’d wanted to do anything, say anything, to make her turn back to him. To have her walk into his arms, smile up at him, lay her head against his chest and lean close.

His heart thudded a ponderous beat as he relived the effort it had taken not to relent but to watch her walk away.

Because walking away was best for her and the child, no matter how much he yearned for the light she’d brought into his life.

She didn’t understand how his failure with Antonia had stained his soul, marked him as a man who couldn’t be trusted to protect those he cared for. He knew all the logical arguments about it not being his fault. Beatrice had berated him with those more than once, and he was no fool. He understood what she said. Yet in his heart, in his dark soul, the guilt remained.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t taint Charlotte with that darkness. He couldn’t risk failing her and her unborn child.

At the same time, he couldn’t sustain the current situation. For days, Charlotte had avoided him. He’d let her, rather than force his presence on her, because he’d seen her confusion and hurt. That only reinforced the knowledge that he did the right thing, keeping his distance.

Nevertheless, they needed to talk. There were arrangements to be made for her care during pregnancy. For the child.

A great ache opened up inside him like a yawning chasm at the thought of her alone and pregnant somewhere far from him. He wanted to be with her so badly. Because he was selfish. He craved—

Sounds on the pier interrupted his thoughts. He looked down and recognised Mario loading his boat for a trip across the lake. He carried a big basket aboard, baked goods for a nearby market. But then he loaded a large suitcase.

Alessio frowned. Mario hadn’t mentioned a trip. He was pondering that when another figure emerged. A slender woman with hair the colour of old gold.

Charlotte. Alessio stiffened. She climbed onto the boat and took a seat near the suitcase.

His heart stopped beating, and the bright morning light faded towards darkness. When he remembered to breathe, he found himself clutching the window frame, hauling air into cramped lungs.

Something like panic rose inside him, a great wave of dread. Charlotte was leaving like he wanted. But too soon, far too soon. He wasn’t ready.

Deliberately he tightened his grip on the window, forcing his feet to stay planted where they were. This was best. It wasn’t ideal. He’d rather have sorted out the practicalities of his support for her first. But that could be remedied. All he had to do was stay here and let her do the sensible thing.

Alessio blinked, his gaze blurring, as Mario started the engine and Charlotte left him.

They were halfway to the shore, Mario chatting over the putter of his engine, when a roaring made Charlotte turn. She frowned. Was that...?

‘The Conte’s in a hurry.’ Mario watched the speedboat approach.

Charlotte turned to stare at the town ahead of them. She didn’t want to talk to Alessio, especially in front of someone else. Her emotions were too close to the surface, and she felt scraped raw.

But instead of passing them, the faster boat slowed. Alessio called out and Mario answered, conversing in the local dialect she couldn’t understand. Then the other boat surged away, and she felt stupidly let down.

Because Alessio hadn’t addressed her?

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