Page 61 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

Slowly she turned, and he read anxiety in the glitter of her overbright eyes. ‘I went to the doctor this morning.’

Alessio’s heart dipped and shuddered. His fingers tightened into a vicelike grip as he fought rising fear. In the past he’d heard the worst from a doctor. It took every atom of control not to panic and assume the worst now.

He fought to keep his voice even. ‘What’s wrong? Are you sick?’

How sick?Pain hemmed him in, pressing down on his chest and shearing through his gut.

‘I’m okay. I’m not sick.’

Alessio stared, watching her mouth move, hearing her assurance but taking extra time to digest that. He swallowed, his throat thick. ‘But there’s something.’

She nodded, the movement jerky. ‘There is.’ She took a deep breath and that tiny gap in her bodice stretched wider. ‘I missed my period. I’m pregnant.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ALESSIO’SFACETURNEDsickly pale. His hard yet comforting grip on her hand ended when he dropped it as if it burned.

There was silence as his gaze raked her. Silence but for the thunder of her pulse and the hiss of his indrawn breath.

Not happy about the news, then.

What had she expected? Brilliant smiles, talk of shared parenting and a future together?

Charlotte hadn’t been that foolish. But nor had she expected the look of complete horror that made his flesh shrink back against his bones, emphasising the harsh austerity of his features.

‘Pregnant.’

It wasn’t a question, yet she sensed he couldn’t quite believe it. She didn’t blame him. She’d been astounded when her regular-as-clockwork period failed to materialise. Even more when the doctor this morning had confirmed her suspicion. Charlotte had put her faith in the protection Alessio always used, even knowing it wasn’t one hundred percent effective.

Trust her to be that point-something-percent exception!

‘Yes.’ She cradled her fingers in her other hand, but it wasn’t the same ashistouch. ‘I’m pregnant with your child.’

The words turned him to stone. She couldn’t even see his chest rise or a pulse flicker. And somehow, in that instant of total stillness, Alessio seemed to draw in upon himself so that now he resembled not the lover who had taken her to bliss but the forbidding stranger who hadn’t wanted her in his home. As if their weeks of intimacy had never happened.

Except they had. There was proof of it as tiny dividing cells in her womb.

Charlotte took a sustaining breath, still grappling with her own shock and mixed emotions. She hadn’t planned on a baby and didn’t feel remotely ready. Yet at the same time, beneath the anxiety and uncertainty lurked excitement at the idea of having Alessio’s child.

Apart from the fact that she loved him, she recognised a yearning to have someone to care for and love. If she couldn’t have Alessio, and his expression indicated that was unlikely, she could have a child of her own. It struck her how terribly she missed the warmth of her mother’s love.

Instinctively she wrapped her arms around her middle in a gesture that made Alessio’s eyes widen. He shot to his feet, muttered an apology and strode away so fast on those long legs he almost ran.

Charlotte stared, unprepared for such a reaction. Surprise, yes. Even anger. But not this.

Yet you knew he’d already lost a child. And a beloved wife. You should have understood this would open up all sorts of memories for him.

Charlotte hunched in on herself, watching as Alessio stalked the length of the garden to the lake, to stand staring out at his island home. Every inch of his tall frame looked tense, from his wide-planted feet to the high set of his shoulders and the grim cast of his profile.

It was impossible to believe this was the man who a short time ago had lost himself in ecstasy with her, so driven by need that he’d taken her up against a tree, fully clothed and desperate for release.

Now he looked like a man who wished he was anywhere but here.

Charlotte wilted as if her spine slowly melted. She’d gone into this affair with her eyes open, yet when she discovered herself pregnant, she’d harboured the tiniest hope that this would bring them together even more.

As if a baby would make Alessio love you.

She winced at the scoffing voice in her head. It was too like her father’s. Like the brutal voice of her would-be fiancé, hurling abuse as she ran from him, clutching her torn bodice after he’d tried to rape her.

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