Page 64 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

He made that clear from the start. He spelled out the rules for a short-term affair.

A baby won’t change his feelings, no matter how hard you wish it.

Charlotte breathed deep, trying to find at least an appearance of calm. She should be used to it by now—being alone. Being unloved. But today it felt harder than ever to face a new day.

The scent of coffee reached her as she paused in the kitchen doorway. She frowned, pulse quickening as she saw the man busy at the counter, squeezing fresh orange juice into a glass.

He looked up, dark eyes locking on hers, and Charlotte felt that familiar tremble of longing. To hide it, she smoothed her hands down her straight skirt and entered.

‘What are you—?’

‘Getting you breakfast. You work too hard, and I want to be sure you have a decent breakfast instead of waiting on me.’ He paused, and what he said next stole her breath in a great whoosh of air. ‘You have to think about the baby.’

The baby you don’t want.

The words hovered on her tongue.

Butshewanted it. The more time passed, the surer she became. Charlotte had no illusions that being a single parent would be easy, even with Alessio’s financial support, but she’d manage. She always managed.

She walked to the table, her legs only a little wobbly, and took a seat.

‘What if thereisno baby? There’s always termination.’

Alessio’s olive skin blanched, turning his face the same sickly shade as when she’d told him she was pregnant. He couldn’t bear the thought of being a father, but it seemed nor could he bear the idea of ending the pregnancy.

‘That’s what you’re thinking of?’ His tone was sharp.

Charlotte thought of letting him believe so, but despite how much she hurt, she couldn’t torture him that way. ‘No. I’m not.’

She found it telling that Alessio hadn’t suggested that option. Many men would have.

Alessio set the glass of juice in front of her. ‘Or there’s milk. I wasn’t sure if you’d want coffee.’

‘Juice is fine.’

He didn’t meet her eyes but busied himself at the kitchen counter as if he found this as difficult as she did.

‘We need to talk, Alessio.’

‘I know.’ He swung around, carrying a plate of pastries and a bowl of thick yoghurt topped with fresh berries. ‘There are things to sort out, arrangements to be made. But later. For now, concentrate on your breakfast. Would you like an egg?’

Charlotte blinked up at him. Eggs, dairy foods and fresh fruit. Had he been researching dietary needs for pregnant women? Did he intend to supervise all her meals for the remaining weeks she was in thecastelloto be sure she looked after herself?

She didn’t think she could bear that parody of a caring partner, solicitous and excited about her pregnancy.

‘Actually, I’m not very hungry. I’ll eat later.’

‘Charlotte, you need to—’

‘Don’t tell me what I need to do, Alessio. You’re in no position to give orders unless it’s about my job.’

Her chair scraped as she shoved it back and stumbled to her feet. She felt queasy, but surely it was too soon for morning sickness. No, what made her nauseous was this situation. A man she loved who would never return her feelings. A decent man whose instinct was to care but who was so caught up in grief and self-blame that she feared he’d never be free of his past.

Charlotte’s hand curled around the back of the chair. ‘Tell me this, Alessio. If our baby is a boy, he’ll be the next Conte, won’t he?’

Slowly Alessio nodded, his expression grave.

‘How will he ever be able to take up the role if you have nothing to do with him? I’ve seen for myself that the title is the least part of being the Conte Dal Lago. It’s about taking a lead in the region and supporting people. That’s not something you pick up overnight.’

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