Page 38 of The Baby His Secretary Carries

“I can manage. You don’t have to come with me.” A rush of inadequacy flooded through her. Her flat was very modest. She had chosen it for its minimal maintenance and excellent location, close to the tube. It was nothing like how he lived.

He didn’t say anything more, only waited patiently for her to give the driver her details so they could pull away from the hotel entrance.

Molly gave in, but her tension ratcheted up when she led Gio up the two flights to her quirky, corner unit. Inviting him to enter her personal space felt a lot like opening her diary.

It was tidy and cheerful, at least. She liked it for its abundance of natural light and a decor that was a little too colorful to be sophisticated, but it was comfy and welcoming after a long day at the office.

Gio immediately began studying the photos on the wall, then picked up the snapshots of her with Libby and her mother that rested on a shelf and the end table.

He had already met her family over video chat, but he suddenly asked, “Who is this?” in a dangerous tone.

“Is that you being possessive, Gio?” She couldn’t help throwing that pithy question at him as she took the framed photograph from him.

“It damned well is,” he said without hesitation.

She couldn’t help being flattered that he thought she could punch so far above her weight, but he didn’t have anything to worry about.

“He was a child actor in America. I guess he’s still an actor since he’s doing a play in the West End. Libby watches reruns of his show and thinks he’s dreamy. I happened to see him at a coffee shop so I asked him for a photo. This is her birthday present.”

She stowed the photo in her laptop bag, then drew an overnight bag from the closet.

“You really were planning to leave.” His gaze dropped to the boxes that were labeled and stacked in the closet, filled with off-season clothing that already didn’t fit her.

“Iamleaving,” she confirmed, voice not as strong as she would have liked. A sting rose under her cheeks and arrived in the back of her throat. Chagrin? She didn’t want to leave, especially when Otto was talking about attending their wedding. That wasn’t on her, though. Gio was the one who had made this so difficult by faking this engagement of theirs.

She threw a handful of everyday items into the small suitcase along with her supplements and the historical romance novel she’d found at a café and hadn’t finished yet.

When she picked up a thick hardcover off the bookshelf, Gio said, “Another gift for your sister?”

It was an iconic title about a wizard that Molly had defaced by carving a hole in the pages. She opened it to reveal the slender yellow envelope she stored there with her birth certificate and her company ID when she wasn’t working.

“I’ll empty my safe-deposit box tomorrow.” She put the key in her purse. “I have custodial documents for Libby, in the event something happens to Mom, along with other papers I need access to if things go sideways.” Like her surrogacy agreement.

She had volunteered to carry Sasha’s baby knowing that an extreme outcome could include keeping the baby and raising it herself. This baby was the heir to the Zamos fortune, but Molly only cared about that in so far as that fortune was this baby’s birthright. Between her savings and her mother’s support, she could provide a good upbringing—not privileged, like Sasha’s, but stable and rich in other ways.

It was still a daunting prospect. Was that what Sasha and Rafael wanted, though? Were they changing their mind about the baby? She didn’t believe that, but it was hard to imagine anything else when they were ghosting her. Jacinda had shown little concern for her friend, but Molly was growing ulcers of anxiety in her stomach, wondering what was going on with the other couple.

With Sasha and Rafael top of mind, she felt compelled to be firm. “Gio, we can’t keep leading Otto on. You have to tell him the truth when we get back.”

“It’s not that easy,” he said testily. “Nonno has given me everything. Not just the wealth and position I enjoy, but everything that means anything to him.” He pointed to the ring on her hand. “He saved my life when I could have died of neglect or turned out like my father. I can’t bear to disappoint him.”

“Neither can I, but...” She clenched her hand over the ring. The gem dug into her palm. It was an instinctual safeguarding. She was always aware of the value it carried beyond its carat or clarity. Now a pebble, hard and sharp as a diamond, arrived in her throat. “What do you mean...you could have died?”

“You’ve seen my parents,” he muttered, scraping his hand over his hair as he tried to find a pathway in the tiny area between the coffee table and the love seat. “They are the poster children for why people ought to need a license to procreate.”

She had never seen him so agitated. Well, not since he’d received the news that his grandfather was ill.

“Gio...” She tried to move to stand in front of him, but he turned away. “You don’t have to tell me what they did if you don’t want to talk about it.” It was obviously a painful memory. “But youcan.”

“Nothing,” he said starkly, slicing his hand through the air. “They did a lot of nothing. Which didn’t make much impact while I was an infant. There was usually a nanny around to feed or change me. Occasionally, one was fired for insubordination orintoxication, because they would get her drunk or high with them. A new one would be hired within a day or two, so I survived it.”

“Are you saying...?” She started to feel ill.

“Yes. They left me crying in a room, hungry and wet. I know this because Nonno hired investigators later, when he took guardianship. They interviewed dozens of people who had worked for them in those years. Staff and others who did what they could, taking a minute to give me a bottle out of pity. No one stayed working for them long, though. They were terrible employers. They bullied and sexually harassed their staff, ordered them to do things that weren’t legal.”

“Otto let that happen to you? How long did it go on?” she asked with sick dread.

“My father wouldn’t let him see me. He was trying to take over as head of Casella, but when I was due to leave for boarding school, my father told Nonno to pay the tuition or he wouldn’t send me. Nonno did, which meant the school sent their initial report to him. That’s how he learned I was underweight and well behind my peers. I lacked basic social skills and had behavior problems.”

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