Page 8 of The Baby His Secretary Carries

She dabbed herself back to presentable and yanked open the door, practically walking straight into Gio. He stood in the doorway, frowning with concern.

“Should I get the doctor?” was his baffled question.

“No. I’m fine,” she insisted. “What did the doctor say about your grandfather?”

“Could be a virus that’s got into his heart. Nonno has accepted IV fluids, but still refuses to go to hospital. He doesn’t want major interventions.” He raked his hand through his hair. “He lost my grandmother after fifteen years of marriage and says it’s been too long without her.”

“Oh.” She covered her chest where her heart turned over in sympathy.

“I can’t force him to accept treatment, but...” He wanted to. That’s what she took from the tortured way he looked toward his grandfather’s suite.

“I’m so sorry, Gio.” Empathy overwhelmed her. These last hours had been so difficult to watch and now he was facing possibly his grandfather’s last hours. It was unbearable.

She reacted on instinct, the way she would to anyone in such blatant pain. She closed her arms around his waist, trying to offer what little consolation she could.

He turned to iron, making her realize she was grossly overstepping their boundaries, but as she started to pull back in embarrassment, his arms clamped around her, squashing her to his front with a hard hug.

This was supposed to be comfort, but she found herself closing her eyes, absorbing the feel of him. This was what it would be like to be with him in a different role. To be someone he cared about who touched him all the time. To know intimately the beat of his heart against her cheek and the precise degree of heat that radiated through his crisp shirt, warming her torso. To draw in the fragrance of cedar and spice, and recognize it as his and hers and home.

She had an urge to run her hands all over his back and tilt up her mouth to his, one that was almost impossible to resist.

He released her abruptly, then muttered, “That wasn’t appropriate.”

“I know, I’m sorr—”

He flicked his hand, dismissing the hug as inconsequential. Which made her heart pang.

He seemed to have pulled a cloak over himself, one that made him impossible to read. He nodded jerkily toward the powder room. “What was that, if not illness?”

“Nerves,” she insisted and pushed her hands into her pockets to keep from stacking them protectively over her belly.

“Why? Not this job? You’ve stepped up exactly as I expected you would. It’s done,” he said with finality. His expression was hard, his vivid blue eyes piercing into her. “If you want more money, say so, but quit being coy and let’s move on to addressing the day’s business.”

The air in her lungs turned to fire and evaporated, making her voice a thin squeak as she said, “I can’t take it.”

She hated to refuse when she knew he needed her right now. She paced down the checkered tiles of the hall. How apropos. She felt as though she was in a real-life chess match, watching all the careful, strategic moves she had planned being thwarted. She’d been racking her brain all morning, trying to figure out new options.

“What is the issue?” He folded his arms, very much the imposing boss who intimidated the hell out of her. “Spell it out for me.”

Working for him was the chance of a lifetime, but it was also too much.Hewas too much. Even without this other secret she was carrying, she would struggle to hide her attraction. It was bound to become as obvious as her pregnancy if she worked closely with him, the way Valentina always had.

On the other hand, if she left, she would regret it forever. Professionally, it amounted to walking away from her career. Yes, in roughly six months she’d be able to return to it, but she wouldn’t havethisjob, not if she turned him down now. On a personal level, she would lose the chance to know this extraordinary man a little better.

A maid bustled past with a tray, heading toward his grandfather’s room.

Gio tossed an impatient look at the interruption, then clasped Molly’s elbow the way he had been doing since leaving the London office. He steered her into a bedroom of masculine colors with a sitting area, a desk beneath a tall window and doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the sea.

At any other time in her life, she would be charmed beyond measure by a room like this, but— She flung around in time to see him closing the door.

“This is my room. No one will bother us.” He crossed his arms again. “Now speak freely,” he demanded.

I’m not at liberty to!

She had to tell him something, though. She licked her lips and said haltingly, “The appointments that Valentina saw in my calendar were medical. I don’t want to discuss it, but I anticipate needing time off—”

He swore sharply. “You’repregnant?”

“Wh-why would you say something like that?” Molly asked. Her hand grappled the air before clasping onto the back of the chair by the desk.

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