MELANIE MILBURNE – Cinderella's Scandalous Secret (страница 8)

His eyes clashed with hers in a battle she fought not to lose, but in the end, Isla was the first to look away. She couldn’t cope with him when she was feeling so fragile. She couldn’t cope with him, full stop. He was too commanding. Too directive. Too everything.

‘You will marry me, Isla.’ His voice had a steely thread that sent a chill rolling down her spine like a runaway ice cube. ‘For, believe me, you might not like the alternative. If there were to be a custody battle between us, I can assure you I will win it.’

The pain behind Isla’s eyes intensified to a piercing drill that felt like it was burrowing deep into her brain. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. He was threatening to take her baby off her once it was born? He would be able to do it too. It wouldn’t take too much digging into her background to cast doubt on her suitability as a mother. Those topless photos she’d stupidly been talked into doing for her ‘portfolio’, for instance. Who would ever believe she hadn’t done them willingly? That she had been duped into making those shamelessly provocative poses, never realising how they might come back to haunt her. The photos alone might not be enough in a court of law to take her baby off her, but the thought of having those lewd photos out in public, splashed over newspapers and gossip magazines, was too much to bear.

Rafe’s veiled threat only confirmed why she hadn’t told him she was pregnant in the first place. He could be coldly ruthless when he needed to be. How else had he accumulated the amount of wealth he owned?

Her vision became blurred and the room began to tilt and sway as if gravity had been removed. She reached out her hand for the nearest solid object to stabilise herself but misjudged the distance. Her hand patted at mid-air and then a tide of nausea swept over her in an icy wave that prickled her scalp and sent pins and needles to her fingertips.

‘Isla?’

She was vaguely conscious of Rafe’s concerned tone but she couldn’t get her voice to do anything much past a mumble. And then she folded like a ragdoll and slumped to the floor and everything faded to black...

Rafe rushed to Isla’s slumped figure on the floor, his heart thumping in dread. ‘Isla? Are you okay?’ He was shocked at her pallid complexion—shocked and shamed that he had caused her to drop down in a faint.

He put her in the recovery position and then took her pulse, finding it more or less normal. A tornado of guilt assailed him, hammering into him with the force of knockout blows. He brushed the hair back from her clammy forehead, willing her to open her eyes. ‘Come on, cara. Talk to me.’

What sort of man had he become in the last hour? It was unforgivable to harangue a pregnant woman into a state of collapse. Sweat broke out over his own forehead, remorse like bitter bile in his mouth. He was disgusted with himself, furious he had been so intent on communicating his ire that he hadn’t considered her mental and physical state. She was pregnant, for God’s sake—with his child.

He realised with a jolt of remorse that he hadn’t even asked her how she felt about being pregnant. Whether or not the news had pleased her or shocked her. Had she considered other options? He would not have criticised her for considering a termination. He would not have criticised her for having one because he firmly believed it was a woman’s choice what she did with her body. But there was a place deep inside his heart that felt relieved she hadn’t chosen that path. He was going to be a father. It was still hard to get his head around but the evidence had kicked against his hand only minutes ago. ‘Come on, mio piccolo. Talk to me.’

Isla slowly opened her eyes and groaned. ‘My head aches...’

Rafe gently placed his palm on her forehead. ‘I’ll call an ambulance. I need to get you to hospital.’ He reached for his phone in his trouser pocket but she placed a hand on his arm.

‘No, please don’t. It’s just a tension headache. I’ve been getting them now and again. I don’t need to go to hospital... I think it’s because my blood sugar is a bit low.’

He helped her into a sitting position, cradling her around the shoulders with his arm, his other hand gently stroking the red-gold curls of her hair off her forehead. ‘When did you last have something to eat?’

She gave a weary-sounding sigh. ‘I don’t know...a few hours ago. I skipped lunch as I was running late and—’

‘Right, well, that makes me all the more determined you’re coming back with me to Italy,’ Rafe said. ‘You have to think about the baby. You can’t go skipping meals and working long hours in a physically demanding job. Not when I can more than adequately provide for you.’

Isla gave him one of her combative looks but it didn’t have its normal heat and fire. ‘Must you be so bull-headed? I’ve told you I don’t want to marry you.’

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