Amy Andrews - Valentino's Pregnancy Bombshell

The phone vibrated and Paige grabbed it, relieved to break eye contact with the bride. She opened the message and read it three times, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. She held it up to Nat.

Don’t. You. Dare.

Nat grinned. ‘Have I mentioned how much I like your mother?’

Paige rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll stay.’

‘Good.’ Nat squeezed her hand. ‘The speeches are about to start.’

A deep laugh floated towards them and Nat looked across to where Valentino was chatting with some nurses from their work. ‘You should take a page out of Val’s book. He’s certainly having a good time.’

Paige felt her gaze drawing to him again. ‘Isn’t he just,’ she said dryly.

Nat sighed. ‘I tell you, if I wasn’t utterly besotted with Alessandro and was up for a brief fling, I’d be over there too.’

‘Hmm,’ Paige murmured noncommittally.

‘Do you know he used to date Adrianna de Luca?’

Paige gave her friend a mystified look. ‘Who?’

Nat rolled her eyes. ‘One of Italy’s top catwalk models.’

Of course he did. ‘Fancy that.’

‘They were in all the magazines last year.’

Paige hadn’t read a magazine in for ever. Or a book. Sunday newspapers were about her limit. ‘Of course they were.’ Her voice dripped with derision.

Nat regarded her friend seriously. ‘Not all men are like Arnie, Paige.’ She looked up as Valentino laughed again and poked her elbow into Paige’s ribs. ‘Come on, you have to admit, he’s a bit of a spunk.’

‘I hope you’re talking about me, il mio tesoro ,’ Alessandro interrupted, nuzzling his new wife’s neck.

‘But of course.’ Nat smiled, turning to Alessandro, her lips poised to meet his as he lowered his head.

Paige felt a tug at her dress and was grateful for a reason to avoid the blissful clinch she knew was happening beside her. She looked down to see, Juliano, Alessandro’s four year old son.

‘Where’s McKenzie?’

Paige smiled at the boy. ‘Juliano, you look magnificent!’ He was dressed in a mini-tux and was the spitting image of his father.

With the boyishness and dimples of his father’s cousin.

Juliano stood a little higher. ‘Nat says I’m handsome.’

‘Nat is one hundred per cent right.’

Juliano beamed. ‘Is McKenzie sick?’

Paige shook her head, saddened that it was such a natural conclusion for Juliano to jump to. ‘No. She’s at home with her grandparents.’

Juliano’s face fell. ‘I wanted to ask her to dance.’

Paige’s heart just about melted and she pulled Juliano in for a big hug. ‘You are so sweet. I see you have your father’s charm.’ She glanced at Alessandro, who winked at her. ‘Another time, huh?’

Nat had wanted McKenzie to be her flower girl but Paige had declined. The truth was, crowds made Paige very nervous for her daughter. As an ex-prem with chronic lung disease and poor immunity, every single person was a potential source of infection, a silver bullet to McKenzie’s weak defences. It just wasn’t worth the risk.

‘Okay.’ Juliano nodded, squirming out of her embrace. ‘See ya,’ he chirped, and ducked away, heading for the dance floor.

Paige watched him, smiling even though her heart ached. What would she give for her daughter to be so ablebodied, so carefree? She returned her attention to her phone and replied to her mother’s text.

Promise you’ll ring if there’s a problem.

It took five seconds for the reply. I promise.

Paige texted back. Anything at all. No matter how trivial. She released the message into the ether and held on fast to the phone, tension tightening her stomach muscles.

She knew people thought she was too uptight about her daughter but what did they know? It was she who lived every day with the reality of McKenzie’s fragile health, not them. And one thing was for certain—being vigilant had kept McKenzie alive.

With the operation only a couple of months away now, Paige was determined to keep McKenzie healthy and avoid any more delays. It had been rescheduled three times already. No more.

The phone vibrated in her hand and Paige opened the message. I’m switching the phone off now. Go and have fun. That’s an order.

Paige smiled. She’d obviously stretched her mother’s patience enough for one night. Thank God for her parents. She would never have got through the past few years without them.

A tinkling of cutlery on glass cut through the low murmur and Paige turned to see Alessandro standing. She pushed all thoughts of the world outside the room aside, determined to follow her mother’s orders, and motioned for the drinks waiter.

‘So,’ Valentino said, topping up Paige’s half-full glass with some more champagne, ‘I believe it is a custom in your country for the best man and the bridesmaid to dance the bridal waltz together.’

His voice was low and close to her ear and her body reacted as if he had suggested something much more risqué than a customary dance in front of a room full of people. It took all her willpower not to melt into a puddle. Not to turn her head and flirt like crazy.

Except it seemed like a million years ago now that she’d last flirted and she was pretty sure she didn’t have a clue how to go about it. And why she would choose to do so with a man who was all glamour and sparkle, after her experience with Arnie, was beyond her.

The bitter burn of memories was never far from reach.

‘That’s right,’ she said, refusing to look at him, focusing instead on the bubbles meandering to the surface of her champagne.

‘ Eccellente. I’m looking forward to that.’

Well, that made one of them. The thought of them dancing, his arm around her practically bare back, their bodies close, was sending her heart into fibrillation. Sitting next to him at the table, aware of his every move, every breath, their arms occasionally brushing, his deep voice resonating through tense abdominal muscles, was bad enough. Being pressed along the magnificent tuxedoed length of him? Frankly it scared the hell out of her.

She felt gauche and unsophisticated and totally out of her depth next to his man-of-the-world, model-dating perfection.

What if she stuffed up the steps? Or trod on his foot?

What if she liked it too much?

‘You are worried your boyfriend will mind that we dance, yes?’

Valentino’s comment snapped her out of the vision of her clinging to him like some sort of groupie as he pressed kisses down her neck. She glanced at him, startled.

A big mistake.

Thus far she’d managed not to look at him this close up. And now she knew why. This near, he was simply dazzling. Gorgeous hair the colour of midnight waved in haphazard glory, thick and lustrous with not a hint of grey. It brushed his forehead and collar and Paige finally understood the itch some women talked about to run their fingers through a man’s hair.

Jet-black eyebrows quirked at her as her gaze widened to take in his square jaw line, heavy with five-o’clock shadow. His full lips curved upward and were bracketed by dimples that should be outlawed on anyone over five. His eyes, dark like a shot of the best Italian espresso, were fringed by long black lashes and promised fun and flirting.

A buzz coursed through her veins at the fifteen different kinds of sin she could see in them.

Valentino smiled at the little frown that knitted Paige’s caramel brows together and crinkled her forehead. She was a most intriguing woman. Her grey eyes were huge in her angular face dominated by prominent cheekbones and a wide mouth.

She wore no eye make-up to enhance them, she didn’t need to. They drew the gaze regardless. Her strawberry-blonde hair had been severely styled into a pixie cut that feathered over her forehead and would have looked boyish on anyone else but only seemed to enhance the hugeness of her eyes and the vulnerability he saw there.