Sarah Morgan - The Italian Doctor's Wife

Abby shook her head in disbelief as she watched them together. What a contrast. There was no sign of the hard, ruthless, male who had been prowling around her sitting room only moments earlier. With the baby Nico was a different person—incredibly gentle, tolerant and mildly amused by her antics.

Looking at the two of them together, Abby felt her heart sink into her boots.

How had she not noticed it before?

Rosa was the spitting image of Nico. They had the same jet-black hair, the same incredible dark eyes. Only the mouth was different. Rosa’s mouth was a small rosebud whereas—Abby glanced at him and then glanced away quickly, her face suddenly hot—Nico’s was tough and sensual, and it wasn’t something that she wanted to focus on. Whichever way you looked at it, physically Rosa resembled Nico closely.

Which meant that he was probably telling the truth.

The realisation hit her in the pit of her stomach and she sank against the doorframe for support. Even if she’d been thinking of contesting his claim to be the child’s natural father, one look at the two of them together would have been enough to make her realise the futility of such an exercise.

Suddenly Rosa noticed her mother and squirmed in Nico’s hold, reaching out her chubby arms towards Abby.

Distraught and not thinking clearly, Abby pulled herself together enough to cross the room and take her daughter from him.

Just feeling the familiar warmth of Rosa’s little body made her feel better. There was something so comforting about her innocent hug and the smell of her skin and hair.

‘She’s mine.’ Not wanting to upset Rosa, she spoke quietly, but her voice quivered with passion and sincerity. ‘She’s always been mine. It doesn’t matter if you’re the biological father. You can’t take her away from me.’

Her words were sheer bravado and she met his cool gaze, hopelessly out of her depth. She had no idea about the legalities of the situation and she couldn’t afford to pay anyone to tell her, not with the present state of her finances. Surely no one would give him custody? But, then again, they probably would, she reflected miserably, hugging her daughter even closer. The Santini family was loaded. When Lucia had been at school it had been bodyguards and helicopters all the way. They had enough money to buy the entire legal system if necessary. Whereas she—she closed her eyes briefly as she faced the painful truth—didn’t even have the money for one consultation with a lawyer. If she had then she probably would have already seen one about her unscrupulous landlord.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.