Interview with a Playboy (20 page)

‘A gift?’ Her voice wobbled precariously on the edge of tears.

‘Yes—a gift that is precious…more precious than anything in life.’

As she looked at him she knew he was thinking about his son…probably remembering how he had felt when his wife had told him she was pregnant…remembering how he had felt when their child was lost. Her heart slammed painfully against her chest.

‘You need to think very carefully about what you want, Isobel.’ He took hold of her hand. ‘I can afford to support a child.’ He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘I can afford to support you both in a more than comfortable lifestyle.’

Why did those words hurt so much? she wondered as she looked into his eyes. Why had her heart lurched with hope just now…? What did she expect? she asked herself fiercely.

‘So in other words you think this is a problem that you can just throw money at and it will go away?’ She pulled her hands away from his, her eyes shimmering. ‘We’re talking about a child here, Marco—not a horse that you can shove into stables and forget about.’

‘I know that.’ His voice was dangerously quiet.

‘Do you? Money isn’t going to fix this, Marco. A child needs to feel loved and wanted.’

‘And you think I’m incapable of loving a child?’

‘No—I don’t think that!’ She stared at him. It was obvious that this pregnancy was stirring up all kinds of memories for him. That he was revisiting the loss of his son. She wanted to say that she thought he wasn’t over the death of his child, the break-up of his marriage—
that he was still in love with his ex-wife…

The words hovered precariously on the edge of her lips, but she didn’t let them drop and pushed angrily past him into the lounge. She couldn’t say any of those things to him because there was a small part of her that was scared to hear the answer.

‘I don’t know what I want right now,’ she told him unsteadily as he followed her.

‘You’re thinking of terminating the pregnancy?’ He sounded so deeply shocked that she spun to face him.

‘No, I’m not saying that! I just…’ She bit down on her lip. ‘I always promised myself that I wouldn’t have a child unless I could bring it into a settled environment. ‘ Her voice broke slightly. ‘My childhood was so chaotic, Marco—I don’t want that for my baby.’

She didn’t realise she was crying until he came closer—until he reached and wiped the tears from her eyes with a gentle hand.

‘I’ll look after you, Izzy. I can’t say any fairer than that.’

She supposed he couldn’t—and she supposed that she should feel grateful.

But she didn’t want to feel grateful. Because all she felt was sad and angry. She wanted so much more.

She loved him, she realised helplessly. Like an idiot she had gone and fallen in love with him. Even though she’d known it would never work.

She took a deep shuddering breath. ‘I don’t want your false promises, Marco—I’d rather be on my own.’

‘I’m not giving you any false promises, Izzy. I can’t…’ He shook his head and then reached for her, pulling her into his arms.

For a moment she allowed herself to be held by him, tried to draw strength from him.

‘I can’t do the marriage thing again,’ he said quietly, almost to himself. ‘I have never failed at anything in my life—but I failed at that. So you understand why I will not be repeating the experience?’

‘Yes, I understand, Marco.’ She raised her head proudly then, and moved back from him. ‘And I told you I don’t
want
marriage. I don’t want anything from you.’

‘I’ll set you up in a flat here in London,’ he said decisively, as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Isobel took another step back from him. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I
have
a flat! I don’t need you or your charity!’ She was glaring furiously at him now.

‘This has nothing to do with charity! It’s practicalities. You can’t live here—’

‘Marco, I want you to go!’ She cut across him furiously. ‘I don’t want to hear about your practicalities, thank you very much.’

‘You’re not thinking straight—’

‘Yes, I am.’ She raised her chin and stared at him calmly. ‘In fact I’m suddenly thinking more clearly than I have in weeks. Thank you for your offer, but I will not be accepting your help. I will not be leaving this flat, and I can take care of myself. Now, I want you to go.’

Marco would have argued with her, but for all her fire and determination she suddenly looked exhausted.

‘I’ll go, Izzy. But only for now. We will discuss this when we are both feeling calmer.’

‘There is nothing more to discuss!’ she told him heatedly.

‘On the contrary—there’s everything to discuss. Now, go and get some rest and I’ll call you later.’

‘I
THINK
your ideas for the follow-up article on Marco are good, Isobel. People will be very interested to read about his lifestyle in France and his lovely home. But you need a little more personal information.’

The more her editor said that to her, the more Isobel felt her blood pressure rising. They had been over and over this a hundred times, and the walls of the small office felt as if they were starting to close in on her. She should have made an excuse to get out of coming in to the newspaper today, she told herself angrily. Because she really wasn’t up to discussing Marco.

It was a week since she’d discovered that she was pregnant—a week of feeling as if she was on an emotional rollercoaster. And as time passed the only thing she knew for sure was how much she wanted her baby.

‘You really need to contact Marco again and discuss a few things,’ Claudia was saying briskly.

She wondered what Claudia would say if she knew the truth—knew that Marco had been on the phone to her several times this week, demanding to see her. The whole situation was tearing her apart. Because she wasn’t ready to see him—wasn’t strong enough to discuss the situation with him, as he was demanding.

He’d come round to the flat a couple of times too, but she hadn’t answered the door. She’d wanted to. And maybe that
was the problem—maybe that was why she couldn’t face him just yet. Because she was so scared of needing him—scared of being just like her mother, unable to cope without a man by her side no matter how wrong that man was for her. But she
wasn’t
like that, she reassured herself fiercely. She didn’t need anyone. And she would prove that to herself and to her child.

With determination she reached and took a sip from the glass of water on the desk and tried to concentrate. She really needed to wrap this meeting up.

‘I know Marco Lombardi doesn’t like the press, Isobel, but you’ve already managed to get one interview,’ Claudia reasoned. ‘If you could ring him and get a second that would be wonderful. Perhaps you could even ask him about all these rumours that are flying around regarding his ex-wife’s premiere—is he going to be attending with Lucinda, and is there a chance they might get back together? That kind of thing.’

How was she going to extricate herself from this? Isobel wondered frantically. If she didn’t agree she might never get out of the office, but she didn’t want to cave in. She didn’t want to ask those questions.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Claudia. My first interview was closure on the past for…Mr Lombardi.’ She carefully avoided using his first name. ‘He is totally sick of the press asking questions about him and his ex-wife, and he feels he’s answered them now. If I start to ask more questions he’ll probably just get so mad he won’t even want me to write the piece on his homes.’

‘I’m sure you can tread diplomatically around that—’ Claudia was distracted by a commotion in the outer office, and she broke off to look out through the partition window.

‘Gosh, there is a very good-looking man standing at Rachael’s desk, and he’s causing quite a stir of excitement amongst the staff,’ she observed. Then she frowned. ‘How strange! If I didn’t know better I’d swear that Marco Lombardi
had just walked into the
Daily Banner
offices! That guy is so like him it’s uncanny!’

Isobel could feel her heart starting to slam hard against her chest.

Marco would never come here…would he?
No, he hated the press, she reasoned calmly. This was the last place he would come. Even so, she leaned forward to look through the window, just to check, and to her utter consternation her eyes connected with Marco’s.

‘Do you know, I think that
is
Marco Lombardi!’ Claudia stood up, her eyes alight with excitement. ‘Good heavens, Isobel—how fantastic is this? Quick—ring down to the desk and get the photographers up here. Quick, Isobel!’

But Isobel couldn’t move. She was frozen with trepidation as she watched him moving decisively in her direction. What did he want? What was he going to say?

The next moment the door swung open and he strode in. The atmosphere in the room was almost electric.

‘Mr Lombardi!’ Claudia approached him, and she looked and sounded completely awestruck. ‘This is such an unexpected surprise!’

But Marco wasn’t looking at her; his dark eyes were riveted on Isobel.

‘Well, I was just passing,’ he said coolly. ‘And I thought I’d call in to see you, Isobel—seeing as you never seem to be in when I call by your apartment.’

Isobel was vaguely aware that Claudia’s eyebrows had risen so high they’d almost disappeared into her hairline.

How the hell should she answer that? she wondered furiously. He was going to get her sacked!

So she took a deep breath, tilted her head up, and said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Gosh—you’ve called by the apartment? That was very good of you, Mr Lombardi. I…I just left that message on your answer-machine in the hope we
could…eh…talk about a follow-up article. I never expected you to call round in person!’

For a second there was a flare of anger in the darkness of his eyes. ‘Well, you should have expected that, Izzy… you really should.’

‘Wow—this is absolutely fantastic!’ Claudia was fluttering around as if her numbers had just come up on the lottery. ‘I didn’t know Isobel had already left a message for you! The thing is, we are most eager to do a section on your home in the South of France.’

‘Is that so?’ Marco grated the words sardonically, his eyes never leaving Isobel’s face.

‘Yes, we were just discussing it now, as a matter of fact. We were hoping to persuade you to allow us to send some photographers—and Isobel has lots of questions to put to you about your trip to London and your ex-wife’s premiere.’

‘Well, perhaps I could have a word with your employee alone for a moment, Ms…?’ Marco suddenly transferred his attention from Isobel to the other woman and smiled. She practically swooned.

‘Miss Jones—but please call me Claudia.’

‘Claudia.’ He took her hand and shook it. ‘I think we might just have some crossed wires here, so if you would give us a moment…?’

‘Of course… Take all the time you want. I’ll… Um… I’ll be outside, in my secretary’s office…’

‘Lovely.’ Marco was opening the door for her, and before Claudia could gather her breath she was on the other side of it.

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ Isobel asked shakily as soon as they were alone.

‘Strange—I was just about to ask you the same question,’ he drawled. He regarded her steadily for a few moments, and then took a step closer. ‘Why have you been avoiding me when we have important things to talk about?’

‘I’m not avoiding you. I told you I needed time to come to terms with…this situation.’ She got to her feet and took a step away from him.

‘Take all the time you want, but in the meantime we should be working this out together.’

‘Look, you don’t need to worry about me—’

‘Tough. I
am
worried about you—and about my baby. We need to talk.’

‘Shh!’ Isobel flicked an agitated glance towards the door. ‘Keep your voice down, for heaven’s sake. Remember where you are!’

‘I don’t care where I am, Isobel,’ he told her calmly.

‘Well, you might when tomorrow’s paper comes out and our…our business is broadcast all over the country,’ she reminded him shakily. ‘Marco, I work here! Please… I don’t want my life turned upside down by people asking me questions right now—
questions that I really can’t answer
. I thought you of all people would understand that.’

‘So talk to me now,’ he said steadily, his eyes holding hers.

‘I can’t.’

Her senses felt as if they were in freefall. He was so handsome, so achingly familiar. And he was the person she wanted to open up to most in the world. She wanted to tell him how scared she was—how determined she was to be a good mother and not repeat the mistakes that had been made in her own childhood. How much she wanted this baby…
How much she loved him
…

But there was the problem. He didn’t love her. So how could she say any of those things to him? The last thing she wanted was for him to feel obligated to stay around. She’d rather be on her own. She knew she could manage.

She took a deep breath. ‘Look, Marco, now isn’t the time or the place to talk about this.’

‘So get your bag and leave with me, and we’ll discuss it over dinner.’

‘I can’t.’ She shook her head and glanced past him to the window. Her work colleagues were all pretending to be busy, but she knew that they were all watching through the glass window. ‘Marco, we can’t leave here together—think about it. It’s going to cause too much of a stir.’

‘So what?’

‘I told you—I have to work with these people. They are going to want to know every detail of what you’re saying to me now as it is. Look, I’ve got a scan booked in two weeks. Come with me to that, if you want.’

‘Date and time?’

The abrupt question flustered her. ‘Um…twenty-fifth, at nine-thirty.’

He nodded.

‘Now, please just go.’ She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. ‘I don’t want anyone to know about my pregnancy—it’s too early. And I can hardly think straight, let alone make any decisions.’

‘OK, I’ll go—but you’ve got ten minutes to follow me out to the car.’

‘Marco!’

‘Ten minutes,’ he warned her brusquely. ‘Otherwise I shall come back in.’