The Blackmail Baby (9 page)

‘I’
M SO
glad you’re starting to get to know Emma,’ Chloe said impulsively as she watched Lorenzo playing with the baby—although
playing
wasn’t really the right word to describe it. And Lorenzo didn’t exactly look as if he was having fun.

Nevertheless, he was patiently handing Emma a succession of soft, colourful blocks, which she took, chewed a bit, then threw back at him. She was sitting on a rug surrounded by a circle of cushions because she wasn’t very stable, and Lorenzo and Chloe were sitting facing her.

Next to the baby Lorenzo seemed huge and awkward, and Chloe found herself frowning slightly as she looked at them. It was true that he was a large, powerful man, but despite his sheer size she had never seen him move or hold himself with anything but cat-like poise. Except for when he was with Emma.

‘Yes.’ Lorenzo’s one-word response revealed just
how ill-at-ease he was feeling and Chloe found herself experiencing a hint of frustration.

She didn’t know what was behind Lorenzo’s lack of ease. Was he just finding the whole thing tedious? Or was he totally out of his comfort zone?

Emma was only six months old, and obviously not scintillating intellectual company. But she was fascinating and rewarding to spend time with, if you took a moment to adjust to the change of pace.

Yet Lorenzo’s face was set in stone and he was not attempting to talk to her at all. Chloe wished she knew if that was just because he wasn’t really interested in communicating with her, or if he felt self-conscious and unsure of what to say.

‘She likes those stacking cups—the ones that are behind her,’ Chloe said, wishing she could think of some way to lighten the atmosphere, but Lorenzo’s oppressive silence was making her feel unsettled too.

Lorenzo didn’t reply but he leant over to pick up the cups, with Emma following his movements with her bright little eyes. As he reached past her she turned her head too far and suddenly lost her balance. She rolled over sideways and knocked her head on the stack of plastic cups, and sent up a wail that echoed sharply around the room.

‘Whoa!’ Lorenzo said, picking her up and trying to sit her back on her bottom, but she was wailing and arching her back, and it was clear that she would just fall over again if he let go of her.

Chloe’s fingers twitched with the urge to sweep the baby up, putting both her and Lorenzo out of their misery. But at the same time she didn’t want to barge in. If she always did everything it would only make things harder for Lorenzo.

He really did seem to be making an effort finally. And she’d heard the concern in his voice when Emma went over. She was unbelievably glad that he did seem to be connecting with the baby on some level—even if it was only at the most basic, simple concern over her safety.

‘Here, you take her,’ he said suddenly, dumping the crying baby into Chloe’s arms.

‘Don’t worry,’ Chloe said, jiggling Emma to comfort her. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he had given up so easily. But at least he had tried, she told herself. That had to be something.

‘Worry?’ Lorenzo said curtly. ‘Worry about what?’

‘That you’re not finding it easy,’ Chloe said. ‘That you don’t know what to do right away. It will come—the important thing is that you are starting to connect with her. To feel like her father.’

‘No. I’m not.’

Lorenzo’s bald statement of denial sent a cold chill through Chloe, and she felt an automatic need to dispute it. Of course he was starting to feel like Emma’s father—he had to be.

‘I’m sure that you are,’ she said gently. ‘Maybe
only a little. But the connection between you will grow over time.’

‘I want her to be well and happy—I have made a commitment, and I fully intend to keep my word,’ he said stiffly, ‘but my positive intentions for the child are driven by what is the correct thing to do for her continued well-being. Not by my emotions. Not by feelings I do not have.’

Chloe stared at him, momentarily stunned by the enormity of his statement. But she could sense the frustration bubbling beneath his stern exterior—see that he was keeping something battened down inside him.

‘It’s understandable,’ she said, treading carefully. ‘She’s not your flesh and blood, and she did come into your life suddenly and unexpectedly. As she gets older things will change.’

She paused, hoping for some acceptance from him. Giving him a moment to say something—anything. But he maintained an oppressive silence—a silence that Chloe felt compelled to fill. She couldn’t leave things like this. She just couldn’t.

‘It will be different when you have your own children,’ she said. ‘You’ll have nine months to get used to the idea of a baby. And the first time you lay eyes on it, you will love it immediately.’

‘No,’ Lorenzo bit out. ‘There is no reason to assume I will love my children. I have told you I will do everything in my power to ensure they
feel
loved—that is the only guarantee I can make. And that is the most important thing.’

‘How can you say that?’ Chloe gasped. ‘Of course you will love your own children. It’s a natural instinct.’

‘Not for everyone,’ he said. ‘You and I both know that to our cost. My parents did not love me—my mother sold me when I was five years old to my father as part of her divorce settlement!’

‘But…but surely…at least that means your father loved you,’ Chloe stumbled, horrified by Lorenzo’s outburst. ‘You know
he
wanted you.’

‘I was nothing more than another commodity to him,’ Lorenzo said bitterly.

‘No.’ Chloe shook her head in denial.

‘Don’t tell me what my childhood was like,’ Lorenzo said. ‘And before you start talking about natural parental instincts, perhaps you should remember how your father walked out on your seventh birthday. And your mother—she may have waited till you were grown up, but when was the last time you spoke to her?’

‘Why are you being like this?’ Chloe cried. ‘Why would you say such horrible things?’

‘To stop your unrealistic, idealised expectations,’ Lorenzo grated. ‘I have given you my assurance that I will be a good father—but I can’t promise to feel something that is not under my control.’

‘If you don’t expect to love your children—why
do you even want them?’ Chloe cried, jumping to her feet with Emma still in her arms and backing away from him. ‘What kind of monster are you?’

Suddenly she didn’t want to hear his answer—she couldn’t stand to be near him a moment longer. Clutching Emma tightly, she stumbled out of the room, needing to get as far away from him as possible.

Lorenzo made no attempt to stop her leaving.

His heart was thudding violently in his chest and his palms were damp with sweat.

She had called him a monster—and maybe she was right. But all he could think about was the five-year-old boy he had once been, confused and hurting—and simply wanting his mother’s warm and reassuring presence.

He didn’t know anything about love. He’d never been on the receiving end of it, and he’d never felt it himself for another human being. He didn’t even know if he was capable of it.

Chloe stood on the balcony that led off from the bedroom she shared with Lorenzo. It was high up on a corner of the
palazzo,
and she had a clear view out through the mouth of the Grand Canal and across the Venetian Lagoon. It was an overcast day in June, and the calm water was a muted grey, reflecting the dull, colourless sky.

Out of nowhere she found herself remembering
Lorenzo telling her about the lagoon, how the tranquil surface hid a treacherous underwater terrain of hidden channels and shifting mudflats that had protected the city against attack for centuries.

She couldn’t help thinking about how that applied to Lorenzo, and how she had only just started to discover what lay beneath the surface. She’d been standing there looking out at the water for ages, while Emma took her nap, hoping the soft sea breeze would clear her head. But all she could think about was her terrible argument with him.

At first the discovery that he did not think he was capable of love had shocked and angered her. But then the more she thought about it, the more she had found herself feeling drained and heartsick. How could he have simply given up on love?

On their wedding day in February, when she’d found out that he thought marriages based on love were doomed to failure, she had been upset by how cynical he had been. But finding out that he didn’t even believe that he would be able to love his own children had painted an entirely different picture.

It wasn’t cynicism. It was a total lack of hope.

His life must have been so cold and empty when he was a child, but Chloe realised she knew very little about his childhood years. He had told her so much about the wonderful city he had grown up in that she’d never noticed he talked very little about himself.

Her heart ached when she thought about it. She
couldn’t bear to think of him as a little boy, wandering around this
palazzo
—this huge, architectural monument to his family’s great history—feeling lost and alone. And unloved.

‘If you want out of this marriage, I’ll understand.’ Lorenzo’s deep voice right behind her made her catch her breath.

‘What? No…’

She spun round to face him, and was startled to see a terrible haunted look in his eyes. But then she replayed what he had just said—
if she wanted out of this marriage…

‘You made your feelings about me crystal-clear,’ Lorenzo said. ‘I understand if you don’t want me to be the father of your children.’

‘No, I…’ Chloe’s voice petered out as she remembered what she’d called him. ‘I don’t think you are a monster,’ she said. ‘I didn’t really mean that—I’ve seen your good intentions towards Emma. And I know you’d only want what’s best for your own children.’

‘That’s why I married
you,
’ Lorenzo said. ‘I thought
you
were best for them. I know you love Emma as if she were your own, and that you’d love all your children just as fiercely.’

He turned away for a moment, raking his hands through his short black hair in a gesture that revealed how difficult he was finding it to talk to her. Then he turned back and looked into her eyes with his troubled gaze.

‘But I know that’s not enough,’ he said. ‘Children deserve a father who is able to love them.’

Chloe looked at him, filled with a mixture of shock and despair.

She loved Lorenzo and had committed herself to making their marriage work, despite his lack of confidence in love. But now, out of the blue, he had decided not to bother.

‘Are you telling me you’re not man enough to stick with this?’ She did not hide the disgust from her voice. ‘You’re the one who pushed me into this, who told me it was for the best. And now, just like that, you’re prepared to give up?’

‘I’m not giving up,’ Lorenzo grated, clearly angered by her words. ‘I’ve made a considered decision. This marriage was never what you wanted—not once you knew my true feelings. Why would you fight for it now?’

‘Because I don’t give up that easily!’ Chloe cried. ‘I don’t turn my back on something the moment the going gets tough.’

She pushed past him into the bedroom, intending to take Emma and go for a walk to cool off. But then she remembered what she had been thinking about when Lorenzo first came in. That his troubled,
unloved
childhood had made him lose faith in people. Had made him relinquish hope for love. Maybe that was driving his decision to give up on their marriage.

She turned back to him again, the anger that had been pulsing round her body suddenly going quiet. He had been badly hurt. Maybe he was scared that he would hurt his own children.

‘I don’t give up that easily,’ Chloe repeated, but this time more gently. ‘I know your mother’s desertion hurt you and that you grew up feeling unloved. But history doesn’t have to repeat itself. You have to give yourself a chance.’

She stared up into his blue eyes, which were as overcast and grey-tinged as the sky above them. She wanted to find a way to reach out to him—to help him deal with the fallout of his troubled childhood.

She took a tentative step closer and lifted her hand to touch his cheek.

His reaction was instant. It was as if steel shutters dropped down over the tiny window into his soul that she’d momentarily glimpsed, and he brushed her hand aside abruptly. His rejection of her attempt to make a connection with him was total.

‘Don’t touch me!’ he bit out. ‘I don’t want your sympathy. And I don’t want to hear your amateur psychoanalysis of my life. Pack your bags—we’re leaving for England tonight.’

He stormed out of the bedroom, leaving Chloe staring after him in a state of shock.

Had he just told her that he was divorcing her? That he was taking her back to England because their marriage was over?

T
HE
flight from Venice back to southern England was not long, but it turned out to be one of the most stressful flights Chloe could remember.

Emma, who had so far been very good on aero-planes, started crying the minute they took off. By the time they were flying over the Alps, she was howling at the top of her lungs.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Lorenzo demanded loudly, staring at her with a horrified scowl on his face. ‘Why is she doing that? She’s always been all right before.’

‘I don’t know,’ Chloe said in exasperation—she’d already tried everything she could think of to calm Emma down. There’d been an oppressive tension between Lorenzo and herself since their argument, but his agitation over Emma’s crying was making things even more strained between them. ‘I’ve never seen her like this.’

‘Maybe it’s her ears,’ Lorenzo suddenly sug
gested. ‘We’re very high over the mountains—perhaps her ears are sensitive to the change of pressure.’

‘It could be that.’ Chloe seized on the idea hopefully. She was desperate to find a reason for the poor little thing’s distress, and anxious to find a way to make her feel better. ‘Could you pass me her drink, please? Maybe that will help.’

Sure enough, sucking on her drink did seem to calm Emma a little, and Chloe looked over at Lorenzo with relief.

‘Maybe a doctor should examine her when we arrive,’ Lorenzo suggested. ‘She doesn’t look quite right to me.’

‘Maybe, although I don’t think she has a fever.’ Chloe frowned and tried to look down at Emma, but it was hard to see her properly because of the way she was positioned on her lap. She didn’t want to move her and risk setting her off again. ‘She’s never been so upset before—but it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s something serious.’

She drew her lip into her mouth in consternation. She wanted to do whatever was best for Emma—only she didn’t know whether she was just over-tired from travelling and needed a settled night at home. Or if there was really something wrong.

However, by the time they’d nearly reached the glass-walled house, the decision was made for them. After falling asleep for a short while on leaving the
airport, Emma had woken up fretful and hot. Then she’d starting screaming louder than anything Chloe had ever heard before.

‘We’re taking her to the hospital in the next town,’ Lorenzo said, barking instructions to the limousine driver to change route. ‘They have a children’s accident and emergency unit there—it will be the quickest way to get her seen.’

Chloe tried to sooth Emma anxiously, thankful that it didn’t take long to reach the hospital.

Then all of a sudden the high-pitched crying stopped, and the baby seemed to calm down. But Chloe knew it wasn’t right. From screaming so energetically, Emma had quickly become listless and dopey.

‘Something’s wrong,’ she said, startled by how loud her voice sounded in the sudden silence in the limousine. ‘We’d better find a doctor.’

‘This way.’ Lorenzo helped Chloe out of the vehicle, and quickly scanned the hospital signs to establish where to go.

His heart had started to thud loudly in his chest, and a crushing sensation of helplessness suddenly seized him.

Emma was so tiny. It was his responsibility to take care of her—to make sure she was all right. But he did not know what to do to make her better. The only thing he could do was to take her as quickly as possible to someone who was qualified.

Her little head was resting on Chloe’s shoulder,
but it was rocking from side to side as Chloe walked, as if she did not have the strength to support it. He wanted to reach out and steady her, but he knew Emma was never truly comfortable whenever he tried to hold her. If he touched her, even just to support her head, it would probably just upset her again.

Frustration coiled through him, mixed with anger at his own inadequacy.

Why was he so incapable of taking care of an infant? He wanted to be able to do it—but no matter how hard he tried he always messed it up.

Suddenly he couldn’t bear it any longer. He reached out and drew Chloe to his side, then cupped his large hand around Emma’s head as they walked together.

He felt something warm and wet on his fingers.

‘What’s that?’ he demanded, stopping in his tracks and studying Emma. ‘It’s coming from her ear!’

He swore in Italian, and reached out to take her from Chloe. Fear for the baby suddenly gripped him, and he strode through the doors of the emergency unit knowing implicitly that he would gain the doctor’s attention more quickly.

‘I need a doctor.’ His voice cut through the background buzz of the waiting room. ‘My baby is not well.’

Later that night Lorenzo watched Chloe lay Emma down to sleep in her cot in the glass-walled house. She was suffering from a nasty ear infection, and, although she probably still felt poorly, her temperature was down and the acute pain she had been experiencing had passed, since her eardrum had perforated and released the pressure.

‘It must have hurt so much,’ Chloe said, rubbing her hand over her own ear, as if she was suffering in sympathy.

‘Yes, it must have been excruciating. And I can’t believe that it could happen again,’ Lorenzo replied, remembering what the doctor said about some children being prone to ear infections. ‘I don’t think I can stand to imagine how much pain she’s in if she starts crying like that again.’

‘Let’s hope it’s a one-off thing,’ Chloe said. ‘The doctor said that boys have a greater tendency to ear infections than girls.’

She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. There was an interested light in her green eyes, and suddenly he realised she was watching him pace up and down the bedroom.

He was showing a degree of agitation that she had probably never seen in him before. Hell—he’d rarely seen it in himself before.

‘That was unbearable,’ Lorenzo said. ‘But at least if it does happen again I’ll know what’s going on. I
have never felt so helpless and scared as when I saw that ooze coming out of her ear.’

He shuddered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

‘I think you are starting to feel like a parent,’ Chloe said gently.

He stopped pacing and stared down at her, thinking about what she had said. Maybe she was right.

Earlier, when he’d carried Emma into the examination room with ooze seeping from her ear, his heart had thudded painfully hard in his chest, and a terrible tightness had gripped his throat, making it hurt to speak. He’d waited in a state of agony, until the doctor had said that Emma would be all right, and explained what had happened.

Lorenzo sat down on the bed next to Chloe without speaking and looked at Emma, who was now sleeping in the cot.

‘I think that maybe you are starting to love her,’ Chloe added quietly, reaching out and taking his hand in both of hers.

A tremor passed through Lorenzo. And he squeezed Chloe’s hands with his.

Over the next few days Chloe spent all her time caring for Emma. The antibiotics seemed to do their job and the baby quickly bounced back from her ear infection, becoming her normal sunny self in next to no time.

Unfortunately Lorenzo also reverted back to his typical character—emotionally withdrawn and uncommunicative—leaving Chloe feeling confused and lost.

When they’d flown back from Venice, she’d been convinced that their marriage was at breaking point—that he was bringing her to England to divorce her and cut her and Emma out of his life. She was no longer worried about that, because Lorenzo finally seemed to have made a genuine connection with Emma.

The night they’d returned from the hospital and sat together holding hands, Chloe had also felt that they’d made real progress in their personal relationship. Lorenzo had begun to reveal the depth of his concern for Emma, and for the first time ever he had not rebuffed Chloe’s suggestion that he was starting to experience parental feelings—and possibly even the beginnings of love for the baby.

Chloe had fallen asleep that night with a newfound hope warming her heart. Of course it was wonderful for Lorenzo and Emma, but she also dared to believe it would bring them all closer together as a family. And if Lorenzo could feel the beginnings of love for Emma—maybe there was a chance that he could grow to love her too.

But she had been mistaken.

As the days went by Lorenzo never mentioned the conversation that had given Chloe such hope
again, and his taciturn mood meant she didn’t dare to raise the subject. He did start spending extra time with Emma—but his attitude towards Chloe did not appear to change at all, apart from becoming even more reticent if that was possible.

She began to feel a shadow of despair creeping over her. It was as if as soon as Lorenzo’s emotional barricades had started to break down, he had deliberately set about building them up again.

Chloe spent her time wandering around the house and garden with Emma. After a while she started to feel cooped up and claustrophobic—it was a large property, but there was nowhere else for her to go. The winding country lane had no footpath beside it, and wasn’t suitable for walking along, especially with a pushchair.

She began to feel her life was on hold. Lorenzo wasn’t communicating with her, and she found herself seeking Mrs Guest’s comforting presence more and more.

‘Emma looks so much better now,’ the housekeeper said, looking across from the kitchen sink, where she was preparing vegetables.

‘Yes, she does,’ Chloe agreed, pausing for a moment to wipe a splodge of apple purée off the baby’s cheek. She had taken to giving Emma her meals in the kitchen—it made her feel less lonely.

‘A much better appetite,’ Mrs Guest added.

‘Yes, she’s nearly finished this,’ Chloe said. ‘Do you know if Lorenzo has any other cars here, besides the limo and the convertible?’ she added, suddenly changing the subject. ‘Something a bit more ordinary?’

Mrs Guest laughed.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I can ask my husband if you’d like. Are you thinking of going out on your own with Emma, and want to drive something you’re more used to?’

‘It was just an idea,’ Chloe replied, popping the last tiny spoonful of fruit into Emma’s mouth. ‘There’s no need for you to ask—I can do that myself.’

‘I’ll clean up here,’ Mrs Guest said, crossing the room to wipe over the high chair. ‘Why don’t you take Emma out into the garden? The forecast said rain later—so you might not have a chance if you wait.’

Chloe followed Mrs Guest’s suggestion, and went outside with Emma to continue their exploration of the garden. She was so grateful that it was a vibrant time of year in nature, with long daylight hours ensuring plenty of growth and changes in the garden every day. It gave her something to concentrate her attention on—and Chloe realised it was something she had missed living in the city.

The purple irises beside the pond had faded, but the water lilies had come out in a mass of impres
sive cream and white flowers. And the buds she’d seen on the roses climbing over the pergola had opened into full, wonderfully scented blooms.

Mr Guest had put up bird-nesting boxes in a couple of big trees near the pond, and Chloe loved to see the acrobatic blue tit parents coming and going with a flash of blue and yellow feathers. She sat down on a bench with Emma on her lap to watch them. Mr Guest had told her he expected the young birds to fledge any day—and Chloe thought it would be amazing to catch sight of the fledglings leaving the nest box.

A few minutes later a crunch on the gravel path told her that someone was approaching. It was probably Lorenzo, because the friendly gardener usually went about his work whistling cheerfully.

Her stomach turned over with nerves, and then she looked up straight into Lorenzo’s blue eyes.

‘Hello,’ he said, sitting down beside her and reaching for Emma. ‘How is she today?’ he asked, turning Emma round to face him with none of the awkwardness he’d displayed only a few days before. Then he held her standing on his knees, so she could partially take her weight with her own legs and bounce up and down, as if Lorenzo’s lap was her own private trampoline.

‘She’s fine,’ Chloe said shortly, unaccountably irritated by how natural Lorenzo now seemed with Emma.

It didn’t seem fair that her stomach screwed up in knots when he approached, and yet apparently he’d completely got over his uncertain floundering with the infant.

‘I have been thinking about our plan to have more children,’ Lorenzo said.

‘Our plan?’ Chloe turned sideways on the bench and stared at him. ‘I thought our plan was to wait until things are settled—until we are properly used to our new circumstances.’

Lorenzo’s comment seemed to be completely out of the blue. Surely he was not about to say that he thought they should start trying for a baby. They’d only been back together for a few weeks. To Chloe it still seemed as though everything was up in the air.

‘We agreed that we want children,’ Lorenzo said, ‘and I can’t see any point in waiting. It would be better for Emma if our first biological child is as close in age to her as possible.’

‘I can’t believe you’re serious!’ Chloe gasped. ‘Have you forgotten what you said to me just before we left Venice? You were ready to give up on this marriage. In fact I thought that was why you’d brought me back to England—so you could leave me here, then go and get on with your life.’

‘I have not forgotten.’ Lorenzo’s voice was strained, as if he did not appreciate being reminded of that particular conversation. ‘But things are different now.’

‘No, they’re not!’ Chloe exclaimed. ‘Just because you’ve had your own personal epiphany—realising you
are
capable of basic human feelings towards a baby—doesn’t mean we are ready to bring more children into this marriage.’

‘You are a natural mother. I thought having your own baby would give you a focus in your life. Help you move on after losing your friend,’ Lorenzo said calmly, despite Chloe’s rising agitation.

‘Don’t patronise me!’ Chloe gasped. ‘I’ve got Emma to look after. I don’t need another baby to help me forget my friend.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that—of course I am not telling you to forget your friend. But it doesn’t seem as if you have fully committed to this marriage. I thought maybe a baby—’