The Italian's Baby of Passion: The Italian's Secret Baby / One-Night Baby / The Italian's Secret Child

‘Yes, it was necessary for me to bring Philip; he is your doctor.’

‘And as I have told him, I fainted, nothing more. You are fussing like an old woman, Roman,’ she told her son scornfully. Graciously she extended her arm for the suited figure to apply a blood-pressure cuff. ‘Normal?’ she asked as the medic removed the stethoscope from his ears.

The doctor nodded. ‘If all my patients were this healthy I’d be out of business,’ he told her cheerfully.

Natalia shot her son a triumphant look. ‘I told you so,’ she murmured complacently.

‘But you will carry out further tests?’ Roman addressed his query to his friend.

‘I could, but—’

‘Do them.’

Natalia gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘This is exactly why I didn’t want them to ring you. You come rushing here when I’m sure you have a million more important things to do.’

‘Several million things, actually,’ Roman corrected, the corners of his wide, sensual mouth lifting in a sarcastic smile. ‘Naturally all much more important than my mother’s health.’

‘Well, I’m glad to see that family is still important to you, Roman.’

One dark brow quirked as, with slightly narrowed eyes, he scanned his mother’s face. Never slow when it came to reading between the lines, he asked, ‘Am I missing something here?’

‘You spoke to Scarlet on the phone, I believe.’

‘Scarlet—the blonde?’

‘She is not blonde. Though I suppose she might have been blonde when you knew her, though women usually go from brunette to blonde, not the other way.’

‘I don’t and didn’t know her.’

‘Well, why did you say she was blonde?’

‘She sounded blonde.’

His mother looked at him blankly. ‘Sounded blonde? Really, Roman, do not insult my intelligence,’ she rebuked coldly.

‘Did she say I knew her?’ He was accustomed to women trying to get to him, but if this one thought she could use his mother to do so she could think again!

‘Relax, Roman. She hardly mentioned you at all, which,’ Natalia added heavily, ‘is hardly surprising,’ his mother reproached. ‘This must have been a very painful experience for her.’

‘Told you I threatened her, did she? Well, she deserved it. How could anyone not have the wit to get medical help?’

Natalia stared at her son for a moment, then appeared to come to a decision. She turned to the doctor. ‘Philip, dear, do you mind? I’ve got something I need to say to Roman.’

The doctor clicked closed his case. ‘Of course, no problem.’

Roman flashed his friend a brief nod. ‘We’ll see you back at the clinic in fifteen minutes.’

Other than give an exasperated click of her tongue, Natalia did not respond to his comments.

‘Is this going to take long, Mother?’ Roman asked as the door closed.

‘Should I have made an appointment?’ Natalia enquired spikily. ‘You may be a very important man, but you might want to remember that you’re running the company because I persuaded your father to retire.’

It had actually been his father’s heart attack that had persuaded him and his equally reluctant brother to put their careers on hold and divide their father’s responsibilities. The injection of fresh blood and new ideas had produced results that had seen the O’Hagan family’s fortunes grow rapidly.

Unfortunately the success had increased, not lessened, the tension between father and sons.

‘I’ll pass on the fact that two minutes ago you were telling me my time was too important to spend it doing anything as frivolous as rushing to my mother’s side.’

‘Don’t change the subject, Roman.’

‘I wouldn’t dare if I knew what it was. Are you going to tell me any time soon what exactly I’ve done?’ Roman drawled. ‘I know all the signs,’ he added grimly. ‘I’ve searched my conscience and nothing immediately springs to mind. I must admit I’m curious.’

Natalia’s eyes flashed as her son gave a smile that was both cynical and charming in equal measure. She didn’t smile back, but instead snatched from his fingers the pen he was idly doodling with and banged it down on the blotter.

‘Don’t do that.’ Her sons had inherited their father’s Irish charm, her own dark Italian looks and, sadly, neither had very many scruples when it came to using either to get what they wanted. Roman had been getting pretty much what he wanted all his life, with one notable exception.

A frown formed between his dark, strongly delineated brows as Roman studied his mother’s face. ‘Has something happened? Dad…?’

Natalia heard the anxiety enter his deep voice, roughening the velvet-smooth tone, and immediately shook her head reassuringly. Eyes trained on his face, she took a deep, shuddering sigh. ‘Scarlet Smith.’ She flung the name like an accusation.

‘The woman with the smart tongue and the bad attitude who is not a blonde. If you want to know anything else you’re going to have to go elsewhere because that about exhausts my knowledge of the woman.’

Natalia searched her son’s face for a moment before her body sagged in relief. ‘You didn’t know, then.’ She sighed. ‘I didn’t think you could have,’ she revealed.

‘Didn’t know and still don’t,’ he inserted drily.

‘She must have changed her name, or maybe she gave you a false name?’

‘Are we back on the not-blonde?’

‘I don’t approve of everything you do, Roman.’

Roman’s expression became stoical as he prepared to endure one of his mother’s lectures on his lifestyle with a modicum of patience—patience he would not have extended to anyone else who chose to criticise him.

‘But I simply couldn’t imagine you abandoning your responsibilities and letting your own son grow up not even knowing who you are.’

CHAPTER THREE

ROMAN, whose hard features had begun to relax into a rueful half-smile at his mother’s initial comments, stiffened as she delivered her killer punchline.

‘Son!’ Pallor crept up under his even olive-toned Latin complexion. ‘If that’s your idea of a joke?’ he grated.

‘I’m hardly likely to joke about such a thing,’ Natalia said. ‘Look, I can see this must have come as a shock to you.’

‘That’s very understanding of you.’ Roman’s irony was wasted on his mother. ‘I don’t have a son and I’ve never met a…’ his forehead creased as he tried to recall the non-blonde’s name ‘…Scarlet Smith?’

‘Yes, lovely girl.’ She glanced across at her son and shook her head.