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of McKenzie when you work?’

      ‘My mother.’

      ‘I bet she wouldn’t mind staying on for an extra hour.’

      Paige knew for a fact she wouldn’t. But that wasn’t the point. She wanted to see her daughter. She missed McKenzie desperately when she was at the hospital and resented the hell out of Arnie for putting her in a position where she had to work to support them both.

      Paige took in the lazy grace with which he lounged in the doorway, the charming smile on his face and those dimples, which thankfully the mask had hidden all day. What did an Italian playboy know of her mundane, hand-to-mouth, practically housebound existence?

      ‘Sorry. I can’t.’

      Valentino pushed out of the doorway and sauntered towards her. He placed two hands on the desk where Paige was sitting. From his height advantage he could see the ridges of her prominent collarbones. And the unlined curve of breast which told him she wasn’t wearing a bra under her modest T-shirt. ‘You know you want to.’

      This close he looked better still. And smelled absolutely divine. She put her pen down and plastered a bored look on her face. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, with your carefree, different-girl-every-night lifestyle, but I’m a mother.’ She said it slowly so he understood. ‘At the end of the work day I go home to my child. I even look forward to it. That’s what a parent does.’

      Valentino gripped the desk hard. She was wrong. He did understand. There’d been a girl once, a long time ago. And, briefly, a baby.

      He frowned. He hadn’t thought about Daniella, about the baby that never was, in years. He pushed off the desk lest the urge to speak about it, to tell her he did know, overcame him.

      He folded his arms. ‘Suit yourself.’

      Paige nodded. She intended to. His dimples and his lazy lounging had gone and he was all dark brooding intensity. It was equal parts sinister and sexy. ‘Hadn’t you better be going?’ she asked pointedly as the silence between them grew.

      ‘I was wondering if you’d had a chance to think over McKenzie’s operation?’

      Had a chance? She’d thought about little else all day. And she knew she didn’t have it in her to postpone again over something so petty in comparison to her daughter’s deafness. Not when she had the services of a world-class surgeon and a place on his Monday-morning list.

      Still, her pride, all she had left these days, made the words difficult and she hoped she wouldn’t choke on them. ‘Yes, I have.’ She nodded, dropping her gaze to the top button of his shirt. ‘I’ll not be cancelling.’

      Valentino regarded her for a moment. He could see how hard it had been for her to say the words. He hadn’t wanted that. He’d sensed from the beginning that Paige was like a tightly coiled spring, just holding it all together. It wasn’t his object to break her. Not like this anyway. ‘Good. I guess I’ll see you Monday morning.’

      And he turned away, heading for the door.

      ‘Wait.’

      He turned back. She’d risen from her seat and was looking at him with desperation in her eyes.

      ‘I need to ask you something. A…favour.’

      Valentino clenched his fists at his sides. He could tell she was uncomfortable asking something that was obviously quite personal to someone who, apart from one frenzied night two months ago, was a relative stranger. ‘Okay.’

      ‘I want to be in there. With McKenzie.’

      Valentino took a moment searching for a way to soften the instant denial that had sprung to his lips at her completely unethical suggestion. No wonder she’d looked so hesitant. ‘Paige.’

      ‘Not scrubbing in or anything. Just…there. Nearby.’

      He searched her big grey eyes. Saw the worry. The anguish. ‘Bella, you know I can’t allow that.’

      Paige shut her eyes. This was so unfair. Harry would have. She felt like she was about to burst into tears and his endearment didn’t help. She would not break down in front of him. ‘Don’t. Don’t call me bella.’

      ‘You need to be a mother on Monday,’ he murmured. ‘McKenzie needs you to be a mother.’

      ‘Harry would have allowed it,’ she said, defiance in her gaze.

      ‘No, Paige, I doubt very much he would have.’

      Paige swallowed hard. ‘Please.’

      Valentino wanted to go to her. He could see her struggle, knew this was difficult. But he could also see she wouldn’t want his sympathy. He ground his feet into the carpet. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

      Paige bit down hard on the lump in her throat. ‘Of course I do.’ And she did. She knew McKenzie was safe in Valentino’s skilled hands. But she’d never been apart from her, had been by her daughter’s side through all her ups and downs. She couldn’t let her go through this momentous surgery all alone.

      ‘Then let me do my job. And when it’s over, you can do yours.’

      Paige swallowed another block of emotion welling in her throat, desperate to persuade Valentino. ‘Is this about the drinks?’

      Valentino stilled, her implication smarting. His eyes narrowed as he tempered his words. ‘Be very careful, bella. I don’t like your insinuation.’

      To her horror a tear squeezed out before she could blink it away and she was as vulnerable and as exposed to a man as she’d ever been. Not since Arnie had walked out on her after Daisy’s death had she felt so completely at the mercy of a man.

      What did he want? Did he want her to beg?

      That she wouldn’t do.

      Valentino stepped towards her as the tear trekked unhindered down her cheek. ‘Paige.’

      She dashed it away and held out her hands to ward him off. ‘Go. Just go, damn it!’

      Her words pulled him up short and as much as the doctor in him urged him closer, the man knew she was only just holding it together and the last thing she’d want was to break down in front of him.

      He nodded. ‘See you Monday.’ Paige waited for him to leave before flopping back in the chair and bursting into tears.

      Chapter Three

      PAIGE was finger painting with McKenzie when the doorbell chimed on Sunday afternoon.

      Who on earth could that be?

      She just didn’t get visitors, other than her parents and they’d left a few hours ago. And if she did, she liked to have prior knowledge, screen them first. The days of people just popping in were long gone. Even Nat knew to call first before she brought Juliano around for a play.

      Paige tried to control, as much as she could without making her daughter a virtual prisoner, the numbers of people she exposed McKenzie to. The more outside contacts, the greater the risk to McKenzie’s less than robust immune system. Paige knew only too well that a mild illness a normal toddler could shake off in a few days usually landed McKenzie in hospital on a drip.

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