CHAPTER ELEVEN
EVA KNEW SHE was just going through the motions the following morning, automatically waking as she responded to hearing the twins calling out to her, before getting up to pull on her robe and going through to the adjoining bedroom, carrying them both through to the kitchen and putting them in their high chairs as she prepared their food, talking to them encouragingly in between bites of their breakfast.
And all the time she did so Eva was totally aware of Michael as he sat broodingly across the kitchen table from her drinking a cup of coffee from the pot he had obviously made earlier, already showered and dressed for work in his dark three-piece business suit and pale blue silk shirt and tie.
As aware as she was that she felt completely numb inside...
Last night had been...beautiful, incredible, pleasure unlike anything else Eva had ever experienced.
It had also ultimately been more painful than anything she had ever experienced...
Because Michael had made it clear he hadn’t made love to her because he was falling in love with her. No, Michael had desired her, and it was a desire he had more than satisfied last night. To the point that his only response afterwards had been to worry about whether or not he might have accidentally made her pregnant by not using contraception!
Well, thank goodness that wasn’t even a possibility, because there was no way, after the things Michael had said to her last night, that Eva would ever have told him of that pregnancy even if it had occurred.
As it was, the only thing that interested Eva this morning was booking a flight home for herself and the twins.
‘I have no choice but to go into the office for a while this morning.’ Michael’s voice was huskily low. ‘But only long enough to make the arrangements for Pierre to take over my appointments for today, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t leave before the two of us have had a chance to speak again.’
Eva raised eyes of dull violet as she looked across the table at him. ‘We have nothing left to say to each other.’
‘I disagree,’ Michael bit out tersely, able to feel the nerve pulsing in his clenched jaw, and knowing, from looking in the mirror as he shaved earlier, that his face was pale and grim this morning.
Not surprising, when he had barely slept all night as he replayed in his mind, over and over again, that last disastrous conversation with Eva.
She shook her head. ‘I realised long ago that the only reason you insisted on my staying here with you in the first place was because you wanted to avoid the possibility of my repeating any of my accusations regarding the twins’ paternity to anyone else. Don’t even try to deny it, Michael, because you and I both know it’s the truth,’ she warned sharply as he would have spoken.
‘Yes,’ he sighed in acknowledgement. ‘But we’ve both moved on from there—’
‘I haven’t,’ she assured him flatly. ‘And I give you my word that I won’t do or say anything more about it until after I hear from either you again or your brother Rafe. But I am leaving today, Michael. Whether you like it or not,’ she added firmly, uncompromisingly.
Michael didn’t like it, knew there was so much more he and Eva had to say to each other before he could even think of letting her go. Before he could bear to think of her leaving him.
But they were things he needed to say that the determined expression on Eva’s face, as she looked across at him so coldly, said that she didn’t want to hear from him. Which was a pity, because Michael was just as determined that she would hear him out.
He stood up abruptly. ‘I will be back later this morning, Eva, and I would deem it a courtesy to me if you didn’t leave until after we’ve spoken again.’
‘A courtesy to you...?’ She looked up at him.
‘Yes,’ he bit out grimly.
That derision now curled the fullness of Eva’s lips. Lips that Michael had kissed and enjoyed last night, as he had kissed and enjoyed all of her...!
‘Isn’t it a little late for formal politeness between the two of us?’ she taunted as her thoughts obviously ran along similar lines to his.
Michael’s mouth tightened. ‘Possibly,’ he conceded. ‘But I’m asking anyway.’
Eva looked up at him for several more seconds before releasing her breath on a long sigh. ‘Okay.’ She nodded wearily. ‘But that’s all I’m agreeing to,’ she added sharply. ‘I fully intend to book those flights today.’
‘The D’Angelo jet—’
‘Has absolutely no place in my own or the twins’ immediate plans,’ Eva assured him sharply, just wishing Michael would go and leave her to suffer her misery in peace; quiet would just be asking too much when in the company of the boisterous twins! ‘The sooner you go, Michael, the sooner you’ll be back, and then I’ll be able to leave,’ she added pointedly.
Michael bit back his own sharp reply, knowing now, in the presence of the twins, wasn’t the time or the place to have the conversation he and Eva needed to have. ‘I should be back in an hour or so.’ He nodded tersely.
‘Don’t rush back on my account,’ Eva dismissed.
How, Michael wondered, had the two of them gone from that incredible lovemaking last night to such cold and clipped politeness this morning?
Because he had behaved like an idiot, came the immediate reply. Because he hadn’t explained himself to Eva properly last night. Because he should have insisted then that she listen to what he had to say. But hadn’t.
And he had no idea whether or not Eva would even allow him to attempt to correct that omission later this morning...
* * *
It was almost an hour to the minute later that the doorbell to the apartment rang, Eva placing the twins in the playpen before going to answer it. ‘Did you forget your keys—?’ She broke off with a frown as she saw that it wasn’t Michael standing outside in the hallway.
‘Pierre...?’ she questioned uncertainly. ‘Has something happened to Michael?’ she added sharply. She might be angry with him, disappointed in him, but she still loved him, and would be devastated if anything happened to him.
‘Mr D’Angelo...?’ Pierre repeated with a puzzled frown. ‘No, I—I haven’t seen him this morning.’
Eva’s eyes widened. ‘But he was coming in to the gallery to speak with you...’
Pierre Dupont grimaced. ‘I haven’t been to the gallery yet this morning either.’
Eva gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘Then I don’t understand...?’
‘No, of course you do not.’ The Frenchman sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his already tousled dark hair. ‘It is you with whom I wish to speak,’ he added grimly.
‘Me?’ Eva looked at Pierre more closely, realising his appearance was dishevelled. He had a pale face, and a dark growth of unshaven stubble on the squareness of his jaw, and a suit that looked as if he might have slept in it. And his perfect English was no longer as perfect... ‘What’s this all about, Pierre...?’ Eva prompted warily.
‘I would rather not discuss it outside in the hallway... May I come in, please?’ he prompted huskily. ‘I promise I will not take up too much of your time.’
Eva wasn’t sure inviting Pierre into Michael’s apartment was a good idea, considering the way Michael had reacted the last time he had caught Eva talking privately with his assistant manager. But as she was still angry with Michael, and leaving Paris later today—she had managed to get three seats on the afternoon flight to England—she didn’t particularly care what Michael thought if he should arrive home and find her talking privately with Pierre!
‘By all means, come in.’ She stepped back to open the door wider, leaving Pierre to enter the apartment and close the door behind him as she hurried back to the sitting room to check on the twins; they had been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes.
Although what Pierre Dupont could possibly want to discuss with her she had no idea...
* * *
Michael was in a foul temper by the time he let himself back into his apartment two hours later, his morning not having gone in the least the way he’d wanted it to. First that stilted conversation with Eva, and her insistence that she was leaving today. Then Pierre hadn’t turned up for work, resulting in his having to call Pierre’s wife, who had informed him that Pierre wasn’t at home, either, so must be on his way to the gallery.
Michael had stayed at the gallery for another half an hour expecting Pierre to arrive with an explanation for his tardiness, aware with every second that ticked by that Eva could even now be on her way to the airport and her flight back to London; he had absolutely no doubt that if there was a flight available Eva would take it, and to hell with his wanting to speak with her before she left!
In the end Michael had just walked out, leaving a slightly perplexed Marie in charge at the gallery while he hurried back to his apartment. And Eva, he hoped.
It was extremely quiet in the apartment as he stepped into the hallway, the sort of empty silence that would once have filled him with satisfaction but today only succeeded in filling him with trepidation. He was too late, Eva had already gone, and the twins with her!
His shoulders dropped in defeat as he entered the sitting room, for a moment not sure he was seeing what he thought he was as he looked at the twins sleeping peacefully in their pushchair, two packed suitcases beside them, and Eva sitting silently in one of the armchairs, as pale and beautiful as a Bellini statue. ‘Eva...?’ Michael questioned softly.
She turned to look at him, her eyes deep purple wells in the pale alabaster of her face. ‘It’s all over, Michael.’ She spoke flatly, unemotionally.
His heart seemed to somersault in his chest. ‘At least give me the chance to explain—’
‘There’s absolutely nothing for you to explain, Michael,’ she assured him in that same unemotional voice. ‘Not any more.’ She turned away. ‘My taxi should be here in a few minutes, but—I’m glad I’ve had this chance to talk to you before I leave. To apologise.’ She drew in a ragged breath. ‘You were right, Michael—it wasn’t Rafe.’
He looked at her blankly. ‘What wasn’t Rafe?’
She still didn’t look at him as she gave a humourless smile. ‘He isn’t the twins’ father.’
‘He isn’t?’
‘No,’ she confirmed tightly.
‘How can you possibly know that?’
‘Possibly because I had a visit this morning from the man who is!’
Michael gave a dazed shake of his head. ‘What? Who? How would he know to come here?’ he questioned sharply. ‘No one else even knew you were staying here!’
Eva still couldn’t look at Michael but she could hear the confusion in his voice. ‘Did you see Pierre at the gallery this morning?’ she prompted huskily.
Michael gave a start. ‘No, he didn’t turn up for work today—Pierre?’ he echoed sharply. ‘Are you telling me that Pierre is the twins’ father?’ His eyes were wide with shock.
That was exactly what Eva was telling him!
Pierre Dupont. Married Pierre Dupont. Married and father of two Pierre Dupont. And now—now, it seemed, the father of four!
Eva stood up restlessly. ‘Apparently he hadn’t realised, had no idea of my connection to Rachel until I mentioned her name yesterday morning. When he looked after the twins for me he noticed—’ She breathed deeply. ‘He realised then that, apart from the colour of their eyes, Sam and Sophie look very much like his other two children. Which was when he did the maths, and came up with the correct answer that he’s the twins’ father. He was the one involved with Rachel when she came to Paris last year, Michael,’ she explained as he still looked stunned. ‘The two of them met right here in the gallery, and, because Pierre is married, he gave her a false name—’
‘Rafe D’Angelo...’
‘Yes,’ Eva confirmed dully. ‘In the certainty, he said, that there would never be any reason for her to realise he had lied,’ she added bitterly. ‘Apparently he’s done it before, several times in fact, and after that first day he always arranges to meet those women for lunch or dinner well away from the gallery.’ Eva still felt deeply shocked by Pierre’s confession this morning, hadn’t so much as thought of him as a possibility for being the twins’ father. How could she have when Rachel had told her quite clearly that the father of the twins was Rafe D’Angelo?
But Eva could visualise it all now, Rachel and Pierre’s initial meeting, the mutual attraction, the married Pierre giving Rachel a false name so that he might carry out his illicit affair with the fun-loving Englishwoman. Now that Eva knew the truth, the handsome and charming Pierre was exactly the sort of man Rachel would have been attracted to!
Which explained why, when Eva had thought Michael was Rafe that first day, she’d had such difficulty imagining Rachel and Michael together; Michael was far too complex a character for Rachel’s tastes.
But, unfortunately, not Eva’s...
She loved Michael with all of those complexities. Maybe because of those complexities; he certainly wasn’t a man who would ever bore her, as she had so often been bored by men in the past. As for their lovemaking...! Michael was as complex in that as he was in everything else, which deepened the connection to far beyond the physical. To a degree that Eva knew no other man would ever measure up to the depth of passion and pleasure she had shared with Michael last night.
None of which altered the fact that she had been wrong. That Rafe D’Angelo wasn’t the twins’ father after all.
That she and the twins had been staying at Michael’s apartment under false pretences...
And she couldn’t stay here a moment longer, had to leave, before she broke down completely. ‘So I was wrong all along, Michael, and you were right; Rafe isn’t the twins’ father,’ she repeated evenly. ‘And I apologise for—for any distress I may have caused you and your family.’
‘Eva—’
‘The twins and I are booked on the afternoon flight back to England—’ she bent to collect her shoulder bag from beside the chair where she had been sitting moments ago ‘—and the taxi will be arriving any minute to take us to the airport, so—’
‘Eva, I’m sorry!’
She did look at him now, not feeling in the least encouraged by the grimness of Michael’s expression as he looked across at her with those unreadable black eyes. ‘You have nothing to apologise for, Michael.’ She gave a weary shake of her head. ‘I made a mistake—God, when I think of the even worse mistake I could have made if you hadn’t stopped me!’ She groaned achingly. ‘I could have just barged into Rafe’s life with my accusations and ruined his marriage before it had even begun!’
Michael was very aware of that, had always been aware of that, which was why he had behaved in the way that he had. But that wasn’t what concerned him now... ‘What is Pierre going to do about this situation?’
Eva closed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall as she caught her bottom lip briefly between her teeth. ‘I— He has to talk to his wife. Confess all, I suppose—no hiding the fact that he’s a serial adulterer with the evidence of Sam and Sophie to prove it!—and see how she reacts to the news of the twins’ existence.’
‘How does he think she’ll react?’
Eva’s smile was bitter as she opened her eyes again. ‘He has absolutely no idea, has apparently been up all night going over and over in his mind what he should do. He finally decided to come to me this morning and confess all.’ She grimaced. ‘Confessing his infidelities to his wife may be a little more difficult.’
‘Deservedly so,’ Michael bit out grimly, disgusted by his assistant manager’s behaviour, in not only using Archangel to meet these other women, but using his brother’s name to do so.
The latter Michael believed the three brothers should perhaps take some of the blame for; none of them had ever been at any of the Archangel galleries long enough to have realised Pierre’s duplicity. Something Michael intended dealing with when he spoke to his two brothers next, although the fact that they were now all based at a single gallery, Gabriel in London with Bryn, Rafe in New York with Nina, and Michael in Paris, would go a long way to ensure that nothing like this ever happened again.
At the moment it was Eva and the twins who were of prime importance to him. ‘What are the options?’
She swallowed again. ‘She divorces him, taking his other two children with her. She stays with him, and the two of them continue on as before. Or—or she stays with him and—and agrees to accept the twins into their own family—’
‘Over my dead body!’ Michael exploded as he crossed the room to lightly grasp the tops of Eva’s arms. ‘That isn’t going to happen, Eva,’ he bit out determinedly. ‘I simply won’t let it.’
She gave a shake of her head. ‘Isn’t it exactly what you warned me might happen if Rafe was their father?’
‘That was before I knew you.’ He scowled. ‘Before I realised how devoted you are to Sam and Sophie, the sacrifices you’ve made to keep them.’ His expression softened as he looked down at the two sleeping babies. ‘You love them as if they were your own.’
‘Yes. Well.’ Eva cleared her throat as her voice broke emotionally. ‘The thing is, they aren’t mine.’ She sighed. ‘And Pierre and his wife have a ready-made family to offer them—’
‘A family that consists of a womanising father and a long-suffering wife!’
She gave a stiff shrug of her shoulders. ‘And a judge would probably still consider that a better option for the twins’ future than a woman on her own.’
‘It isn’t going to happen, Eva,’ Michael bit out grimly.
She looked up at him ruefully. ‘I realise you’re a powerful man, Michael, but I don’t see how even you can stop it if that’s what Pierre and his wife decide to do.’
‘I’ll find a way. No one is taking the twins from you,’ Michael assured grimly. ‘You love them. They’re your children now. They belong with you.’
She smiled sadly. ‘It’s kind of you to say so after what you initially thought of me—’
‘I was wrong, damn it!’
‘But it doesn’t change the fact that Pierre is their biological father,’ Eva continued firmly.
‘That has yet to be proven. Maybe—’
‘Careful, Michael,’ she warned tautly. ‘My sister may have been many things—too trusting obviously being one of them, considering the way she fell for Pierre’s practised lies—but taking two lovers at the same time was not something she would ever have done. Pierre is the twins’ father.’
And Michael couldn’t accept that Sam and Sophie might be taken away from Eva. Having come to know the three of them, having witnessed Eva’s love and devotion to her dead sister’s twin babies, and their contentment with her, it was cruel in the extreme to think of them ever being taken away from her.
His mouth tightened. ‘How did you leave things with Pierre?’
Eva sighed heavily as she gave a shake of her head. ‘I told him that I have every intention of leaving Paris today, and gave him my address in England where he can contact me once he knows what his intentions are.’ Tears once again blurred her vision. ‘I need to go home to England, Michael. I feel— I feel, probably mistakenly, that there’s a sense of safety there for the twins and me.’ She was also, Eva knew, hoping that once she was back in her flat in London with the twins she might be able to think of this time spent in Paris as having merely been a bad dream.
A bad dream she had brought completely on herself, Eva accepted, by seeking out the twins’ father in the first place...
But she hadn’t expected to discover that Rafe D’Angelo wasn’t the twins’ father, after all.
Any more than she had expected to meet Michael D’Angelo and fall in love with him...
Or to be made to realise quite so painfully, after they had made love last night, that it was a love he would never return.
She blinked back the tears and straightened determinedly as the doorbell to the apartment rang. ‘That will be my taxi.’
Michael scowled darkly. ‘I’ll drive you to the airport—’
‘I would rather you didn’t,’ Eva cut in stiltedly. ‘Far better we say our goodbyes here, Michael.’ She couldn’t quite meet the darkness of his gaze—couldn’t look at Michael at all without breaking down completely—so instead gazed sightlessly over his left shoulder. ‘You’ve been very kind—’
‘I’m not kind—’
‘Yes, you are,’ Eva contradicted ruefully. ‘Beneath that armour of cold aloofness you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. The twins adore you,’ she added, as if that settled the matter. ‘I really do have to go now,’ she insisted as the doorbell rang for a second time.
Michael felt totally helpless to stop her as he looked at the determination in Eva’s expression. ‘What about the E J Foster exhibition—?’ He broke off with a wince as Eva gave a rueful laugh. ‘I can’t believe I just said that!’
‘You’re a businessman first and foremost.’ She shrugged as she walked over to take charge of the pushchair. ‘If you’re still serious about that—’
‘I am.’
She nodded. ‘Then I’ll be in touch.’
‘When?’ Michael prompted as he carried the two suitcases over to the door for her, knowing his question about the exhibition had nothing to do with business and everything to do with his seeing Eva again.
‘I really don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Everything is so up in the air at the moment—I’ll call you,’ she said again as she opened the door to greet the taxi driver.
‘I’ll bring the cases down—’
‘I really would rather you didn’t, Michael.’ Eva turned to look at him, tears shimmering in those violet-coloured eyes as she reached up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘I hate protracted goodbyes, don’t you?’ she murmured before she followed the taxi driver down the hallway to the lift without so much as a glance back at Michael.
Michael had never really thought about it before now, but he did know, as Eva and the twins got into the lift, that he hated this goodbye, at least. That he didn’t want to say goodbye to Eva at all!
Or the twins...
He had grown fond of the little rascals over the past few days of helping care for them, knew his apartment was going to have the oppressive silence of a morgue once they, and Eva, had gone.
Most especially Eva...
With this need for a hurried departure to the airport, Michael hadn’t so much as had chance to talk to Eva about the misunderstandings of last night, and he certainly couldn’t talk about it now she had left!
Besides which, Michael fully intended to sort out this situation with Pierre before talking to Eva again...