Monza: Book 2

Book Two

(Formula Men)

Pamela Ann

Monza

Book Two

(Formula Men)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Copyright © 2015 by Pamela Ann

All rights reserved.

www.PamelaAnnBooks.com

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“
Sometimes, love may not be enough for two people in love to survive. But the main question is, should you give it up, or should you keep on loving even though it might hurt you more than you could ever comprehend? Most give it up. Some let it go. Others stay. Love is fate, true. What we need to understand is that it’s also a choice, but most of all, it‘s also about persistence.”

Uno

Luca

“
It’s yours.”

Tensing, I frowned at her admirable water work display. “
I beg your pardon?
What did you just say?”

Wiping her tears with the back of her hands, she lifted her chin, meeting my steady gaze. “The baby’s yours, not Anton’s.”

Horror filled me. It was as though she had doused me with ice cold water before someone threw gas on me and lit my body on fire.

“
I don’t believe you.” How could I? She was a chronic liar, and a very good one at that.

“
It’s the truth.” She somehow made herself appear dignified even though she was a mess.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

I had vowed not let her get to me, but then she came with this news the very second word got out about my condition. Trustworthy, she wasn’t. At the same time, I had little room for doubt. My instincts told me there was more to the story, yet my gut was telling me my mother was somehow behind this. I wasn’t sure why, but it had her name written all over it.

Yes, my own mother. How often had she interfered with my life before? Too many times to count. If it was anything regarding women and my personal life, my mother, one way or the other, would worm herself into it and make it her life’s mission to fuck it up. Sadly, that was her motto in life.

Bringing my attention back to the woman before me, seemingly frightened with her quivering lips, I knew I couldn’t let her almost convincing display of disarray get to me. Women were such a peculiar breed. Most were cunning and conniving, and this one was no exception. Funny how it was only months ago when I had thought she was the perfect angel. Life had a way of distorting one’s pure intentions.

Icily, I stared her down, not budging from her lies. “Did my mother set you up for this? How much did she pay you? ’Cause I’d gladly triple it just to make you go away.” Each word darted out of my mouth as if it was laced with poison. Did she think I was a gullible fool who would fall for her lies? If it were mine, a decent woman would never marry and pass off another man’s child. The mere thought of it was disgusting. Abhorrent.

She paled at my barbed insult. “Your … your mother?” she questioned with a shaky whisper. “Why would you even think this has anything to do with your mother?”

Because she would do anything to save face
, I thought as I took in the emotions playing on her pale face.

“
My mama is a very cunning woman, one who would pay a hefty sum to make sure I cooperate.”

She appeared as if all blood had drained from her face, making me think she was truly guilty of something.

Gritting my teeth, I could feel my blood pressure skyrocket as the seconds ticked by without her rejecting my outward claims, confirming my suspicions.

“
How much?” I yelled at her with escalating temper. “Tell me how much!”

She seemed disgruntled with my outburst before she cleared her throat, composing herself. “It’s not what you think. This isn’t about your mother. This is about your health, and if you want to be a part of this child’s life, I strongly suggest you think twice about your reckless actions.”

A child.

A child I fathered with her. A baby. A son or daughter who had my blood running through his or her veins. It affected me, of course, what man wouldn’t be? However, the question remained, how could I prove it was mine? Her goal was to put me into perspective, but it was more complicated than the plain truth. I needed more answers, and I strongly felt that she was hiding something from me, a fact I intend to pursue once I was out of the hospital.

Rapidly, my mind calculated what motives she had to gain by lying and by telling the truth. Honestly, if it indeed was mine, I needed to consider the type of woman she was. I supposed there was a word specifically crafted for women who passed off a child as another man’s during marriage. Was that even considered a crime, though?

In Italy, it was a possibility. Italians took pride in our culture, our heritage, and our long, proud lineage. I considered myself one, but this … This was simply atrocious. If the media got a whiff of this maelstrom brewing in the background, they would have a field day covering the scandal that was my disastrous life.

“
Whatever it is you’re hiding from me, I’ll uncover it one day, but for now, I’d like for you to know that I’ll consider your suggestion once I know the child is truly mine.”

This was taxing, and the more the news sunk in, the harder it was for me to think coherently. Not to mention, the intense throbbing pulse in the back of my mind made it difficult to concentrate. I felt as if I had been thrown into a gauntlet of confusion, and each theory I had was leading me into a dark place that kept even darker secrets. The thought left me little comfort.

“
I wouldn’t lie about something like this,” she said, seemingly nervous as she watched me with guarded eyes before resting a hand on her small, protruding baby bump.

Carefully, I didn’t let her sentimental gesture taint my judgment. Sure the idea of the baby being mine—if she was to be believed—left me elated. Regardless, there were far too many things to be accounted for, like her believability for instance. That alone left distaste in me.

Resting my head on the less than stellar pillow, I considered her a moment, hoping she would simmer a little with my scrutiny, before finally sighing from needless exhaustion.

“
People lie about everything all the time, pregnancy being more the most prevalent technique in scheming for women.”

Her eyes bulged out, looking as if she was tempted to harm me. Fortunately for me, she caught herself, composing herself as she straightened her stance.

“
I would never lie, not to this extent, Luca. Never this. I hope you know that.”

Who was she kidding? We barely knew each other. Two weeks wasn’t enough to know the person well, least of all know what designs they had to make money off me.

“
You might be surprised. This isn’t the first time a woman has told me I fathered a child.”

She appeared shocked as she uttered a simple, “Oh.”

“
I will have my lawyers reach you for the paternity test,” I began, feeling heady at the prospect of being a father. “I strongly advise you don’t tell anyone about this. I’d rather keep it all a secret. My health and my sanity are at stake here. I’d rather my mother not indulge in concocting another scheme if news got to her about me possibly fathering a child.”
To a married woman
, I quietly added for good measure.

Kimberly merely nodded, calm as a cucumber as she drifted those deep, dark eyes towards me. “Do take care, Luca,” she whispered softly before quietly leaving my room.

After she had gone, I had only the hospital monitors beeping for company.

As much as I would have liked to drown in the medication and drift back into unconsciousness, I couldn’t help fancying the idea of fatherhood. I knew it was dangerous to tread the path, but it couldn’t be helped. Being a father was always in the back of my mind. I always considered one day I would meet someone special whom I would eventually marry, settle down, and have a brood of my own with. Obviously fate had its own designs for me, shifting my already chaotic world into something more bizarre.

Taking the doctor’s advice into consideration, I still hadn’t decided on the operation yet. I would dwell on the obstacle in the safe confines of my home. As soon as it could be arranged would be splendid. Tonight would be fitting. With enough powerful strings pulled, I would very much get my wish granted. Hopefully.

Due

After being discharged from the hospital last night, I couldn’t help pondering what to do next about Kimberly’s confession. Vittorio, the family doctor, was less than pleased about my stubborn decision in stalling the much needed operation. It couldn’t be helped, though. I had so much to think about, and at the top of that list, life seemed much less worth living. I wasn’t necessarily suicidal, as he had put it, but I was more reserved. The main subject was my brain after all. Was it really unfathomable for me to be reluctant about the whole damn thing?

Surely my parents—my mother in particular—wouldn’t be pleased once they learned the news of me being discharged. I had given my security strict orders not to let my mother through, because the last thing I could tolerate was a screeching banshee in my living room. Having her around wasn’t beneficial to my health, so best cut into the situation before the shit storm hit. There were only a few people on that roster, and given how Andrés and Jacques had been keeping a close eye on me, I was sure one of them was bound to set foot on my doorstep sometime soon to check in on me.

As predictions went, I was on point. At half past noon, the duke himself had freshly landed from Spain and stopped by to see me. It was a detour before flying to America to compete in NASCAR. Sometimes I wondered what his family thought of him doing such a daredevil sport. I was sure they didn’t approve of it since he was, after all, the heir to the dukedom. Regardless, it seemed the clever Spaniard could get away with whatever he wanted. Bravo to him.

I was in my study, picking at my lunch, when he came waltzing in with a wicked grin pasted on his face. I wasn’t sure if it was a look of approval because I was being my normal, stubborn self or that he thought I was stupidly crazy, and he couldn’t help being amused by my antics.

“
Gino, your very efficient assistant, informed me that you left the hospital last night, so I had to make an impromptu trip to see you before I head across the Atlantic,” he drawled as he strode towards me before situating himself across from me and taking a plump grape off my fruit platter. “So, should I prepare for your burial, or should I anticipate a vacation as you recuperate from a complicated operation in your beautiful villa in Lake Como?”

As always, he was a bastard to the highest order, but a caring bastard, nonetheless. There was love in there somewhere mixed within his sarcastic comment; I was sure of it.

“
Funny how I knew you were coming instead of Jacques. Guess the two of you are too busy to remember a beloved friend,” I stated in a nonchalant manner, though I was profoundly aware of the hefty tinge of jealousy. After all, they were riding their careers, while mine had stagnated due to this unfortunate, pestering condition that threatened everything I was and would be.