“A birthing center?”
“Yes, run by midwives. It’s a perfectly safe and professional environment for me to have the baby.”
“Safe.” Draco’s jaw tightened, a sign she was rapidly identifying as a precursor to his controlled temper. He pushed a hand through his hair and drew in a deep breath before continuing. “And you know yourself to be in perfect health? You’re absolutely certain there is nothing you do not know about that could happen to you or the baby?”
He was almost shouting. Blair looked at him in surprise. Where the heck had that come from? Whatever, she was less than impressed. Before she could say a word, though, he reached for her hand, turning it over and stroking his thumb across the soft skin at the indentation of her palm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. But I do insist that you see a specialist. This baby—you—deserve the very best of care. I do not want to take any risks or have any last-minute emergencies that could have been avoided.”
Blair felt the tingle under her skin at his touch, heard the depth of feeling in his words. For whatever reason, Draco was privately terrified. While she had to admit to some fears of her own, it came as a surprise to realize that he too felt vulnerable.
Draco continued to stroke Blair’s palm. Her expression left him in no doubt that she was surprised by his outburst. Perhaps he’d gone over the top just now, but she hadn’t been through what he’d been through. And he had every intention of making certain she didn’t. Whether she agreed or not.
Eleven
Her emotions played across her face—irritation followed by surprise, then something else. He didn’t have to wait long to discover what that something else was.
“Fine. I’ll agree to see your specialist, if, and only if, you agree to let me take lessons from Cristiano while I’m here. I won’t get in his way or impede his work, but I need to keep fresh and learning new dishes to take back to Carson’s when I leave.”
He forced himself to stifle the surge of anger that rose as she talked about when she would leave. She’d been here just over a day, and it was as if she had begun the count down to her return to New Zealand. Still, what would it cost him to let her dabble in the kitchen? It would keep her exactly where he wanted her, and once her pregnancy was common knowledge among all the staff, not just the maid he’d assigned to her, she would be cosseted and prevented from overdoing things.
Draco found himself nodding in acquiescence.
“And the gym too. I want unrestricted access to the equipment. Restaurant work is more physically demanding than many people realize. I can’t afford to get soft.”
“If the specialist is in agreement, then yes, you can use the gym too. I will hire a trainer for you so we can ensure you and the baby work out safely.”
He was rewarded with a sudden smile.
“There, that didn’t hurt too much, did it?” she teased him. “Letting me have what I want?”
A pain settled in the region of his chest. Why could she not want what he wanted? Why did she persist in holding on to her ambitions for Carson’s? Certainly it was easy to agree to her terms, provided she saw the specialist for the duration of the pregnancy. Her health, and that of the baby’s, was paramount. But while a child could cope easily with one parent, two would be infinitely better. Was it selfish to want his son or daughter to know the love of a mother and father as he and Lorenzo had known love as they’d grown up? He did not think so.
Somewhere deep inside he’d hoped that in the next few months he could convince Blair to let go of Carson’s, but if she insisted on continuing to train in her field, what chance did he have?
The remainder of the week fell into a gentle pattern. Blair and Draco would have breakfast together before he’d head away for business for the day, sometimes returning at lunchtime to show her around parts of the palazzo or further afield. She’d thoroughly enjoyed their trip to San Gimignano and had marveled over the remaining towers there and the variety of shops and vendors in the narrow streets.
Blair’s mornings, with her specialist’s blessing, were spent in the gymnasium. Gabbi, the trainer Draco had hired to oversee her fitness regime, spoke excellent English, and the two women enjoyed one another’s company for the two hours they spent together each day. Her workout, if it could be called that, was neither taxing nor exhausting, and Blair felt better and stronger each day.
Her afternoons were spent with Cristiano—time she cherished, as the kitchen was probably the only place in the palazzo where she truly felt at home. She was slowly building up a new collection of recipes and techniques to show off at the restaurant, although with each day, her return to Auckland seemed further and further away.