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matter?’
    He shrugged. ‘Just filling in the details.’
    Eva shot him an irritated glare, sure that this man wasn’t usually a man who cared for ‘details’, that he usually left such trivia for other people to deal with; he commanded, others obeyed! ‘My work often takes me out of England. At least, it did,’ she added with a grimace.
    ‘Rachel was so ill the last six months of her life, and since then I’ve been caring for the twins on my own.’
    ‘You haven’t been able to work since your sister died?’
    ‘Not properly, no.’ It was the truth, so what else could she say?
    ‘What—?’
    ‘Look, my career, my life, none of this is up for discussion,’ she snapped irritably.
    She loved the twins, adored them actually, not just for themselves, but because they were all she had left of Rachel.
    But Eva had trained and worked hard to become successful in a career that was dominated by men, and these past nine months of being unable to do that career had taken their toll, on both Eva personally, and the respect she had worked so hard to achieve for her photography.
    ‘I disagree,’ Michael D’Angelo bit out coolly. ‘If—and it’s still a big if, as far as I’m concerned—’ he warned hardly, ‘it should transpire that Rafe is the twins’ father, then your career, and your life, would certainly both be very much up for discussion.’
    Eva stilled as she looked across at him searchingly, a panicked fluttering beginning in her chest as she saw the hard, uncompromising jet of his eyes and the grim set of those sculptured lips.
    She gave a slow, guarded shake of her head. ‘Rachel made me the twins’ legal guardian before she died...’
    Dark brows rose. ‘And their biological father would naturally take precedence over their maternal aunt.’
    That panicked flutter turned into a full surge as Eva’s heart seemed to be squeezed tightly inside her chest. ‘Are you threatening to take the twins away from me, Mr D’Angelo...?’
    Whatever it was Michael was doing, he certainly wasn’t deriving any pleasure out of it. Inwardly he felt as if he were kicking an already starved and abused kitten.
    Although this particular starved and abused kitten would probably spit in his eye as soon as look at him...

CHAPTER THREE
    M ICHAEL KNEW THE reputation he had, that most people believed him to be both cold and ruthless, an automaton without a heart, and in business perhaps that accusation was true. And no doubt many of his past lovers would also agree with that sentiment; several of the women he had been involved with over the years had accused him of lacking that particular organ when he had ended their relationship!
    But Michael loved his family dearly—his parents and his two brothers, and now their two wives—and he would do anything he had to do in order to protect each and every one of them.
    Even to the extent of browbeating a young, defenceless woman who only wanted to do what she believed was right for the only family she had left, namely her orphaned niece and nephew?
    Unfortunately, yes.
    But only because Michael didn’t feel he had any choice. Because he dared not allow Eva Foster to repeat this wild accusation to anyone else until he’d had a chance to speak with Rafe, and he wasn’t going to do that until Rafe and Nina returned from their honeymoon. And if the only way to achieve Eva Foster’s silence was to put the fear of God into her, by giving her the impression that Rafe, if he should be the twins’ father, might want custody of them, then that was what he’d do.
    His brother was headstrong, yes, had deliberately earned himself the reputation of being something of a playboy these past fifteen years, but falling in love with Nina had changed his need for that armour. They were two very small, adorable babies, Michael acknowledged as he looked down at the angelically sleeping twins. The truth was Michael had absolutely no idea how Rafe would react to knowing, if it were true, that he