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considering her already precarious circumstances.
    ‘Fifteen months…’
    ‘I didn’t hear you,’ he said quickly, curtly.
    Gypsy winced at the harsh tone of his voice, and said again, with fatality sinking into her bones along with a numbness which had to be shock, ‘Fifteen months.’
    For the first time his gaze met hers, and she could see what was burning in those increasingly stormy grey depths. Stark suspicion, realisation, shock, horror…all tangled up.
    ‘But,’ he said carefully, too carefully, ‘that’s impossible. Because if she’s fifteen months old then, unless you slept with someone else directly after me, that would make her… mine. And as you haven’t contacted me then I can only assume that she isn’t mine.’
    Gypsy’s breath became more shallow. She tightenedher hold on Lola, who was beginning to pick up on the tension. That sense of guilt surged back; she couldn’t deny him this, no matter who he was. She looked directly at Rico Christofides and swallowed. ‘I didn’t sleep with anyone else. I haven’t been with anyone else…since you.’ It killed her, but she had to say it. ‘And I wasn’t with anyone just before…you.’ She didn’t think it worth mentioning now that she’d only had one previous lover, in college.
    Again too carefully, Rico Christofides said slowly, ‘So what you’re saying is that your daughter is mine? This little girl is my daughter?’
    Gypsy nodded jerkily, going hot and cold in an instant. A clammy sweat broke out over her skin, making it prickle. And at that moment, with impeccable timing, clearly bored with the lack of attention, Lola started to squirm and whinge.
    Gypsy seized on the distraction. ‘She’s hungry. I need to feed her.’ And she fled like a coward into the kitchen, where she put Lola into her highchair and started chattering to her saying nonsensical things. She knew she was in shock, close to hysteria—and acutely aware of the man just feet away, who now had the power to rip their lives apart.
    Rico wasn’t sure if he was still standing. He’d never been so thoroughly shocked, taken by surprise, blindsided in his entire life. All of the control he took for granted had just crumbled around him like a flimsy façade, and he saw how precarious it had really been since he’d taken control of his life at the tender age of sixteen.
    He knew anger was there, but couldn’t feel it quite yet. He was numbed. And all he could think about was how it had been just those four words which had madehim stop: please leave us alone. All he could think about was what it had been like to look into that little girl’s eyes for the first time and feel as though he’d missed a step, even though he hadn’t even been moving.
    When she’d toddled over to look up at him with such innocent guile his heart had jolted once, hard, and he’d felt as if he was falling from a great height into an abyss. An abyss of grey eyes exactly the same unique shade as his own, which he’d inherited from his own father. Right now, the most curious sensation flooded him—as if an elusive piece of himself was slotting into place, something he hadn’t even been aware was missing from his life.
    It was too much. Acting on blind instinct, he crashed out of Gypsy’s apartment, through the main door and to his car, where his driver jumped out. Gasping, Rico yanked open the car door and reached inside for what he was looking for. He realised belatedly that it was still raining as he pulled out a bottle of whisky and unscrewed the top, holding it by the neck before taking a deep gulp of the amber liquid.
    His driver quickly ducked back into the car, clearly sensing his boss’s volatility and his need to be unobserved. With his hand clenched around the bottle, clarity slowly returned to Rico and he welcomed it. This woman had betrayed him in the most heinous way. The worst way possible.
    He’d believed that his own biological father had turned his back on him, but in fact