courts and they will decide how he will divide his time between us.’ He added, ‘You’ve proved that you believe one parent is dispensable—what’s to stop me testing out the theory with you?’
Sam gritted out, ‘I do recognise that you’ve missed out on time with Milo...and I should have told you before now. But I had my reasons and I believed they were valid.’
‘Very noble of you, Samantha,’ Rafaele mocked, with an edge.
Trying to concentrate and not be distracted by him, she said, ‘It’s just not practical for us to come here. This might be your home, and it’s beautiful—’
‘It’s not mine,’ Rafaele bit out. ‘It belongs to a friend. I’m renting it.’
Sam lifted her hands in an unconscious plea for him to listen. ‘All the more reason why this isn’t a good idea—it’s not even your permanent home. Milo is settled into a good routine where we are. We have a granny flat attached to the house and that’s where Bridie lives.’
Rafaele arched a brow. ‘His minder?’
Sam nodded. ‘She was my father’s housekeeper since I was two, after my mother died. She cared for me while I grew up and she stayed on after my father passed away two years ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rafaele offered stiffly, ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Thank you...’ Sam acknowledged. ‘The thing is,’ she continued while she had Rafaele’s attention, ‘Bridie has known Milo since he was born. She...helped me.’
Sam coloured as she imagined the acerbic retorts going through Rafaele’s mind and she rushed on. ‘We have a good arrangement. Regular affordable childcare like I have is gold dust in London.’
Rafaele asserted, ‘I don’t think I need to point out that affording childcare would be the least of your worries if you let me organise it.’
Sam was tense enough to crack, and all of a sudden she felt incredibly light-headed. She must have shown it, because immediately Rafaele was beside her, holding her arm and frowning.
‘What is it? Dio , Sam, you look like death warmed up.’
His use of Sam caught her somewhere vulnerable. She cursed herself inwardly. She was no wilting ninny and she hated that Rafaele was seeing her like this. She pulled away from his strong grip jerkily. ‘I’m fine...’
Rafaele all but forcibly manoeuvred her to the couch and made her sit down again. Then he went to the drinks cabinet and poured some brandy into a glass. Coming back, he handed it to her.
Hating herself for needing the fortification, Sam took it.
She took a sip, and as the pungent and strong alcohol filtered down her throat and into her belly, felt a bit steadier. She put the glass down and looked directly at Rafaele, where he too had taken his seat again, opposite her.
‘Look, you’ve said yourself that you’re just renting this place. It would be insane to uproot Milo from the only home he’s known since he was a baby.’ She pressed on, ‘My father’s house is perfectly comfortable. Bridie lives right next door. His playschool is at the end of the road. We have a nearby park. He goes swimming at the weekends to the local pool. He plays with the children from the surrounding houses. It’s a safe area. Everyone looks out for everyone and they all love Milo.’
Rafaele’s face was unreadable. Sam took a breath. She’d just spoken as if in a lecture, in a series of bullet points. Never more than right now did she appreciate just how much Rafaele could upset their lives if he wanted to. And it was entirely her fault.
He drawled, ‘The picture you paint is positively idyllic.’
She flushed at the sarcasm in his voice. ‘We’re lucky to be in a good area.’
‘How have you managed financially?’
Rafaele’s question blindsided Sam for a minute. ‘It...well, it wasn’t easy at first. I had to defer my PhD for a year. My father was ill... But I had some savings to tide us over. And he had his pension. When he died the mortgage was protected, so that was paid off. Bridie looked after
Sam gritted out, ‘I do recognise that you’ve missed out on time with Milo...and I should have told you before now. But I had my reasons and I believed they were valid.’
‘Very noble of you, Samantha,’ Rafaele mocked, with an edge.
Trying to concentrate and not be distracted by him, she said, ‘It’s just not practical for us to come here. This might be your home, and it’s beautiful—’
‘It’s not mine,’ Rafaele bit out. ‘It belongs to a friend. I’m renting it.’
Sam lifted her hands in an unconscious plea for him to listen. ‘All the more reason why this isn’t a good idea—it’s not even your permanent home. Milo is settled into a good routine where we are. We have a granny flat attached to the house and that’s where Bridie lives.’
Rafaele arched a brow. ‘His minder?’
Sam nodded. ‘She was my father’s housekeeper since I was two, after my mother died. She cared for me while I grew up and she stayed on after my father passed away two years ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rafaele offered stiffly, ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Thank you...’ Sam acknowledged. ‘The thing is,’ she continued while she had Rafaele’s attention, ‘Bridie has known Milo since he was born. She...helped me.’
Sam coloured as she imagined the acerbic retorts going through Rafaele’s mind and she rushed on. ‘We have a good arrangement. Regular affordable childcare like I have is gold dust in London.’
Rafaele asserted, ‘I don’t think I need to point out that affording childcare would be the least of your worries if you let me organise it.’
Sam was tense enough to crack, and all of a sudden she felt incredibly light-headed. She must have shown it, because immediately Rafaele was beside her, holding her arm and frowning.
‘What is it? Dio , Sam, you look like death warmed up.’
His use of Sam caught her somewhere vulnerable. She cursed herself inwardly. She was no wilting ninny and she hated that Rafaele was seeing her like this. She pulled away from his strong grip jerkily. ‘I’m fine...’
Rafaele all but forcibly manoeuvred her to the couch and made her sit down again. Then he went to the drinks cabinet and poured some brandy into a glass. Coming back, he handed it to her.
Hating herself for needing the fortification, Sam took it.
She took a sip, and as the pungent and strong alcohol filtered down her throat and into her belly, felt a bit steadier. She put the glass down and looked directly at Rafaele, where he too had taken his seat again, opposite her.
‘Look, you’ve said yourself that you’re just renting this place. It would be insane to uproot Milo from the only home he’s known since he was a baby.’ She pressed on, ‘My father’s house is perfectly comfortable. Bridie lives right next door. His playschool is at the end of the road. We have a nearby park. He goes swimming at the weekends to the local pool. He plays with the children from the surrounding houses. It’s a safe area. Everyone looks out for everyone and they all love Milo.’
Rafaele’s face was unreadable. Sam took a breath. She’d just spoken as if in a lecture, in a series of bullet points. Never more than right now did she appreciate just how much Rafaele could upset their lives if he wanted to. And it was entirely her fault.
He drawled, ‘The picture you paint is positively idyllic.’
She flushed at the sarcasm in his voice. ‘We’re lucky to be in a good area.’
‘How have you managed financially?’
Rafaele’s question blindsided Sam for a minute. ‘It...well, it wasn’t easy at first. I had to defer my PhD for a year. My father was ill... But I had some savings to tide us over. And he had his pension. When he died the mortgage was protected, so that was paid off. Bridie looked after
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