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Michael's Father
By Melinda Curtis Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Copyright © 2003 Harlequin Enterprises Limited
All right reserved. ISBN: 0373711093
Chapter One
"You are
not pregnant!" Salvatore Messina railed at his granddaughter's announcement.
Cori Sinclair had never seen him so angry. And growing up in a household with three generations of Italians, she'd seen plenty of her grandfather's anger. Suddenly, she regretted blurting out her plight just before her college graduation.
Out in the hallway, the voices of eager Stanford graduates rang through the air. Inside Cori's room, Salvatore Messina's Italian loafers marched a stormy cadence across the beige industrial carpet. Her grandfather's stride was still as strong and obstinate as the eighty-year-old man himself. Standing over six feet, olive-skinned, with lightning silver hair and black eyes and dressed in unwrinkled charcoal slacks and matching jacket, Salvatore overwhelmed the small room.
"This kind of thing isn't supposed to happen to us," he proclaimed, adding something under his breath she didn't quite catch.
Shrinking into a corner of a worn red couch, Cori tugged at the hem of her short, blue dress, forcing a weak laugh past her parched throat. Clearly, her grandfather assumed she was as invincible as he saw himself.
"It could happen to anyone." Even to those who used condoms. Cori represented that rare statistic where thelatex had failed.
When her grandfather didn't immediately answer, Cori gathered her tattered courage and looked at him. His jaw was clenched as tightly as his fists. With relief, Cori realized his cast-iron gaze and frown were directed at the black graduation robe hanging above the couch she sat on.
She breathed deeply before swallowing what was left of her pride and apologizing, but just then a wave of nausea hit, sending Cori stumbling for the little private bathroom. This was a humbling experience she was starting to get used to.
As she pulled her head out of the toilet minutes later, a large, gnarled hand dropped to her shoulder, then tentatively stroked Cori's spine. She took a deep breath, moved by the uncharacteristic display of affection. He removed his hand and she shivered, trying to find the strength to stand and face her problems.
The hand returned, lifting her and cleansing her face and neck with a wet cloth, demonstrating a gentleness Cori would never have expected from her grandfather. Eyes closed, she sighed and rested her head on her forearm.
This is how families are supposed to act.
For the first time in weeks, Cori's spirits rose. Everything was going to be okay.
"You should have told me sooner," her grandfather said quietly.
He couldn't know how she'd agonized over how to tell her conservative, Italian family, and the baby's father, about her predicament. Or how she'd watched her dreams of independence, which had seemed so close, slip away.
"It's not too late to correct this."
Cori gasped and lifted her head gingerly, not sure what she'd heard. Her gaze collided with her grandfather's cold, black eyes and she realized he was proposing the unthinkable.
He wants me to have an abortion.
Footsteps and joyful conversation moved past Cori's dorm room, heading toward the commencement ceremony. This wasn't one of the lighthearted practical jokes her grandfather was known to pull on her. If there'd been anything left in Cori's stomach, she would have given it up.
Unexpectedly, his dark eyes fell to the floor. "You'll marry the boy."
Cori's heart sank, pulled by the combined weight of relief and dread. Relief because she'd misunderstood him, and dread because her grandfather's statement made it sound as if a resolution were simple. But Cori knew better. Her grandfather was the founder of Messina Vineyards, one of the most prestigious wineries in Northern California. He'd built the winery all by himself, without the backing of venture capitalists, lawyers or movie producers. He'd succeeded by snaring those around him within his intricate plans for success, disregarding their personal goals or dreams while pursuing his own. If she allowed her grandfather to force her into marriage with her baby's father, his life - all of their lives - would never be their own again. Proud and independent, her former lover would never forgive her. It would be a shell of a marriage, despite the love for him that she still guarded.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, Cori shook her head, unable to speak past the tangle of hurt and disappointment. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror, knowing what she'd see - a pale, straggly haired blonde with hollow cheeks and dull brown eyes that should be radiating happiness and hope for the future on this, her graduation day. Instead, everything about her was thin and sunken after two weeks of morning sickness.
On shaky legs, Cori almost made it back to the small red couch before Salvatore Messina spoke.
"I want you to consider this carefully, because I will not support a bastard."
His words dropped heavily between them. A line was being drawn.
Slowly, Cori turned to face her grandfather, trapped by the determined look in his eyes, emphasized by silver brows drawn low.
"He doesn't want me." The words, no less than the truth, still had the ability to wound her. After the awful things she'd said to her lover, the hurtful way they'd parted, she was sure he never wanted to see her again. He certainly hadn't called since the night their baby had been conceived. Cori was convinced that their love had blossomed at the wrong time. They were young; they each had goals. Goals that were too divergent for even love to overcome.
Cori hadn't thought her grandfather's expression could get any darker.
"Then, we'll buy this baby a name. Everyone has his price." Salvatore Messina pushed past Cori and began to pace the small room once more. "We'll find his, just like we did with John Sinclair."
"No." Dismay guided Cori's hands over the slight swelling of her belly as if she could cover the ears of the little one growing inside her. She'd picked up hints over the years that her grandfather and her long-estranged father, John Sinclair, hadn't gotten along, but to have her grandfather confirm that Sophia and John Sinclair's marriage had been forced shook Cori's composure. Was that why John Sinclair left them without a backward glance, abandoning his young family and a promising career in the wine industry? Cori couldn't let this happen to her - or to her baby's father.
"History repeats itself," Salvatore said, as if reading her thoughts. His pace quickened and his eyes speared madly about the room as if looking for a target. He pulled a slim, chrome cell phone out of his pocket. "You can't represent Messina Vineyards on the wine tour this summer unmarried and pregnant. Tell me his name and I won't totally ruin him."
Cori drew an unsteady breath, knowing she couldn't divulge his name now. Her grandfather didn't make idle threats. Destroying someone's career in the wine industry would be easy for him. He'd hound Cori until she slipped and told him what he wanted to know. How was she going to protect her former lover? Mama had intervened between Cori and her grandfather in the past. Cori grimaced, imagining the disappointed expression on her mother's face when she realized Cori was repeating her mistakes. A forced marriage? No way. Yet what could she do?
And then Cori knew. There was only one way to protect everyone. But it would only work if Cori was brave enough to stand alone. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? To finally be independent, not an appendage of Messina Vineyards? To make something of herself without standing in her grandfather's shadow?
"There won't be any unmarried pregnant women on the wine tour," she said, hoping she could support her convictions, and follow her dreams.
"Good. It's not the way of you young people, but it used to happen a lot. And in this case, it's for the best." Her grandfather took a deep breath and smiled at her. As smiles went, it wasn't one of his warmer ones. "We'll call the priest this afternoon, after the ceremony."
He'd misunderstood her rebellious statement. "No, Grandfather. I'm having this baby alone." Ignoring her roiling stomach, Cori drew herself up. "And I'm not going on the wine tour."
His smile faded.
"I've taken a job in L.A. I start in two weeks." Until that moment, Cori hadn't found the courage to tell him she was accepting a job at a public relations firm. In fact, since she'd discovered her pregnancy, she'd all but given up on the job and her own goals. She just hadn't had the heart to officially turn down the offer.
"Like hell you are!" His eyes found their mark. Her. "If you're having that baby, you'll be married and home where you belong."
For the first time since Cori had admitted her condition, she felt the full force of her grandfather's anger directed upon her. His scorching ire had her nearly breaking out in a sweat. Never having stood up to her grandfather before, Cori's determination slipped. It would be so much easier to let him have his way. Her baby would never want for anything.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Michael's Father by Melinda Curtis Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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