“I know,” she forced a smile to her lips. “Sorry. It’s just…”
“I know.” He moved one hand to her chin, lifting her face towards his. “The breakup.”
“Right.” She bit down on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that. It’s just…”
“We can’t help our reactions,” his smile held a question.
“I’m fine,” she promised. “Let’s go swimming.”
She moved like a mermaid. Or a dolphin. Or a water-bound ballerina. Her grace was effortless. He could watch her all day, but watching was a trade off with touching, because from the proper distance to observe her every move he couldn’t reach out and feel her smooth, soft flesh beneath his palm. And he liked feeling her. He loved the way she responded to him, too. Nico had been with enough women to know when chemistry was unique and theirs was. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, if he was honest.
Was that why he’d made the damned Putney comment?
It had been such a stupid thing to say but yes, looking back, he’d probably been sounding her out about the possibility of something in the future. Not a relationship. Just a bit more of this, from time to time. He was friends with many of his ex lovers – there was nothing unusual in seeing if he could become friends with Maddie in a way that transcended this summer.
But her reaction had been emphatic. She’d been terrified.
The comment had been absurd, anyway. He hadn’t seen Michael Walsh in a couple of years and that experience had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Despite their years of friendship, something about the way Michael had spoken had left Nico with a sense of concern. It wasn’t just the fact Michael had been asking to borrow a considerable sum of money, it was that he seemed desperate to have it, as though his life depended on it. Nico had helped, because their friendship went back a long way, but caution now bounded that relationship. So it wasn’t like he was just going to skip into Putney for a weekend to hang out with the man. Although, if he thought seeing Maddie was in the offing…
But it wasn’t.
She was making that abundantly clear. He needed to respect that. Everyone had boundaries and she’d drawn hers from the first day they’d met, as had he. Who was he to think he could change them? And why the hell did he even want to?
“With seven bedrooms, this is still my favourite spot,” she murmured, staring up at the starlit sky.
Beside her, Nico propped up onto his elbow, regarding her with an intensity that made her heart race. He’d laid blankets onto the top of the deck and scattered pillows, lit a few candles and they’d laid in that perfect spot as the sun dipped down into the ocean for the night, the sky transforming into shades of purple and orange, the stars coming out one by one at first, shyly, slowly, and then in a rush, each one twinkling and winking from the inky black heavens.
“Mine too.”
She lifted up onto her elbow, matching his pose. “Do you do this often?”
“Sleep on the deck?”
“With women.”
“Women?” He looked over his shoulder. “I only see one woman.”
Her lips lifted in a small smile. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” He lifted his shoulders. “The truth is, no, mainly because I consider Ondechiara off limits to my normal life. I bring very few people here. It’s private and I don’t like to share my private life.”
Yet he’d brought Michael. The thought dropped through her like a rock. “Has that always been the case?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re so perceptive, aren’t you?”
Her brows lifted. “Am I?”
“I suppose I used to feel differently. But a few years ago I decided I wanted a bolthole, a place I could come to away from all the crap that comes with being a Montebello.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Why do you think something happened?”
“It just feels like you’re not telling me something.”
“Are you hungry?”
She lifted a hand and batted his shoulder playfully. “You’re avoiding my question.”
“By trying to cater to your appetite?”
“You’ve already done that. All of my appetites,” she said with a gentle shake of her head.
“I hope not.” He ran his hand over the curve of her hip and she swept her eyes shut as pleasure surged inside her.
“So you just woke up one day and decided to shut up shop?”
“Shop?”
“It’s a colloquialism,” she clarified.
“It was a difficult time in my life,” he said quietly. “It felt right.”
“Why?” She moved a little closer, her body seeking his on autopilot. But she didn’t want to feel desire more than she wanted answers, so she was careful not to kiss him because she knew one kiss could incinerate them both.
“Non lo so. It just did.”
“What had happened? Why was it difficult?”
“Has anyone ever told you you can be very stubborn?”
“You’re being a stupid, stubborn little bitch. For Christ’s sake, Maddie, just make the damned lasagne.”
“I’m kidding,” he was frowning, his eyes roaming her face with instant concern.
And he thought she was perceptive? “My grandfather had died a year or so earlier. It was hard on all of us. Yaya was devastated – we adored him. And his death, while reasonably swift, came at the end of a pretty harrowing cancer. Seeing him so weak and altered was…you know. It was hard.” When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed in his hair-roughened throat.
“I’m sure it was,” she murmured sympathetically.
“But I had also just made the rather disturbing discovery that the infant I had been told was my son was, in fact, not. That the woman I was engaged to had been sleeping with another man. So you see, Maddie, I wanted very much to shut the world out for a while and make sense of that.”
Chapter 7
HE HATED SYMPATHY. HE hated it with a passion and yet the look on her face – undeniably rich with that emotion – just made him feel warm and understood.
He wasn’t sure why he’d told her about Alexander. He hadn’t planned to – he preferred not to think about the son he’d grown to love in the nine months he’d seen him fattening Claudette’s stomach, swelling her with the rounded promise of new life.
“Nico, that’s…I can’t believe it. How in the world is that possible?”
His expression was taut, carefully blanked of emotion. “She wasn’t faithful. I’m only surprised I didn’t realise sooner.”
“So you were dating her and she got pregnant…”
“We were sleeping together,” he corrected, vitally, because ‘dating’ made it sound like so much more than it had been. “It had been going on for a few weeks then I ended it.”
“Why?” She pounced and he smiled, because it was so like her. It was easy to see why he’d initially thought her to be a journalist – her inquisitive mind liked to leave no stone unturned.
“Because that’s what I do, Maddie. I’ve never been interested in relationships. A few weeks was more than enough with Claudette.”
Was he trying to inspire a reaction? She gave none. Her expression didn’t shift.
“A couple of months later, she showed up in my office announcing she was pregnant. She was thinking of having an abortion and wanted to let me know.”
Maddie’s eyes widened. “That must have been…a shock.”
His laugh was without humour. “That’s putting it mildly. I was floored. But from the minute I knew my baby was in her belly, Dio, Maddie, I would have moved heaven and earth to give that child a chance at life. I know that makes me a bastard, that it’s her body and her choice –,”
“It’s your baby too,” she said gently. “I can understand how you felt.”
“I just wanted to give her another option, you know?” He raked a hand through his hair, looking towards Maddie’s shoulder – how was it possible for even a sho
ulder to be beautiful? “I would have supported her, I guess, in whatever she chose. God knows my life would have been easier if she hadn’t been pregnant, but not for one second did I wish for that. I wanted that baby. It was my responsibility and in a fraction of a second, everything felt so clear.”
“So what did you do?”
“I proposed, of course. I offered her a generous trust fund for the child, and a marriage on any terms she wanted, just so I could be a regular part of the baby’s life.”
She lifted a hand, cupping his cheek. “You’re a good man, Nico.”
His features tightened.
“When Alexander was born, he had a rare genetic defect. I’m not a carrier. Nor is anyone in my family. In order to get him the best medical care, Claudette had to confess that there was some…doubt…as to the paternity.”
Maddie swore, the word on her lips so unexpected that his eyes dragged back to hers.
“I can’t even imagine.”
“I held that child in my arms,” he made no attempt to disguise the emotion that memory inspired. “I looked down on his face and believed he was mine. To lose him like that…”
“No wonder you needed an escape. Is Alexander’s biological father in the picture?”
“No. She’s raising him alone.”
“Wow. And is he okay?”
“So long as he adheres to the medical regimen, he will be fine. His condition is manageable.”
“Do you see him?”
“No.” His eyes swept shut. “I can’t. I wish I was a bigger man, because it wasn’t his fault, but seeing him would mean seeing Claudette and I just hate her, Maddie. I hate her for what she took from me. Isn’t that absurd? He wasn’t even mine to begin with.”
“Of course he was. In your heart, he was,” she pressed her palm to his chest. “In here, he was your son, and that makes it real and hard. So hard.”
“His trust fund will ensure he never wants for anything. All his medical expenses for the rest of his life will be covered.”
“You let her keep the trust fund?”
“I thought he was mine,” he said simply. “Just like you said, in my heart, he was mine. I bonded with him, with the idea of him. Besides, his mother’s sins were hardly his fault. Given his medical requirements, it seems like the least I could do.”
“It’s very generous, but also, exactly the right thing to have done.” She moved closer, so their bodies were melded. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
He nodded, wondering why her sympathy was more palatable to him than anyone else’s had ever been? Even with his cousins and brothers, he didn’t discuss Alexander and Claudette. It was too hard. But with Maddie? Nothing was difficult.
“I guess this explains your trust issues?” Her lips lifted in a beautiful half-smile.
“I guess so.”
“And you don’t speak to her?”
“Not if I can help it.” He shook his head tersely. “From time to time her lawyer contacts me with a question regarding Alexander’s fund, but I do my best to keep that at arm’s length.” His hand roamed her side, teasing the flesh exposed by the cut out of her bathers. “So I come here every summer to disconnect. I mean, I still have to work, so it’s not a complete break, but it’s enough.”
“Enough?”
“To stop me becoming a bitter old man.”
“Ah.” She kissed him gently. “We can’t have that.”
“No, we can’t.” He rolled his body over hers, wondering about the absolute jackass who’d let her walk away. Nico wasn’t interested in relationships but if he was, he would have to admit, Maddie was the perfect woman. How could anyone have had her and let her go?
“You actually drink the wine?”
Her surprise brought a smile to his face. “That’s what grape vines generally produce.”
“But I mean, your grape vines make wine?”
“Just a small quantity each year for our private collection. These grapes are mine – viognier, my favourite. Rafe’s are on that hill, over there,” he gestured to a patch of the land that was darkened by a cloud overhead. “Shiraz.”
“Do you pick the grapes yourself? Come and stomp them in a big old wooden bucket?”
“It’s sadly less romantic than that. The grapes are hand picked, but not by me. We employ a vintner who oversees the production at one of the oldest wineries in Italy. We don’t get involved until the tasting day,” he winked. “Much more fun.”
“I can imagine,” She reached out and touched a grape. It had been warmed by the sun but it was firm, so she knew it would be tart to taste.
“I don’t know if I’d ever leave Ondechiara if I was you.”
“It’s seductive, isn’t it?”
“Very. I came here believing it would be beautiful but I didn’t expect quite so much beauty.” She reached out and picked a leaf off a vine now, rubbing it between her fingers. One side was furry, the other smooth and warm.
“Why did you choose Ondechiara?”
Maddie stilled. He’d asked her something similar the first day they’d met and she’d resisted answering. She didn’t want to keep secrets from Nico though. Not more than she had to. “I’d seen a picture.” She lifted her eyes to his face, scanning his handsome features. “A print of the painting you have by your door, actually.”
“Really?” His expression showed surprise. “That’s a coincidence.”
“I guess it’s a well known painting,” she turned away from him, studying the vines. “Anyway, I loved it. From the first moment I saw it I felt…peace. There’s something about it, the colours and atmosphere, it called to me. Like somehow I knew that if I came here everything would be okay.”
“And it wasn’t before?”
Damn him. He read between every single one of her lines. She shook her head slowly.
“But you don’t want to talk about it?”
She lifted her lips into a smile, but it was brief. Distracted.
“I was silly to think it would be a magic bullet. It takes time to move on, and yet every morning, walking by the beach, feeling the sun on my skin, salt water beneath my feet, running my fingers over the hot sand, I’ve begun to feel more and more like myself.” She didn’t add that Nico was a part of that. The pleasure he’d given her had been a balm to her body, a beautiful, necessary restoration.
They walked in silence the rest of the way, through the vines and back to his house. It was late in the afternoon and Maddie was putting off returning to La Villetta, though having spent two full days with him, she suspected they both knew they had to take a break to keep their boundaries strong and enforced.
But it was so tempting to stay one more night and forget about the rest of the world for a little longer.
“Have a glass of wine with me?”
If she was hesitant to leave then he was equally so.
“Only if it’s your viognier…”
“I think that can be arranged.”
A moment later he appeared with two fine crystal glasses, each half-filled with the buttery white wine. She took a sip, her eyes closed so she could focus on each flavour as it burst through her. A small moan escaped her lips. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so.” His eyes met hers over the rim of his glass. He took another sip. She matched his gesture and then put her glass down on the table beside her, except she misplaced it ever so slightly and it wobbled, teetering on the edge as if in slow motion. She reached out, but wasn’t quite quick enough. It fell to the ground, smashing into a thousand pieces, the delightful boutique wine spilling over the terracotta tiles.
“You idiot! That was one my favourite glasses. Why didn’t you look what you were doing?”
“I’m sorry, Michael. I must have brushed it with my hand.”
He reached out, grabbing her fingers and bending them backwards so she winced, her face draining of colour. “Clean it up. Now.”
“I’m so sorry.” She fell to her knees and began to push at the pi
eces of glass, tears filling her eyes. “I didn’t see where I put it. I was looking at you. I’m so sorry.”
“Basta. Stop. Immediately.” But she didn’t, because she felt Michael looming over her, watching her clean as he’d had a habit of doing. “Maddie, stop, madre di Dio, you’re going to cut yourself.”
He scooped down, pressing his hands to her arms and lifting her. Sure enough, there were tiny pricks of blood on her fingertips from where shards of glass had scraped against her skin.
“Stop, cara.” His eyes bore into hers and then he lifted her, carrying her away from the wreckage, placing her safely on a chair across the terrace. Her eyes were heavy on the mess she’d made and she found it impossible to stop trembling. “Do you think I care about a glass? About wine? Look at your fingers; they’re scratched, Maddie.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, because she didn’t know what else to say.
He focussed on the job of cleaning up but his mind was ticking over a number of incidents, cataloguing them and reordering them, factoring in her over the top reaction to a simple slip of the hand now. There was the way she’d asked permission to make a tea on her first day in his home, the way she’d apologised for keeping her tomatoes in the fridge, the way she’d flinched when his front door hand banged shut. She was timid, just like Dante – how often had he thought that? And Dante had been abused in his short life, his previous owners seeing fit to treat him in a way that should have had them thrown into prison.
An angry burst of heat spiralled through him. His eyes flashed with white. But he betrayed nothing with his body language, continuing to clean the broken glass and spilled wine before moving into the kitchen and retrieving her a fresh glass, as well as a damp, clean cloth.
She smiled at him when he returned to the terrace, but her eyes were troubled and her features looked tight.
Certainty gripped at his gut.
“So this guy,” he handed her the wine glass, moving to the railing with an appearance of calm he didn’t feel, lifting one of her hands and wiping it gently with the cloth, checking each fingertip for the tiny shards of glass. “Did you leave him, or did he leave you?”
Billionaire Brides: Four sexy cinderella romances Page 54
