MARRYING HER ENEMY & STOLEN BY THE DESERT KING

by Connelly, Clare

  He stiffened. “On your own?”

  “Yes. Why? Do you think I went out looking to pick someone up? Maybe another art gallery opening where I could meet another man who had ruined my family?” Her emotions were haywire and she was giving them unusually free reign.

  “Mio Dio,” he cursed, running his fingers through his long hair. “I meant only that it is late. You have a security guard to accompany you. You should have taken him.”

  “You’re missing the point, Luca. I wanted to be alone. To be miserable and moping and to get to grips with the fact that my husband is a liar! A man capable of making love to me all the while knowing that I had sworn to hate you forever!”

  His heart turned over in his chest, but outwardly, he appeared calm. “And did you make your peace with this? With being married to a man such as me?”

  She scowled. “There is no ‘man such as you’. There is only you. And I’m still deciding.”

  “Why did you come back then?” He asked seriously.

  Rosie bit down on her lip. “Because. I knew what Mietta discussed with you and I needed to know.”

  “To know what?”

  “That you’re all right.”

  He was very quiet and watchful for a moment. Even in the midst of the revelation about her father’s business, she still cared for him enough to worry. It was a hope that he clung to. “I am not often wrong,” he said with a self-deprecating wince. “I was so certain that my information was correct that I did little more than a shallow appraisal.”

  “You accept that Arlo isn’t your father?”

  “I have no choice but to accept it. It is the truth. As soon as Mietta confessed as much, it made sense. He and I are very different.”

  “I thought the same.” He reached for her but she took a step backwards.

  “Are you going to see her again?”

  He turned away from her, to stare out at the lights of the city. “I am not certain. She would like to form a relationship. I am yet to decide if it is what I want.”

  “I would point out that she is your mother, and therefore deserves a second chance by virtue of biology alone. Given my own estranged relationship with my mother, though, that advice would seem a little hypocritical. After all, I can hardly urge you to forgive and forget when I seem incapable of doing likewise.”

  He nodded, his expression weary. “I was so certain I would feel satisfied after confronting her. How is it possible that I held onto such boyish anger for so long, without realising I had outgrown it? That I no longer needed that rage?”

  Rosie shook her head for side to side. “Because it was a habit, and one that is very understandable.”

  He turned back to her, his expression dark. His words were firm and unemotional. “You have our baby inside of you. And you are my wife. I trust these reasons will cause you to stay with me, while you remember that you love me.”

  Rosie felt tears sting the back of her throat. Her voice, when she spoke, was hollow. “When did you find out about dad?”

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “The first time you said your name, I knew.”

  She nodded slowly. “Before we went to Rome. Good Lord.” She turned her face away from him and tried to make rapid sense of her tumultuous emotions. “Why didn’t you tell me then, when you realised?”

  “Do you really not know?”

  She fixed him with her sad, green eyes. “No.”

  He strode across to her and pulled her to him. She didn’t resist, this time. “No one has ever loved me before. How could I risk losing you?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed with despair. Had it just been about holding on to that feeling? That feeling of dependency? “Not telling me about my dad’s company posed more of a risk of that, Luca.”

  He was still. “You are saying you do not love me now that you know you’re truth?”

  Her laugh was a harsh sound in her throat. “You’re totally useless, sometimes. Do you know that? Love isn’t like that. Unfortunately, I don’t think you could say or do anything that would make me love you less. But right now, I don’t like you very much.”

  Rosie swallowed past the lump in her throat. He hadn’t even said he loved her. And she hadn’t been worried about the omission. Who needed words when you shared what they did? But had she been wrong? Had their whole marriage been about his need to keep holding on to her? About keeping her in his life because she was the first person who’d ever said those three little words to him? Could it really be so black and white for him? Such a businesslike transaction?

  She could have no idea how her statement would affect him. He felt a clutch of something in his gut, and he held her more tightly to his chest. “I will fix this,” he promised, kissing her head. “I will fix this.”

  Rosie was pretty sure that just wasn’t possible, though.

  * * *

  Maggie was a lovely woman. Beautiful, in her way, and obviously intelligent. She was also an excellent cook, despite her predilection for foods that were vegan and raw. Luca sat in the coffee shop, long after the doors had been closed to the general public, his face an expressionless mask to hide his pain. He watched as Maggie emptied a saucepan into two bowls and carried them through the empty room.

  “You do know that Rosie is like a sister to me?” She said coldly, as she placed the soup before him.

  “Of course.”

  She sat down warily. “I don’t know why you’re here then.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I think you do.”

  She lifted a hand and begun to spin her earring in the lobe, nervously.

  Luca leaned forward. “You have been friends with Rosie a long time. I believe you know what Bertram was like. And why his business ended up so vulnerable to an investor like me.”

  Maggie looked away, her big blue eyes skittish in her pretty face. “I know that Rosie loved him very much,” she declared valiantly, finally.

  “I understand that,” he hissed. “But, if I’m frank with you Maggie, when I met Bertram Darling, the man was a drunk and a gambler. His company was bankrupted through his actions alone.” Luca was desperate, and it came through in his words. Rosie had been a veritable ice queen in the last week. Though she had stayed at his home, she had barely spoken to him. When she had done so, it had been almost without any emotion at all. He had heard her vomiting, from her pregnancy, but whenever he’d so much as offered comfort, she had recoiled.

  He needed help, and Maggie was the only resource available to him.

  “I know,” she said quietly. “But Rosie adored him. You won’t win any points with her by slandering Bertram – even though what you say is true.”

  He expelled a breath harshly, flaring his nostrils. “So what am I to do? She is intractable in her fury, holding something against me that happened fifteen years ago. Before I even knew her name, for God’s sake.” He spooned some of the soup into his mouth and swallowed it gratefully. “If I hadn’t bought his business, someone else would have. Or worse, he would have simply gone bankrupt without any prospect of recovery.”

  Maggie leaned forward. The man’s distress was obvious, and it told her of his love more than anything else could. “He was her hero. When Rosie’s mum walked out on them, she vowed she would be there for her dad. That she would make everything okay. She has spent her life, until recently, doing just that. You must appreciate her position.”

  He nodded. “I do. But I need her to be more …reasonable.”

  Maggie laughed. “Rosie is a person who gives all of herself, when she’s in love. She expects the same in return. I’m sorry, Luca, I think you know that. So what do you want me to say?”

  He stood up and paced the length of the café. “I am miserable.” He stopped walking and stared at Maggie. His body radiated frustration and angst. “I married her because I cannot live without her. Because I thought I would make her happy in a way that might atone for the past. And I am simply making her more upset.” He took in a deep breath and said what had been on his mind f
or days. “I love her so much, Maggie, that I would leave her, if I thought it would please her. I do not want to cause her additional sadness. You are her closest friend. Should I walk away? And let her be? Would this make her happy?”

  Maggie closed her eyes. Her heart was racing. But she ignored her own emotional tumult and focussed on Luca. “You need to go big, Luca. I mean, really big. Rosie went out on a limb with you.”

  “What do you mean?” He moved back to the table and braced himself on the edge of its timber.

  “Rosie is sensible. She’s a planner. She’s the reason we have this shop. She’s the reason her father didn’t end his life passed out in a gutter. She loves you so much she put all that aside and acted without planning and without a safety net. But she got burnt. So if you want to show her that you’re sorry, show her you are right there with her. Show her you are just as crazy and messed up by your love for her. And don’t stop until she gets the message.” She reached over and put her hand over his. “This isn’t about Bertram. You need to make her see that you’re out on the limb with her. It’s the only way.”

  He nodded. He could do that. He could. He had to. Losing Rosie was simply not an option. “Do you understand Maggie, that I was twenty one?” He winced. “What were you doing at twenty one?”

  Maggie laughed. “Lord, you don’t want to know.” She stood up and put a hand on Luca’s forearm. “Listen…Rosie has been pursued by some of the most gorgeous men in London. She’s never even so much as batted an eyelid. You’re the only guy I’ve seen her go nuts for. Rosie is like a swan.”

  He frowned. “A swan?”

  “She mates for life.”

  His grin showed amusement, but little hope. He could already feel Rosie slipping through his fingers… and he needed to catch her before she fell away from him forever.

  Chapter 11

  Every season of London was magical for Rosie. She loved the summer, when the roses were in their fullest bloom in Hyde park, and there was rarely a moment when horses weren’t trotting their way around the perimeter, heads held proudly. Spring, too, for the way it seemed to wave goodbye to winter’s kiss, and breathe little dainty tulips up from the ground. Autumn, for the smell of Chestnuts and the knowledge that a new season was on its way. But winter, by far, was Rosie’s favourite.

  The promise that every day might bring a flurry of snow; the ice cold wind that made children’s chubby cheeks glow pink and eyes shine. The shop fronts all decked out with their Christmas magic, and the business of being cozy and warm was a serious one.

  Yes, winter in London was a beautiful time of year. But this winter, despite the baby growing in her stomach, Rosie felt a sadness that she couldn’t ignore. It was her first winter without Bertram, and her first as Mrs Rosie Abramo. Only Luca and she hadn’t really spoken in forever, and Rosie was beginning to feel that their marriage had been a big mistake. Not because they didn’t love each other, but because they didn’t know how to resolve their differences. And wasn’t that essential in a marriage?

  She pulled her scarf more tightly around her neck and dipped her head forward. They couldn’t go on like this. It wasn’t fair to Luca, and it wasn’t fair to her. But every time she got close to speaking to him, she pictured her father, and she felt guilt spike through her.

  How would Bertram feel, knowing that she’d jumped with such alacrity, into bed with the enemy?

  She winced, thinking of their bed. The bed that had been cold and lonely of late, and had made her body ache for his touch.

  Rosie stared straight ahead as the elevator whisked her to the top floor of the building. She pushed into the apartment with the same air of weary distraction that had accompanied her everywhere of late.

  Her eyes widened in her pretty face as she took in the appearance of the room.

  Flowers were everywhere. Enormous, elegant arrangements that were unmistakably the work of the fabulous Elena. Rosie walked from one bunch to the other, touching the petals and marvelling at the constructions.

  Luca was in the middle of the room, dressed head to toe in black, his feet bare, his hair untamed. He looked at her warily.

  He didn’t think it was a moment to beat about the bush. “I am not prepared to lose you.”

  She blinked, her heart in her throat. His words were a balm to her soul, but she barely reacted. “Why not?”

  His lip twisted in what could have been a smile or a frown, or a grimace of pain. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Because you don’t like to lose?”

  He laughed at her quick response. “No.” He crossed the room, and it was then that she noticed one long-stemmed scarlet rose in his hand. “Until I met you, I was cynical and angry. I abhorred wealth, but adored making money.” He shook his head in frustration. “I had no one in my life that I truly valued, excepting perhaps Davies. And I loathed the idea of being anchored to anyone or anything.”

  She took in a deep, shaking breath.

  “Then, the second you helped that waitress who spilled all those drinks, I just knew that you were the piece of myself that was missing. That had been missing all my life. I had never been loved before, and that no longer mattered, because the way you loved me was all I would ever need. In one moment, you gave me a lifetime of love and acceptance.” He lifted a hand up and cupped her cheek. “You are perfection.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed as she allowed herself a moment of weakness, simply to breathe in his closeness and surrender to his touch.

  “That, Rosie, is why I am not prepared to lose you. Why I want you to stay is a little less easy to explain.” He took in a deep breath. “I understand that it is difficult for you to move on from the past. I know that you feel your love for me is a betrayal to your father, who you also loved dearly. I know that you feel betrayed, as though I have kept this a secret from you. And I did. I didn’t know how to tell you. Can you understand, cara, that I have lived in fear, these last few weeks, that a decision I made fifteen years ago was going to ruin the most important thing in my life? I cannot let that happen. I will devote my life to you, if you let me.”

  She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, forming a little crease in her brow. “I just don’t know if you see me as a possession that can give you something you’ve lacked all your life - love; or if you see me as someone you love back. Do you want to keep me as someone who loves you, or someone that you love?”

  She didn’t see his amused smile because her eyes were closed. “English is not my native language, and there was a lot of nuance in that question. To be clear, you think I do not love you? That it is your love I am addicted to, and not you?”

  She bit down on her lower lip and finally blinked open her eyes. “Si,” she said with a half-smile.

  “Rosie, I am standing before you now as a man who loves you like no man has ever loved anyone or anything. I would give you my fortune, I would give you my life, I would give you my soul if I could. I love you in a way that makes your coldness to me a form of unbearable torture. Absence from you is a kind of agony I can hardly handle. I am in love with you and I love you and I want to love you forever more.”

  Rosie sobbed, but now, happiness was bursting inside of her. “You’ve never said that before.”

  When he spoke, it was with an urgent whisper. “I have said it every day that I’ve known you. In the way I cannot be away from you. The way I begged you to marry me. The way I think of you non-stop. I have given you more of myself than I have ever known possible. I have welcomed you into my life, and that was not something I previously thought I would ever do, for anyone. If I have not told you how I feel with words, at least acknowledge that I have loved you from the first moment we met with my deeds.”

  Rosie nodded, and put her arms out around his waist. “I just… I couldn’t understand why you didn’t tell me about the business with dad’s company.”

  He pulled her roughly against his chest and held her there. She could hear his heart racing beneath his shirt. She snaked her hands up inside hi
s shirt and held her palms against his smooth, warm back. Contact with him was heaven on earth. She took in a deep breath and released it as a juddering sigh.

  “I explained that. I have never had anyone to lose. I started life at a deficit, when it came to family and people. You gave me so much, and so soon, and then I had the very real prospect of you taking that away. I was not brave enough to risk it.”

  “No one would leave you by choice, remember?” She pointed out with a small grin.

  He nodded with a matching expression, but sobered quickly. “Rosie, you know I would never willingly hurt you, but in the interest of our marriage, will you allow me to speak to you now completely frankly?”

  “Of course.” He couldn’t hurt her. Not when he had given her his love so freely. Nothing could ever hurt her again. She had become untouchable.

  “When I first begun to research Darling Enterprises, I couldn’t understand why it was in trouble. In essence, it was an excellent business model. The projects were good. It should not have been floundering.” He ran a hand down her back to keep her close. “And while I admired your father’s intellect, it was very obvious to me, from our first meeting, that he had a drinking problem.” Rosie didn’t pull away, as he’d expected, but she went completely still and stiff in his arms.

  “Go on,” she whispered.

  “He admitted he had a problem with making bad investments. What he really had a problem with was gambling, though. Not just horses, but the business’s interests. If I hadn’t bought the company from him, he would have lost it within a year.”

  Rosie sobbed quietly against his shirt. “But he loved that stupid place.”

  “Drinking and gambling are illnesses, cara. I have no doubt he loved his work, and he loved you, but he was sick.”

  Little shards of information began to slot into place for Rosie. Her father’s premature death, for one. A stroke. The doctor had asked if he was a heavy drinker, and Rosie had stupidly denied it. Her mother. She had tried to talk to Rosie, but Rosie had been young and angry. She thought of the fact that her father never drove anywhere. The way he always sucked breath mints. Always had a wallet of cash, or none whatsoever.