Nothing Lasts Forever (The Montebellos Book 4)

by Clare Connelly

  “Love,” he said simply. “Love at first, second and last sight. Enduring, never-ending love.”

  She stared at him, his words bubbling through her. “You’re –,”

  “Completely, and utterly, foolishly, terrifyingly in love with you, Lauren. A fact I realised for myself only moments before I came crashing down to earth – metaphorically and physically.”

  “Oh my God.” She clasped a hand to her mouth. “No.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly. “It was my own. I shouldn’t have attempted the climb but I had been pushing myself, trying to get you out of my head, needing to exhaust myself in the hopes I could finally sleep without your ghost filling my dreams and reminding me of how much I’d lost – how much I’d pushed away. Are you really here?”

  She laughed softly. “Yes. I’m here.”

  “And you’re really not going anywhere.”

  “Nope. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Kiss me again.”

  She laughed. “Raf…you’re still recovering.”

  “Mmmm. This will help.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Then it’s just as well I’m sure enough for both of us.”

  She dropped her head, teasing him by keeping her lips hovered just above his.

  “You minx,” he muttered, before pushing up the rest of the way and claiming her mouth, his kiss robbing her of breath at the same time it filled her with hope. His tongue duelled with hers and she sighed, pressing herself lower without meaning to, her breasts against his chest, her body seeking contact with him.

  The sound of a crashing door broke them apart. She pushed up in time to see a doctor striding in, and a moment later she realised why – Raf’s blood-pressure machine was skyrocketing.

  “Whoops.” She grimaced apologetically, but the doctor laughed.

  “This cannot happen again.” He checked the instruments then grinned at them both. “Though I suppose it is a good sign. You feel well?”

  Raf nodded. “I’ll feel better once I’m out of this damned bed.”

  “He’s not a good patient,” the doctor explained to Lauren.

  Heat was making her cheeks pink, and she nodded a little. “I can imagine. He’d be the worst.”

  “Hey, I’m right here,” he muttered.

  Lauren nodded, moving back to Raf. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Water,” he agreed gratefully. She kissed his forehead. “I won’t be long.”

  Lauren though took longer than Raf would have liked, and when she returned he realised why. She’d been speaking to his doctor, beyond the door. He could see it in her face, without needing her to confirm it.

  “Don’t look like that.”

  She nodded bravely but her lower lip trembled. “You need to remember,” she said quietly, “That lots of people get given the wrong information in situations like this. There’s every likelihood the feeling in your leg will return. There are amazing doctors, specialists, rehabilitation clinics –,”

  “Yes, I have already decided I will take this course of action,” he said, brushing her concerns aside. She placed the water cup down on the edge of his table, before sitting on the side of his bed, a teacup in her hands.

  “You’re not upset?”

  He considered that. “Of course I am. How can I not be? I may never be able to walk unaided. But you’ve told me you love me and I have no intention of allowing you to go back on that, so whatever I face I know it will be with you at my side, and believe me, Lauren, after spending the last month believing I would never see you again, and that you would never love me, that I had fallen in love with a woman who considered herself to be married to another man? Nothing – nothing – could faze me right now.”

  She stared at him, utterly bewildered and lost for words.

  “Raf, maybe you don’t understand –,”

  “Of course I do. I’m not taking this lightly. Believe me, I’m going to work myself into the ground to recover as much as my body is able.” He stared at her for several long seconds. “But before, I thought I’d lost you. And nothing is worse than that.”

  She sobbed and it reminded him of his earlier thoughts. She looked different. So slim. “You haven’t been well?”

  “I’ve been…heartbroken,” she confided, dropping her head, so he groaned, pulling her towards him.

  She squawked, placing her tea down just in time.

  “You heard what the doctor said.”

  “No kissing,” he promised. “Just let me hold you. Let you feel, in your heart, what I will spend the rest of my life telling you – I love you. You are my other half in every way, and I will never watch you walk away again.”

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  “OH MY GOD, RAF, what are you doing?”

  He paused, his features a mask of concentration, his eyes gleaming, sweat beading on his brow in the early afternoon sunlight that streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows.

  “What does it look like?”

  Lauren dropped her bag to the white-carpeted floor, staying exactly where she was for fear she might distract him or disturb him. “It looks like you’re walking.”

  He grinned, but it was a tight grin, pain and effort costing him.

  “Raf!” She ran into the room, smiling big enough for both of them. The occupational therapist watched on, lifting a hand to halt Lauren’s progress. She stopped, pressing her fingertips to her lips, unable to believe it. After months of therapy and treatment, to see him on his own two feet was something she’d never been sure would happen.

  She laughed, and tears filled her eyes. She was pulling out her phone, taking a photo to send to Yaya – the older woman had become adept at using an iPad in recent weeks and loved getting digital updates from her grandchildren.

  “Oh, Raf,” she shook her head, lost for any other words.

  “Leave us.” She frowned before realising he was speaking to the occupation health nurse. “Please.”

  The woman nodded, apparently used to Raf’s ways, but she smiled as she went. “You did well.”

  He grinned back. “I know.”

  Lauren laughed, rushing the rest of the way to him.

  “Careful, I don’t want to fall on you.”

  “I’d soften your fall.”

  “Barely.” He took another step and then they were standing, his arms wrapped around her. It felt so good to hug him upright. Tears fell down her cheeks.

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  He held her tight, and she breathed him in.

  “I told myself that I would wait until I could walk, and I just did – for the first time. Ten steps, on my own. I told myself I’d wait until I did this, but God, it’s been a long wait.”

  She tilted her face to his. “Do what?”

  “Ask you to spend the rest of your life with me.”

  It was such a bland way to propose marriage that for a moment she thought she must have misunderstood.

  “I know you would have said ‘yes’ either way but forcing myself to wait proved a powerful motivation. Marry me, Lauren.”

  She shook her head, crying freely.

  “I wanted to ask you the night you came to me in hospital but I needed you to be sure you could still love me, like this,” he waved to his leg.

  She opened her mouth, furious. “You think anything could change how I feel?”

  “No,” he smiled ruefully. “I know it wouldn’t. But forcing myself to wait was the best motivation for my recovery. Marry me, but wait until I’m strong enough to stand at the front of the church, in front of all our friends and family, and pledge my love to you.”

  She nodded, bliss spreading through her. “As long as it doesn’t take you too long.”

  “Give me a couple of months, max.”

  She laughed. “Done.”

  And with a kiss, they sealed the agreement.

  In the end, it took five weeks. And not a moment later, they
were married. Not, as it happened, in a church, but in the citrus grove at Villa Fortune, with family and a handful of friends. Lauren was given away by both of her parents and by Ashley as well. The Montebello children all played a role in the ceremony, and Yaya watched on proudly from a seat that had been placed right near the front.

  The wedding was perfect and as they danced at night and the stars twinkled in the night sky, Lauren knew she wasn’t imagining it – they were shining more brightly than usual and she told herself Thom had done that for them.

  Two days after their wedding, Raf led Lauren up a set of wide, stone steps that seemed almost to have been carved from the earth, each bowed in the middle from years of foot traffic. It was a perfect afternoon, the sun low in the sky pressing blades of light towards them, a warm glow filling the Tuscan valley causing the leaves on the grape vines to look as though they were catching fire. Lauren paused for a moment, wanting to savour the view a little longer.

  “Why won’t you tell me where you’re taking me?”

  His grin, crooked and easy, had the power to jolt her heart as though with live-voltage. “It’s a wedding present, I told you.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll see. Come on.”

  His excitement was contagious. Lauren took the steps two at a time to catch him, threading her hand through his, the gratitude in the simple act of walking up a flight of steps together not lost on Lauren. Only months ago she’d believed she would have to live a life without him.

  “Okay, stop.”

  His hands came down over her eyes, his body gently guiding her the rest of the way – three short steps then a sharp turn – before pausing.

  “Ready?”

  Impatience trilled in her veins. “Come onnnn!” But she smiled, because the sun was warm and her heart was full.

  His hands dropped away and she blinked, the light over-bright for a second as her eyes adjusted. A huge old castle loomed above them, red and white bricks formed high walls and sweeping archways. Oak trees created a lined drive that led to the entranceway. Windows were carved into the stone but only half of them boasted glass, the rest had been broken over the years. The garden was overrun and on closer inspection, it was clear the roof had lost several hundred of its shiny, red tiles.

  “It’s beautiful.” And it was. In disrepair, certainly, but history breathed from the walls, whispered stories of years past, of the lives spent within the ancient grounds, the inhabitants of prior centuries captured in the dappled light and tumbling down stones.

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  “Approve?”

  “You see, Lauren, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you remember what you said to me, the day before you left Villa Fortune?”

  It seemed like so long ago, her heart and mind then so very different to what they were now, that she struggled to capture that recollection.

  “You told me that your work is important. Lately, you’ve been too busy with me to take on a new patient, but before you do, I wanted to make a suggestion.”

  She waited, not sure how to tell him that she’d already decided she needed a career change.

  “My darling, I want you to be happy, and if your job does that, then I will support you. But what if you could channel your kind, sweet benevolence in a different direction – one that could still benefit those most in need?”

  “How?”

  “Well,” he gestured to the building. “I bought this relic with you in mind. You want to restore old buildings to their former glory? Then let this be your first.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out three sheets of paper, folded to envelope size. She flattened them so she could read better.

  The Montebello Care Home.

  She scanned the document with a small frown on her face. “A charity?”

  “A hospice, of sorts, staffed and run by medical professionals but with you overseeing it, and right here, once you’ve worked your magic.”

  Lauren had been pondering what she might do next but would never, in a thousand years, have been able to come up with something as perfect as this.

  “I want you to be happy, cara.”

  She couldn’t speak. Her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. But her eyes showed sheer, utter joy, before she dropped them to the papers again and a small detail caught her attention.

  “This has the date of purchase on it.”

  He nodded, his eyes intent. “I know.”

  “You bought this a week after I left Villa Fortune.”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you buy it for?”

  “For you.”

  “For me?” She shook her head, unable to believe it.

  “I hoped I might be able to convince you to come back and restore it. I didn’t know then why I needed you back so badly, only that I would move heaven and earth to have you return to Italy, and my life.”

  Her heart clutched because it was proof – if she’d needed any – that they’d both wanted each other in the same, heart-stretching way.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, finally. “It’s everything I could ever want.”

  “Then that is perfect, because you are everything I could ever want.”

  She pressed her head to Raf’s chest and she felt complete and grateful – and overpowered by love, as she would for all time. As it turned out, some things last forever, and then some.

  THE END

  I hope you loved Raf’s story! Following is an excerpt from the next book in the Montebellos - it’s Luca’s turn for a happy ending - or is it? You’ll have to read this forbidden, Cinderella, fake-boyfriend romance to find out…

  IT STARTED WITH A LIE is coming soon! (And keep reading for a full-length bonus book - The Sheikh’s Baby Bargain, first book in The Evermore Series).

  “Your ex is looking at us.”

  Bronte frowned. She’d forgotten Ashton was even in the same restaurant.

  “Oh.”

  “What do you say we give him something to look at – and think about?’

  She wasn’t sure what he meant, and that showed in her perplexed expression, but a second later his head dipped lower, and she guessed his intent, her mind flying into overdrive, her body screaming in fevered anticipation. One hand lifted to her face, his fingers splayed wide over her cheek, the other pressing to her hip. He smelled of his aftershave and orange juice and coffee. Her gut rolled. His breath was warm, his touch demanding and confident. She yielded completely, exhaling softly, pressing forward, lifting onto the tips of her toes.

  His lips brushed hers. They were just as she’d imagined they would be – it was only now she could recognise that yes, she had been imagining this. Fantasising about it. She swayed further forward so her breasts brushed his chest, her nipples almost painful at the contact. His hand at her waist tightened, his thumb padded her cheek and moved towards her lips. Her eyes swept shut and then it was just the two of them, no one else in the room, just him, and her, and this kiss. It was just three seconds, but somehow, it was perfect. She made a small noise of satisfaction, a noise that also, somehow, begged for more.

  His body tensed, his hand stilled. She felt him stiffen. Then he pulled away, his smile not like usual, false in some way. Forced.

  Bronte’s lips felt as though they were on fire.

  Her body too.

  Her mouth was dry and inside, she was aching, yearning, for more. So much more. She’d woken up full of regrets but now she felt as though whatever madness had propelled her to undress for Luca the night before was running rampant inside her once more, demanding action.

  Their eyes met; her throat felt filled with sawdust. Her pulse was like a tsunami in her body, weakening her veins, making her aware of their spidery, pervasive network. She fidgeted her hands at her side, staring up at him, as if his eyes could provide answers to questions she couldn’t even voice.

  It was a moment – less than a second. A brief, searing look and then his smile was normal once more,
his expression giving nothing away, showing only the billionaire tycoon the world saw when they opened their newspapers.

  “I’ll see you soon, Bronte.”

  She had to fight every impulse not to stare at him as he walked away.

  It had been a moment of weakness. No, it had been part of the plan – for surely at some point he would have needed to kiss her, given the ruse they were perpetuating. But he knew, deep down, that kissing Bronte after breakfast had less to do with her ex, and proving their relationship was real to her family, than it was the answering of a desire she’d sparked in him the night before.

  A chaste kiss – a brush of the lips, that was all. It was hardly the stuff of erotic dreams. So why the hell was he still, several hours later, thinking about the softness of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the sweetness of her smell, the addictive, husky little noise she’d made as he’d drawn her to him, the curve of her hip, the velvet of her cheek. He nodded at something Charles had said, reaching for his soda and taking a sip. He liked Bronte’s dad. He was funny, smart, hard-working, considerate. He could see how he’d raised a daughter like Bronte. Bronte’s brother-in-law to be seemed like a decent guy too, and Luca was glad for that. Glad that Bronte had a nice family who would fill the void left by her ex. She shouldn’t be single, but for as long as she was, she definitely shouldn’t be alone, and her family would stop her from feeling that.

  Except the kiss lingered on his lips and in his mind. The whole way around the pristine golf course, and over a late lunch back at the estate. It was some time in the afternoon when he finally admitted to himself that if Bronte was any other woman, he’d be working out how to get her into bed by now.

  And there in lay the problem because Bronte was already in his bed and he’d promised he wouldn’t touch her. He’d put her mind at ease by assuring her she wasn’t his type, that he could be trusted to sleep beside her without hitting on her.