The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride Of Convenience: The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride of Convenience (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘You underestimate me.’ Now I was getting angry as well. ‘So many assumptions, Daisy.’

  ‘Then maybe it’s time you tell me what you want from a wife, because you seem remarkably reluctant to do so.’

  Which was true—simply because I didn’t want to broach the dreaded and unfortunate subject of love. I had no intention of falling in love with Daisy, and I knew I needed to be upfront about that from the start if a marriage of any kind between us was going to work. Yet I suspected saying so would back Daisy into a corner from which it would be very difficult to prise her.

  ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you what I would like from a wife. I would like a woman who will be a loving mother to my child and a willing partner in and out of bed.’

  Her eyes widened, as if she hadn’t expected that much.

  ‘And I want someone I can have by my side at the various events and functions I must attend for work.’

  As I said it I realised I meant it. It had become tedious, trying to find a suitable woman to accompany me to this or that. Imagine the ease of always having the same woman. Daisy.

  ‘And you think I’m that woman?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Matteo, I grew up dirt-poor in the backwoods of Kentucky. You’ve seen for yourself how little dress style I have. If I went to those types of events I’d only embarrass you.’

  For some reason that angered me. ‘You would not embarrass me, Daisy.’

  I almost told her that her background was not as insalubrious as my own, but I held my tongue. There was no need for me to part with such details now. She would undoubtedly—and unfortunately—learn them in time.

  ‘I can hire a personal stylist for you,’ I said instead. ‘Such things are easily learned.’

  ‘So is that it?’ she asked after a moment. ‘A wife in your bed and on your arm?’

  ‘You make it sound so little.’

  ‘It’s more than I expected, I suppose.’ She rested her chin in her hand, her expression turning distant. ‘But it’s not enough.’

  Ah, here we were at the nub of the matter. Love—that nebulous, unnecessary emotion, so hard to pin down, so pointless to pursue. I should know.

  ‘I presume you’re talking about love?’ I said, in a tone a touch away from a bored drawl.

  ‘Yes, and I can tell you’re not impressed.’

  ‘Not particularly—but what is love, anyway, Daisy? You said you haven’t ever known it, and you also said you can’t miss what you’ve never known.’ I smiled, proud of my neat logic. ‘So if you had a marriage without love who’s to say it wouldn’t work? That it wouldn’t be good, or even wonderful?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MATTEO WAS SMILING at me like the proverbial cat that got the cream, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. My head felt fuzzy from the sun and the wine, and I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t going to win this argument.

  Yes, I had said those things, and put together they made a compelling argument, but it was one I was still reluctant to endorse.

  ‘What do you have against love?’ I asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Nothing against it, per se. I’m just not sure it’s worth the paper it isn’t written on.’

  I frowned, wishing I had more of my sense about me. I’d drunk and said and thought too much today. I didn’t know where I was any more in regard to Matteo or marriage. I’d spent the last two hours gazing upon his impressive form, wondering if the skin at the open neck of his shirt would feel as sun-warmed and smooth as it looked, even as I said too much about myself and learned far too little about him.

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ I asked.

  ‘What is love, Daisy?’

  He leaned forward, with the light of a zealot in his eyes. He believed whatever he was about to say, I realised with a plunging sensation. Which meant he didn’t believe in love.

  ‘It’s an emotion, I suppose,’ I answered after a moment, when I realised Matteo was waiting for a reply.

  ‘Exactly. An emotion. And should we trust our emotions, fleeting as they are? Angry one minute, sad the next, happy when the sun is shining, sad when it rains?’

  ‘Not everyone is such a flibbertigibbet as that.’

  ‘Flibbertigibbet? I like that. But my point remains the same.’

  ‘Love is more than an emotion, then,’ I argued, again wishing I had my wits about me. ‘It’s an…an action. A commitment.’

  ‘No, marriage is a commitment. A sacred vow.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Now you’re coming out with the sacred stuff—when you fully intended to have our marriage annulled as soon as it suited you?’

  ‘This would be different, and you know it.’

  Yes, I did know it—but would it be different enough?

  On one hand, it felt as if Matteo was offering me almost everything I wanted—companionship, a child, lifelong security, and of course physical pleasure. I was quite sure he could deliver on that.

  But the flipside was dark indeed…because with all those lovely things came frustration, fear, hurt, and the very real danger of falling in love with someone who had no intention or even the ability to fall in love with me.

  Matteo leaned back in his chair. ‘I have a proposal,’ he announced.

  ‘Another one?’

  ‘A trial, if you like. I have two events in the next few weeks—a charity gala in Paris and the opening of my new hotel in the Caribbean. Why don’t you come with me to both? See how you like it?’

  I goggled at him. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Of course. Why do you find that so difficult to believe?’

  ‘Because the last time I saw you in public you were less than pleased—’

  ‘I’ve told you. I’ve changed. Why can’t you believe that?’

  Because on a fundamental level I knew Matteo hadn’t changed at all. Perhaps a few spots had been sloughed off the leopard, but he was still a dangerous predator and always would be.

  ‘I need to be on Amanos for work…’

  ‘You mentioned a right-hand woman? I’m sure she is more than capable of managing things for a few weeks.’

  Which was true, but still I resisted—out of fear as well as too strong a temptation.

  ‘I wouldn’t even know how to be at places like that, Matteo. I really don’t think I’m the right woman for this.’

  ‘You’re the right woman because I say you are. You’re my wife, Daisy. And surely our marriage deserves a chance, at least? You don’t even know what you’re refusing.’

  I took a deep breath. A few weeks. It didn’t seem like a very long time. ‘And what would happen during these two weeks? Besides me being on your arm at parties?’

  His eyes and teeth both gleamed. ‘Whatever you want to.’

  ‘And if I say no after the two weeks you’ll drop the whole notion? You won’t persist in this idea of a real marriage?’ It pained me a little to make that addendum. In two weeks I might never see Matteo again.

  Matteo hesitated for a millisecond, and then he nodded. ‘Yes.’

  I believed him—because I could tell it cost him to promise that. He was a man who took his promises seriously, never mind that he’d married for convenience.

  ‘And what about the…the physical side of things?’

  ‘I’m not going to force you into my bed, if that’s what you mean.’

  The implication being that he wouldn’t need to. I could tell that by both his tone and smile. And I was afraid he was right.

  How could I be so weak? How could I want so much and yet at the same time know it was so little?

  ‘I don’t know…’ I hedged.

  The thought of appearing on Matteo’s arm, facing all those spiteful society types, was frankly terrifying—and that was without considering the other terrifying part of the equation: being alone with Matteo. Night after night. Temp
tation after temptation.

  ‘I really don’t think I’m the right person for this.’

  ‘And I’m telling you, you are. This deserves a trial, Daisy. We do. Two weeks. It’s not very much to ask.’

  I gazed at him uncertainly as his silvery gaze bored into mine. ‘When you put it like that…’

  ‘You are capable of so much more than you seem to think you are. You’ve worked hard all your life, you moved to a strange city by yourself, you accepted a deal most women would be wary of, moved to a new country and made the most of it, even building up your own business. Daisy, you can do this. You’ve already done so much.’

  The sincerity throbbing in his voice and blazing in his eyes brought tears to my own. ‘Do you really mean that?’ I asked in a wobbly voice. No one had ever said such kind things to me—ever.

  ‘Yes, I do. Absolutely.’

  I believed him—and that was what made me decide. Matteo was right; we deserved two weeks at the very least. He did, and I did as well.

  For better or worse.

  ‘All right,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll do it.’

  Triumph flashed across Matteo’s face like lightning and he rose from the table, snapping his fingers at the waiter for the bill before reaching for my hand. I felt as if I’d just set a juggernaut in motion, and I didn’t know whether to leap out of the way or brace myself for impact.

  ‘Excellent. I’ll make the necessary preparation and we’ll leave for Athens tonight.’

  ‘Tonight? But—’

  ‘The event in Paris is in a few days and there is much to be done.’

  ‘I feel like Eliza Doolittle.’

  ‘Not at all. But perhaps you are Pygmalion’s statue and I am going to bring you to life.’ His fingers tightened on mine. ‘And I will enjoy doing so, I promise you.’

  Yes, I wondered, but would I?

  I barely had time to think through that question, for the juggernaut continued to grow in strength and speed.

  Within minutes of returning to the villa Matteo was on the phone, barking out orders, arranging I knew not what.

  I retreated to my study to make my own arrangements. Maria was more than happy to take the helm of Amanos Textiles for a bit, as I’d known she would be.

  ‘You’re going away with Kyrie Dias?’ Her voice brimmed with excitement. ‘He’s so handsome, Daisy—’

  ‘Yes…’

  Now that it was becoming reality I felt the leaden weight of dread and fear in my stomach. I really didn’t know if I was up for this. Any of it.

  ‘It’s just for a few weeks…for a business matter.’

  As dear a friend as Maria had become, I wasn’t in the habit of baring my soul to anyone—and Matteo’s suggestion of a trial felt like something too strange and sacred to share. I didn’t need to, anyway. Maria had arrived at the whole picture by herself.

  ‘Just a business matter?’ she echoed rather gleefully. ‘Of course.’

  It didn’t take very long for me to hand over all the pressing matters to Maria, and soon I drifted upstairs, tinglingly conscious of Matteo’s presence in the house even though I didn’t know what room he was in.

  I supposed I should pack, but one look at my rows of T-shirts and jeans made me realise I had absolutely nothing suitable for a party in Paris and a weekend at a luxury hotel in the Caribbean.

  What was I doing? Why had I agreed to this?

  ‘Because, as usual, when I get too near Matteo I cease to think,’ I answered myself out loud.

  ‘Ah, here is my lovely bride.’

  I whirled around to see Matteo lounging in the doorway, a satisfied smile on his face. Had he heard what I said? I sincerely hoped not.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Ready?’ I repeated, thinking, Not in the slightest. ‘For what, precisely?’

  ‘To leave. My helicopter is waiting. We’ll have dinner in Athens.’

  I swallowed. Hard. ‘Matteo, I’m not sure if I—’

  ‘Now, now, no cold feet,’ he admonished. ‘This is happening. You agreed.’

  ‘I haven’t packed—’

  ‘You don’t need to pack. Everything will be provided for you. Now, come.’

  He turned away, leaving me gaping. Just like that?

  ‘On second thought,’ he said, glancing back at me, ‘you should bring a sweater. It’s chilly at night still.’ His smile was positively wolfish. ‘But, trust me, glykia mou, that’s all you need.’

  I was feeling entirely pleased as I settled back in the seat and the helicopter began to lift from its landing pad. The island of Amanos was spread out before us in a tableau of rocky hills and dusty olive groves, with the blue-green of the Aegean touching the horizon. Across from me Daisy peered out of the window, her face pale with anxiety even as excitement sparkled in her eyes.

  Such a lovely tangle of contradictions—fear and joy, excitement and nerves. I appreciated her uncertainty, considering what lay ahead, but I was even more pleased by the shy glances she kept slipping me when she thought I wasn’t looking. Whatever she might tell herself, my wife wanted to be here.

  I’d won.

  Of course, it wasn’t actually about winning, I reminded myself, conscious that Daisy had been making that exact point. She wasn’t a challenge or a novelty, as she’d claimed; she was both, as well as much more. She was my wife, and I had no regrets about having her here with me. No regrets at all.

  Briefly my mind flicked back to that necessary but uncomfortable conversation about love. I thought I’d done a fairly good job of showing her the ephemeral nature of such emotions, but of course she would need more convincing.

  Still, I was confident she would come to see how pointless it was to hanker after that elusive emotion—a slippery sensation if ever there was one. Love was nothing but an illusion, albeit a powerful one. I’d taught myself not to yearn for it a very long time ago, out of necessity. I could teach Daisy the same.

  I leaned back, determined to enjoy the short flight to Athens—as well as what would happen afterwards.

  The noise of the rotors made it impossible to talk, which was just as well, since I was still processing all I’d learned from the conversation we’d had earlier. I’d talked more with Daisy than I had with any other woman in my life, and while getting to know her hidden strengths and depths had been fascinating, it had also been a bit uncomfortable. It was a burden, knowing so much about someone, and one I was hesitant to bear.

  My life, similar to Daisy’s, has been one of isolation. When you don’t care about people, they can’t hurt you. Cut them off first, so they can’t cut you—that had been my motto from early on. I’d chosen to despise my grandfather, because then his contempt and loathing would roll off me. The only person I’d ever truly cared about was Andreas, and that was the simplest and easiest thing in my life, because of who he was. But caring about Daisy…

  Of course, that wasn’t going to happen. And, more importantly, she wasn’t going to care about me—never mind actually love me. I wouldn’t let her.

  An hour later the helicopter touched down outside Athens, where a limo was waiting to escort us to my penthouse apartment off Syntagma Square. Daisy followed me, wide-eyed and silent, from helicopter to limo to home. By the time we stepped into the massive marble-lined foyer it was nearing nine o’clock and I could see she was exhausted.

  ‘Why don’t you shower and change?’ I suggested. ‘I’ll order something for us to eat.’

  She glanced around the apartment, with its chrome and leather furnishings, modern artwork and gleaming marble floors. ‘What is this place?’

  I looked at her in surprise. ‘My home. One of them, anyway.’

  She shook her head slowly, but didn’t say anything else.

  ‘The bedroom is on the left. There are clothes you can wear in one of the closets.’

  Wordles
sly she walked down the hall and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me wondering, a touch uneasily, what she was thinking. Was she simply overawed by the opulence of my lifestyle? Even though she’d been living in a luxurious villa for the last three years, it was obvious to see that her tastes were simple.

  I realised I was looking forward to showering her with gifts, spoiling her with things she’d never possessed or experienced before. I was looking forward to it very much indeed.

  A few minutes later I strolled into the bedroom, peeling off my shirt and unbuckling my trousers. I wanted a hot shower myself, as well as to remind my shy bride that we were man and wife, even if she wanted to act as if we weren’t.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Daisy’s voice came out in a squeak as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel clutched around her curvy form, her eyes wide with shocked outrage even as her gaze roved up and down my mostly naked form, lingering on my chest before moving back to my face.

  ‘Stripping,’ I answered succinctly. ‘I’m intending to use the shower after you.’

  ‘Can’t you use another one?’

  The squeaking persisted, as did the gaze-roving. I didn’t mind either. She looked lovely, with her hair in damp tangles around her flushed face, the towel leaving little—and yet so much—to my overactive imagination.

  ‘There isn’t one.’

  ‘This place has only one bathroom?’

  ‘It’s my private home. I only need one bathroom.’

  And quite a bathroom it was, with a sunken tub, a double shower, and a sauna room. Perhaps, eventually, we would try out all three…

  ‘But you said…’ Her voice quivered, along with her chin.

  ‘That I wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.’ I read her uncertain expression perfectly. ‘Of course I won’t. What kind of man do you think I am?’

  ‘One who struts naked into my bedroom!’

  Ah, the maidenly outrage. ‘I’m not strutting, and this is not your bedroom. It’s ours.’ I took satisfaction in saying that word.

  ‘Surely this place has a guest bedroom?’

  ‘No, it does not. I’ve never had a guest who required a separate bedroom.’