The Sicilian's Banished Bride

by Maya Blake

  Her lashes swept down, veiling her expression from him. He shoved his hands in his pockets to prevent him from cupping her chin, tilting her gaze to his so he could read what she was hiding from him. ‘No,’ she murmured after an eternity.

  His breath expelled in relief. ‘Then, is what I’m proposing so bad?’ he attempted to reason, although a very primitive, very masculine part of him simply wanted to throw her over his shoulder, find a dark cave to seal them both in to hash this out.

  He clenched his gut against the sensation. It wasn’t one he particularly liked about himself but...hadn’t he experienced this...primitive possessiveness with Mia from the very time he’d spotted her? This need for exclusivity with her where he’d neither cared nor accommodated that in any of his previous liaisons?

  ‘Mia?’ His voice was hoarser, sharper than he’d intended.

  She startled, looked into his eyes and he realised, just like yesterday, she’d been equally caught up in carnal memory. A little too pleased with that knowledge, he raised an eyebrow, watched her flush before she averted her gaze.

  ‘Don’t overthink this. You, me and Gianni. Together. We all get what we want. You also make an old woman you claimed to like immeasurably happy. Is that so bad?’

  Her soft lips twisted. ‘You appeal to my better nature in the same breath you insult me. I never claimed to like your grandmother. I did.’

  ‘Then why break her heart by denying her whatever time she has left with her great-grandchild?’

  She paled again and he felt another bite of guilt. ‘Whatever time she has left? Is she...ill?’

  ‘I told you she collapsed when she saw Gianni’s billboard. She hadn’t been too well before that. Her doctors think it’s her heart.’

  She bit her lip, drawing Rocco’s attention to the plump curve he longed to taste one more time. And several times after that. ‘This is emotional blackmail.’

  He firmed his resolve. ‘It’s the plain truth. I won’t allow her to suffer further. Not if I can help it.’

  Her gaze shifted to the door. ‘I need time...to think.’

  ‘What’s there to think about? Don’t you want your career back?’ He couldn’t stop himself from sneering the word. From emphasising the only thing she’d cared about when she was with him. ‘You could be at your old desk in Milan as early as Monday morning.’

  She inhaled sharply. ‘You think that’s all that matters to me. It’s not. Not now I’ve Gianni to think about. We’ve never been apart and... I...’

  ‘My grandmother and every member of my household will be devoted to his care when you’re at work. Since Alessandro passed, Allegra and her children have moved into the villa. Gianni won’t lack for anything.’

  Another shadow passed across her face. ‘Allegra and her children live with you?’

  He nodded, eyes narrowed at her carefully neutral tone. ‘Is that a problem?’

  Long lashes swept down again. ‘No, of course not. Besides, it’s your house.’

  ‘It’ll be our house, when you accept my proposal.’

  She swallowed, her eyes still not meeting his. Rocco wanted to ask why she was refusing him when most women within his social circle would turn cartwheels at the thought of bagging a man of his stature.

  ‘Why marriage? It’s not like you need a shotgun wedding to protect my honour or anything like that. Besides, you’re already listed on Gianni’s birth certificate as his father. Isn’t that enough?’

  He finally gave into the insane urge and closed the gap between them. He slid his hand along her jaw to cup her nape. He revelled in the slight shiver that raked her frame. ‘It wasn’t enough for you, Mia, and it’s most definitely not enough for me. My parents abandoned me when I was a child. Had it not been for Nonna’s unflinching intervention, who knows where I would’ve ended up? She gave up a better life for me. She almost lost everything in the process. I won’t deny her this. Most importantly, I won’t deny myself.’

  The depth of the words he hadn’t spoken to anyone else spilling from his lips shocked him. Perhaps he wanted to reach someone who didn’t exist. The woman he’d thought shared his values when he’d placed his ring on her finger three years ago. Whatever. They were said and he couldn’t take them back. Nor could he look away from the wide-eyed shock in her own eyes as she stared up him.

  They stayed locked in that revealing little bubble. Not breathing. Not speaking. The only movement his thumb slowly tracing back and forth across her lower lip.

  But eventually, that seemingly unquenching well of lust swelled, ebbing and flowing in stronger waves that threatened to consume them. A soft sound, which he deciphered as a moan a few seconds later, rippled the air between them.

  As he’d yearned her to, she swayed into him, her lips parting, her warm breath caressing his thumb, sending a stronger wave of electricity through his body.

  Rocco leaned down, unable to stem the tide consuming him.

  A hair’s breadth away from tasting temptation, she swayed in the other direction, snatching in an audible breath as she ripped herself from his hold.

  ‘Like I said, I...need to think. I’m going to see Gianni.’

  Without stopping for his response or to ask for directions, she flung her lithe, tempting body towards the door, leaving him standing there, a deep throb in his groin and the unsettling dread that he was falling under her spell...again...building in his chest.

  * * *

  For the second time in her life, Rocco Vitelli had proposed to her.

  Only this time she wasn’t the wide-eyed innocent who’d believed a candlelit dinner and a husky, accented proposal in a flower-decked courtyard of his Palermo villa was the start to her happy ever after.

  Perhaps she should be grateful he’d spelled out exactly what his intentions were. Which were all about him and his grandmother and zilch to do with her emotional needs.

  Not that she wanted him to cater to any need. Certainly not that insistent need that was making its presence felt as she attempted to smile for Gianni’s sake, despite the fact that he was barely paying attention to her.

  The housekeeper had found him a box of toys—apparently left over from her grandchildren’s visit—and Gianni, content from a spaghetti lunch, was fully engrossed in it. Free from Rocco’s presence, she had time to think.

  Marriage. To Rocco.

  For Gianni’s sake.

  Wasn’t that what she’d wanted three years ago, even in her darkest moments when she’d feared she and Rocco might not settle their differences? For her child not to be denied its parent, the way she’d been?

  So why did she feel this void inside her, as if something was missing? Besides a relationship with Gianni, Rocco was offering her career back. Another chance to fulfil the promise of both a profession and family, the way her mother had never been able to do.

  For as long as she could remember, her mother’s bitterness at what she’d deemed her unfulfilled potential at a career had been blamed on Mia. It was the reason she’d resisted the urge to jump straight into a family with Rocco when they’d first got engaged, despite the subtle pressures.

  Fate—and a particularly heated bout of lovemaking where she couldn’t remember whether they’d used protection or not—had found a way to settle things once and for all.

  She had a son she’d never known she could love this much.

  Rocco had the son and heir that he’d not so secretly craved. His grandmother had the offspring from her only grandchild. In essence, everyone would get what they desired if she married Rocco.

  So what was stopping her?

  Because you want more. She hid a grimace as the answer echoed in her heart.

  No, she couldn’t want more because more was dangerous.

  My parents abandoned me when I was a child...

  Mia’s gaze swung to her son; she watched his profile, a younger versio
n who would one day grow into the same formidable man his father was.

  Could she deny him a chance to grow under his father’s care?

  No, she couldn’t. She knew first-hand the anguish that would bring.

  But marriage?

  Her fingers shook, and she folded her arms to hide the trembling. It didn’t mean anything, she assured herself. She would merely be another occupant underneath the roof of the sprawling villa in Palermo where Rocco lived with his grandmother.

  Her lips twisted.

  Most likely Rocco wouldn’t even notice her presence, as absorbed as he’d become in his son in so short a time. Again that hollow inside her shifted, widened. Much as she wanted to dismiss it, Mia knew it wasn’t that easy.

  Once upon a time Rocco Vitelli had been the centre of her world.

  Goodness, she’d even fancied herself in love with him. And, as evidenced, he still had sexual appeal she couldn’t easily evade. But she had resisted him...

  As she watched her son, her resolve slowly hardened.

  She could do this.

  That sexual weakness had been a temporary aberration, thrown up by the unsettling reality of coming face to face with Rocco after all this time. There were more important things to focus on. Gianni’s emotional well-being. Her career.

  And when the appropriate time passed, she would be free. She slowly breathed out. This was her decision, and she would make it work. Retracing her steps from where she’d paced to the window to stare out into the vast manicured garden, which seemed almost too good to be true in a property in Central London, she stopped beside her son.

  Unable to stop herself from touching him, she ruffled Gianni’s hair.

  He looked up, a smile breaking on his face as he held up a toy. A red racing car. Mia smiled back, her heart filling with love all over again. If anything good came out of this, she prayed, let it be that Gianni would receive everything she’d been denied. To not experience the isolation she’d been forced to endure in her own childhood with a mother who’d laid all her hardships at her daughter’s feet.

  No matter how much she wanted to keep her son to herself, she knew that he would benefit from getting to know the Italian side of his family.

  But before she gave an inch of ground to Rocco, she needed to put in a few contingencies.

  She played with Gianni for another half hour and then left him with the housekeeper and returned to the living room.

  Rocco wasn’t there.

  About to go in search of him, she turned down the hallway.

  She saw him coming down the stairs, a pillar of vitality and rugged handsomeness that stopped her dead in her tracks. Heat rose in her belly, and within seconds engulfed her whole body. He’d changed from the bespoke suit he’d worn earlier into a pair of stylish trousers and a polo shirt.

  His hair was sexily dishevelled, as if he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly. Her fingers tingled, the urge to do the same overwhelming her for a shocking second before she wrestled the feeling under control. She might have had that liberty in the past, but no more. From here on out everything needed to be clinically platonic. She firmed lips that had parted at the sight of him, locking her knees as hawk-like eyes latched onto her.

  She held her breath, delaying breathing him in as he stopped before her.

  ‘Are you lost on the way somewhere or were you looking for me?’ he drawled, sinful lips curved in amusement.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  One eyebrow rose. ‘You’ve come to a decision so soon? I imagined I would be strung along for several hours, possibly a day at least.’

  She shrugged. ‘There’s no point in delaying for the sake of theatrics. I’ve made up my mind.’

  He regarded her steadily for a few tight seconds, his own breath seemingly held as he tried to read her. Then he nodded briskly. ‘Come into my office. You can tell me what you’ve decided.’

  He walked away, leaving her to follow.

  His office was a masculine space, floor-to-ceiling bookcases interspersed with paintings and sculptures Rocco collected from far-flung places, turning the space from a simple office into a cultural and architectural masterpiece.

  Mia wanted to stop and admire each piece of art, eagerly enquire of its provenance. Ask if their shared love of books had initiated this magnificent creation in the house he claimed he’d designed for her. She held her tongue. Because this wasn’t three years ago. She might have given her body and what she thought was her heart to him a long time ago, but they were now strangers. Evidenced by the look on his face as he perched on the corner of his desk, arms folded, and regarded her with cool expectancy.

  ‘Tell me then, cara, what have you decided?’

  She held the decision tightly in her chest, debating the wisdom of her answer for one final second. But really, she had very little alternative.

  She would do anything for her son. And denying him a bond with his father was unfathomable to her.

  So, with her fingers bunched and her heart banging against her ribs, she announced her decision. ‘I will marry you.’

  A different sort of tension seized his frame, his nostrils flaring in the throbbing silence that followed. ‘Repeat it for me, cara. Just so we’re both clear that—’

  ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. I said I will marry you,’ she repeated, her voice firmer, resolute. ‘But before you go crowing about getting your way, I have a few stipulations of my own.’

  His breath eased out of him, his stance growing deceptively relaxed as he rested his hand next to his taut thigh. ‘Of course you do. Perhaps I should be glad we’re both laying all our cards on the table?’

  ‘You should. I’m assuming we will be staying at the villa in Palermo?’

  He nodded. ‘When we’re in Sicily, yes. But the villa in Rome and the apartment in Milan are still available should we need them when we’re on business.’

  She licked her lip, suddenly reticent about her demand. ‘And...the Palermo villa...it’s the same villa you owned when... I mean three years ago?’

  ‘Sì,’ he replied, his voice low and silky smooth despite the speculation narrowing his eyes.

  Mia nodded, a little bit of the tension easing out of her. ‘My stipulation is for separate sleeping quarters. I’m assuming you’re still using the north wing, so I’ll take the guest quarters in the east wing.’

  He shook his head. ‘That won’t work. The east wing is currently occupied by Allegra and her children. And the west is still occupied by my grandmother. Unless you wish me to throw one of them out...’ His voice trailed mockingly.

  ‘Of course, I don’t want that,’ she said even while her stomach dipped alarmingly.

  She’d wanted her living quarters to be as far away from Rocco as possible but even her first stipulation looked as if it was to be denied. ‘We’ll have to come up with something suitable, then.’

  He rose from the desk, sauntering towards her with a gleam in his eyes that made her hackles rise. ‘You agree to marry me in one breath then seem desperate to be as far away from me as possible in the next. Anyone would think you were running scared of something.’

  She forced her gaze to stay on his. ‘I don’t care what you think. I just want my privacy.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Wanting privacy is one thing. Removing yourself so far away from me that it raises questions is quite another. Do you trust yourself so little?’ he taunted.

  ‘It’s you I don’t trust.’

  He stiffened, his jaw clenching a moment before he spoke. ‘You don’t trust me?’ His voice was infinitely mocking, covered in ice. ‘Pray tell, what have I done to deserve that distrust?’

  ‘You really expect me to answer that? After throwing me to the wolves the very first chance you got?’

  ‘I did nothing you didn’t deserve.’

  It was a testament to
how unguarded she was around him that pain glanced through her midriff. ‘One day, Rocco, I swear you’ll regret what you did to me. If you don’t, then you’ll just confirm how heartless you’ve shown yourself to be since you threw me out.’

  For the briefest nanosecond, she fooled herself into thinking she saw regret in his eyes. But then he shrugged.

  ‘I’ve been called worse, cara. As to your request, if you feel that strongly about it, the adjoining suite to mine is still available.’ He lifted his hand and ran a lazy finger down her cheek, leaving a trail of fireworks beneath her skin. ‘It’s yours to decorate to your heart’s content until such time as you get over your false indignation. Then you’ll know where to find me.’

  She took a step back, removing herself from his charged orbit. ‘That’s not going to happen. Because my second stipulation is that you won’t touch me again. Ever. If you want this marriage to happen, then you’ll agree that it’ll happen without any further physical advances from you.’

  His eyes narrowed, and his hands dropped down to his sides. ‘I seem to recall that you’ve come willingly into my arms each time.’

  Heat surged into her face, his low, thickly accented words sending flames of shame and lust through her. Memories. ‘They were temporary aberrations that will never occur again.’

  ‘Never say never,’ he drawled, a tight little smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘And be careful what challenges you issue, Mia. You know how very hard it is for me to resist them.’

  She remembered all too well. Didn’t he pursue her relentlessly for three months before she agreed to go out to dinner with him?

  She’d got the job at Vitelli Construction after a gruelling set of interviews and she’d accepted with the sole aim of furthering her career and a determination to do nothing to jeopardise it.

  The reminder of what her mother had endured as a single parent with zero career prospects, the accusations levelled at Mia for the simple fact of her existence, was the reason she’d vowed to herself at an early age never to fall under the spell of a man to the exclusion of all else.