Too Devious to Tame (The Giovanni Clan)

by O'Connor, Doris

  "I see." She did see, all too clearly. The choices they made, it set you on a path you couldn't veer off easily.

  "My only true regret is that you got caught up in all that mess anyway."

  "What do you mean?" Jemima asked.

  "He means," Giorgio's voice had dropped an octave, and a shiver went through her at the barely concealed violence behind it. "Someone knows you're his daughter, and they are trying to use you for their ends. We need to get you away from here, until the Don figures out who the bastard is."

  Chapter Fourteen

  The cold breeze of the English Channel blew her hair in her face, and Jemima shivered in her thin robe. The Don's private yacht glided effortlessly through the water. A few fluffy clouds trailed across the full moon hanging so low in the sky, Jemima had to resist the childish urge to reach up and try and touch it. Fourteen days had passed since her father's astonishing revelation. Fourteen days and nights during which she hadn't seen much of Giorgio at all. He'd thrown himself head first into negotiations with the Don, and finding out who the mole was.

  At first Don Luigi had refused to entertain the notion that there could be a mole in his organization. Eventually, and presented with overwhelming evidence to the contrary, he'd relented. A cold shiver went down Jemima's spine even now, recalling the deadly fury in the Don's eyes. He'd grasped her by the shoulders, and his heavily accented words had settled in her stomach like granite weighing her down ever since.

  "We will find who is responsible for this, and I will deal with them personally. No one threatens my family. No one."

  It seemed as her father's daughter she had automatically gained access to the family in ways her marriage to Giorgio hadn't. Then again, the Don hadn't believed in the validity of that marriage. She wasn't sure it was real herself, until Giorgio had produced the carefully preserved marriage certificate. They were indeed married in every way that mattered, under the church and the civil banner.

  Her father had smiled, and Giorgio had drawn her up against his long frame, the grip on her arm painful, as though he dared her to disagree. Jemima had been far too light headed to utter any response at all. It was far too early to tell, but the sick feeling rolling through her stomach right now did little to reassure her. Too late she'd remembered that they had not used any contraception at all, and the thought of a possible pregnancy weighed heavy on her mind. She'd never wanted children, but deep down she knew that if she were pregnant she would treasure this baby, because it was Giorgio's.

  She couldn't tell him of her suspicions, even if they'd had more than five minutes on their own since, which they hadn't. Alfonso had not left her side, and every free minute she had had, she had spent catching up with her father. It would take a lot longer than two weeks to bridge the chasm of hurt between them, but she was willing to try. The tear-filled Skype conversation they'd all had with Elise, and a scowling Marco Giovanni in the back ground, had drained her of the last of her emotional reserves, and it had been a huge relief when Giorgio had announced that he was taking her home to the UK.

  They had left the Don's compound under the cover of darkness, driving such a complicated route, that Jemima had been hopelessly lost. The yacht had been moored at a private harbor under armed guard, and Jemima had fallen into an exhausted sleep the minute her head had touched the luxurious Egyptian cotton pillow. When she'd woken up in the middle of the night, Giorgio had been sleeping next to her, and she'd drunk in his classic Roman profile until her rolling stomach had sent her up deck to gulp in some much needed night air.

  She wasn't entirely convinced that she would feel safer in the UK, but she longed to see Elise, and some of the horror that still filled her every time she closed her eyes abated with every mile they put between themselves and the continent.

  "What are you doing up here? You'll freeze to death." Giorgio's deep voice wrapped itself around her senses at the same time as his warm body crowded her against the ship's rail. He nuzzled her neck, and Jemima turned round in his arms and buried her head in his chest. He was naked under his robe, bar a pair of satin boxers, and she shut her eyes and inhaled his unique scent. His hands massaged her ass cheeks briefly before he wrapped the ends of his robe around them both.

  "Chin up, cara mia. We'll be in London, come morning. And if I know the Giovanni there will be a huge celebration waiting for us. My ears are still ringing from Mamma G's screech down the phone."

  Jemima smiled against his chest. The formidable head of the Giovanni clan had indeed screeched like a girl when Giorgio announced he was bringing his wife home. She hadn't caught the rest of the conversation uttered in rapid Italian, but Giorgio had looked rather dazed when he had finally managed to put the phone down.

  "I'm surprised she wants to see me at all." Jemima mumbled the words into his impressive pectorals, fascinated by the way they flexed under her lips. Giorgio groaned, and with a gentle tug to her hair forced her chin up.

  "Don't! The past doesn't matter anymore. You're my wife. A wife she has been berating me for ages to take on, so of course she is pleased to see you. They all are. How we arrived at this state is irrelevant really. As far as the Giovanni are concerned we are madly in love, and that is exactly the cover we need to keep you safe and to throw the bloodhounds off our trail."

  She shivered anew at the reminder of the deadly threat they'd left behind, and he pulled her closer into him still. With her breasts flattened against him, her thighs nestled in between his powerful ones, she felt small, feminine, surrounded, and above all safe. She was also far too aware of him as man, and she bit back a groan when he shifted slightly. The hardness prodding into her belly left her in no doubt that he was as aware of her current state of undress as she was of his. She held her breath as his eyes darkened in desire.

  "So, maybe we should practice this in love thing, cara." He didn't give her a chance to respond. He simply dipped his head and claimed her lips as though it was his God-given right to do so, which of course it was. He was her husband after all. Her body responded to him with embarrassing predictability. Her nipples strained against his chest, her breasts grew heavy, and her thong grew wet with the evidence of her instant arousal. She curled her hands into the soft folds of his bath robe and rose on her tip toes, in an effort to get closer to him. Her lips opened under the soft, insistent pressure of his, and they both groaned when he took the kiss deeper. He grabbed her ass again and pulled her up against him, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a feather. She wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed her sodden core along the now rock hard erection straining his boxers. He wrenched his lips from her and swore, his eyes dark glittering orbs of heat that started an answering heat deep down in her belly.

  "You'll pay for that, cara."

  "I certainly hope so, big boy." He frowned at her breathless reply, and when he smiled her stomach flipped over in anticipation. That smile was sin itself, and before she knew what he was about he had her perched on the railing. One arm supported her back to ensure she did not fall to the swirling depths, with the other, he freed his burgeoning cock and then pushed her sodden thong out of the way. Her eyes widened in surprise, but he cut off anything she was about to say with a bruising kiss. In another swift move he impaled her on his cock. She was so wet for him already that he slid right in, and she gasped at the fullness inside her. He went still and murmured an apology that she swallowed up in the kiss she gave him. Held up against his body, the cool air on her exposed back side, the knowledge that they were doing this in full view of any crew who might be watching from the captain's deck, all pitched her arousal higher. A fresh wave of her juices aided his deeper slide into her as her muscles stretched around him, and he swore when she wriggled. She grasped his shoulders and levered herself up, using her thigh muscles to aid the process, and he pulled her hair again, exposing her neck. His lips latched on to the sensitive skin there, and he thrust, pushing her back against the railing.

  "Hold on to the rail." She followed his terse command immed
iately, the robe falling down her shoulders exposing her bare breasts. Both of his hands now anchored on her hips he pulled out until just the tip of his thick cock remained poised at her entrance. Her breath hitched when she looked down her body and saw him press back into her, inch by slow inch. The sight of him disappearing into her cunt was so incredibly erotic she bit her lips to stop from gasping out loud. He pulled out again, his movement so slow she wanted to scream at him to hurry up. The slow slide woke up a million nerves inside of her. He angled his hips, and this time when he slid in his cock rubbed against her clit. The familiar tingles spread in waves along her sweat-slicked skin, and their pelvic bones bumped together when he was seated as deeply as he could be.

  "Fuck, tesoro, you're so tight and wet. I can't do this slow." He growled the words into her neck, interspersed with his heavy pants as he thrust again, and again. Each time with more force than the one before. The edge of the railing dug into her ass, and the slight pain added to the sensual onslaught. Her fingers cramped with the effort required to hold on, her breasts bounced and jiggled, and she bit her lip so hard she drew blood. He latched onto one of the pale orbs shimmering with sweat in the moonlight and sucked the nipple into his mouth. This time she couldn't hold back her scream as the added simulation drew her so close to her orgasm she saw stars. He did the same to her other nipple, and all reason forgotten she locked her ankles behind his ass and met him thrust for bone jarring thrust, until her climax washed over her with such breathtaking intensity she couldn't even scream anymore. Her pussy clamped around his cock holding him in, and he moved faster, growling her name, as she shook around him. The wet sounds of their bodies slapping together drowned out the lapping of the water and the distant hum of the yacht's engine. With one final thrust that almost sent her tumbling off the wide mahogany railing, Giorgio grunted his release into her neck, sending her body into another mind-splintering orgasm.

  When she finally stopped shaking, reality set in, and she froze. He pulled out of her slowly, setting her on her feet with such tender care that tears rose in her eyes. If only she could believe these moments could last. He pulled her robe back around her and adjusted his boxers with a rueful smile toward the captain's deck. When she tried to hide her flaming cheeks behind her hands, he wouldn't let her. He kissed her nose and whipped her off her feet. She screeched in surprise, and he laughed.

  "Let's take this somewhere more comfortable and do that again. I can do better than this."

  Better than that? Jemima wasn't at all sure she would survive that, but she was certainly willing to try. Anything to stop her thinking. At least in this they connected, and she refused to let herself dwell on the fact that she could feel his seed trickling out of her slowly … again.

  ****

  Giorgio listened to the soft sounds of Jemima's retching that could be heard clearly in the peaceful early morning atmosphere, and he threw an arm over his eyes. He should go to her and hold her hair out the way or something, but that would mean acknowledging the elephant in the room, and neither he nor she seemed ready to have that conversation. Giorgio had been around enough pregnant women over the years to recognize the signs. He hadn't needed Giada's quiet word in his ear, to make sure he would take care of Jemima. The Dons' wife saw everything, and he had not been surprised to hear that Jemima had been sick the last three mornings running. She'd also avoided the coffee, and seemed to have developed a liking for bananas. Jemima didn't eat bananas, ever. It was the one fruit she couldn't stand at all.

  Add to that her sudden need for naps, and it all pointed to the glaringly obvious. Rita had known she was pregnant with Maria within days of conception, when she had developed a sudden craving for sauerkraut, so he knew it wasn't too soon. Was that the reason he hadn't bothered with a condom again last night, this instinctive knowledge that it was already too late for damage control?

  Jemima appeared out of the bathroom then, interrupting his brooding thoughts. Huddled inside her bath robe she looked frail and deathly pale. Faint purple smudges under her eyes testament of her exhaustion, and unease tied his guts in knots. Early pregnancy was hard enough on women when they were at their physical and mental best, let alone on someone as waif like as Jemima. Silently he cursed himself for a fool. He'd failed her again. He should have taken much better care of her already.

  "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" She gave him a wobbly smile and pulled the robe tighter round her middle. "I guess sea journeys and I don't go too well together." She didn't look at him when she spoke, and wandered over to one of the portholes.

  "Have we stopped?"

  "Yes, cara, we moored a while ago. Once we've had breakfast we'll be on our way to London." Jemima went even paler at the mention of breakfast. She hugged herself and swayed slightly as though she felt faint. Giorgio swore under his breath, and jumped out of bed to steady her. She leaned into him for a second, and his half erect cock roared into action with predictable speed.

  She noticed, of course. She would have to be blind not to. His prick seemed to be on a trip back in time to its teenage years when he'd had absolutely no control over that particular appendage. He was a grown man for fuck's sake. The last thing Jemima needed right now was him with his own version of the leaning tower of Pisa.

  "Ignore that, cara. The thing has a mind of its own when you're around." She giggled in response, and his lips twitched in answering amusement. Some of the old Jemima showed in the mischievous glint of her eyes when she pursed her lips and ran a fingernail down his shaft.

  "I don't know. I find it quite a compliment that you find me so irresistible." She proceeded to cup his balls and knead them, and he growled low in his throat, as his balls grew tight, and his pre cum seeped out of his slit. She swiped her thumb through the moisture and used the lubrication to run her hand up and down his cock. Giorgio closed his eyes and grabbed the wall for support, willing his body to behave.

  With his free hand he grabbed her wrist, halting the up and down glide of her fingers curled around his dick. "Dio Santo, have mercy, woman." He opened his eyes to see hers darkened in her own desire, her pale skin now flushed, and he gave in to instinct and kissed her. She whimpered into his mouth, and he fisted his hands into her hair, crowding her against the wall, as his tongue dueled with hers in an ever more passionate dance that left them both breathless by the time he pulled away. He fought for control and rested his forehead against hers for a few precious seconds. When he finally trusted himself to speak, and the throbbing in his loins had subsided enough for him to be able to move without shooting his load like a thirteen year old, he straightened and pulled her to the bed.

  "You sit here and rest. I'll rustle us up some breakfast. You need to eat to keep up your strength."

  She came willingly and sat on the edge of the bed, but she shook her head at the mention of breakfast.

  "I couldn't eat a thing, really. My stomach—"

  "Will feel much better once you've had some dry toast," he interrupted her murmured words, and she flushed a bright pink under his silent scrutiny. "Giada anticipated this. Her potion for … sea sickness is legendary." One of her hands strayed to her abdomen, and Giorgio locked his jaw and turned his back on her, lest she read the truth in his expression. Oh, yes, she was pregnant all right, but he was damned if he was going to bring this up, and admit how much his insides jumped for joy and desperate hope for the future at the thought of becoming a father. If she didn't trust him enough to tell him, it didn't bode well for the future of their relationship at all.

  He threw a pair of jeans on and almost ran from the cabin. A sheet of rain greeted him, and he welcomed the cool water on his bare skin. It was only fitting that their first day back on English soil should reflect the turbulent state of their marriage. They'd never discussed kids back then, but surely she'd want them? Jemima had been reserved around his goddaughter, and Alfonso's kids, but he'd put that down to the situation they'd been in. A cold sweat broke out all over his body at the thought that she may not want his baby. He
knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do if she didn't. All he could do was sit and wait, and pray to all the powers that be, that the cluster of cells that had taken up residence in her womb would be allowed to reach their full potential.

  Anything else did not bear thinking about. He made a dash for the kitchen galley, and by the time he re-emerged with a tray full of breakfast essentials the rain had stopped, and the sun had come out. Judging by the steam rising off the yacht's surface it promised to be a hot day after all. He shouldered the door to the cabin open and found Jemima curled into a ball on the king size bed. It seemed she had gone back to sleep. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he put the tray on the night stand and shrugged out of his wet clothes. Having dried himself off with a towel he climbed into bed next to her. She moaned in her sleep, and he settled her into the crook of his arm and pulled her close, the need to hold her suddenly paramount. There were dried tears on her cheeks, and he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  He kissed the tear stains away, and his heart gave a suspicious lurch in his too tight chest, when she snuggled into him, as trusting, needy, and fragile as a new newborn foal in her sleep. He settled his hand on her abdomen and vowed there and then to do everything in his power to protect the woman he loved with every fiber of his being. He might not trust her, but he could no more not love her than he could stop breathing. It was useless to even try to fight the overwhelming feelings engulfing him. Like the swirling mass of water cascading down a waterfall, his feelings could not be denied. They pulled him under, tossed him against the rocks, and spewed him on dry land, only to yank him back into the maelstrom, when he was least expecting it.

  He was opening himself up to a world of hurt, but he was going to fight for this marriage or die trying.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The gravel of Stella Giovanni's driveway crunched underneath the tires of the car, and Jemima bit back a nervous sigh. As though he sensed her agitation Giorgio put his hand on her bare thigh, just underneath the hem of her dress, and squeezed.