Reunited with Her Italian Billionaire

by Nina Singh

  “Let’s go,” Marco said and gently fought their way through the crowd toward the group. Brianna forced back yet another surge of bile at the base of her throat.

  One of the ladies looked up just as they approached. She was stunning, so much so that Brianna missed a step. She regained her footing and just barely avoided crashing face-first into the chest of a passing stranger.

  Brianna shut her eyes tight and said a small prayer. Maybe when she opened them again she would realize she’d overestimated the woman’s beauty.

  The prayer went unanswered. The vision before her had to be some type of model or actress. The other females at the table also held their own in the looks department.

  Brianna ran her hand through her unruly curls. No amount of primping would put her on par with the likes of the ladies before her right now.

  Leo stood as soon as he spotted them and pulled two nearby chairs to their table. “There they are,” his voice boomed through the air. “The lovely Brianna and her boor of a husband.”

  Marco replied with some type of hand gesture Brianna didn’t understand. Definitely not anything she’d seen in New York. Leo only laughed louder.

  Any other time and she would have laughed at the men’s humorous banter. Right now, it was taking all she had to simply stand straight. Between shock and nausea, it was proving to be quite a battle. So not the first impression she was shooting for with Marco’s friends.

  Marco guided her to the table as laughter and mock cheers greeted them. Brianna managed a weak wave but didn’t dare try to speak. Opening her mouth would be too risky. The brunette stood and gave Marco a kiss. Only on the cheek but it was definitely a lingering one. She said something to him in Italian and Marco barked out in laughter. Brianna slammed a hand against her belly. Her stomach had gone from flips to all-out gymnastic level cartwheels.

  Finally, the brunette turned and directed the focus of her shapely, dark eyes right on her. High cheekbones, dark eyes, a pert nose. The woman could have been an image straight out of a painting, the descendant of a Renaissance portrait subject.

  She addressed her in English with a heavy accent and a warm smile. “I’m Natalia, but I’m called Talia.”

  The woman continued speaking but Brianna could hear nothing through the roaring suddenly echoing in her ears. The world started to shift around her and then it began to spin.

  There was nothing for it. She couldn’t even pretend anymore. She was going to be sick.

  “Excuse me,” she managed to blurt out and turned on her heel. Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, she tried to put as much distance between herself and the group as possible.

  She barely made it to the edge of the water in time.

  * * *

  What kind of man didn’t know his wife had never been on a boat before?

  Marco could simply stare as Brianna shoved past him and hurled herself through the crowd. He lost sight of her for a split second in the bustling sea of people. When he spotted her again he bit out a sharp curse in Italian. She stood bent over by the edge of the water. Violently ill.

  “Scusa,” he said to his shocked friends and made his way over to where his wife stood.

  “Brianna?”

  She lifted a hand but didn’t turn to look at him. “Please, Marco. Just leave me alone.”

  How was he supposed to do that? What did she expect? For him to just walk away and hope she didn’t pass out or anything? “Uh, can I get you some water? Or ice?”

  Her response was another heave. He reached for her tentatively before dropping his hand back down by his side.

  “Is there any chance you’ll walk away?” she asked between what sounded like several violent hiccups.

  “Probably not.”

  This time the response was an elongated groan. So much for showing Brianna a fun time today. He’d failed miserably. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might have an issue on the water. He’d grown up on the water, had been sailing since his teens. He and his grandfather had spent hours cruising along the coast every weekend before the man had passed away several years back.

  “I wish there was something I could do for you, cara.”

  She shook her head and wiped her mouth. Marco signaled to a passing vendor selling various ice smoothies. Fortunately, the man also had bottled water. Marco paid the man quickly then held the plastic bottle in Brianna’s direction. It took her a minute to notice he was holding something to her. She took it with a shaky hand then brought it to her forehead.

  “I’ll be all right in a few minutes. Luckily, I hadn’t eaten much of anything.”

  “Yes, you appear quite lucky at the moment,” he quipped in an attempt at comic relief.

  She didn’t appear to be in the mood. All he got was a grimace in response. “I’m so sorry about this, cara,” he told her.

  “Why in the world are you apologizing to me?”

  “This trip was my idea. You are my responsibility.”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “I was the one who got ill in the middle of meeting your friends for the first time ever.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for not being accustomed to the water. I should have thought to take precautions.”

  She turned to face him fully then. Marco tried not to react to the way she looked. Her pallor had gone completely ashen, dark smudges framed the area beneath her eyes. Her hair had escaped its noose and fell haphazardly around her face and neck.

  Somehow, she still looked stunningly beautiful.

  He shook his head to clear it. What a fanciful thought. They had more pressing matters than how Brianna looked after an episode of seasickness.

  “I’m your wife, Marco. Please don’t call me your responsibility.”

  Where had that come from?

  He hadn’t meant it the way she seemed to be interpreting the statement. For the first time since he’d met her, Marco entertained the possibility that they might have some kind of a language issue between them. They did after all have different first tongues. “I simply meant—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Please, not now. I just need another minute.”

  Marco shut his mouth before he could say anything more to upset her. Not only was she not feeling well, she was angry. At him. But she didn’t want to hear him apologizing for her predicament. So what was she upset with him about? Brianna turned back and stared at the horizon. He stood silently as she did her best to collect herself. Glancing back to where his friends stood watching them with concern, he gave a reassuring wave.

  This trip was turning out nothing like the way he’d imagined.

  * * *

  The scene at the marina still tugged at her mind though they’d gotten back three days ago. Brianna had toughed it out through the rest of the trip, refusing to return home or letting Marco pull out of the competition.

  But she hadn’t enjoyed a moment of it. And something had definitely shifted between them afterward. Their brief interlude of a makeshift truce had faded to one of tension and underlying strife. Now, she was moving forward with the decision she’d come to even before their return from the regatta.

  Correction, it was the same decision she had made over six months ago when she’d left Italy in the first place. She and Marco belonged to two different worlds. And they definitely didn’t belong together.

  Marco had been in emotional pain when they’d met. Grieving for his lost mother, whether he’d known it or not. It was only that pain and confusion that had led him into her arms. His anguished state of mind had played the only role in the way he’d behaved that week when they’d first met. What were the chances someone like him would have otherwise even glanced in her direction?

  She glanced down at the list of names she’d researched. Names of renowned child psychologists in the Amalfi area. A couple were located as far away as Rome. If she had t
o, she would make the trip. It was time to get Enzo evaluated, not only to make sure he was thriving, but also to ensure he adjusted properly to the inevitable. His parents weren’t going to be a couple that stayed together.

  The next step after that would be to try to contact Chef Ziyad again. She had to pursue that possible avenue of employment harder than she’d been able to back in New York.

  She didn’t know how long any of that would take. But she wasn’t going to put it any of it off any longer.

  She’d tried, she really had.

  Brianna bit back a sob as she reached for the phone to call the first professional on her list. This was so much worse than when she and Marco had failed the first time.

  Marco chose that moment to walk in through the front door. His expression was guarded, his demeanor stiff. Things had been that way between them since they’d gotten back. Even now, as she took in his tailored suit, his coal-dark hair, she had to resist the urge to run into his arms and ask him to kiss her.

  How foolish she could be when it came to this man.

  “Where’s Enzo?” he asked without so much as a hello.

  “Nonna took him out by the pond.”

  He nodded, seemed to look her over. “I’ll be in the study for most of the evening. I’ll take my dinner in there when it’s ready.”

  “I wanted to talk to you for a moment first.”

  “Can it wait? I’ve got a lot to get through before a staff meeting tomorrow.”

  “I’m afraid I’d rather not delay.” She stood before he could get far. Better to just get this over with. “Before you hole up, there are some things we need to go over.”

  “Hole up? That’s how you’re going to describe me trying to get some work done?”

  Really? That was the battle he wanted to pursue at the moment? Wait till she told him what she’d spent the afternoon doing. “It’s just a figure of speech, Marco.”

  He dropped his briefcase to the ground and rubbed his forehead. “Very well. What is it that you’d like to discuss?”

  For an insane moment, Brianna had an urge to voice the questions she really wanted to ask him. If he’d ever thought he might have genuine feelings for the woman he’d inadvertently ended up married to. Despite the unconventional way they’d met, despite the inner turmoil that had led him into her arms.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ve been doing some research since we returned.”

  “What kind of research?”

  “Experts in child rearing.”

  “I see.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “I’d like to get Enzo analyzed. By a child psychologist.”

  “Has something happened?” A flash of concern flickered in his eyes.

  “No. He’s actually been a happy, well-adjusted toddler since we returned.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Then I don’t see the point.”

  Brianna let out a deep breath. Yes, he did. Of course he saw the point. He was just going to insist on making her say it, to make her admit her motives out loud.

  “I’m trying to think of the long term.”

  “You’re looking for reassurance that it will be okay to take him away again. I thought we’d already had this conversation.”

  “But we never resolved it. You and I both know this isn’t going to work, Marco. We gave it another go. It’s not like we didn’t.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “If you’re going to be this temperamental about living here then maybe it will be easier to just make a clean break once and for all.” He stepped forward and lifted a finger accusingly. “But I will not have my son adversely affected. We’ll see what your experts have to say about any of that.”

  His words and his whole attitude stoked her temper. She’d wanted so badly to discuss all this with him in a calm and mature manner. She should have known better. “I know what they’re going to say. That children are never better off in the long term if the parents aren’t happy in their marriage.”

  “Is this about the race?” Marco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry you had a miserable time. I’m sorry I made you go.”

  Did he honestly think that was what her decision was about? The events of that day had simply been the trigger that made their incompatibility glaringly obvious. Yet again.

  “It’s about so much more than the race.”

  “Right. It’s about being stuck in an unhappy marriage and incompatibility.”

  He may as well have added blah, blah, blah to the end of his statement.

  Brianna fought the urge to stomp her foot like a child. “No, more so about how we’re from completely different worlds and backgrounds. And you have no interest in trying to address any of that.”

  “I was the one who asked you to go to the regatta, remember?”

  “Yes, and I appreciate the attempt.” She inhaled a deep breath as her voice shook. “But how could you have thought it would be enough? I need more than a day boating with you, Marco. I need you to talk to me.”

  She’d known this wasn’t going to be easy. Trying to get through to Marco about her concerns never was.

  “What exactly is it that you want me to say, Brianna?”

  She wanted him to tell her that it would all right. That he was ready to share his life with her. She wanted to hear that he would never doubt their future together. For the sake of her child and her heart, she wanted that guarantee.

  But she knew that would all be asking too much. Sooner or later, it would all turn for the worse.

  Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week. But it was a certainty. Why had she ever thought she could fit in with the likes of Marco Dirici?

  He was yachting and vineyards and international corporate offices.

  He’d only turned to her during a time of torment and confusion after finding out his estranged mother had died after abandoning him years before. If not for his shock and certain anger, he probably wouldn’t have given someone like Brianna Stedman the time of day.

  After all, she was nothing more than a cook from New Jersey.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MARCO LOOSENED HIS tie and shrugged off his jacket. With all the frustration and agitation he was feeling, he threw them onto the sofa. Then he wished he had something else to throw, something that would break and shatter. His wife stood in front of him like a small waif facing a royal guard. Under any other circumstances, he might actually admire her determination.

  Everything had gone so wrong. He wished he’d never entered that godforsaken regatta. Then maybe Brianna wouldn’t be looking at him right now like a wasp she wanted to swat away. He’d expected too much, put too much faith in one little trip. A foolish part of him thought he and Brianna would be returning from the coast with a renewed sense of solidarity and family. The exact opposite had occurred.

  Instead, she was telling him she wanted to leave again.

  Served him right for having such ridiculous thoughts in the first place. Did he think one sailing trip was going to make any kind of difference? If he hadn’t been able to make his wife care for him after all this time, what did that say about the kind of man he was? To think, he’d ridiculed his own father for so many years for essentially the same thing.

  “I again have to ask, what exactly would you like me to say, cara?”

  A brief flash of emotion flickered in her eyes. He didn’t have it in him to try to analyze it. Not now.

  She clasped her hands in front of her belly and for an insane moment he wanted to reach out to her. He wanted to take those hands into his and bring them to his mouth. To tell her that things would be all right. That they would figure it all out. That they had to try for the sake of their son. He almost took a step forward in her direction before he caught himself.

  “You have nothing
you would like to say?”

  “Not a thing I can think of.”

  She seemed to deflate like a balloon before his very eyes. “I have no choice then. I’d like to move forward with my plans to have Enzo seen by a professional. Would you like to provide any input?”

  “As far as?”

  She wrung her hands tighter. “About the doctor we take Enzo to. About how to prep him for the return to New York. I’m sure we should go over some of this together.”

  We?

  She was serious. Did she honestly expect him to help further the process along under these circumstances? Did she not see that he felt totally cut off at the knees? “I really have no interest in any of that. Like you said, cara. These are all your plans.”

  “But don’t you—?”

  Marco was done listening. He dismissed her by turning away and then picked his briefcase off the floor. “Update me as necessary. I have work to do.”

  Brianna let him go without further argument. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  Marco closed the door to his study and walked over to the large window overlooking the south lawn. This scene always soothed him. The pathway that led to Nonna’s precious gardens, the rolling hills in the distance. It was one of the reasons he had chosen this room as his at-home office. For the sense of calm this view provided him.

  But not today.

  He’d let her down. He’d placed Brianna in a predicament and environment she was utterly unprepared for. And then he’d been unable to help in any way.

  Biting out a curse, he grabbed the glass paperweight off his desk and got ready to throw it against the wall. A rapid knock on the door stopped him midthrow.

  “Come in.”

  Brianna had followed him. Her gaze fell to the paperweight Marco still gripped viselike in his hands. But she didn’t comment on it. “I’d like to continue discussing this.”

  Marco set the paperweight down as Brianna stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.