by Abby Green
‘Okay.’
Ciro picked up the wedding dress and led her over to his car, where she got into the back. When he got in on the other side, he surprised her by pulling her into his arms, enfolding her close. She closed her eyes and guiltily revelled in his strength. It wouldn’t last. He just felt guilty. But she’d take it while she could.
Amazingly, she fell asleep, with Ciro’s heartbeat thudding against her cheek. She was only vaguely aware of the car stopping, of Ciro lifting her out and carrying her. There was another familiar voice. And then she was being put down on a soft surface and a warm blanket was being pulled over her.
She struggled to wake up but Ciro’s commanding voice said, ‘No, go to sleep, Lara. You need to rest.’
* * *
When Lara woke the next morning it was early. Just after dawn. It took a minute for her to realise that she wasn’t in her disinfectant-scented room at the hostel. She was in a luxurious bed.
Ciro’s townhouse.
She sat up and looked down, grimacing. She was still dressed in her T-shirt and jeans. A faint smell of beer and fried food wafted up. She got up and went into the bathroom, stripping off and stepping under the shower.
As the water sluiced down over her body she finally allowed herself to remember the previous cataclysmic evening. The outpouring of emotion. The pain on Ciro’s face.
The fact that he didn’t love her but that he was sorry.
Lara hugged herself under the water for a long moment, willing back the emotion. She had to hold it in until she left this place. Then she could grieve. Finally.
When Lara stepped out of the shower she felt lighter, in spite of the heaviness in her heart. Cleansed. At peace. She had something she could hold to her and cherish, no matter what happened with Ciro.
Because, in spite of the catharsis of the truth finally being revealed, and what he’d said about his priorities, she knew him too well. She knew he would have had time now to assess what had happened, and that he must be mortified by how much he’d revealed. Not to mention the public humiliation of being arrested at a party in Buckingham Palace.
He wouldn’t thank her for that when he realised the full extent of the repercussions. He’d worked too hard not to mind.
She pulled on a towelling robe from the back of the door and made her way downstairs to the utility room with her clothes, intending to wash and dry them.
When she was on her way back up she heard a noise in the kitchen and went in. Ciro was there, in jeans and a shirt, sipping a cup of coffee. He turned to face her and she felt shy. Ridiculously.
‘I’m sorry about that—falling asleep. I must have been more tired than I thought.’
Ciro looked stern. ‘I’m not surprised...working two jobs.’
Lara’s mouth fell open. ‘How did you know?’
‘I tracked you down a few days ago. My investigators told me.’
Lara tried not to sound defensive. ‘I need the money.’
Ciro changed the subject. ‘Coffee?’
Lara nodded. ‘Please.’
She tried to gauge his mood but it was hard. He wasn’t exhibiting any sign of the emotion of last night and her worst fears seemed to be coming true. He was regretting having said anything.
He handed her a cup. ‘Let’s talk upstairs.’
‘We really don’t have to. You must be busy. And I have to get to work at the restaurant—’
He stopped her. ‘You’re not working there again.’
‘Ciro, I can’t just—’
‘Come upstairs with me. Please.’
Lara followed him, trying not to give in to the anger and panic that Ciro was riding roughshod over her life all over again.
He led her into one of the informal living rooms, with soft slouchy sofas and chairs. She took a chair and Ciro walked to the window. She tried not to let her gaze drop to where the material of his snug jeans hugged his buttocks so lovingly.
She took a fortifying sip of coffee and put down her cup. ‘As soon as my clothes are dry I’ll get out of your hair. I know you mean well, but I really can’t afford to lose that job—’
Ciro whirled around, the first crack in his calm façade showing. ‘I said you are not going back there, Lara. Dio.’ He put down his own cup and shoved his hands deep in his jeans pockets, as if afraid he might do something bad with them.
Lara was stunned into silence. She saw a muscle beating in his jaw.
‘This house is your house, Lara. You have somewhere to live. You don’t need to work to put a roof over your head. Ever again.’
She looked at him. Totally confused. ‘You’re giving me your house?’
‘I mean, it’s ours. My home is your home.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t... What are you saying, Ciro?’
He came over and sat down. Stood up. Sat down again. Suddenly she could see the emotion on his face.
‘I’m saying that I want us to stay married, Lara. But after everything you’ve been through... I know you deserve your independence. You’ve had people—men—telling you what to do since you lost your family, and I don’t want to just be another man running your life.’
Lara’s heart constricted. ‘You don’t want me to go?’
He shook his head, kneeling down beside her. ‘No. I don’t want you to leave. Ever. But I also don’t want you to feel obliged to stay because you feel like you owe me, or because of guilt. I love you, Lara, but I don’t want you to feel trapped.’
The world stopped on its axis. ‘You...what?’
Ciro frowned. ‘I love you... I told you yesterday...’
Lara shook her head. ‘No. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that piece of information. You were upset...feeling guilty... You mentioned feelings. But you never mentioned love.’
Ciro took her hand. ‘Well, I do love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you in that street in Florence. I just didn’t know what it was. You were the first woman to get under my skin without even trying, Lara. The first woman I spent a whole night with in my bed. When I proposed to you it was because you were the first woman who made me want more. Who made me hate the cynicism I’d been brought up with.’
Ciro went pale.
‘When those kidnappers ripped you out of my arms that day...that’s when I knew... But even afterwards I told myself that it couldn’t be love. I would never be so foolish, such a slave to my emotions—not like my father.’
Lara saw it on his face. Pure emotion. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sound of pure joy mixed with shock.
But Ciro took her hand down. ‘Please believe me, Lara. I love you more than life itself. Without you the world didn’t make sense. I never truly believed you were that person you’d turned into in the hospital, but it was easier to believe that than admit you’d broken my heart.’
Lara touched his face, his scar. Tears blurred her vision. ‘Oh, my love...my darling. I’m so sorry.’
He caught her face in his hands. He looked fierce. ‘Never say sorry again. Never.’
She nodded. ‘I love you...so much.’
Ciro shook his head. ‘I’m almost scared to believe... We’ve been through so much—I’ve put you through so much...’
Lara put a finger to his mouth, stopping his words. ‘Don’t you ever say that again. Neither of us were to blame. We got caught up in events outside our control. I love you, my darling, and that’s all you have to believe.’
She bent forward and kissed him. A sweet chaste kiss. Then she pulled back and said shakily, ‘Even if you had told me you loved me, and we’d stood up to my uncle, I dread to think what might have happened. He was crazy, Ciro. I was his only hope of redemption and he was capable of anything.’
Ciro was grim. ‘Maybe—but he put us through two years of hell.’ He said then, ‘Do you know why I really bought this ho
use?’
She shook her head, marvelling at how full her heart could feel.
‘I kept tabs on you for those two years...hoping for God knows what to happen. I knew where you lived and I bought this house sight unseen. I think I had nefarious plans to seduce you away from Henry Winterborne. It would have proved that you had no morals, but more importantly it would have brought you back to me. I had no qualms about playing dirty to get you back.’
Lara smiled a shaky smile. ‘You have no idea how many nights I dreamed of you coming to rescue me. But then I’d see photos of you, out and about, getting on with your life, with other women...’
The pain of that still made her gut churn. She looked away.
Ciro caught her chin and turned her back to face him. ‘I didn’t take one of those women into my bed. I couldn’t. The thought of you—it consumed me. You ruined me for anyone else. Ever.’
Lara couldn’t hold back. She flung her arms around Ciro and he caught her. Lifted her up and sat down on the sofa, settling her across his lap. Cradling her.
Lara clutched at his shirt. ‘We’ve wasted so much time...’
He caught her chin again, tipping it up. ‘No. We start again now. No more regrets, okay?’
Lara nodded, humbled by Ciro’s capacity to forgive and move on.
He sat up then, and put her beside him. Then he got off the sofa and down on one knee in front of her.
‘Ciro...’
He drew a box out of his jeans pocket. A familiar velvet box. Her heart tripped. He opened it and she saw her engagement ring and wedding ring.
Ciro suddenly looked anxious. ‘Maybe I should have bought new ones.’
Lara touched them reverently. ‘No, I love them.’
He took the rings out of the box and looked at her. ‘Lara Sant’Angelo, will you please stay my wife—for the rest of our lives?’
She nodded, and got out a choked, ‘Yes.’
When the rings were back on her finger, where they belonged, she said, ‘I wondered why you hadn’t thrown the engagement ring away...’
Ciro looked deep into her eyes and said huskily, ‘Maybe because I was already dreaming of this moment.’
He kissed her then, so deeply that he touched her heart and mended all the broken shards back together.
Much later, when they were lying in bed, sated and at peace, Lara said, ‘I think maybe that’s why I tracked down my mother’s wedding dress when I had the chance. Maybe I was hoping for a second chance.’
Ciro caught her hand and her rings sparkled. He kissed her there and she looked at him, caught in those dark eyes that held so much love.
‘Second chances and new beginnings.’
‘Yes, my love, for ever.’
EPILOGUE
A month later...
DUSK WAS MELTING into night as Lara walked to the entrance of the small chapel in the grounds of the palazzo in Sicily. Apparently it was a tradition, marrying at night. She didn’t really care.
Lighted torches had guided her from the palazzo to the chapel and to Isabella, who was her bridesmaid. The young girl’s eyes were suspiciously shiny as she fussed over Lara at the entrance, where flowers festooned the doorway, making the air heavy with a million scents.
Hero danced around their feet, looking up at Lara adoringly. She was attached to Isabella’s wrist with a ribbon and had a velvet cushion tied to her collar, upon which was tied a gold wedding band inlaid with sapphires. A new wedding ring to celebrate this renewal of their vows.
‘Your dress is so beautiful.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lara.
She hadn’t been allowed to look at herself in a mirror with the dress on—apparently another Sicilian tradition. But she’d had her mother’s dress adjusted slightly so that it fitted her perfectly.
It was classically simple and sweetly bohemian, with its high neck and ruffled bodice. She wore her hair down and a garland of flowers adorned her head. No veil. She didn’t need to hide any more—from anything.
Isabella pressed a simple bouquet of local flowers into her hands and then stepped in front of her to start her walk down the aisle.
Roberto, her twin brother, was acting as groomsman to Ciro. And Lazaro was there too—Ciro’s best friend. His eyes had been suspiciously shiny earlier, when they’d had an informal pre-ceremony lunch.
He’d taken Lara’s hands and said, ‘I’m sorry for doubting you.’
Lara had shaken her head and said, ‘No need to apologise. I’m glad you were there for him.’
Lazaro had grimaced. ‘He wasn’t a pretty sight the day you got married the first time. I had to peel him off the floor of a bar—’
‘Filling my wife’s head with stories again, Lazaro?’
Lara had smiled and put her hand over Ciro’s, where his arm had wrapped around her waist, leaning back against him and revelling in his solid strength and love. He’d told her about how he’d gone out and got blind drunk the day of her wedding to Henry Winterborne.
She knew everything. And so did he. No more secrets.
Now she hesitated for a moment on the threshold of the small chapel. Hovering between the past and present. Ciro hadn’t turned to look at her walk down the aisle at their first wedding ceremony, but even as that thought formed in her head he turned around now.
And even though she hadn’t been allowed to look at herself in her wedding dress, she didn’t need to. She could see herself reflected in his eyes as she walked towards him and she’d never felt more beautiful or more desired.
Or more loved.
She was home. At last.
Hours later, after the revelry had finally died down and Ciro had picked her up to carry her to their suite amidst much catcalling and cheering, Lara stood facing out to where the dawn was breaking on a new day on the horizon.
Ciro was behind her, undoing each tiny button on the dress—undressing his bride to make love to her, kissing each sliver of exposed skin.
Lara’s eyes filled with tears. She whispered, ‘I dreamt of this moment but I never dared to believe it might come true. I was so scared to love again after losing my family.’
Ciro’s hands stopped and he turned her around to face him. He wiped her tears away. ‘It’s not a dream...it’s real. Because you were brave enough to trust.’
Lara smiled through her tears. ‘Because you made me fall for you.’
Ciro smiled smugly. ‘That too.’
Then his smile faded and he put a hand to her belly between them. ‘And we can have more too, if you trust me.’
She whispered, ‘A family...’
He nodded. ‘I wouldn’t want this with anyone else. Only you.’
‘Me too.’
‘Let’s start now. This morning.’
Lara reached up and put her arms around his neck, pressing her mouth to his before saying emotionally, ‘Yes, please.’
* * *
Nine months later, in a hospital in Palermo, Ciro and Lara welcomed a baby son—Carlo—and their family was complete.
At least until Margarita arrived a couple of years later.
And then Stefano.
Then it was complete.
* * *
If you enjoyed Awakened by the Scarred Italian you’re sure to enjoy these other stories by Abby Green!
A Christmas Bride for the King
The Virgin’s Debt to Pay
Claiming His Wedding Night Consequence
An Innocent, A Seduction, A Secret
Available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Passionate Night with the Greek by Kim Lawrence.
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A Passionate Night with the Greek
by Kim Lawrence
CHAPTER ONE
ZACH HAD RECEIVED the message he had been waiting for while he was stuck in traffic. Sometimes a first-hand knowledge of the back streets of Athens, combined with a flexible attitude to rules, came in useful.
Zach possessed both.
For some of his formative years he had lived by his wits on those streets, finding it infinitely preferable to living with the grandmother who had resented having her daughter’s bastard foisted on her, and the drunken uncle who had perfected bullying into an art form.
It took him just under half an hour and a few probable speeding fines to reach the hospital. He remained oblivious to the covetous stares that followed his long-legged progress from his car and through the building. It took him three more minutes to reach the intensive care unit where Alekis Azaria had spent three days in a medically induced coma after being successfully resuscitated following his last cardiac arrest.
