Somehow, in the weight of the tender kiss they shared, he slid his trousers off and rested himself between her legs.
Incredible sensations suffused her as he drove slowly inside her.
‘I love you, Orla,’ he whispered raggedly as he withdrew to the tip. ‘I fell in love with you so quickly I didn’t even know it was happening. I tried to forget you, but it was impossible. You were in my head and in my heart, and you have never left it. My love is yours for ever.’
And then he thrust deep inside her.
Orla wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and her legs tightly around his waist and, lips crushed together, succumbed to the heady pulsations growing in intensity in her slavish body and filling into her heart so that when she reached her climax and the pulsations ripped through her very being, her heart opened like a flower in bloom and never closed again.
EPILOGUE
ORLA STOOD OUTSIDE the Bally House church doors and looked up at the blue sky with a smile.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered to whoever was out there listening to these things. Whoever that deity was, she would be for ever grateful for them turning the sun on over her beautiful Emerald Isle for this one day.
Her sister gave her one last critical inspection before a huge smile broke over her face. ‘You look beautiful,’ she said, eyes brimming.
Orla punched her in the arm. ‘Pack it in or you’ll get me going.’
Aislin sniffed and blinked frantically. ‘I’m sorry. Stupid hormones.’
Dante, who was hovering behind the two sisters, coughed loudly.
‘Don’t you make that noise, sir,’ Aislin told him sternly. ‘It’s your fault I’m so hormonal.’
If Dante were a peacock his tail would be in full bloom.
Orla rolled her eyes. Fair enough, he was proud that he was going to be a father again, but the strutting peacock act was wearing pretty thin, especially when her own belly was starting to resemble a watermelon. In this respect fate had proved to have an evil sense of humour, with Orla discovering she was pregnant the day after they’d sent all the wedding invitations out. That would teach them not to use contraception. She didn’t know who’d been happier about the pregnancy—her, Tonino or Finn.
‘Are you going to walk me down the aisle or what?’
Her brother laughed and took her arm. Aislin giggled and helped Finn to his feet. She would hold his hand every step of the walk down the aisle behind his mummy, for which Finn was determined to carry his parents’ wedding rings.
Giulia, Tonino’s sister, and the four children on Tonino’s side old enough to follow Orla down the aisle without trying to make a run for it, took their positions behind the train of her dress.
Inside the church, the organist struck up the wedding march.
The two hundred guests, Sicilians and Irish alike out in force, craned their heads, a buzz of excitement permeating the musty chapel air.
At the top of the aisle stood Tonino, supported by his brother. On the front row to the right were his parents and three surviving grandparents. On the front row to the left were Dante’s mother and his latest stepfather. Strangely, Orla had found herself forging the unlikeliest of bonds with the woman whose marriage Orla’s conception had destroyed. Immacolata had Aislin and Dante’s six-month-old son Sal standing on her lap. Orla bit her cheeks to hide the laughter when she witnessed Sal dribble into an oblivious Immacolata’s immaculately groomed and glossy hair.
The warmth from everyone crammed in the church filled her heart and for a moment she had to blink back tears.
This was it. This was the moment she and Tonino officially pledged their lives together, and, as she looked into the dark chocolate eyes of the man she loved so much and recited the vows that would tie her to him for ever, she knew he was thinking exactly what she was thinking.
That nothing would ever come between them again.
* * *
If you found yourself head over heels for Her Sicilian Baby Revelation you’ll love Aislin and Dante’s story The Sicilian’s Bought Cinderella
And don’t forget to look out for these other Michelle Smart stories!
Billionaire’s Baby of Redemption
A Cinderella to Secure His Heir
The Greek’s Pregnant Cinderella
A Passionate Reunion in Fiji
Available now
Keep reading for an excerpt from Bound by My Scandalous Pregnancy by Maya Blake.
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Bound by My Scandalous Pregnancy
by Maya Blake
CHAPTER ONE
REINCARNATION. KARMA. SINS coming home to roost.
Once upon a time, in the not-too-distant past, if anyone had asked me if I believed in any of those things I’d have rolled my eyes and told them to get real. That life worked on the amount of effort you put into each day.
On love.
Loyalty.
Hard work.
How wrong I was.
Frozen outside the towering glass and steel offices of one of the most powerful men on the globe, my wrists tingling from the phantom handcuffs that might become real before the hour was out, I wondered which deity I’d wronged to bring me to this end.
Did it even matter that the domino effect of sheer rotten luck mostly had nothing to do with me? Was it worth ranting that the sins of the father shouldn’t be visited upon the daughter?
No.
The awful truth was, while the majority of what happened to me in the past few years wasn’t my fault, this last, shocking misstep was one hundred percent mine.
Sure, I could prove that a collection of things had culminated in that one gigantic error, but the reality was inescapable. The buck, and the blame, stopped with me.
Time to own it, Sadie.
One more minute, I silently pleaded to whatever higher power held my fate in its cruel grip.
But, adding to every other misfortune unfolding in my life, my plea went unheeded.
The two sharply dressed security guards who’d been eyeing me with increasing wariness through the imposing glass frontage were heading my way. These days the whole world was on edge. I of all people should know that.
The economy had been partly responsible for decimating the family I once took for granted. The family currently hanging by a very fragile thread.
And dressed in threadbare clothes that were at least five seasons old, my troubled expression reflected in the polished glass, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was wrestled to the ground and arrested for trespassing. Or worse.
Disturbingly, that possibility gleamed palatably for a second, attesting to my true state of mind. Really? I’d rather be arrested than—
‘Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?’
I jumped, my hand flying to my throat to contain the heart beating itself into a frenzy. The burlier of the two guards had stepped through the revolving doors without my noticing and now stood a few feet away. Everything about him promised he could switch from courteous to menacing in a heartbeat.
Definitely time to own it, Sadie.
‘I...’ I stopped, moved my tongue to wet desert-dry lips. ‘I need to see Mr Xenakis. Is he in?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll have to ask for him at the reception desk. Do you have an appointment?’
I nearly laughed. How could I make an appointment to confess what I’d done?
‘Um, no. But—’
‘I think you should leave now, miss.’ His tone indicated it wasn’t a suggestion.
‘Please! It’s a matter of life
or death.’
He froze. ‘Whose life?’
I bit the inside of my lip, afraid I’d overexaggerated things a little. For all I knew, the man I’d wronged wouldn’t bat an eyelid at my actions. Truth was, I wouldn’t know until I confronted him.
‘I...I can’t tell you. But it’s urgent. And private. If you could just tell me if Mr Xenakis is in?’
For an interminable minute he simply watched me. Then he grasped my elbow. ‘Come with me, Miss...?’
I hesitated. Once I gave my name there’d be no going back. But what choice did I have? Either confess and plead my case or wait for the authorities to show up at my door. ‘Preston. Sadie Preston.’
With swift efficiency, I was ushered across the stunning atrium of Xenakis Aeronautics, through a series of nondescript doors that led to the bowels of the basement and into a room bearing all the hallmarks of an interrogation chamber.
Hysteria threatened. I suppressed it as the guard muttered a stern, ‘Stay here.’
The next twenty minutes were the longest of my life. In direct contrast to the speed with which my life flashed before my eyes after the enormity of what I’d done sank in.
The man who entered the room then was even more imposing, leaving me in no doubt that my request was being taken seriously. And not in a good way.
‘Miss Preston?’
At my hesitant nod, the tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man held the door open, his dark eyes assessing me even more thoroughly once I scrambled to my feet.
‘I’m Wendell, head of Mr Xenakis’s security team. This way,’ he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
Dear God, either Neo Xenakis was super thorough about his interactions with the common man or he was paranoid about his security. Neither boded well.
Another series of incongruous underground hallways brought us to a steel-framed lift. Wendell accessed it with a sleek black key card. Once inside, he pressed another button.
The lift shot up, leaving my stomach and the last dregs of my courage on the basement floor. I wanted to throw myself at the lift doors, claw them open and jump out, consequences be damned. But my feet were paralysed with the unshakeable acceptance that I would only be postponing the inevitable.
Besides, I didn’t run from my responsibilities. Not like my father literally had when things got tough. Not like my mother was doing by burying her head in the sand and frivolously gambling away money we didn’t have. A habit that had veered scarily towards addiction in the last six months.
I stifled my anxiety as the lift slid to a smooth halt.
One problematic mountain at a time.
This particular one bore all the hallmarks of an Everest climb. One that might only see me to Base Camp before the worst happened.
Not a single member of the sharply dressed staff I’d spotted coming and going downstairs roamed this rarefied space, which boasted the kind of furnishings that graced the expensive designer magazines my mother had avidly subscribed to back when money had been no object for the Prestons. The kind that had always made me wonder if the pictures were staged or if people actually lived like that.
Evidently, they did.
The dove-grey carpeting looked exclusive and expensive, making me cringe as my scuffed, cheap shoes trod over it. Lighter shades of grey silk graced the walls, with stylish lampshades illuminating the space and the twin console tables that stood on either side of the immense double doors.
Made of white polished ash, with handles that looked like gleaming aeroplane wings, everything about them and the glimpse of the expansive conference rooms I could see from where I stood screamed opulence and exclusivity. The type that belonged to owners who didn’t take kindly to strangers ruining their day with the sort of news I had to deliver.
Sweat broke out on my palms. Before I could perform the undignified act of rubbing them against the polyester weave of my skirt, Wendell knocked twice.
The voice that beckoned was deep enough to penetrate the solid wood, formidable enough to raise the dread digging its claws into me...and enigmatic enough to send a skitter of...something else down my spine.
That unknown quality threatened to swamp all other emotions as Wendell opened the doors. ‘You have five minutes,’ he informed me, then stepped to one side.
The need to flee resurged. How long would a prison sentence be for this kind of crime, anyway?
Too long. My mother wouldn’t survive more upheaval. And with our landlord threatening eviction, the last thing I could afford was more turbulence.
With no choice but to face my fate, I took a shaky step into the office.
And promptly lost every last gasp of air from my lungs at the sight of the man braced against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, arms crossed and fierce eyes locked on me.
If his surroundings screamed ultraexclusivity and supreme wealth, the man himself was so many leagues above that station, he required his own stratosphere. Even stationary, he vibrated with formidable power—the kind that commanded legions with just one look.
And his body...
The navy suit, clearly bespoke, enhanced the bristling power of his athletic build. Like his impressive six-foot-plus height, his wide tapered shoulders seemed to go on for ever, with the kind of biceps that promised to carry any load rippling beneath the layers of clothes. Above the collar of his pristine white shirt, his square jaw jutted out with unapologetic masculinity, and his pure alpha-ness was not in any way diluted by the dimple in his chin. If anything, that curiously arresting feature only drew deeper attention to the rest of his face. To the haughty cheekbones resting beneath narrowed eyes, his wide forehead and the sensual slash of his lips.
He was...indescribable. Because words like attractive or breathtaking or even magnificent didn’t do him nearly enough justice.
And as he continued to appraise me, every last ounce of my courage threatened to evaporate as surely as my breath. Because the way he stared at me, as if he found me as fascinating as I found him, sent a spiralling wave of pure, unadulterated awareness charging through me.
For some inexplicable reason my hair seemed to hold singular appeal for him, making me almost feel as if he was touching the tied back tresses, caressing the strands between his fingers.
The snick of the door shutting made me flinch—a reaction he spotted immediately as his arms dropped and he began to prowl slowly towards me.
Sweet heaven, even the way he moved was spectacular. I’d never truly comprehended the term ‘poetry in motion.’ Until now.
Focus, Sadie. You’re not here to ogle the first billionaire you’ve ever met.
I opened my mouth to speak. He beat me to it.
‘Whoever you are, you seem to have caught Wendell in a good mood. I don’t believe he’s allowed anyone to walk in off the street and demand to see me in...well, ever,’ he rasped in a gravel-rolling-in-honey voice, sending another cascade of pure sensation rushing over my skin.
Momentarily thrown by the effect of his voice, I couldn’t tell if his tone suggested he’d be having a word with Wendell later about that misstep or if the whole thing simply amused him. He was that enigmatic to read. The mystery stretched my already oversensitive nerves, triggering my babble-when-nervous flaw.
‘That was Wendell in a good mood? I shudder to think what he’s like in a bad mood,’ I blurted. Then I cringed harder when the meaning of my words sank in.
Oh, no...
His eyes narrowed even further as he stopped several feet away from me. ‘Perhaps you’d like to move whatever this is along?’
Impatience coated his tone even as his eyes raked a closer inspection over my body, pausing on the frayed thinness of my blouse, the slightly baggy cut of my skirt following my recent weight loss, before dropping to my legs. The return journey was just as sizzling. Hell, more so.
That stain of inadequacy, of not being worthy—wh
ich had dogged me from the moment my father’s abscondment-announcing postcard had landed on the front doormat, in shocking synchronicity with the bailiff’s arrival on our doorstep eight years ago—flared like a fever.
I didn’t need one of my mother’s magazines to tell me that this man didn’t meddle with the likes of me...ever.
It was in every delicious frame of his impeccable body, every measured exhalation and every flicker of those sooty, spiky eyelashes that most women would pay hundreds to replicate. He would date socialites with faultless pedigree. Heiresses with flawless bone structure who listed royalty as close friends.
Not the callously abandoned daughter of a disgraced middle-grade financier and an almost-addicted gambler, whose only nod to the arts was learning how to execute a half-decent jeté in year-five ballet.
‘Or do you feel inclined to use your five minutes in melodramatic silence?’ he drawled.
The realisation that I’d been gaping at him brought a spike of embarrassment. ‘I’m not being melodramatic.’
One brow hiked, and his gaze scanned me from top to toe again before his face slowly hardened.
‘You stated that you needed to see me as a matter of life or death, but between the time you set foot in my building and your arrival in my office I’ve ascertained that every member of my family is safe and accounted for. My employees’ well-being will take longer, and a lot of manpower to establish, so if I’m being pranked I’d caution you to turn around and leave right now—’
‘This isn’t about your present family. It’s about your future one.’
He turned to stone. A quite miraculous thing since he was such a big, towering force of a man whose aura threw off electric charges. His ability not to move a muscle would have been fascinating to watch if I hadn’t been terrified of the look in his eyes. The one that promised chaos and doom.
‘Repeat that, if you please.’
I couldn’t. Not if I valued my life.
Her Sicilian Baby Revelation Page 17
