A Debt Paid in the Marriage Bed (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Jennifer Hayward

  A cream-colored jersey sheath called to her. She pulled it off the hanger, then froze, her stomach bottoming out. Antibiotics and birth control pills... Hadn’t she heard somewhere...

  * * *

  Lorenzo watched Angelina in the mirror as he did up his shirt. Stunning in a knee-length ivory dress with a floral scarf draped around her neck, she was amazing to look at as always, but it was the preoccupied air about her that held his attention. He hadn’t seen it in weeks.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Just tired. Sorry, I’m quiet I know.”

  He did up the last button of his shirt and tucked it into his pants. “You don’t ever have to be sorry about being quiet. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.” She turned back to the mirror and spritzed some perfume behind her ears.

  “Is it work?”

  She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll catch up when I get back.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She spun around, a frown creasing her brow. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Lorenzo. I’m fine.”

  He lifted a brow. She expelled a breath. “I am a little stressed about work. And the time change kills me.”

  He crossed over to her. “Try and put it out of your head and enjoy the week,” he murmured, tracing a thumb over her cheek. “It’s only a few days. You deserve a break.”

  She nodded.

  “There is no goal tonight, amore mio. Unless you count paying attention to me,” he added huskily, thumb sweeping over the lush fullness of her lips. “That is most definitely on the agenda.”

  Color stained her cheeks. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her temple, breathing in the sexy, Oriental fragrance of her, her perfume the perfect match for his strong, sensual wife. They were intoxicating, both the scent and her.

  For a moment, he just held her, drank her in. Knew, in that moment, he felt more for her than he would ever admit. More than he should.

  Her head dropped against his chest. “We should go,” she said quietly, but she didn’t move.

  His mouth curved. Sliding his fingers through hers, he moved his lips to her ear. “Hold that thought.”

  * * *

  Dinner with the Bavaro brothers took place in the Belmont’s famed terrace restaurant, with its spectacular view of the mountains, the live piano music lending a distinctly sophisticated atmosphere to the setting. Marc’s brother, Diego, the Belmont’s other controlling shareholder, joined them for dinner along with his wife, Ariana. With Penny to round out the table of six, it was an entertaining and lively dinner.

  Diego, who had been a bit of a dark horse during the negotiations, content to let Marc take the lead, could have been a double for his brother with his swarthy, dark Mediterranean looks and lean build. But that was where the similarities ended. Whereas Marc was cagey, careful in what he revealed, Diego was an extrovert who liked to hear the sound of his own voice.

  If Lorenzo got the younger Bavaro brother talking, he might make some progress. He waited until the fine Spanish wine had had a chance to mellow all of them, and an amiable, content atmosphere settled over the table. Sitting back in his chair, wineglass balanced on his thigh, he eyed Diego.

  “I’m sensing some hesitation on your part. If the regulatory issues aren’t going to be a problem in most jurisdictions, perhaps you can tell me where the pause is coming from?”

  Diego took a sip of his wine and set down the glass. “My father is concerned the Belmont legacy will cease to exist with the sale. That you will absorb what you desire of our marquee locations to fill the empty dots on the map, then dispose of the rest.”

  A warning pulse rocketed through him. That was exactly what he intended to do—certainly the Bavaros had been smart enough to figure that out?

  “We’ll have to see what our assessment says,” he said coolly. “But since I am offering to pay you a fortune for this chain, more than half again what it’s worth, I would think it would keep you from lying awake at night worrying about it.”

  “It’s not always about money,” Diego responded. “It’s about family pride. National pride. Spaniards look up to Belmont as a symbol of international success. It is bad enough to have it eaten up by a foreign entity, but to have its name extinguished along with it? It negates a hundred-year-old legend.”

  “It’s always about the money,” Lorenzo rejected. “Nothing lasts forever. You wait a few more years and you’ll get half what I’m offering.”

  “Perhaps.” Diego lifted a shoulder. “You want to make my father happy? Put a clause in the deal that you will keep the name.”

  Heat surged through him. He kept the fury off his face. Just. “What sense would that make?” he countered. “This deal will make Ricci the number one luxury hotel chain in the world. To split the brands would be counterproductive.”

  Silence fell over the table. Lorenzo eyed the younger Bavaro brother. “May I ask why this is coming up at the eleventh hour?”

  “My father’s feelings have grown stronger on the issue.” Diego pursed his lips. “I’m not saying it’s a deal breaker. I’m saying it’s a major twist in the road.”

  Lorenzo’s brain buzzed. His own father would do the same, he knew—would refuse to see his legacy destroyed. He couldn’t necessarily blame the Bavaros. What infuriated him was that this hadn’t come up earlier. It changed the entire landscape of the deal.

  “This acquisition needs to happen,” Lorenzo said evenly. “If this is the issue, you need to get your father onside. There will be no postsale conditions attached to it. It is what it is.”

  Diego’s eyes flashed. “It was never our intention to sell, as you know.”

  That was when Lorenzo knew he had a big, big problem on his hands.

  * * *

  Angie paced the suite while she waited for her husband, who was having an after-dinner cognac with the Bavaro brothers. After the tension-filled end to the meal, she was glad to have escaped, but now she had a much bigger issue on her hands than her combustible spouse.

  Penny had driven her to the local pharmacy on the pretext of finding some allergy pills. She’d shoved two pregnancy tests on the counter instead, two positive pregnancy tests that now lay in the bathroom garbage can, irrefutable evidence that fate had once again taken a hold of her life in the most indelible way.

  How could this possibly have happened? What were the odds? What was she going to do?

  Unable to breathe, she crossed to the windows and stood looking out at the dark mass of the mountains. She knew this baby was a gift. Even as sure as she’d been at twenty-two she hadn’t been ready to have a child, as terrified as she’d been she wouldn’t be a good mother given her own history, she’d developed a bond with her unborn child, a wonder at the life she and Lorenzo had created together.

  She felt the same way now. But she was also scared. Terrified. The timing was all wrong. There was no way she could run her business, be a mother and juggle her and Lorenzo’s busy social schedule all at the same time. And then there was the thought of losing another baby that sent panic skittering through her bones.

  It was too soon. Too much.

  Anxiety clawed at her throat, wanting, needing to escape. The click of the suite door brought her spinning around. The look on her husband’s face kept all the anxiety buried inside.

  “What happened?”

  He walked to the bar, threw ice in a glass and poured himself a drink. “Preserving the Belmont name is going to be an issue.”

  “You don’t think they’ll give on it?”

  He took a long gulp of the Scotch. Leaned back against the bar. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you need to talk to the father? He seems to be the roadblock.”

  “I’d have to go over Marc and Diego’s heads. It woul
d be a last resort.”

  She frowned. “They didn’t mention any of this before? Surely they knew it might be an issue?”

  “I’m fairly sure I would remember if they had.”

  The biting sarcasm in his voice straightened her spine. She absorbed the incendiary glow in his eyes, the flammable edge to him she remembered so well from the past. This was the old Lorenzo—the one who could transform into a remote stranger in the blink of an eye, focused only on the end goal and to hell with anyone in his path.

  Tension knotted her insides, the need to know this wasn’t devolving into the old them burning a hole in her insides. Not now, not with the news she was holding inside.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. “It was a rhetorical question,” she said quietly. “I know this deal is important to you, Lorenzo, but it either works or it doesn’t. You need to be able to find a way to walk away from these things and not let them get to you like this. Consume you.”

  He gave her a scathing look. “It’s a fifteen-billion-dollar deal, Angelina. Ricci’s reputation rides on it.”

  “And yours,” she said quietly. “Isn’t that the real issue here? You losing face? You becoming anything less than the unbeatable Lorenzo Ricci, king of the blockbuster deal?”

  “This is not about me,” he growled, voice sharp as a blade. “It’s about my family’s reputation. Rumors about the deal are running rampant...investors are getting antsy. It is my responsibility to close this acquisition.”

  “And if you don’t?” She shook her head. “One of these days you will lose. You are only human. Then what? Would it be the end of the world? You have fifty of these deals you have landed, Lorenzo. Isn’t that enough to command the confidence of your investors?”

  His jaw turned to stone. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Maybe not,” she agreed. “But I do know how I feel. You like this—I’ve seen it before. This always marks the beginning of one of your binges—it scares me where it will end.”

  “I’m good,” he said harshly. “We are good. Stop trying to make problems where there aren’t any.”

  Was she? The jet lag was killing her, her head too achy and full, her emotions all over the place. But now was not the time to tell Lorenzo about their baby. To make him understand why getting this right was so important to her.

  “You wanted us to be an open book,” she said, lifting her gaze to his. “Here I am, telling you how I feel.”

  He prowled over to her and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “And I’m telling you, you don’t need to worry. We are fine. I just need a few minutes to take the edge off.”

  She sank her teeth into her lower lip. Nodded. He ran a finger down her cheek, his eyes softening. “You’re exhausted. You need rest. Go to bed. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  “You should come, too. You didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  He nodded, but it was an absentminded nod that told her he wouldn’t be coming for a while. She went to bed, but it was hard to sleep, empty in the beautiful bed without him, the intimacy that had wrapped itself around them the past few weeks missing, leaving her chilled and scared to the bone about what lay ahead.

  * * *

  Lorenzo went to bed at two. Extinguishing the lights, he slid into bed with his sleeping wife, no closer to a solution to his problem than he had been two hours before. The urge to wake his wife, to bury his agitation in her beautiful, irresistible body, was a powerful force. But she was so peaceful, so deeply asleep, he couldn’t do it.

  He thought about how quiet she’d been earlier, his instincts telling him something was still off. He was so scared of missing something again, of not seeing what he should see.

  Inhaling her scent, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, her back nestled to his chest. She murmured something in her sleep and cuddled closer.

  A smile on his lips, he pressed his mouth to the sweet curve of her neck. To the silky soft skin of her cheek. The salt that flavored his lips caught him off guard. Levering himself up on his elbow, he studied her beautiful face in the moonlight. She had been crying.

  His fingers curled, the urge to shake her awake and make her tell him what was wrong a furious current that sizzled his blood. They had promised to be open books with each other and still she was keeping things from him.

  He forced himself to resist waking her, drawing her back against his side. Tomorrow in Portofino would be soon enough to discover what was eating his wife.

  CHAPTER TEN

  PORTOFINO WAS AS lovely and picturesque as Angie remembered, with its narrow, cobblestone streets, pastel-hued houses dotting the Italian Riviera and bustling shops, restaurants and luxury hotels lining its half-moon-shaped harbor.

  Lorenzo had taken her to their favorite seaside restaurant following his meetings in Mallorca and their short plane ride over from Spain. He had come down from his volatile mood of the night before, his attention focused solely on her. Too much so, she thought nervously, fidgeting with her water glass as he slid her another of those long looks he’d been giving her. The secret she carried was burning a hole inside of her.

  She had been waiting for the right time to tell him her news, but it just hadn’t seemed to come. Lorenzo had been working the entire plane ride and something about “Could you pass me the tartar sauce, and, oh, by the way, I’m pregnant” wasn’t working for her.

  Her stomach did a slow curl. So here she was, making every attempt to look like she was enjoying herself and hoping her husband bought the performance.

  Lorenzo snapped the spirit menu closed and handed it to the hovering waiter. “I think we’ll take the check,” he said in Italian.

  Angie’s heart skipped a beat. “I thought you said you wanted a brandy.”

  “I’ll make an espresso at home.”

  The deliberate look on his face made her heart beat faster. She had the feeling he hadn’t bought her act for a minute. Blood throbbed at her temples as he settled the bill, wrapped his fingers firmly around hers and they walked up the hill toward the villa.

  Embraced by fuchsia-and-coral-colored bougainvillea that climbed its whitewashed walls, Octavia’s retreat from her busy city life was paradise personified. Although, Angelina allowed, as Lorenzo slid the key in the door and ushered her in, her mother-in-law’s description of it as her “simple abode” hardly seemed apt. The dark-wood, sleek little villa with its cheery, colorful accents that matched its vibrant surroundings, was hardly simple.

  She walked out onto the terrace while her husband made an espresso. Hands resting on the railing, she drank in the spectacular view as a breeze lifted her hair in a gentle caress. Paradise. If only she could just get the damn words out.

  Lorenzo returned, settled himself into one of the comfortable chairs arranged for an optimum view of the sea and deposited the coffee cup in his hand on the table. Her heart lurched in her chest at the stare he leveled at her. “You going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  His neutral tone did nothing to lessen the intensity of his expression. Heat stained her cheeks.

  “Lorenzo—”

  “Dannazione, Angelina.” His fury broke through his icy control. “How many times do we have to have this discussion? I can’t help you, we can’t do this, unless you talk to me. I have spent the entire dinner waiting for you to tell me whatever it is that’s eating you. Do you think I can’t read you well enough to know that something is?”

  Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. “You weren’t in the right state of mind last night and it wasn’t a discussion for a restaurant.”

  “How about before dinner in the very private suite at the Belmont?” Fire flared in his eyes. “I asked you if something was wrong. You said no. Then I come to bed only to discover you’ve been c
rying.”

  She blinked. “How do you know?”

  “I checked on you when I came to bed. You had tearstains on your face.”

  Oh. She wrapped her arms around herself. Took a deep breath. “I couldn’t understand why I was so tired yesterday. Jet lag always gets me, yes, but I hadn’t felt like that since my pregnancy. I went to check I’d taken my pills after my nap and found the antibiotics I’ve been on in my purse. It made me put two and two together.”

  His face went utterly still. “To equal what?”

  “Antibiotics can interfere with birth control,” she said quietly. “I’m pregnant, Lorenzo.”

  A behavioral psychologist could have scoured his face and found nothing it was so blank. It was in his eyes that she saw his reaction—deep, dark, raw emotion that made the knots inside her tie themselves tighter.

  “How do you know?”

  “Penny drove me to the pharmacy.”

  He was silent for so long she couldn’t stand it. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m trying to absorb it,” he said huskily. “In my mind, we were waiting.”

  Not so much.

  “You’re scared?”

  She nodded. Her chin wobbled, the emotion welling up inside of her threatening to bubble over. “I know I should recognize this as a wonderful thing and I do, but all I can feel is the fear right now. I hate that I feel that way, but I do.”

  His gaze softened. “Come here.”

  She moved to him on unsteady legs. He pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re allowed to be scared,” he murmured against her hair. “We lost our baby. It was scary, it was unexpected. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  She closed her eyes and burrowed into his warmth. Waking up to those severe abdominal cramps, the spotting, knowing something was wrong had been so scary. The loss of something so special like losing a piece of herself. But it was the fear she had somehow precipitated it that haunted her the most. Her mixed emotions, her worry she wasn’t ready to be a mother, that she wouldn’t be a good mother. It was a fear she’d never shared with Lorenzo because she had been too ashamed to even think it, let alone admit it to him.