Delucca's Marriage Contract

by Abby Green

  He looked up and she saw the unmistakable way some smooth expression blotted out the quick flash of his unguarded response to seeing her.

  She stood stiffly by the door. ‘Hey.’

  Gianni leaned back in the chair, displaying his broad chest without even trying. Keelin’s lower body pulsed in reaction.

  ‘Hey,’ he responded.

  She could see that he was wearing sweatpants slung low on his hips, and there was something intensely sexy about this undone Gianni. A little redundantly she noted, ‘You’re working?’ Because he couldn’t wait to get away from her?

  ‘Just catching up on some things.’

  He stood up then and Keelin’s mouth dried. He’d woken her body from a deep slumber and she could feel it respond helplessly, firming, moistening. Her breasts felt tight, nipples hard, pushing against the thick material of the robe.

  Gianni walked over and stopped just in front of her. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Damn him for being so solicitous. It made her even more sure that he had to have been bored rigid with his virginal wife.

  She affected a nonchalance she didn’t feel and said airily, ‘Fine, just fine.’ And then panic that he might see something of her tumultuous emotions made her say, ‘I wanted to talk to you actually.’

  He frowned and folded his arms, which only made things worse. ‘Me too, you go first.’

  Keelin was relieved. She didn’t really want to hear what he had to say before she got out her bit. She avoided his eye, focusing on a spot near his shoulder. ‘Look, last night was good.’

  A hand snaked out and fingers caught her chin, tipping it up. Those dark eyes were flashing now. ‘Good? That’s all you can say about it?’

  Keelin felt as if someone had jerked a rug from under her feet. ‘Well, what did you want me to say?’

  Gianni let her chin go and stepped back, cursing softly. ‘I would have thought it merited a description slightly more compelling than good. I felt you come around me, Keelin, you broke apart.’

  She flushed and hated him right then. ‘Well, maybe I did. Okay, it was good sex.’ She threw her hands up. ‘What would I know? It was my first time!’

  He stalked closer, vibrating with danger, and growled softly, ‘Believe me, cara, it was more than good, or great. I’ve never had sex like that.’

  Now Keelin lurched to intense vulnerability; she hadn’t expected this. ‘You haven’t?’

  He shook his head. ‘No.’

  She swallowed, not liking the way this confession made her feel weak. ‘Maybe it was just because I was a virgin?’

  Gianni reached out and pushed one side of her robe aside to cup her breast intimately. Immediately her breath seized and fire licked through her veins. He shook his head again. ‘Next time, it’ll be even better. And all the next times, mia moglie.’

  My wife. Now there was something triumphant in his expression, and acting on an instinct, Keelin slapped his hand away and yanked her robe back over her breasts. She felt way too exposed and raw after last night and needed to assert some sense of reality, before her see-sawing emotions made her forget reality entirely.

  ‘Nothing’s changed, Gianni. I still don’t want to be here.’

  His hand dropped and his face darkened. ‘Do you ever stop fighting?’

  Emotion made her chest tight. ‘I don’t think I know how.’

  Gianni turned away from her as if sick of the sight of her when moments ago he’d been cupping her flesh, arousing her all over again. His back was smooth and broad, tapering down to slim hips. His sweatpants riding low. Keelin had to battle a rogue urge to move forward and press against him, sliding her arms around him.

  He turned back and she flushed.

  ‘Do you or do you not want to contribute to your family business?’

  Keelin had to focus. Damn him for making her forget the most important thing. ‘Of course my priority is O’Connor’s but I shouldn’t have to prove it through a marriage.’

  Gianni came closer and looked intimidating, but she felt no fear. Only a need to stand up to him.

  His voice was stern. ‘You are my wife now, in every sense of the word.’

  Keelin’s hands grabbed the lapels of the robe, and she blurted out, ‘Just because we slept together, it doesn’t mean anything.’

  Liar.

  Gianni looked as if he might explode for a moment. That was probably one of the worst things you could say to a possessive Italian man.

  She found herself asking, ‘Why is it so important to you? This deal?’

  Keelin thought he might not actually answer and then he ran a hand through his hair impatiently. For some reason the gesture tugged at her, as if she could sense a kindred sense of turmoil.

  He looked at her. ‘It’s important because I want to atone for my father’s actions, as well as create my own business.’

  She frowned. ‘What do you mean? It wasn’t your fault he was the way he was.’

  Gianni shook his head. ‘I don’t mean like that.’ He sighed and continued with obvious reluctance, ‘My grandfather, his father, set up our family business in Sicily before moving it onto the mainland, just outside Rome, to try and grow it. It was my grandfather’s pride and joy, and a major achievement that he’d managed to get out of Sicily and make a life for himself and his son. His wife had died in Sicily.’

  ‘But my father was a teenager by then and had already become involved with the Mafia in Sicily. He forged new links in Rome. When my grandfather became too ill to work, my father let the business run into the ground. He kept it going only to use as a front for his Mafia activities. It broke my grandfather apart. We were close.’

  Keelin was sorry for asking now. She didn’t want to know this about Gianni. She didn’t want to empathise with him or feel sympathy. Especially not after last night’s intimacies.

  But he ignored her silent plea and she could see the steeliness in his expression. ‘I’ve made it my life’s ambition to reclaim what my grandfather set out to do, to create a family business we can be proud of.’

  She tried not to let Gianni’s story affect her. ‘We’re not so different, you know. We want similar things, but I have to give up what I want so that you can get yours.’

  His expression became even steelier; as if to emphasise that, he folded his arms. ‘I’m sorry about that, but I’m not prepared to lose this chance now, Keelin.’

  Feeling desperate she said, ‘You really are ruthless, aren’t you?’

  He didn’t look remotely perturbed by that. ‘Nothing will deter me from this course of action.’

  He undid his arms and came closer. All she could see was bare chest. Dammit, now was not a time to get distracted by his physicality. She averted her eyes and glared at him, sure that he was fully aware of his effect on her and using it.

  ‘You really want to leave here? Walk away from this marriage right now?’

  Suddenly Keelin felt as if the wind had been knocked from her chest. She hadn’t expected that. And far from feeling a resounding yes rising up within her, it was something much more ambiguous. But she forced out, ‘Yes, of course.’

  Gianni looked at her for a long moment and she could see some kind of struggle being waged behind those dark eyes and that implacable expression. He stepped back. ‘Fine.’

  She blinked and swallowed. ‘What?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘You heard me. I don’t want you to ever feel isolated or trapped here, Keelin. I’m not some gaoler. I don’t relish the fact that your father attached you to this deal like some kind of medieval chattel but he did, and the fact is that aside from all of that, something unexpected has happened. Mutual desire.’

  He waited for a moment, almost as if he expected her to deny it, but she couldn’t. Not after last night.

  ‘But one thing I won
’t grant you is a divorce and you know the reasons why. However, I’m not such a masochist that I’ll live in a constant state of war because you’re not mature enough to admit you want me, or to give this marriage a decent chance.’

  She lashed out hotly, ‘That’s—’

  But he lifted a hand and said coldly, ‘Meet me back downstairs with your bag packed in half an hour.’

  * * *

  Keelin was still trembling when she zipped up her bag. Her belly had dropped somewhere around her feet when Gianni had told her to pack her bag. Worst of all was the awfully familiar sensation of being sent away. First by her parents, and now this. And she was hurt. It was slicing through her like a knife, making her bleed internally.

  She sat on the bed for a second, her hair still damp from the shower, trailing down her back. What was wrong with her? Since when did Gianni have the power to hurt her like this? Since when would she not have jumped at a chance to regain her freedom? Even if he wasn’t promising divorce, he was clearly prepared for her to get on with her life.

  And then lurid images flashed into her head from last night. Two hearts beating in unison, biting his shoulder like some kind of animal, sweaty limbs sliding together urgently, the deepest connection—she closed her eyes desperately but that only made it worse. She opened them again.

  Was Gianni right? Was she immature? Not looking at this like an adult? Still locked into acting out the part of the rebel that had been assigned to her so long ago that she followed it slavishly?

  Was he really sending her away? No, she realised, he was giving her a choice. Asking her to stand up and ask for what she wanted.

  Feeling incredibly insecure and hating it, Keelin stood up and took her bag in her hand. On her way down the stairs she half expected to see Gianni barring the door—maybe he’d been calling her bluff?

  But when she saw him he was waiting, looking reserved but at ease, keys in his hands. When she reached him he took her bag, not saying anything, and led her outside.

  She followed Gianni to where the jeep was parked. He threw her the keys and she caught them on a reflex. He answered her surprised look. ‘I told you I’m not a gaoler, Keelin. You should get used to driving on the opposite side of the road, and get a feel for the jeep.’

  Keelin got in and felt butterflies tie her belly in knots. Gianni was like a stranger. A polite, distant stranger.

  Carefully she navigated out of the villa driveway and onto the open road, getting used to the left-hand drive. Gianni made her do a grand loop of the estate and she saw just how massive it was.

  Then he was giving her different directions and after about fifteen minutes they drove into a small sleepy town.

  ‘This is the closest town for basic supplies, and a train station.’ He pointed. ‘Park over there.’

  Keelin dutifully pulled into a space. She killed the engine, feeling suddenly nervous.

  Gianni took off his seat belt and turned to face her. ‘One of my cars was delivered into town ahead of us. I’m going to drive it home.’

  He glanced at his watch and then at Keelin, his expression completely inscrutable. ‘There’s a train to Rome in two hours. I’m going to leave you here now and you can decide what you want to do. You can be my wife in absentia, or you can own up to the fact that you want me too, and decide to try and make the best of this situation, with me.’

  Keelin stared at him. There was no artifice any more. No game-playing. This was it. Straight up and unadorned. Gianni leaned over then and cupped her jaw with his hand. She felt faint calluses on his skin and her blood sizzled.

  He came close enough to kiss her but stopped just short. The nerve ends in her lips tingled, as if pleading for his touch. With those black eyes locked on hers he said, ‘I want you, Keelin, and I want you to stay. But I won’t beg.’

  And then he drew back, taking his hand away. He got out of the jeep and closed the door. Keelin watched him walk across the small street and get into a low-slung sports car. The engine surged to life, making her flinch minutely, and he took off without so much as a glance in her direction.

  In the quiet aftermath came a sense of desolation far worse than the one she’d felt when she’d realised she was alone in the villa. Keelin wasn’t sure how long she stayed in the jeep, still a little stunned, but eventually she got out and went to a small café and ordered a coffee. She saw people come into the town, clearly for the train, sitting in cars, and more came into the café with bags.

  She cursed Gianni for giving her this choice. And at the same time she cursed herself because he was right. She’d been reacting to him from the moment she’d seen him and had taken little or no responsibility for her own actions. It was all so messed up. Why couldn’t she have met Gianni outside of this crazy condition of her father’s?

  That inner revelation shocked her. To finally acknowledge with brutal honesty that she hated the circumstances which had brought them together. But she didn’t hate the man. At all. He was the first man who had breached the formidable walls of her defences, without even trying very hard.

  He was the first person she’d been completely honest with.

  Was she so reluctant to deal with her own desires that she would have preferred Gianni to lock her in the villa and seduce her into some kind of mindless state where she could abdicate all responsibility for her own feelings and desires?

  The train pulled into the station and there was a surge of people towards the platform. But Keelin didn’t move. When Gianni had said to her earlier, Do you ever stop fighting? she’d answered, I don’t think I know how.

  She realised she was incredibly weary now. She’d been fighting for a long time. For love and attention. For recognition.

  She didn’t like to admit that something about the fact that Gianni was prepared to admit he wanted her to stay, but was also prepared to let her go, made it almost impossible to leave.

  She’d been seeking her father’s approval ever since she’d become aware of his rejection of her because she was a girl. It had informed all of her actions, including her endless teenage searching for love via whichever boy would give her the tiniest bit of attention. Until that awful night had brought her to her senses and given her a delayed sense of self-worth.

  And now she was in this situation and all of a sudden everything which had been so clear and clean-cut to her was blurry. The only thing in sharp focus was Gianni Delucca and this fire he’d ignited in her belly. She’d handed more than just her virginity over to him last night. She’d trusted him. And he’d restored a piece of her innocence that had been ripped away by those boys.

  A very fragile flame flickered to life inside her. Perhaps this marriage wasn’t a dead end? Or the loss of her independence? Maybe she could make Gianni see how serious she was about wanting a chance?

  The whistle for the train sounded and Keelin jerked as if someone had pinched her.

  This was it. She could run for the train and continue fighting, or she could stay and go back to that villa, and face Gianni and herself. As the train pulled out of the station, the inner revelation mocked her; there’d never been a choice. From the moment Gianni had been prepared to let her go, she’d wanted to stay.

  * * *

  When Gianni saw the dust cloud from his office window as the jeep came back down the drive, a tension he was unaware of holding on to left his body. The train would have left fifteen minutes ago and in spite of his sanguine attitude he’d been on the verge of calling for the helicopter to get back to Rome to meet the train on the other end.

  It had been a gamble to give Keelin the choice of leaving. But when she’d kept insisting this wasn’t what she wanted he’d had the sick realisation that he was no better than his bullying father if he forced her to stay.

  He’d had an appreciation of just how he’d steamrollered Keelin into the marriage, giving her little or no r
oom to manoeuvre. And while he certainly wasn’t about to grant her total freedom, he’d also realised that he wanted her to want to stay.

  The real Keelin O’Connor was proving to be far more enigmatic than he might ever have imagined. Revealing new facets all the time, like a true chameleon.

  One thing was sure—she wasn’t the malleable sweet wife he’d arrogantly assumed she would be when he’d agreed to marry her sight unseen, and she’d been punishing him for that from day one. Gianni knew on some level he deserved it, but also, he knew with a sense of disquiet that even if he had a choice, he wouldn’t let Keelin go right now.

  The jeep came closer—he could make out the red sheen of her hair, the pale oval of her face. His blood leapt as she drove around to the front of the villa and a new kind of tension came into his body. A far more carnal one. And then he went to meet her.

  Gianni waited in the doorway, careful to keep his expression neutral, aware that it wouldn’t take much to send Keelin fleeing again. She looked at him carefully when she came up the steps.

  He just took her bags and said lightly, ‘Lucia has prepared some lunch. Are you hungry?’

  Keelin admitted ruefully, ‘Starving.’

  He held out his hand but before she took it she said, ‘This morning, you said you had something to say to me too—what was it?’

  For a moment Gianni had to think back. And then he remembered. He’d planned on gently letting her know that physical intimacy didn’t equate to emotional intimacy. But she’d assured him pretty comprehensively that she was under no such illusions. And why didn’t that mollify him now?

  He just said, ‘It was nothing important.’

  She looked at him again for a long moment but then something cleared in those mesmerising green eyes and she took his hand, and Gianni wrapped his fingers around hers. He forced down a burgeoning sense of lightness and led her out to the patio where Lucia bustled around them serving up a delicious lunch and he initiated a conversation that came nowhere near the tumultuous events of the morning, or the significance of Keelin’s return.