Delucca's Marriage Contract

by Abby Green

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘WHERE ARE WE GOING?’

  It was after lunch and Gianni was driving the jeep. He glanced at her and then back to the road. ‘I thought it’d be good to get out, show you around a bit.’

  Keelin rested her head back against the seat. For some reason she was perfectly happy to just wait and see where they ended up. Since she’d returned to the villa, a kind of weight had lifted off her shoulders.

  She’d changed into a plain but pretty green sundress and the warm Umbrian air tickled her bare skin, the scent of grass and flowers heady. Gianni was wearing worn jeans, and a polo shirt, and every time Keelin looked at him she got a fresh jolt of lust, and surprise, to see him dressed down like this.

  He said a little abruptly then, ‘Where’s your engagement ring?’

  Keelin immediately flushed guiltily and looked at her hand, bare but for the wedding band. ‘Back at the villa. I, ah, forgot to put it on.’

  He looked at her, eyes narrowed. ‘It’s not really you, is it?’

  Keelin’s belly somersaulted. ‘Not really, no.’

  He looked back to the road. ‘I’ll get you a new one.’

  She shook her head quickly, disturbed by the thought of being presented with a ring she might actually like. ‘No, it’s fine. The wedding band is enough.’

  Gianni sent her a dry look. ‘A woman who won’t accept jewellery?’

  Keelin scowled at him but he took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss against the back of it, making the pulse between her legs throb.

  And then he said with a twitch to his gorgeous mouth, ‘You’re not like any woman I’ve ever met, Keelin O’Connor Delucca.’

  The fact that those two names together didn’t invoke revulsion was yet another blow against Keelin’s armour of defences. Damn him.

  * * *

  A few hours later Keelin was huffing and puffing inelegantly as she followed Gianni up the hilly street in the stunning mountaintop town of Montefalco. When he stopped she saw that they were in a huge picturesque square. He truly was the quintessential Italian hunk, effortlessly drawing attention from women passing them by.

  He turned and looked at her. ‘Okay?’

  Keelin felt flushed in the fading early-evening sunshine. ‘Fine,’ she said, more tetchily than she intended. Not liking how aware she was of other women’s interest in Gianni.

  He took her hand and tugged her with him across the square. ‘We’ll have dinner over here.’

  They’d spent the afternoon looking around the dozens of stunning frescoed medieval churches in the town which Gianni had told her was nicknamed ‘the balcony of Umbria’ because of its spectacular views.

  The small restaurant had fairy lights twinkling through the bushes that shielded it from the square discreetly. Pretty tables and chairs were under an awning. A tall man came out and greeted Gianni profusely with grand Italian gesticulations and appreciative looks in Keelin’s direction.

  They were led to a table that was both tucked away from the others and yet had great views of the rolling Umbrian plains. Gianni broke from his conversation with his friend to ask her, ‘Do you mind if I order for you? There’s some regional specialities you might like.’

  Keelin shrugged as she pulled on a light cardigan she’d had wrapped around her waist. She was more seduced by this charming Gianni than she liked to admit. ‘I’ll eat almost anything. Except snails.’

  She also didn’t like to think of how close she’d come to being back in Rome, alone and feeling a hollow sense of victory.

  An efficient waiter arrived within seconds and poured them water. Keelin took a thirsty gulp and looked up to see Gianni sitting back, staring at her. Immediately she felt dishevelled, self-conscious. ‘What? Am I sweaty?’

  He shook his head. ‘You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?’ He leant forward. ‘It’s a rare woman who can go out without any make-up and yet put all the other women around her to shame.’

  Keelin flushed. ‘You don’t need to say that—’

  ‘I do,’ he said simply. ‘You’re stunning.’

  She was completely unused to getting compliments. Her mother had always despaired that Keelin was a redhead like her and had fought a constant battle to become blonder and blonder herself. She’d spent ridiculous amounts of money on hiding her natural Celtic freckles, and would tell Keelin ad nauseum about men who hated that au natural look she favoured.

  She fiddled with her glass. ‘Well, thank you.’ She snuck Gianni a glance and said with a wry twitch of her mouth, ‘You’re not exactly ugly yourself.’

  He put a hand to his chest in mock incredulity. ‘I think that’s the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me.’

  Keelin dipped her fingers in her water and flicked it at him, her mouth twitching in earnest now. ‘As if you need to be told.’

  He leant forward again and said mock conspiratorially, ‘All men are craving reassurance underneath their confident exteriors.’

  The waiter reappeared with two glasses of white wine. He lifted his glass. ‘What shall we toast to?’

  Keelin’s chest felt tight. What shall we toast to indeed? She lifted hers. ‘The present moment.’

  Those black eyes glittered, almost as if he could see into her head and know what the thought process had been behind her return to the villa earlier. He tipped his glass towards her. ‘To us, Keelin.’

  She took a quick sip. Her skin felt sensitive and whenever he looked at her she was acutely aware of herself. While they’d been looking around the town he’d taken every opportunity to touch her in small ways—taking her hand, touching her back, protecting her if a crowd of tourists jostled them.

  She pushed aside the suspicion that Gianni was merely going all out to do his best to seduce her into becoming the malleable wife he wanted. The cool wine slid like sweet tart nectar down her throat, imbuing her with a sense of deep relaxation, complicit in this indulgence.

  And with the same skill he’d exhibited earlier, Gianni drew her into a light conversation. The fact that it managed to reinforce how much they seemed to have in common chipped away at yet more of Keelin’s badly dented defences.

  He sat back at one stage, a definite gleam of triumph in his eyes. ‘You said it yourself, we’re really not that different after all.’

  Keelin wanted to scowl at his recall, but found it hard. She was too replete with the most delicious dinner she’d ever had: fileto al sagrantino—meat cooked in a local wine sauce—washed down with a full-bodied red wine. And the most gorgeous man on the planet right across from her.

  Lust was winding a delicious tension tighter and tighter inside her. She hoped that Gianni couldn’t see the neediness he evoked in her.

  Thankfully the waiter interrupted them, taking away plates, asking about dessert. Keelin shook her head. ‘I’m too full.’

  Gianni ordered coffees and Keelin wanted to shift his focus off her.

  ‘Why did you decide to buy a home here?’

  He looked at her. ‘It was through my grandfather. When he moved to Rome originally he used to come here to learn more about foods and wines, and then he brought me with him, educating me. Along with the summers in Sicily they were magical trips. He was a good teacher.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘His own son wasn’t interested in what he loved most, but I was. I lapped it up.’

  Keelin felt that empathy again. ‘And then had to watch as your father threw it all away. That must have been hard.’

  Gianni shrugged, expression veiled now. ‘I’m just sorry Nonno’s not here to see the fruits of his labour taking off again.’

  ‘When did he die?’

  ‘When I was eleven.’

  An impressionable age. The same age as Keelin had been when she’d realised she’d have no
role to play in her own family business. She said huskily, ‘He’d be proud, I’m sure.’

  The coffees arrived and Keelin took a quick sip, needing to dilute some of this dreamy effect she was feeling.

  ‘And what about you?’ Gianni asked now. ‘Apart from wanting to prove yourself to your father, there must have been a moment when you knew that you wanted to be in the business?’

  Keelin felt as if he was peeling her skin back and looking underneath. She reluctantly told him about her fascination with the business ever since she was small. And how she’d artlessly declared her intention to be part of it.

  ‘Unfortunately, my grandfather wasn’t like yours. He saw no merit in passing on his learning to a mere granddaughter. But if I’d been a boy it would have been totally different.’

  She’d never revealed the extent of her ambition to anyone before but it wasn’t as if Gianni wasn’t aware of how far she’d been prepared to go to fight for her independence. And look how well that had turned out. She was sitting here, dining with the enemy, having let him see her at her most vulnerable and exposed.

  For a moment, the extent to which Gianni had got under her skin was suddenly clear and stark. And unwelcome. Assuring herself that she was still in control, she continued, ‘I would have happily left school to work for nothing, learning everything from the ground up. I used to sit in on my father’s meetings and listen to him, until he put me out.’

  ‘What aspect of it interests you most?’

  Keelin’s heart thumped and she looked at Gianni suspiciously but he seemed to be genuine. She fiddled with her cup. ‘I’m interested in innovation. Going out and researching the market, seeing what other companies are doing and trying to get ahead of the curve. I think that’s the key to longevity and success, apart from building on the tried and tested brands.’

  Gianni nodded slowly. ‘I agree. I think if O’Connor’s has one failing it’s in this area. Have you ever mentioned it to your father?’

  Keelin smiled but it was bitter. ‘Lots of times, but he never listened. My grandfather had entrenched views of women’s abilities and he passed that down to my father. I was aware of his disappointment in me, always, for not being a son.’

  Gianni was surprised at the angry surge of emotion rising within him. He could picture Keelin as a small earnest girl all too easily, her face crestfallen as she was disappointed over and over again.

  He heard himself say fiercely, ‘I would never stop my daughter from doing what she wanted.’

  He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by that, himself or Keelin. He hadn’t even realised he’d held that opinion until it was out in the open between them.

  Keelin’s eyes widened. ‘Good, because no girl should ever feel that anything is out of her reach.’

  Something seemed to stretch between them, an accord. Tenuous and delicate. Gianni’s eyes dropped to Keelin’s ring finger and he stood up abruptly, putting some money down on the table.

  ‘I want to take you somewhere.’

  * * *

  ‘Which one do you like?’

  This is what Keelin had been afraid of. They were in a jeweller’s—one of the many glittering shops open late for the strolling tourists—and several trays of rings were laid out in front of her. Each display more exquisite than the last. And aeons removed from the ostentatious rock he’d presented her with that first week they’d met.

  ‘Gianni,’ she said weakly, mindful of the attentive assistant, ‘you don’t have to do this. I already have a ring.’

  ‘Keelin, we’re not leaving until you choose one.’

  He was as immovable as a stone wall on the chair beside her. She rolled her eyes and grumbled, ‘So bossy.’

  The truth was that a ring had jumped out at her from the moment she’d set eyes on it and now she looked at it again. Gianni followed her eyeline and picked the ring out, saying a little incredulously, ‘This one?’

  Feeling defensive, she said, ‘I know it’s not exactly flashy but I like it. It’s simple but stunning.’

  The shop assistant cleared his throat then and said a little reproachfully, ‘I have to agree with your wife’s impeccable taste, Signor Delucca. This ring is from the art deco period and is a prime example of its era with the simple baguette-cut emerald and two smaller diamonds on either side.’

  Gianni took Keelin’s hand and before she could stop him he slid it onto her ring finger to nestle alongside her wedding band. Her heart lurched. It looked right.

  It was almost with relief that she said, ‘It’s too big.’

  The assistant hurriedly assured them that it could be resized within days. Keelin took it off and handed it over, feeling a tumult of emotions and an awful kind of regret that Gianni wasn’t presenting her with a ring out of love. That rogue thought made her go clammy with fear.

  Was it really only hours ago he’d so coldly given her a choice to walk away?

  Suddenly feeling claustrophobic and increasingly panicky, Keelin got up, muttering something about needing air, and stepped out of the shop, leaving Gianni to deal with the payment.

  Love? Since when had that been part of the equation? She spied a small shop across the street and ducked in to get some water, gulping it gratefully. It was the lingering heat from the day. Heat did funny things to your brain. Like give you delusions.

  Gianni appeared outside the jeweller’s shop looking left and right. Clearly he couldn’t see her in the shadows across the street. As she watched he frowned impatiently and something in her eased slightly to see that familiar impatience.

  She wasn’t in love with him. She wanted him. So he’d bought her a ring? It wasn’t as if he’d pretended it was for any other reason than because she wouldn’t wear the other one.

  She stepped out of her hiding place and Gianni’s gaze settled on her immediately. He relaxed visibly and suddenly Keelin didn’t feel so sanguine. He closed the distance between them and captured her close. More heat exploded, so much that she thought she might faint from it.

  ‘What now?’ she asked as airily as she could, as if she hadn’t just had a mild panic attack at the thought that she might be falling in love with this man.

  Gianni’s gaze had dropped to her mouth. He bent his head and his tongue darted out to lick some stray drops of water. Keelin shuddered, arousal spiking in her blood.

  He pulled back and saw it, and it was mirrored in his eyes. He growled softly, ‘There’s only one place I want to be right now, and it’s not in a public street.’

  * * *

  Much later that night Keelin lay draped across Gianni’s chest and his hand was moving idly up and down her bare back. The sweat was still cooling on their spent bodies.

  Keelin was feeling a sense of bliss that was dangerous because the cause of it was the mass of hard hewn muscle under her cheek. She knew he was still awake too, because she could feel a relaxed tension in his body.

  She’d been dying to ask him a question and now felt that with the darkness cloaking them that maybe she could.

  She lifted her head a little. ‘Gianni?’

  A half-grunting sound of acknowledgement came. ‘Hmm?’

  Keelin half whispered, half spoke. ‘Why didn’t you end up in the Mafia like your father? How did you avoid it?’

  The sleepy tension left his body, every muscle locked hard now. Keelin immediately said, ‘It’s okay, I shouldn’t have asked.’

  For a long time Gianni said nothing and she thought she’d seriously overstepped the mark, but just when she was thinking he wouldn’t answer, his chest rumbled and he said, ‘I never got involved because I saw what it did to my mother, who lived in constant fear, and my grandfather. He stood up to my father’s henchmen once and they beat him for it. My father did nothing.’

  Keelin lifted her head again. ‘Gianni...’

 
‘I didn’t see it as remotely glamorous or exciting. But the fact is that when I think about it now, my father never let me come near any of his activities. Not that I wanted to, but it was almost as if he deliberately kept me with my grandfather more than him, and after Nonno died, he seemed to go out of his way to antagonise me, make me despise him.’

  Keelin said quietly, ‘Maybe he did it on purpose to force you not to follow in his footsteps. Maybe he was trapped somehow.’

  Gianni didn’t answer. Keelin’s heart tugged at the thought of a teenage Gianni, so proud and righteous, protecting his mother, vowing to be nothing like his father.

  He spoke again. ‘Sometimes I’m afraid that I have his violence inside me and some day it’ll come out and I won’t be able to control it, in spite of trying to get as far away from it as I can.’

  Now Keelin tensed, everything in her rejecting his words. She moved up so that she was chest to chest with Gianni, and said with a surprising level of fierceness, ‘You wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  She could see the cynical gleam of his smile in the dark. ‘You barely know me.’

  She still felt fierce. ‘I know you enough. And you wouldn’t hurt anyone. Violence isn’t wired into your DNA. You grew up with it, that’s all, so you’re more aware of it.’

  Gianni moved then, suddenly, displaying his superior strength as he flipped Keelin so that he loomed over her in the dark. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling an inordinate amount of emotion for this man.

  ‘You don’t scare me.’

  * * *

  Gianni shook his head, negating what Keelin said—what the hell did she know of the darkness he sometimes experienced?—but something inside him felt inexplicably lightened.

  It was only just now that he’d had that realisation that his father had always, always, made sure that Gianni was nowhere near any of his endeavours. Even though it was traditional for the Mafia guys to groom their sons to follow in their footsteps.

  Feeling ridiculously vulnerable for the first time in a long time, when Keelin brought her mouth up to touch his, he fell on her like a starving man, and the uncomfortable revelations faded to the back of his mind, for now. And the fact that Keelin had soothed a part of him that he’d never shared with anyone else.