Bound by the Billionaire's Vows

by Clare Connelly

  ‘Your father didn’t want it.’ Matteo echoed her thoughts unconsciously. ‘In fact, letting it fall into disrepair pleased him.’ The words were uttered grimly.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Skye said quietly. ‘What reason could he have for buying something and then destroying it?’

  ‘You know the answer to that.’

  ‘Revenge,’ she muttered, the word coursing through her venomously. ‘Damned revenge.’

  ‘Yes. He closed the hotel and had it boarded up as soon as it had been transferred to him. He told me he would have torn it down if the place weren’t protected by historical covenants.’

  ‘God, Matteo.’ Skye squeezed her eyes shut, guilt filling her. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘This was not your doing, cara.’

  ‘But he hurt you and I wish... I wish...’

  ‘Hush.’ Matteo came around from behind the reception desk, staring down at his wife and fighting every urge he had to touch her, knowing that it would solve nothing. ‘You and I wish the same thing,’ he said with frustration and urgency. ‘We both wish it hadn’t happened. But then...’ He dropped his hands to her stomach, pressing his fingers into her, imagining the baby that was coming to life with every day that passed. ‘We wouldn’t have this gift. And I believe our baby is a gift, cara. I married you for the hotel, and it no longer matters. Not compared to the baby that grows within your body.’ He dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her lightly. ‘It means everything to me.’

  Skye’s heart trembled in her chest. His love for their unborn child filled her with happiness, but there was envy too, for the way he was able to be so lavish in his praise for the baby and remain as closed off to her as ever before.

  ‘I know this is not as either of us would have wanted,’ he continued thickly. ‘But you are pregnant, and we need to focus on making this work. We do not know what will happen tomorrow, or next week, or in a month. But I am committed to this baby. With all that I am.’

  Skye couldn’t answer. Tears were clogged in her throat. She was a tangle of emotions; they were running through her, violent and insistent. She did her best to blank them. To be calm.

  ‘I’m just trying to be smart.’

  Matteo grinned. A grin that made her tummy flop and her own lips twist in an answering smile.

  ‘You’re already smart.’ He shrugged. ‘Why don’t we try to be happy now?’

  Happy. The word lodged inside her as he moved away once more, deeper into the hotel, towards the stairs. The smell was stronger there, and she realised that the carpet had been saturated over time. With a frown, she looked up and saw that the roof had a hole in it. It had been patched at some point, but a hint of the sky was visible through it.

  Matteo was looking at it too, his expression impossible to read. Then he roused himself and took a step upwards, placing a hand in the small of her back. It was just a tiny gesture; it meant nothing. And, in terms of their intimacy, it was nothing like what they’d shared.

  And yet it set Skye’s pulse racing.

  ‘How many rooms are there?’ she asked, the question a little breathy as she tried to control her raging emotions.

  If he noticed, he was sympathetic enough to respond in kind. ‘There were fifty.’

  ‘An even fifty?’ she responded.

  ‘Originally only twenty,’ he said with a nod. ‘When the trend was for accommodation to feature apartments rather than rooms. But over the time each lodging was downsized, to make more accommodation. Though, compared to a lot of hotels I’ve stayed in, they’re still pretty spacious.’

  ‘It’s in a great location,’ she murmured, moving up the stairs beside him. The hotel was just past The Vatican, overlooking the river Tiber.

  ‘Yes.’ Pride coloured the word. ‘Once upon a time, this was the premier hotel in Rome. Royalty stayed here. Celebrities. Film stars. Musicians. Even a magician, for a time, who took to making red roses appear throughout the restaurant.’ He was back in time, Skye could tell. The look on his face was one of nostalgia and grief. ‘But it was more than that. The same families would come and stay at the same times each year. Groups would visit for Christmas, and again in the spring. It was a community. The breakfast room was alive each morning, and we always had the most incredible chefs. The food was truly Romano. Seasonal, fresh, exquisite.’

  He expelled an angry breath, at odds with the wonderment his words were painting around them.

  ‘Did you spend much time here?’

  ‘As a child, si. My parents would bring us here every Christmas. We would sing carols in the foyer, and my nonno arranged a gift for every child in the hotel. I got to dress up as an elf and hand them out when I was very young.’

  ‘You? An elf?’ She looked at him quizzically, trying to imagine this specimen of pure masculinity as something so cute and harmless.

  ‘Yes. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘I’m just finding it hard to picture,’ she said with a teasing smile. ‘And after your parents died?’ she pushed, wanting to know more, suddenly needing to understand her husband. So much of him was a mystery to her, and she didn’t want that.

  ‘Yes. For the few years my grandfather continued to hold the hotel. It was one of his last assets to go. Its loss destroyed him.’

  She shook her head from side to side. ‘And you were so young.’

  ‘I swore that day that I would get the hotel back.’ He stared around the foyer. ‘I know it is just a building to you, but to our family, to me, this hotel is redemption.’

  She nodded slowly, tears close to the surface.

  ‘Let me show you the terrace.’

  Skye went with him even though a part of her was dreading what was to follow.

  The hotel was beautiful.

  She got it.

  Her family had taken it from his, and he had been angry about it. So angry that he’d married her to get it back.

  The truth of that was appalling and yet, walking beside him through the hotel that her father had vandalised with his neglect, a hotel that her father had let fall into a state of complete abandon and disgrace, churned her up with anger.

  She could imagine her husband’s emotions. The strength of despair that must have filled him.

  ‘He should have sold it back to you.’

  ‘Si, certamente,’ Matteo agreed. ‘But he felt my father had taken everything from him. This was the perfect recompense for that.’

  ‘People aren’t objects,’ Skye said with a shake of her head. ‘Your mother chose to be with your father. If she’d loved my dad then she would have married him.’ She paused, lifting a hand to her temple as a sharp pain burst through her.

  Matteo noticed instantly. ‘You are okay?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She nodded. The pain passed and she continued upwards. ‘These are bedrooms?’

  ‘Now they are simply empty rooms.’ The joke fell flat as remorse overrode humour. His eyes met hers for a moment before continuing an inspection of the run-down visage. ‘The furniture was sold by the bank at auction to cover my grandfather’s business debts.’

  Skye nodded, pausing near one of the doorways. She lifted a hand to it, surprised when it pushed inwards. The room was large and spacious, open-plan, so that she could see the view of Rome from the grimy windows, and a bathroom that, at one time, would have been palatial.

  A movement in the corner startled her and she squealed, but Matteo was right there, a strong arm around her waist. His smile was teasing. ‘It is just a bat.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  His eyes scanned the room. ‘They are everywhere in here. The security team I employ keeps drifters and vandals from setting up in the hotel, but bats we are powerless to prevent.’

  Skye’s heart turned over. ‘You have security looking after the place? Even when it’s no longer yours?’

  ‘It will always be mine, in my heart,’ he said seriously. ‘If no one else is to look after it, then I will.’ His smile was tight and didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’m s
ure your father would have had me arrested for trespassing, if he were still alive.’

  Skye said nothing. How could she deny it? It was obvious that the depth of her father’s animosity had run deeper than she’d appreciated.

  ‘I trust you will be kinder?’ He winked, the smile on his face making her stomach flip and flop.

  She nodded, distracted, and stepped out of the room, moving beside him back towards the stairs. Her headache had disappeared and now her head was throbbing instead, a low, dull pain. She pressed her fingers to her hair, loosening it and hoping the discomfort would pass.

  She didn’t want to cut their tour short.

  ‘What is it?’

  His solicitous question had Skye’s head lifting towards his, and he was closer than she’d expected, so that she could have lifted up on tiptoes and kissed him. And she wanted to. She really wanted to.

  Maybe it was the magic of the place but suddenly, though she was surrounded by the past, it no longer seemed to matter.

  Let’s be happy.

  He was her happy.

  But he was also her pain, her head pointed out.

  ‘Skye?’

  ‘Oh.’ She nodded. ‘Just a headache. I get them when I fly, sometimes.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll be fine. What next?’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘I THINK WE should fix it.’

  Matteo stared at Skye, pulling his attention away from the view of Rome to look at his wife. Here, finally, there was light. The rest of the hotel had fallen into a state of dinge and disrepair, but on the rooftop terrace he could imagine the hotel as it had once been.

  Of course, back in its heyday, the terrace always had been full of Rome’s elite sipping cocktails, overlooking the city, listening to the music that was playing.

  ‘Fix what?’

  ‘The hotel,’ she murmured slowly. ‘It’s too beautiful, too grand, to be left like this.’

  Matteo was very still, his eyes holding his wife’s as though nothing made sense. ‘You want to fix the hotel?’

  ‘Yeah.’ But his muted response made her doubt, made her pause. ‘Don’t you think it’s a good idea?’

  He pulled a face. ‘Of course I do. It is what I intended to do when I...’

  ‘When you stole it back from me, your unwitting wife?’ She arched a brow meaningfully.

  ‘As soon as I could,’ he corrected. ‘Skye...’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Her response was soft. ‘I get it. I understand why this place means so much to you.’

  ‘Si?’

  She nodded. ‘ I’ll never forgive you for what you did. But I think my dad raised the stakes. I think he should have sold this place back to you. No, I think he should never have bought it.’

  ‘We had to sell,’ he said softly.

  ‘But he bought it just to ruin it,’ Skye murmured, shaking her head. ‘Such needless destruction. I want to undo that.’

  Matteo’s eyes met hers and it was a moment that was perfect and poignant all at once. Because his eyes locked with Skye’s and she felt, for the first time, as though maybe he did love her. And it wasn’t about her at all. It was about the hotel. The damned hotel.

  She looked away awkwardly. ‘I know it will take time. And a lot of money. But can you imagine?’

  ‘I don’t need to imagine. I can remember.’

  Skye nodded. ‘I presume you have an idea as to where to start?’

  His nod was brusque. ‘Let’s discuss it over dinner.’

  Skye rolled her eyes. ‘We ate on the plane.’

  ‘Is our marriage going to consist of me suggesting food and you insisting you are not hungry? I do not seem to remember this being the case before.’

  ‘Before, you found a way to deplete my energy and increase my appetite constantly.’

  ‘Ah. Something I am happy to do now, believe me.’

  Her stomach swooped and a wave of nausea buffered her. Suddenly, the idea of something like hot chips or focaccia was infinitely appealing. ‘I could eat,’ she said, changing the subject onto safer ground.

  ‘And we will talk about Il Grande Fortuna.’ His eyes glittered and her heart stuttered. He loved this place, and she owned it. He loved the baby she was growing. Suddenly, the fact he didn’t love her seemed less important. Perhaps she could make do with these small crumbs?

  She studied the hotel with renewed interest as they moved inside and down the stairs. While it was dark and dilapidated, so much of it was still glorious. The spine of the place was unmistakably perfect. The wide staircase, the chandeliers, the high ceilings and the skylights that were frosted over now with smog and dust but that had been, at one point, crystal-clear and had permitted light from the sun and the stars to filter into the hotel.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said as they reached the foyer, her eyes chasing the potential through the present.

  ‘It was,’ he agreed.

  ‘And it will be again.’ They walked towards the door in silence, but once there Skye paused. ‘Thank you for showing it to me. It’s helped me understand, I guess.’

  ‘Understand?’ he prompted.

  ‘I understand why it means so much to you. If it had been less special...’ She didn’t finish the thought. She wasn’t even sure of what she’d wanted to say.

  Matteo pushed the door open and Skye stepped onto the street, looking left and right and imagining how they would rejuvenate even this aspect. She crossed to the other side as Matteo locked the door and stood with her hands on her hips, staring up at the façade, imagining it once it had been cleaned and had flags hanging from the brass poles that were languishing in neglect. She imagined it with window boxes that would be full of geraniums, all bright red, greeting the day as it rose overhead and offering their guests a hint of wild flora in the middle of Rome.

  ‘What are you thinking of?’ he asked as he came to stand beside her.

  She smiled wistfully. ‘Of the geraniums we’ll have planted. On every window sill, just like at your villa.’ She sighed. ‘I loved waking up to them. Before. Before I left,’ she clarified, colour darkening her cheeks at the oblique reference to their first attempt at married life. ‘I used to pick them and place them in a vase—’

  ‘I remember.’ A gravelled interruption.

  ‘I mean they’re such an ordinary flower, I suppose, yet they’re beautiful and resilient and so willing to grow,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I can see them here.’

  ‘So can I,’ he agreed, without taking his eyes from her face.

  * * *

  Discussing the hotel with Matteo over dinner brought the project more to life for Skye, so that by the time they boarded the flight home late that night, and then arrived back in Venice, Skye was full of excitement.

  ‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep,’ she murmured as they walked in the door of the villa. It was almost midnight, and she should have been exhausted, but a strange feeling was flooding her body.

  The nausea was back, and she knew why. It was the sheer thrill of what they were going to do. Not just the baby, but everything else.

  The hotel—something she’d viewed as an intense negative—was now something she contemplated with enthusiasm. And she was also utterly in love with it. Yes, she could admit her love for the hotel. It was simple. It was impossible not to love it. Or perhaps that was the baby in her stomach, willing her to connect with the ancestry that meant so much to the Vin Santos.

  ‘We could swim instead,’ he suggested with a sensual look that flopped Skye’s stomach.

  ‘Maybe a quick swim.’ She nodded.

  He reached down and held her hand, pulling her with him towards the stairs. She went willingly until they reached the terrace where they had first made love. The night of their wedding. And suddenly Skye didn’t want to remember that. She didn’t want to remember anything about their first attempt at marriage.

  She wanted to write over the memories with new ones. Memories that were
full of who she was now, the truth of their relationship something they both held in the palms of their hands. This was no love story, but there was enough between them to make this work. So long as she didn’t forget. So long as she didn’t lose her heart to him again.

  ‘Matteo,’ she murmured, and he stopped walking near the edge of the pool, pausing to look down at her. ‘I want...’

  She didn’t finish the sentence. There was no need. He understood what his wife needed and wanted; it was the same desire that was heavy in his body. He dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her, holding her; bending her towards the ground and running his hands over her body at the same time, discarding her clothes, teasing her with the lightness of his touch while his mouth was ravaging hers.

  He grabbed her hands and lifted them, pulling them behind his neck, and plying her body to his so there was barely even air between them. His dominance of her was almost as complete as hers of him. The moon shone overhead and the night was warm, yet Skye shivered in his arms, her body covered in a fine film of goose-bumps. He ran his hands down her back, finding the curve of her rear and lifting her effortlessly; wrapping her naked legs around his waist and holding her to his hard, confident body.

  He turned slowly, kissing her neck, moving her to one of the sun lounges and laying her down with the kind of reverence that could make her forget everything.

  Wasn’t that what she’d wanted? To forget their first marriage and enter into this relationship as if it were new and fresh, and they were two different people?

  And weren’t they? She’d never again be the innocent, naïve woman who had believed herself swept off her feet.

  Matteo didn’t love her.

  He never had.

  Perhaps there was something smart in seeing their relationship as a transaction. Taking what was good from it and not lamenting what was missing.

  There was so much good between them.

  But could she ever really forgive him?

  Did she want to?

  His mouth drove into hers, sending all thoughts from her mind. But Skye was afraid. Afraid of how easily he could make her body sing. Afraid of how much she wanted him. Afraid of how she was going to cope in the years that would follow.