The Fiorenza Forced Marriage

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Oh, Emma, that would be a dream come true,’ Simone choked. ‘I hate this place. It reminds me of our childhood, living with Mum and Dad stoned out of their brains all the time. I can’t believe I didn’t see it in Brendan. He was always so charming and loving. How could I have got it so wrong?’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Simone,’ Emma said. ‘You know what drugs do to people. They turn them into someone else. You have to move on for Chelsea’s sake. It’s not safe for her to be in such an environment.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Simone said. ‘If Dave was still alive he’d be so ashamed of me for subjecting Chelsea to this.’

  ‘Honey, don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Emma said. ‘I know how tough things have been for you. No one should have to deal with the stuff you’ve had to deal with. Just be strong, this will all go away and you’ll never have to worry again.’

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Simone said. ‘I really don’t know what Chelsea and I would do without you.’

  Emma felt a little guilty not telling her sister the truth about how she was going about getting the money, but she reasoned that Simone had enough to worry about for the time being. If she were to tell Simone she was about to marry a man she had only met that morning, her sister would think she had gone mad.

  But then maybe I have, Emma thought as Rafaele’s handsome features came to mind. She gave the pillow a thump and settled back down but it was ages before she could relax enough to sleep…

  Emma’s eyes sprang open as the front door slammed. She heard Rafaele move about the villa with no attempt to keep the noise down, as if he couldn’t care less about disturbing her, no doubt because he considered her an interloper in his family home.

  She heard the sound of a glass shattering in the lounge room downstairs and then a course expletive cut through the still night air. She waited a few minutes, listening as various cupboards and drawers were opened and slammed shut as he began hunting through the main bathroom.

  ‘Where the hell is the first-aid kit?’ Rafaele’s voice roared from the foot of the sweeping staircase.

  Emma threw back the covers and, reaching for her bathrobe, tied it securely around her waist and came out on the third-floor landing. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, looking down at him. ‘Have you cut yourself?’

  He swayed slightly on his feet as he held up his right hand wrapped in a hand towel. ‘Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. Want to kiss it better, pretty Emma?’

  She frowned at him as she came down the stairs. ‘Have you been drinking?’ she asked in a reproachful tone.

  He gave her a sinful smile. ‘So what if I have?’

  She stood three steps above him to meet him eye to eye. ‘Did you drive home in this state?’

  He swayed towards her, the strong fumes of brandy wafting over her face. ‘No, I caught a cab,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t that sensible of me?’

  ‘It’s not sensible to drink to excess even if you’re not planning to be behind the wheel of a car,’ she said. ‘Let me look at your hand.’

  He held it out to her and she gently peeled back the towel to find a gash near the base of his thumb that was still oozing blood.

  ‘Am I going to make it through the night?’ he asked with one of his mocking smiles.

  Emma pursed her mouth and led him by his uninjured hand to the nearest bathroom. ‘Sit on the stool,’ she directed sternly as she washed her hands. ‘You’re very lucky, as it doesn’t need stitching. I’ll put a Steri-Strip on it to pull the edges together.’

  She located the first-aid kit and set about cleaning the wound and dressing it. But she found it almost impossible to control the slight tremor of her hands as she touched him. His shirt sleeves were rolled back, revealing strong wrists with a generous sprinkling of dark hair, a potent reminder of his virility.

  She was acutely aware of his closeness, his long legs trapping her between the basin and him at one point. He was such an intensely masculine man. She could smell the musk of his skin, this close to him she could see every pinprick of stubble on his jaw, making her fingers ache to touch him there, to see if her soft skin would snag on his rougher one.

  She took an unsteady breath and tried to ignore the flutter of her pulse as his dark eyes locked on hers.

  ‘You have very soft hands,’ he said. ‘I wonder if that prim little mouth of yours is just as soft.’

  ‘I guess you’ll just have to keep on wondering,’ Emma said, trying to move to one side.

  He stood up, his left arm blocking her exit. ‘How about I kiss you and find out, eh, Emma?’

  Emma gave a nervous swallow, her belly doing a funny little somersault at the smouldering look in his darker-than-ink eyes. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea…’

  He gave her a slow, sexy smile. ‘Why not?’

  She unconsciously ran her tongue over her lips. ‘You know why not.’

  ‘Is there someone else?’

  ‘No…I mean, yes, there is,’ she lied, but she knew the colour storming into her cheeks was betraying her.

  ‘You are not a very convincing liar, Emma,’ he said. ‘If you were involved with someone else you would not be sending me those hungry little looks all the time, now, would you?’

  ‘I’m doing no such thing,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  He released her hand and placed the heated warmth of his palm at the nape of her neck instead. Emma couldn’t stop the little shiver that coursed like a tickling feather all the way down her spine, loosening every vertebra along the way. Her heart began pick up its pace, the thud of her pulse so heavy she was surprised he couldn’t feel it leaping beneath her skin where his hand rested.

  ‘You want to know, don’t you?’ he went on in that same toe-curling, sensuous drawl. ‘You have done it with the father, now you want to know what it feels like to do it with the son.’

  Emma’s eyes flared in shock at his crude statement. ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘Did he make you come?’ he asked.

  She tried to push at him, but if anything it brought him closer, the stirring of his body against hers sending sparks of heat coursing through her lower body. Her breasts were jammed against his chest, her stomach hollowing out at the diamond-hard glitter of his dark gaze as it drilled into hers. ‘L-let me go…’ she choked. ‘Y-you’re drunk.’

  He countered her paltry escape manoeuvre by placing his injured hand in the small of her back, his left hand now buried in the curtain of her hair. ‘Perhaps a little, but that will not affect my performance,’ he said. ‘I can make you come like you’ve never come before.’

  In spite of her outrage Emma could feel her body betraying her. His sultry promise set her senses alight at the thought of having him deep inside her, bringing her the sort of pleasure she had so far only dreamed about. She knew it was unusual in this day and age for a woman of twenty-six to be without sexual experience, but she had never met anyone she had been attracted to enough to take that final step. Getting involved with a playboy was not something she had ever contemplated and certainly not one as ruthless and arrogant as Rafaele Fiorenza. He was undoubtedly the most attractive man she had ever encountered, but allowing herself to be seduced by him was something she was determined to avoid if at all possible. He was an inveterate heartbreaker and she would do very well to remember it.

  ‘I don’t recall reading anything in your father’s will that stipulated I have to satisfy your disgusting animal urges,’ she said with as much acerbity as she could. ‘Now, if you don’t let me go this instant I will have to resort to slapping your face.’

  He grinned at her, which wasn’t quite the effect she had intended. ‘You are quite something when you are all fired up,’ he said. ‘I bet you go off like a firecracker in bed.’

  She drew in a sharp little breath, her eyes flashing him a warning. ‘I don’t have to put up with this,’ she said. ‘If you don’t stop this I will pack my bags first thing in the morning to make way for Ms Hennin
g.’

  A nerve twitched at the side of his mouth, his eyes hardening to narrow chips of black ice. ‘Are you blackmailing me, Emma?’ he asked.

  Emma lifted her chin. ‘You bet I am,’ she said. ‘And you’d better not forget it.’

  He looked at her for a long pulsing moment, his palm still on the nape of her neck. Emma tried not to show how unnerved she was by his closeness, but her heart was skipping every second beat with each drawn-out second that passed.

  ‘You would walk away from a fortune such as this just to spite me?’ he asked, dropping his hand.

  Emma’s neck was still tingling from the touch of his fingers. ‘If I have to, yes. I refuse to be treated like a tramp. I do have some measure of pride, you know.’

  ‘I am sure you do,’ he said. ‘But I wonder if you are calling my bluff.’

  She gave him an arch look. ‘There is only one way to find out.’

  He smiled again, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘Are you daring me to kiss you, Emma March?’

  Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘Of course not!’

  ‘I am tempted,’ he said, looking down at her mouth. ‘In fact, I have never been quite so tempted.’

  Emma spun on her bare feet to leave, but before she could take a single step he captured one of the ties of her bathrobe and towed her into his solid warmth like a wobbly dingy being drawn towards the safe harbour of a jetty. ‘Thank you for fixing my hand,’ he said. ‘I really appreciate it.’

  Emma had to fight against the overwhelming temptation to look at his mouth. ‘It’s fine…I hope it doesn’t get infected.’

  ‘If it does at least I will have you on hand to mop my feverish brow, will I not?’

  She tugged her bathrobe tie out of his hold and gave him a testy glare. ‘I’m sure your current mistress will do a much better job than me.’

  His eyes moved over her face in a leisurely fashion, his quiet assessment of her features even more disturbing to her than his verbal taunts. ‘As of earlier tonight I have dismissed her services,’ he said. ‘She was starting to bore me, in any case. I have no time for emotionally needy women. They are too much hard work.’

  Emma wasn’t sure what to say in response. She felt a pang of empathy for the woman he had discarded so cavalierly. She wondered if he had called her or texted her on his mobile, not even bothering to wait until he could speak to her face to face. Either way she couldn’t help wondering if the woman had done the unthinkable and fallen in love with him. It was a sobering reminder of what she was in for if she dared to allow her own feelings to get out of control.

  ‘It’s very late,’ she said. ‘You should go to bed. You look exhausted.’

  He cocked his head at her. ‘How about you tuck me in? I am sure you are very good at it. After all, isn’t that what my father paid you to do?’

  ‘I would have looked after him without any payment,’ she said, even though she knew it was going to annoy him. ‘In my opinion he was worth two of you.’

  A flicker of anger flashed in his dark gaze. ‘Are you telling me you were in love with him?’ he asked.

  She held his glittering gaze with an effort. ‘Everyone deserves love, Rafaele; even, dare I say, someone as odious as you.’

  She gave him one last frosty look and stalked out with the sounds of his mocking laughter following her all the way upstairs.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHEN Emma came downstairs the following morning Rafaele was leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in one hand. He put the cup down and pushed himself away from the counter and came to stand in front of her. ‘I believe I owe you an apology,’ he said. ‘I have no real excuse for my behaviour last night. I was not even drunk, not that it would have been any excuse even if I had been. It was a difficult day for me…coming back here after a long absence. I guess I had underestimated just how much of a strain it would be.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said and, after a little pause, asked, ‘How is your hand?’

  ‘It is fine,’ he said, holding it out for her to see. ‘I do not think there will even be a scar. You did a good job.’

  A silence hummed for several seconds.

  ‘Have you come to a decision?’ Rafaele asked.

  Her grey-blue eyes moved away from his. ‘I have…yes…’ She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. ‘I have decided I will marry you. It’s the most sensible thing to do and…and it’s what your father wanted.’

  Rafaele smiled to himself. He had known from the first moment she would not be able to resist getting her hands on a fortune. She thought she had it all stitched up now, but he wasn’t going to let things go her way. Nor was he going to make life easy for her. He would marry her certainly, for there was no other way to get his inheritance, but he wasn’t going to stay married to her any longer than necessary. Once the year was up that would be it. Although looking at her now with her slim but curvy figure dressed in a white sundress, he was tempted to make the marriage a real one. She had an air of sensuality about her that was intoxicating. He had seen the looks she gave him when she thought he wasn’t watching. She was as attracted to him as he was to her. He had felt the tension passing between them like high voltage electricity. He could even feel it now. ‘I am sure we will be mutually satisfied by the arrangement,’ he said with an enigmatic smile.

  A flicker of something came and went in her gaze. ‘I would like to establish some ground rules,’ she said.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘This is a hands-off arrangement, correct?’

  ‘If that is what you want,’ he said. ‘But if you change your mind just let me know.’

  She gave him a withering look. ‘I will not be changing my mind,’ she said. ‘As far as I am concerned this is a temporary businesslike arrangement. I hope I won’t have to keep reminding you of that.’

  Oh, but she’s damned good at this, Rafaele thought, deliberately withholding her charms to make me feel the lure of the chase. He would bring her to heel, however, and a whole lot sooner than she realised. His body hardened at the thought of driving into her softness, claiming her as his until she forgot all about her affair with his father. She would be screaming his name in the throes of pleasure. She would be raking her nails down his back as he took her to paradise. ‘You will not have to remind me,’ he assured her. ‘I will take my cue from you.’

  Her gaze narrowed slightly. ‘What do you mean?’

  He gave another inward smile at her artifice. ‘I mean that if you make the first move I will respond to it as any full-blooded man would do in the same situation.’

  She gave him a condescending look. ‘So any woman with a pulse will do for you—is that it?’

  ‘You do yourself a disservice, Emma,’ he said with a lazy smile. ‘You are a very attractive young woman. I would be more than happy to consummate our marriage if you should require my services.’

  Her cheeks pooled with angry colour. ‘I am sure I will be able to survive the duration of our marriage without resorting to such a measure of desperation,’ she clipped back primly.

  Rafaele felt his groin kicking with anticipation. He had never felt such wild desire before. No wonder his father had agreed to give her half of his estate. Rafaele felt like offering her double what he’d already offered just to have her on her back on the floor right here and now. He had to fight not to show how she was affecting him. He schooled his features into indifference and reached for his coffee again. ‘I will have some legal papers for you to sign later today,’ he said.

  ‘What do I need to sign?’ she asked with a guarded look.

  ‘A pre-nuptial agreement, for one thing,’ he said. ‘I am not going to be stripped of half of my assets when we terminate our marriage.’

  ‘How soon do I get the money you offered?’ she asked.

  He held her grey-blue gaze. ‘How soon do you want it?’

  She lowered her eyes. ‘I have some debts to see to…they’re rather urgent.’

  ‘If you give me your bank account
details I will see to it the moment we get back from the church.’

  Her eyes flew back to his. ‘The church? You mean we’re getting married in a church?’

  ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

  She sank her teeth into her lower lip for a moment. ‘No…it’s just I thought a register office would be more appropriate under the circumstances.’

  ‘I do not think our marriage would be considered authentic if we did not have it consecrated by the church,’ he said. ‘I will also arrange for a dress and veil for you.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘It is no bother,’ he said. ‘My mother’s wedding dress and veil have been well preserved and you are much the same size as she was.’

  Her eyes were wide grey-blue pools. ‘I can’t wear your mother’s dress!’

  ‘Why not? People will think it a loving gesture on your part,’ he said. ‘Besides, this is probably going to be the only time I marry anyone so I might as well do it properly.’

  Emma chewed at her bottom lip in agitation. This was going to be much harder than she had expected. Somehow she had thought a quick civil service would make her feel less married. That was vitally important to her. She didn’t want to feel married to him.

  ‘I will get my mother’s rings out of the safe for you,’ he said. ‘But of course they must be returned to me once our marriage ends.’

  ‘Yes, of course…’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t dream of keeping them.’

  ‘The wedding will take place tomorrow.’

  Emma’s heart gave a sickening lurch. ‘T-tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The legalities will be seen to this afternoon. The ceremony will take place tomorrow at the Basilica of Saint Abbondio, the ancient cathedral in the town. Have you by any chance been there?’

  ‘I haven’t done a lot of sightseeing yet,’ she said. ‘I was too busy looking after your father.’

  He paused for a moment, his eyes still holding hers before he continued. ‘We will have a small reception at a function centre afterwards, but there will of course be no honeymoon.’