A Dangerous Infatuation

by Chantelle Shaw

  She smiled hesitantly. ‘Please—call me Emma.’

  He dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘Rocco tells me you are a good friend of his?’

  She felt herself blush. Just good friends was hardly an apt description of their relationship, she mused, recalling the numerous times he had made love to her the previous night. ‘Yes. I’m staying at the Villa Lucia for a few weeks to act as a companion to Cordelia.’

  Silvio’s beady eyes seemed to bore into her. ‘And after that you will return to England?’

  Her stomach swooped at the prospect, but she hid her dismay and nodded. ‘I’ll be going back to my job as a district nurse.’

  Her eyes were drawn across the room to where Rocco was chatting to a stunningly attractive woman who he had introduced earlier as Valentina Rosseti—the only female engineer on Eleganza’s design team. From the way Valentina was batting her eyelashes at him she would lay a bet that the Italian woman wasn’t thinking about hybrid engines now, Emma thought sourly.

  Silvio followed her gaze and his expression became speculative. ‘I am an old man,’ he announced. ‘I was ninety years old last month, and it is time I handed over control of Eleganza to my grandson.’ He sighed heavily. ‘But I have stipulated that Rocco must curb his playboy lifestyle before I assign full power of the company to him. He needs to marry a good Italian girl, and produce an heir to one day succeed him.’

  Emma gave him a doubtful look. ‘I don’t think marriage is on Rocco’s agenda.’

  The elderly man snorted. ‘My grandson knows his duty. Eleganza is his favourite mistress, and he will do whatever is required of him to take control of the company he loves.’

  A gong sounded to call them to dinner, but her conversation with Silvio had unsettled Emma and she was unable to enjoy the five superb courses, each served with a different wine specially chosen to complement the food. It did not help that Rocco was seated at the far end of the table with his grandfather, Tino Manzzini and several of Eleganza’s clients—presumably so that they could discuss business. Emma was seated next to one of Rocco’s elderly uncles, who spoke little English, while to her other side was Shayna Manzzini.

  ‘So Rocco decided to forgo his pretty young neighbour in favour of you,’ the Canadian woman drawled towards the end of the meal, pushing away her dessert of Tiramisu untouched.

  Emma had noted that she had barely eaten any dinner, and guessed that semi-starvation was how Shayna retained her model’s figure. She was unsure how to respond to the comment, but Shayna did not seem to be waiting for a reply.

  ‘I noticed at his grandmother’s party that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. But you do know it won’t last, honey? Rocco doesn’t do commitment.’ She paused to ensure she had Emma’s full attention and then said softly, ‘Not even with the mother of his child.’

  Trying to hide the fact that her hand was shaking, Emma put down her spoon, telling herself that it was the rich confection of mascarpone and cream in front of her that had made her feel sick. She had previous experience of Shayna’s spiteful tongue, and was not inclined to believe a word she said. There was a lot of truth in the saying that hell knew no fury like a woman scorned, she thought wryly. But something in her expression must have revealed her uncertainty to Rocco’s ex-mistress.

  ‘I assume from your stricken look that he hasn’t told you?’ The model shrugged. ‘Well, I’ll grant you it is speculation rather than fact.’

  ‘What is?’ Emma demanded bluntly.

  ‘That Rocco has a son by one of his mistresses. Rumour has it that the boy and his mother live here in Genoa, and that Rocco visits them every week. I guess that would explain why, according to my husband, no one can contact Eleganza’s CEO after he leaves the office at midday every Friday.’

  ‘There could be a dozen reasons why Rocco leaves work early,’ Emma said tersely. In the past she had jumped to conclusions about him far too quickly and, as it had turned out, wrongly. She did not intend to make the same mistake again—especially at the words of an embittered woman who had had an affair with him years ago and clearly still resented the fact that he had dumped her.

  She trusted Rocco.

  The realisation settled like a warm glow around her heart. After having had her faith destroyed by Jack, she had never thought she would trust anyone ever again. But Rocco had always been honest with her—even to admitting that he did not want a long-term relationship. She had gone into their affair fully aware that it had no future, but she had no regrets. She would always treasure the time she had spent with him, she thought softly, conscious of the dull ache inside her when she envisaged returning to England without him. Her life would be a lot easier if she had not fallen in love with him, but that was her fault—not his.

  ‘Rumours rarely amount to more than spiteful gossip,’ she told Shayna coldly. ‘And I certainly don’t believe that Rocco has a secret child.’ She thought of his gentle patience with her daughter, and was certain that if he ever had a child of his own he would be a devoted father. ‘He’s an honourable man.’

  The model arched her finely plucked brows. ‘Oh, dear, you’re in love with him,’ she drawled mockingly. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  Dinner finished soon after, and Emma managed to avoid Shayna for the rest of the party, but she was relieved when the evening drew to an end and Rocco escorted her out to his car. Doubts were like weeds, she thought dismally. They started out as a tiny seed but grew to smother rational thought as swiftly as Japanese knotweed left unchecked in a herbaceous border.

  ‘You’re very quiet, cara,’ Rocco commented some twenty minutes later, as he turned the car onto the driveway in front of the Villa Lucia. He walked round to open the passenger door, frowning at her obvious reluctance to meet his gaze. ‘Is anything wrong?’

  ‘No,’ Emma denied quickly. ‘I was just thinking … about things.’ She hesitated, her heart drumming a warning tattoo beneath her ribs.

  During her marriage she had never confronted Jack on the many occasions when he had arrived home from work hours later than she had been expecting him. The idea that he was seeing someone behind her back had hovered in her mind, but she had been scared to demand the truth and had pushed her suspicions away. Looking back, she regretted her lack of courage, and it made her determined to face problems head-on now.

  She followed Rocco into the villa, but when he moved to draw her into his arms she stepped back from him, knowing that if he kissed her she would be lost. Sensing his frustration, she blurted out, ‘Do you have any children?’

  He stiffened, clearly shocked, and his eyes narrowed on her tense face. ‘Dio! What kind of question is that?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Of course I don’t.’

  ‘You admit that you have had numerous affairs,’ Emma pushed on doggedly, despite his deepening frown. ‘Surely it’s possible that a woman from one of your past relationships could have given birth to your child?’

  ‘No—it isn’t,’ Rocco told her curtly. ‘I’m always careful, and there has never been any chance of an accidental pregnancy. What kind of a man do you think I am?’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘On second thoughts, don’t answer that. Past experience tells me that your reply won’t be complimentary.’

  He sounded hurt, Emma realised guiltily. His startled reaction had convinced her that she had made a big mistake in allowing Shayna’s spiteful comments to take hold in her mind. She bit her lip. ‘It was just a stupid thought,’ she mumbled. ‘Please forget I ever mentioned it.’

  Rocco stared at her downcast face and was torn between wanting to shake some sense into her and kiss her senseless.

  ‘If I was a father, I would not be involved with you. I would be married to the mother of my child.’

  Now it was her turn to look startled. ‘I thought you didn’t believe in marriage?’

  ‘I admit that my parents’ marriage was not a good advertisement. But a child’s needs must take first priority, and although it might be old-fashioned I believe that children should
grow up in a family unit with both their parents. Even though my mother and father argued frequently, I still had the sense that we were a family. When they split up I felt torn between them, and I wished they would get back together.’

  The silence that fell prickled with tension. Certain that she had angered Rocco, and feeling uncertain of his mood, Emma studied the marble-tiled floor with apparent fascination.

  ‘Let me ask you a question,’ he said brusquely. ‘Why don’t you ever want to talk about Jack? I know you loved him,’ he continued before she could reply, ‘but it has been three years, and you can’t keep your emotions locked away for ever.’

  ‘What do you know of emotions?’ she countered shakily. ‘You’re a playboy whose tally of ex-mistresses probably equals a cricket score. From the outset you’ve made it clear that our affair will be purely physical, and emotions will play no part in it.’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Rocco agreed broodingly. ‘And I was sure I meant it.’ He stretched out his hand to tuck a lock of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear and stared into her stormy grey eyes. ‘Now I am not certain that my emotions are in my control. You have undermined the rules I have lived by all my adult life. I’ve discovered that I want a proper relationship with you, Emma,’ he said softly, his smile a little rueful when she seemed to be struck dumb by his revelation.

  Emma snatched a breath and tried desperately to steady her racing heart, but the expression in Rocco’s eyes—a mixture of tenderness and sultry promise—was scrambling her brain. ‘What kind of relationship?’ she queried cautiously.

  ‘One that involves us getting to know each other properly and sharing our thoughts … and feelings. I know there is Holly to consider, and that is why I think we should take things gradually, but I want you in my life, cara,’ he said deeply.

  He could no longer deny the truth to himself or to Emma. No other woman had ever made him feel this level of need, and with a muttered oath he pulled her into his arms. ‘Is it so hard for you to trust me? I swear I don’t want to hurt you. I’m prepared to take things one step at a time, but I need you to take that first step with me.’ His voice dropped lower, his accent very pronounced as emotions he had never experienced before churned inside him. ‘Will you, Emma?’

  His face was so close to hers that his warm breath feathered across her lips, and she shook with longing for him to kiss her and seduce her with his sensual mastery. She had decided tonight, when she had chosen not to believe Shayna Manzzini’s scurrilous accusations, that she did trust him, and she felt empowered that she had thrown off the shackles of her past.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, parting her lips eagerly beneath the pressure of his as he claimed her mouth in a kiss of pure possession.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SUNLIGHT slanting across her eyelids roused Emma from a deep sleep. She stretched, and smiled when a muscular arm immediately tightened around her. Cocooned in the relaxed state that preceded full wakefulness, she felt safe and totally secure, and her mouth curved into a soft smile when she lifted her lashes and met an enigmatic golden gaze.

  ‘Buongiorno, cara.’ Rocco brushed a kiss as light as thistledown over her lips.

  ‘Were you watching me sleeping?’ She could not disguise the faint note of vulnerability in her voice at the thought.

  ‘It’s a special part of my day—waking with you in my arms,’ Rocco told her seriously. He traced the shape of her breasts and felt his body stir when her nipples hardened at his touch. ‘Of course there are many other special moments,’ he murmured huskily.

  Emma caught her breath when he lowered his head and replaced his hands with his mouth, liquid heat pooling between her legs as he continued an erotic path across her stomach and down to tease the sensitive nub of her clitoris with his tongue. What followed was a slow, sensual loving that tugged on her soul as he positioned himself above her and entered her with exquisite care. His eyes locked with hers as he brought her to a shattering orgasm, and when their passion was finally spent he cradled her in his arms while their thundering hearts resumed a steady beat.

  ‘I know why you’re smiling,’ Rocco said lazily, feeling a hand squeeze his heart as he studied her beautiful face. The silky bell of golden hair framed her flushed cheeks, and he thought that she had never looked lovelier. ‘Holly is coming back today, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes.’ Emma had never imagined she could feel this happy. The past week that she and Rocco had been lovers had been filled with laughter and incredible passion, but she had missed her little daughter and ached to lift Holly into her arms and hug her close. ‘Peter and Alison are flying home to England today, so I’ve arranged to meet them in Genoa. It’s approximately a hundred-mile drive from Nice, so they should arrive about lunchtime.’

  Unable to resist, she ran her hand lightly over his cheek, feeling the faint abrasion of stubble on his jaw. He was heart-stoppingly sexy first thing in the morning, she thought, feeling her stomach dip. ‘You’re welcome to join us for lunch.’

  Rocco hesitated, thinking of the text message he had received from his half-brother a few moments before Emma had woken up: See you after school today?

  It was the first time Marco had ever contacted him, and sensing the uncertainty behind the message Rocco had immediately texted back: Of course. The little boy was finally starting to trust him, and he could not let him down, he acknowledged heavily.

  ‘I’d love to, cara, but I have an important appointment this afternoon. Tell Holly I’ll see her when I get home from work tonight.’ He glanced at his watch and threw back the sheet. ‘Talking of work, my little temptress, I need to get moving. Fridays are always busy.’

  He headed into the en-suite bathroom, and moments later Emma heard the sound of the power shower. She tried to quash her disappointment that he could not meet them for lunch, reminding herself that he was the CEO of one of the biggest companies in Italy and could not rearrange his busy schedule for her.

  Unbidden, Shayna Manzzini’s comments slid insidiously into her head. Rumour has it that the boy and his mother live here in Genoa, and that Rocco visits them every week.

  Rubbish, she thought firmly. Shayna was a nasty piece of work, and the rumour was nothing more than sheer bitchiness resulting from jealousy because the Canadian woman had realised that Emma and Rocco were lovers. Rocco had always been honest with her, and she felt confident that she could trust him. Yes, he had a reputation as a playboy, but he had stated that he wanted a meaningful relationship with her. He was not Jack, and it was not in his nature to deceive her.

  Rocco stood beneath the powerful jet of water and tried to marshal his chaotic thoughts. Secrets were hell—and this wasn’t even his secret, he brooded grimly. He wished he could tell Silvio about Marco. The old man was much stronger than a few months ago, when he had undergone major heart surgery. Back then the doctors had advised that he should not be subjected to any shocks, and telling him that he had an illegitimate grandson had been out of the question.

  But the ultimate decision about whether he wanted to be part of the D’Angelo family had to be Marco’s. Rocco had given his half-brother his word that he would tell no one of his true identity until Marco wanted it to be known. The little boy was coming round to the idea of meeting his grandfather, but until he made that choice Rocco felt he could not reveal the truth to anyone.

  Damn Enrico for dumping this on him, Rocco thought bitterly. It was typical that he had been left to sort out the mess his father had left behind. He desperately wanted to confide in Emma, but he had worked hard to gain Marco’s trust and he owed his little brother his loyalty. He could not break the promise he had made to a seven year-old child.

  Reaching for a towel, Rocco rubbed his hair vigorously. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell Emma, he acknowledged, feeling his stomach clench with a nervous tension that was completely alien to him. He did not do nerves, or emotions, but both were churning in his gut—along with a feeling of vulnerability that he had never experienced before. All were t
he fault of an attractive English nurse with cool grey eyes and a smile that made his heart miss a beat.

  So what was he going to do about it? he queried self-derisively. The situation demanded decisive action, but the possibility that for the first time in his life he might fail to achieve what he desired caused the cramping feeling in his stomach to intensify.

  ‘Are we lost, Mummy?’

  Emma glanced over her shoulder at Holly, who was sitting in her child seat in the back of the car, and gave what she hoped was a confident smile.

  ‘Only a little bit, munchkin. I’ve stopped for a few minutes so that I can look at the map.’

  The journey from Portofino to Genoa this morning had been relatively simple, and once she had left the main coast road and entered the city she had found the restaurant where she had arranged to meet her in-laws without any trouble. Trying to negotiate her way out of town, however, was proving more difficult. The roads were busy with Friday afternoon traffic, and although she felt reasonably confident driving on the right side of the road rather than the left, as was the law in England, she had been concentrating so hard on the flow of cars at a roundabout that she had missed the correct exit and ended up in a maze of narrow backstreets.

  Map-reading had never been one of her strengths, Emma acknowledged with a sigh. She was tempted to ask for directions, but there were few people around, and her inability to speak Italian was likely to be a major stumbling block.

  ‘Mummy, I’m hot.’

  With the car’s engine off, the lack of air-conditioning meant that the temperature inside the car was rising rapidly. Emma rubbed her brow, feeling the beginning of a headache. ‘Okay,’ she reassured Holly, ‘we’ll be moving in a minute.’

  At the far end of the street a couple accompanied by a child riding a bike came into view. The gods might be kind and they would be able to speak English, she hoped, releasing her seat belt as the people drew nearer.