The Borghese Bride

by Sandra Marton

  “Two thousand,” she said desperately. “Six.”

  The Butterfly wasn’t making enough money for that but she’d find a way to meet the debt. Take another job. Sell the pearls she’d inherited from her mother, the lovely old china…

  “Please, Dominic. There has to be a way.”

  She was looking at him through lashes that glittered with tears, her mouth trembling. She had looked at him the same way that night in his bed as he’d moved between her thighs and opened her to him. It had almost stopped him, that look on her face, as if she feared him and his possession, but then she’d lifted her arms to him, drawn him down to her, down, down, down…

  “I can help you,” he said, and heard the simple words buzz in his head like the soft whisper of bees drawn to the sweet nectar of an exotic flower.

  “How?”

  “Have you forgotten, cara? I made you an offer and I’m still waiting for your answer.”

  She stared at him. He could tell that she really didn’t know what he was talking about. Then the color drained from her face.

  “No,” she said sharply. “I won’t do it.”

  “You mean, you don’t want my help.”

  “You bastard! You arrogant, insufferable—”

  He pulled her close against him and kissed her. She fought him and he clasped her face between his hands, held her still, held her mouth to his until he felt her start to tremble.

  “Marry me,” he said in a husky whisper, “and your grandmother’s life will go on as it always has.”

  “That’s blackmail!”

  “It’s a simple statement of fact.”

  “I won’t sell myself to you.”

  “Is that how you see an arranged marriage that will benefit two families? How many del Vecchio brides have been ‘sold’ over the centuries, do you think?”

  “My grandmother wouldn’t want me to marry for money.”

  “For money. For the del Vecchio name to remain powerful. For an infusion of new blood.” His eyes grew hot. “She wants an heir. So do I.”

  He already had an heir. The words almost burst from Arianna’s throat. God, what was she doing to do?

  “The terms of the agreement are simple, Arianna. I’ll forgive the loan. I’ll sign the Butterfly over to you, to save the marchesa’s precious pride, and you can do what you wish with it. Keep it, give it back to her… the choice will be yours.”

  “What’s the matter, signore?” Arianna jerked free of his hands. “Are you such a bad catch you have to buy yourself a wife?”

  Dominic made a sound that was almost a laugh. “I’m a good catch, cara. And that’s problem.”

  “Such modesty.”

  “Such honesty, you mean. It isn’t easy for a man like me to find the right woman.”

  “Oh, I’ll just bet it isn’t.”

  “I’m sure the marchesa realized that when she suggested we’d make a good match. And I’m sure she expected me to court you. Take you out a few times, send you flowers…”

  “Do you really expect me to believe any of this? My grandmother told me how the subject of marriage came up. That you suggested it.”

  Dominic’s eyes narrowed. He checked his watch, then reached into his pocket and took out a cell phone.

  “Your grandmother is probably in my car right now,” he said coldly, “on her way to the airport.” He flipped the phone open and held it toward her. “Press the second button. When my driver answers, ask to speak with her.”

  Silence filled the room. Arianna stared into Dominic’s eyes. Was it true? Could her grandmother have made such a bizarre suggestion?

  She shook her head, backed away from his outstretched hand as if it held a venomous insect instead of a phone.

  “Even if it were true, why would you consider it? It’s crazy.”

  “I thought so, too.” Dominic slid the phone into his pocket. “And then I began considering the possibilities.”

  “What possibilities? If you want a wife, why should it be me?”

  Why, indeed? He thought about the way she felt in his arms, how she trembled when he touched her, how he’d dreamed of her the past five years…

  “There are other women. You could have your pick.”

  A quick smile flashed across his face. “A compliment, cara. How nice.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Dominic! You know what I mean.”

  “I could have my pick because I have a lot of money,” he said bluntly, “and that’s the problem. I don’t want a woman professing undying love when all she really wants is my checkbook.”

  “You’re losing me here. Isn’t your checkbook what you’re offering me? Three million dollars of it, anyway?”

  Arianna put her hands on her hips. Her breasts lifted, straining against the thin cotton of her shirt. Dominic felt his body stir. Yes, he thought, this was one of the reasons he’d marry her… but not the only one.

  He moved so quickly that she had no time to sidestep, his hands clasping her elbows, lifting her to her toes until her face was level with his. “That’s why your grandmother’s scheme has merit. Everything would be in the open. We’d both know why you married me. No undying declarations of love. No lies. You get to secure her future. I get—”

  “A wife who would hate you.” Arianna’s voice shook. “Who would despise you. Who would—”

  “Marriage isn’t about sentiment.”

  “Not in your world, maybe, but it is in mine.”

  “You’re behaving like a child, Arianna, wanting life to be a fairy tale. We all do what we must to survive.”

  “I’m not for sale!” Arianna slapped her palms against his chest. “Let go of me, Dominic. I’d do anything for my grandmother—”

  “But not this.” His mouth thinned. “I was good enough to scratch an itch, but not to be seen with in daylight and certainly not to marry.”

  The room became silent. The soft buzz of insects outside the screen door and the ominous tick tick tick of the wall clock belonged to another world. Time was running out, for the marchesa, for her, for Jonathan.

  “Please,” she said, “please, leave now.”

  “Why are you so eager to get rid of me?” He lowered his head and she saw herself mirrored in his eyes. “Is this your weekend hideaway? Do you have a lover who meets you here? Is he a better lover than me?”

  He cupped her face, forced her head back. He could see what he was doing to her, that she’d gone from rage to defiance to something worse. Despair? Fear? Fear, yes. What are you doing? he asked himself, even as he tugged the pins from her hair until it tumbled around her shoulders.

  “Admit the truth,” he said roughly. “Say that you want me.”

  “I don’t. I don’t—”

  He kissed her, crushing her mouth with his, nipping hard at her bottom lip. She gave a sharp little cry and he started to let go of her, hating himself for his loss of control, for taking what she didn’t want to give, but then she whispered his name and kissed him back, wrapped her arms around him as she had that night, sobbed when he slipped his hand under her shirt and cupped her breast…

  The shattered screen door slammed against the frame.

  “Get your hands off the lady, you son of a bitch,” a man yelled.

  “Don’t you hurt my mommy,” a child cried and that, more than the man’s fury or the pain of small, sharp teeth sinking into his leg, stopped Dominic cold.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE entire world had gone crazy.

  Dominic didn’t know what to do first, peel the kid off his leg, defend himself against the man coming at him, or tell Arianna that shouting “No, don’t! Stop!” wasn’t having the desired effect on either the kid or the man.

  If anything, it seemed to be encouraging the attack.

  He acted on instinct, shaking the boy off just as the man threw a wild left. Dominic danced back, but the guy was persistent and came at him with the left again. His reaction was instinctive. He slipped the punch and countered with an uppercut to the chin.r />
  Arianna’s defender blinked, stiffened, and went down like a fallen tree.

  “Jeff,” Arianna screamed, and the boy threw himself at Dominic again.

  “Dio!” Dominic roared as the kid’s teeth found their mark a second time. He grabbed the child by the scruff of the neck and held the windmilling boy at arm’s length.

  “Arianna! Do something with your piranha!”

  Arianna, kneeling beside her fallen lover with his head in her lap, looked at Dominic as if he were the devil incarnate.

  “You—you—” She jumped to her feet, grabbed her son and held him tightly against her while she whispered words of comfort and stroked his hair.

  She should be stroking my hair, Dominic thought grimly. He was the one who’d been mauled. His leg felt as if it had been chewed by a pack of Chihuahuas.

  The man on the floor groaned and sat up.

  The child in Arianna’s arms buried his face in her shoulder and wept.

  Without question, Dominic thought, he must have stumbled into an asylum for the insane.

  He ran his hands through his hair, tugged down his shirt and slapped his hands on his hips. None of it helped him make sense of whatever in hell was happening here, but he was starting to think even an army of psychiatrists wouldn’t be clever enough to do that.

  A child who addressed Arianna as “Mommy”? A man who leaped to her defense? Was the child hers? Was the man her husband? Her lover? Was she leading a secret life in this little house in the country? Not that he gave a damn. Asking her to marry him had been a stupid, spur-of-the-moment mistake.

  The world was filled with women who’d jump at the chance to be his wife, women who didn’t come equipped with sharp-toothed children and lovers who thought you’d been poaching on their territory—except how could you trespass on a man’s rights to a woman when you hadn’t even known he existed?

  “It would seem,” Dominic said coldly, “that there are some things your grandmother forgot to mention.”

  The child jerked his head around. “Don’t you yell at my mother!”

  “Hush, sweetheart.” Arianna’s tone was soft but the look she gave Dominic was poisonous. “She doesn’t know.”

  Dominic stared at her. “Excuse me? You have a child, a husband—”

  “He isn’t my mom’s husband,” the boy said firmly. “’Cause if he were, I’d have a father. And I don’t.”

  Arianna blinked. This was the first time Jonathan had ever mentioned having—or not having—a father. His timing couldn’t have been worse.

  “You don’t need a father,” she said, and hugged him closer. “You have me.”

  “That’s what I told Jeff,” the boy said tearfully, “when he asked if I wanted him for a dad.”

  “Oh, hell.” Jeff got to his feet. “I didn’t think Jonathan would say anything. Arianna…”

  “Did you actually discuss this with my son?” Arianna said in disbelief.

  “I figured I’d see how he felt about it,” Jeff said unhappily, “before I approached you.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have. Whatever were you thinking?”

  Jeff winced as he waggled his jaw from side to side. “I think that son of a bitch broke my jaw!”

  “Watch your mouth,” Dominic said sharply.

  “And who in hell are you, anyway? Coming in here, attacking Arianna—”

  “He wasn’t attacking me. And he’s right. Don’t use language like that in front of Jonathan.”

  “Lotsa people say sum of a bitch,” the child said helpfully. “They say other stuff, too, like—”

  “Jonathan. Honey.” Arianna’s voice was bright. “Is Billy outside? Why don’t you go play with him?”

  “He doesn’t feel good. We caught a fish and he threw up. That’s why we came home.”

  “Oh. Oh, well then… why don’t you go into the living room and put on the Saturday cartoons?”

  “You don’t let me watch the Saturday cartoons.”

  “Today’s different.”

  “It surely is,” Dominic said coldly. “I suspect it isn’t every day you play hostess to your lover and a—how do you say it?—a patsy at the same time.”

  “What’s a patsy, Mommy?”

  “Hush, sweetheart!” Arianna glared at Dominic. “Have you no sense of decency? There’s a child present!”

  Dominic didn’t answer. It was becoming difficult to be civilized. The more time went by, the more he wondered what sort of woman would melt in one man’s arms while she waited for another

  “I was wondering when you’d get around to that.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but Jeff isn’t my… He’s just a friend. And I don’t know what you mean by a patsy.”

  “Oh, I think you do. At least now I understand the reason I was told none of this. You and the marchesa were afraid I wouldn’t take the bait if I knew you had a child.”

  “Damn you, Dominic—”

  “‘Have you no sense of decency?”’ he said, mimicking her. “‘There’s a child present’—a child I knew nothing about.”

  Arianna swallowed hard. “That isn’t my fault. You came here thinking you knew everything about me. And—”

  “And I didn’t. As I pointed out, I was the perfect pazzo.”

  “I don’t know what you mean!”

  “It was clever, I admit.” His mouth twisted. “You’d snag a husband and a fortune in one step. All you and the marchesa had to do was lure me in, make me think I’d been the one who’d maneuvered you into marriage….”

  “Don’t be crazy! It was nothing like that. Didn’t I just tell you that the marchesa doesn’t know about—about any of this? Maybe you should have asked me about my life instead of her!”

  “What’s he talking about?” Jeff put a hand against his jaw and winced again. “Who’s the marchesa?”

  “She’s the matchmaker from hell,” Dominic said coldly, his eyes never leaving Arianna’s. “Do you really expect me to believe she knows nothing of this second life you lead?”

  “You know what?” Fury made Arianna incautious. “I don’t care what you believe. I just want you out of my house and my life.”

  “Finally, we agree.”

  Dominic started for the door. Arianna almost groaned with relief. Thank God! He was leaving, and he hadn’t noticed Jonathan’s resemblance to him. He’d go away and never come back. He’d be out of her life and her son’s forever…

  He’d go straight to her grandmother.

  Of course he would. He didn’t believe a word she’d said. He’d confront the marchesa, make these same accusations, talk about Jonathan…

  Years of caution, of secrecy, of protecting her nonna from news she might not be well enough to handle, was all coming undone.

  “Dominic!” She gave Jonathan a quick kiss and put him down. “Wait.”

  He turned to her. She saw the banked fury in his eyes and knew she had to be careful.

  “We have to talk.

  “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “Please. Just give me five minutes to take care of things here. You can wait on the back porch. It’s quiet and peaceful.”

  Quiet and peaceful. As if he gave a damn about that. He’d been set up, used, manipulated…

  “You’d be wasting your time.” He folded his arms and glared at her. “There’s no point in talking about the Butterfly, Arianna. I’m going to do what I should have done all along.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the Butterfly! It’s—it’s—” She shot a quick look over her shoulder at the child and the man. “Please. Wait on the porch. Five minutes. Surely you can give me that.”

  Dominic scowled. Why should he give her anything? This woman couldn’t seem to take an honest breath.

  He looked past her. The man she claimed was not her lover stood behind the child, one hand on the boy’s head in a protective gesture. At least he had good instincts. If anyone needed protection, it was the boy.

  He was a brave little kid who�
�d defended his mother against huge odds. From the looks of him, he was ready to do it again. He looked small but undeniably fierce, his posture matching Dominic’s right down to the narrowed eyes and folded arms.

  Dominic cocked his head. Such perfect mimicry…

  “Dominic?” Arianna put her hand on his arm. “I’m begging you. Please.”

  There was definite pleasure in hearing supplication in the voice of the princess.

  “Five minutes,” he said, as he moved past her. “Not a second more.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Dominic was sitting on the porch steps, still waiting, still trying to figure out why he’d bothered to oblige Arianna by hanging around.

  Whatever she had to say would only be more claptrap about her innocence in an unraveling scheme.

  He didn’t believe a word of it.

  Twenty minutes ago he’d heard a door slam, a car engine start, a vehicle peel out of the driveway, its throaty roar a clear statement of dissatisfaction.

  So much for Jeff of the glass jaw.

  But Arianna hadn’t appeared. He figured she was still soothing the boy.

  And he was still hanging around. Well, why not? After all, it was a long time since anybody had tried to scam him.

  Dominic leaned back on his elbows. Arianna was right. It was pleasant out here, as quiet as the countryside outside Rome. It was hot, too, the same as Rome, but flowering vines curled around the porch stanchions and offered patches of cooling shade.

  A small bird with bright yellow feathers landed on the railing and scolded him for being there.

  Dominic could hardly blame the bird. What was he doing here, except waiting to see just how far Arianna was prepared to go before she let the scam die a natural death?

  He’d done a lot of scamming himself when he was a kid, conning tourists out of lire by claiming he was the best guide Rome had to offer, though half the time he’d passed off one old church or ruin by the name of another. Why not? he’d figured. Back then he had a righteous contempt for the rich.

  Years later, he knew it hadn’t been contempt at all. It had been envy.