The Marriage Ultimatum (Contemporary Romance)

by Christine Glover

  Suspicious cousins faded. Worries evaporated. The sounds and scents of the village square faded away until there was only him.

  She drew him deeper into her mouth, losing herself in the strength of his possession. The tender sweep of his hands down her back brought her even closer into his hot, muscular body. She clung to him and returned his kiss with the power of her own hunger.

  Dimly, she heard shouting, and distant clapping of the people in the village market square. Amore. Molto amore. Their shouts made their bogus relationship seem all too real, as did the storm of sensations surging through her.

  Louder calls in Italian—fotografia! Veloce, veloce! Ottenere la famiglia!—jerked her back to reality while Stefano abruptly ended their kiss. “Bastardo paparazzi,” he said. “I should have known they’d find us here.”

  Her heart raced and adrenaline zipped along her spine, making her want to run straight to their little boy and shield him. She’d never had to live under a microscope and hadn’t anticipated this kind of attention.

  “Don’t move a muscle.” Stefano tightened his hold on her.

  “I’m scared… for Matthew.” And for herself because if these tabloid reporters made international waves, her brother might endanger her again. “What if Doug comes after us?”

  * * *

  “Don’t worry, tesoro. I’ll always protect you and Matthew.” Stefano caressed her pale cheek, then pointed to Donatello. “Get the boys. Elena, make sure Nonno gets back to the villa safely.”

  “What about you and Roxy?” Elena asked, quickly gathering their picnic supplies and shoving them into the baskets.

  “We’ll give them what they want without putting the rest of the family through more media exposure,” Stefano said. “No way will I allow those vultures near our son.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea anyone would be here when I kissed you, but I had to do it,” Roxy said as the family hurried to their parked SUVs. “Elena’s suspicious.”

  He put his arm around her slim shoulders and gently moved her away from the rest of the family, drawing her closer to the oncoming reporters and photographers. “She and Donatello have their own agenda.”

  “One that doesn’t include you being in charge while they cling to the old ways of doing business.”

  “Si,” he said.

  She shot him a sidelong glance. “But your way is better.”

  Heat radiated through his chest. Despite everything he’d done to her, Roxy sounded like she believed what she’d said. “Cristo, they are stuck in the dark ages. My grandfather refuses to accept that we must modernize or Durante Enterprises will die.”

  “Good thing you found me when you did, but I hadn’t anticipated dealing with hordes of reporters.”

  “I should have warned you about the possibility of this happening before we went out today.” Stefano raised a hand and waved to the first reporter. “The talking heads in the entertainment industry have been dissecting why I married you for the past week.”

  Her breath hitched as the cameras flashed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to shield you and Matthew from all of it until you settled in, but they’ve been circling around us and speculating… now the kiss…”

  “I suppose we’ll have to give them another one to keep them from chasing down the SUVs,” she said, then shot a surreptitious glance toward the vehicles in the distance.

  He tracked her gaze. “Consider it a Play Date Activity,” he said, watching the Land Rovers exit the village square and turn onto the road that would take them back to their respective villas.

  She laughed. “Very funny, but yeah, lay one on me.”

  Her West Virginia southern accent and matter-of-fact words endeared her to him even more than he thought possible. The drawl exposed her nerves, but her words revealed a great deal about her strength even in the face of fear.

  “Eccellente idea.”

  He smiled at the paparazzi, spoke to them quickly in Italian about his gorgeous bride, their request for privacy during their honeymoon, but today he would allow lots of pictures.

  Slowly, he turned Roxy into the circle of his arms and lowered his mouth to within millimeters of hers. “Let’s give them something worth gossiping about for the rest of the weekend.”

  “Agreed.”

  Around them, cameras flashed while he closed the scant distance between their lips and tasted her again. She coiled her hands around his neck and held on, returning the sweep of his tongue with her own hunger.

  Tangy flavors melded with the effervescence of the prosecco they’d partaken of only minutes earlier. And while they were putting on a performance, there wasn’t anything fake about her body’s reaction.

  Her nipples pebbled against his chest as she softened and yielded to his kiss. His body strained for more. More of Roxy’s mouth, her body, and the feel of her moving beneath him while he thrust into her and brought them the relief they desperately craved while denying themselves for over a week… hell, for years…

  Somehow, with a restraint and self-control he didn’t know he possessed, Stefano managed to keep the blood from rushing to his groin. Dio. What a picture that would make for the press. Still, he didn’t want to break contact with her, and lingered a few seconds more before ending the kiss with one final tender brush against her lips.

  “These Play Date Activities could get us into loads of trouble,” she said, the rise and fall of her chest revealing how deeply their kiss had affected her.

  “Then we’ll have to be very careful about keeping them public,” he replied before answering the thousands of questions hurled by the prying press. Still, even as he managed the outcome of this kiss, he couldn’t stop the memories of their love affair from flashing inside his head. And that made him want to act on all kinds of uncontrollable urges.

  Chapter 8

  Five days after they’d kissed in the village for the paparazzi, Roxy spent most of Wednesday working on her commission for Durante Enterprises’ new office building in Naples. She’d do anything to keep the ongoing tabloid speculation out of her mind… and stop thinking about the mind-blowing kisses she and Stefano indulged in whenever they had an audience. Still, keeping things strictly platonic once their bedroom door closed hadn’t been easy now that she felt connected to Stefano more than physically, but emotionally.

  He’d do anything to protect Matthew. That spoke volumes to her given how her father neglected every one of his children. She stepped around the sand bags that stabilized her statue and heard the door creak open.

  “Okay if I come in?” Stefano asked, stepping inside.

  Sunlight streamed through the windows framing the spacious room and the expensive stone she worked on reflected the light with tiny sparkles. That same light carved shadows into the planes of Stefano’s handsome face.

  “Sure.” She tugged off her leather gloves and placed them next to the statue, then pulled off her goggles and walked toward him. “What’s up?” Her gaze landed on the open collar of his crisp white dress shirt that exposed his bronzed skin. The surge of excitement at just seeing him knocked her a little off her guard.

  She clipped her eyes upward and the lines creasing Stefano’s brow brought a cold chill down her spine despite the balmy Mediterranean breeze wafting through her open windows.

  He circled the room’s perimeter. “I needed to get away.”

  “Why here?” Until today, Stefano hadn’t visited her at the studio. She’d welcomed the quiet and space he’d given her. Lord knew they needed to keep their distance whenever they were alone, but here he stood.

  “This is the only place in the entire villa that hasn’t been invaded by my nosy family. I had to leave my grandfather’s office before I lost my temper in front of Nonno, especially after he agreed to the treatment.”

  “He agreed? Oh, that’s great.”

  “Yes, I’m relieved, but Donatello chose that moment to push back against my plans.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I came this close
to punching him.”

  She clutched her goggles’ elastic strap. “What did he do?” she asked, concerned. Stefano could be controlling and bullheaded, but he never expressed anger with the threat of physical violence.

  “Donatello is more of a problem than I anticipated,” Stefano said. “Grandfather trusts his advice more than mine. Though I can’t blame him after what my father did. But hell. Moving even a comma here means going up against a wall of resistance.”

  She rolled back on her heels. “Could you repeat that bit about your father?”

  “It’s ridiculous.” Stefano shook his head, ignoring her question. “Scribbling budgets on envelopes will not save our company. Andersen’s innovative technology will. Donatello’s brown-nosing bullshit makes Nonno afraid to take a calculated risk.”

  She edged closer to Stefano while her pulse raced. Stefano had never come to her with a problem or shared about his past. Now she genuinely wanted to understand what troubled Stefano if only to help him. “Why doesn’t Nonno want you to take your rightful place as his heir?” she asked. “He should be focusing on staying well, not holding onto his company’s reins.”

  “Cristo.” He punched his thigh, cutting her off midstream. “When is that old man going to realize that I’ve got the company’s best interests at heart? We can’t keep doing things the old way or Durante Enterprises will die a slow, painful death.”

  As would Nonno if he continued to refuse treatment or medication that would ease his increasing discomfort. She fumbled for words of comfort as she moved around Stefano to place her safety goggles on a table, then she turned and lightly touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry Donatello’s making things difficult for you, but what makes your grandfather believe that he’s a better choice than you when you’ve gone above and beyond to save Durante Enterprises?” Sometimes she felt like she was living in a bizarre Italian version of Game of Thrones. And she didn’t understand half the la famiglia’s rules, let alone the language.

  “My father was a thief.” Stefano inhaled a sharp breath, then released it. “I’ve spent my entire life making up for that fact.”

  Roxy raised her chin and held his gaze. “You thought I was a crook, too.” And removed her hand from him before the electricity sparking through her fingertips fired a maelstrom of need everywhere inside her.

  “I was wrong, but when it comes to my father, Nonno is right.” Stefano paced through her studio. “He embezzled money from Durante Enterprises to pay for my mother’s extravagances.”

  “Will learning about my family add to your grandfather’s unwillingness to hand over the reins?” She followed Stefano as he weaved through tables, sandbags, and her models until he paused in front of her marble piece. “Is there a chance our marriage will mess up your plans instead of helping you achieve your goal?”

  “Having a wife and legitimate child has improved my grandfather’s opinion about me, but I can’t get any traction with Nonno as long as Donatello is in my way.”

  Roxy stood beside him and studied her sculpture, eyeing the abstract piece emerging from the stone with a critical eye. “Nothing worth having comes with an easy sticker plastered on it.” She brushed his sleeve as she leaned in to look. “Just like this stone. Right now it’s a rock with potential. Every cut I make into it, I have to push down my fear and trust my process and my instincts. But I know it will take shape.”

  He was close. So very close that his body heat and sheer masculinity dominated her senses. She inhaled a deep breath to pull some air into her lungs, and drew in his scent. So clean and masculine that her heartbeat accelerated higher.

  “You’re right,” Stefano said after several beats of silence. “I have to cut Donatello out of the picture.”

  “I hope you’re not talking murder here.”

  He laughed. “No. I’ll send him to our factory in Milan to deal with an employee crisis. That should keep him out of my way long enough to give me time to persuade Nonno to take a chance on merging with Phillip Anderson’s company.”

  “Perfect,” she said. “Problem solved.”

  “Thanks to you.” Stefano turned to face her. “I’m glad I came here—you’re not only a gifted artist, but a smart ally.”

  Something new shifted inside Roxy and a slow curl of desire unfurled low until every inch of her tingled with heightened awareness. His compliment, along with his smoldering gaze, made Roxy want Stefano in ways that had more to do with the longing of a deeper connection.

  “You gave me this studio and restocked all my supplies along with a hefty commission,” she said. “I’d rather be your friend than your enemy regardless of what happens.”

  “I’d like that.” Passion darkened his eyes as he took her hand in his. “A lot.”

  She’d never examined how thirsty she’d been for someone to notice her. More than that, all her life she’d yearned for someone to support and encourage her efforts instead of belittling her dreams. Stefano had given her that and now something more… he’d confided in her.

  Her heart hammered against her sternum and she ached to be with him again. “You can count on me.” But could she count on herself to maintain the boundary she’d erected against him?

  “Grazie, tesoro.” He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against it. “Your support means a lot—I’m sorry I doubted you three years ago.”

  More ripples of sensation traveled through Roxy and everything she had suppressed and denied herself flared to life. His apology meant more than she could express, and she held onto a small kernel of hope that perhaps this would be the start of something better between them.

  As friends, she reminded herself.

  She should move, break their contact, end this before they started something that neither of them would want to stop. “Stefano, we—I—need to get back to work,” Roxy said, her legs weak and her feet refusing to obey her internal command to walk.

  “True.” He didn’t release her hand and bridged the remaining gap between them. “But I don’t think I can let you go.”

  Her lips felt dry and she licked them before asking, “Why not?”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth for a brief moment, then back up to her eyes, dark and gleaming. “Because I need to do this first.” He anchored the back of her neck to angle her face toward his, and moved his mouth over hers.

  She parted her lips and their tongues swept alongside each other. Hot. Hard. Hungry. Her mind emptied of all thoughts other than what she craved. Him.

  * * *

  Cupping the nape of her neck, Stefano deepened his kiss while sliding his hand down low to the small of her back to hold her. Roxy didn’t resist, opening herself to him, sinking her fingers into his hair and keeping his mouth locked onto hers while they feasted on each other.

  His earlier frustration with his grandfather evaporated completely. He lost himself in her, tasting her greedily and tugging her T-shirt from her jeans to skim his fingers across her skin.

  She let out a low moan, and softened in his arms, yielding to his touch. Cristo he shouldn’t be kissing her. Touching her, possessing her had not been on his radar when he’d first walked inside the brightly lit room. But he didn’t realize how much he needed someone to hear him out and give him some measure of peace during this ongoing business nightmare when he’d gone to Roxy’s studio.

  He couldn’t bring himself to break their connection. Not when she felt so right, so amazing in his arms. Not when she met his hunger with her own. And not when her hands moved over his shoulders and down his sides, and onto his ass.

  His pants grew uncomfortably tight and blood thundered in his ears. He wanted her with a vengeance that had grown wilder and more intense with every public kiss they’d exchanged. All that mattered was taking, surrendering, and possessing each other until they satiated their mutual craving.

  Stefano caressed her waist, traced his way up to the swell of her breast and scraped his thumb pad over her taut nipple. She gasped, and he drank in the sound of her pleasu
re. He slipped his thigh between her legs, moving it against her sex until she trembled and goose bumps rose on her bare flesh.

  He broke their kiss long enough to pull her shirt over her head and expose the demi-bra with lace flirting just above her nipples. “You’re as beautiful as I remembered.” The dark striations in her silver eyes captivated him. She was at once an exhilarating mix of passion and pleasure waiting for him to rediscover. “Absolute perfection.”

  Her cheeks turned pink and her breath hitched, bringing her breasts closer. “It’s been so long since…,” she said, her voice husky.

  His pulse accelerated and heat radiated throughout his body. Roxy hadn’t been with another man after he’d left her—he’d been her last lover and the knowledge brought a surge of protectiveness through him.

  Though need fired through him, rushed into his groin and aroused him to the point of pain, he willed himself to take it slow, easy, careful. “I know, tesoro.”

  He fused his mouth to hers again, caressed her full breasts and she arched her back, giving him greater access. Her nipples pebbled and he stroked the tight buds through the fabric of her sexy bra. When he moved against her, she held him tighter and writhed in tandem with him.

  It was as if her body had been waiting for him to return. He wanted to be with her, on her, inside her.

  Here. Now. Forever.

  She tugged his shirt free, frantic as he, and smoothed her hands over his back until she reached his shoulders and pushed it off. “You’re overdressed.”

  “As are you.” He released her bra snap and replaced his hands with his mouth, circling the rosy buds one by one until she cried his name.

  She fumbled with his belt while he moved her until her back was pressed against the wall. “Roxy.” Her name was a question and prayer on his tongue. Would she put an end to this with one word, or bring it to its inevitable conclusion with another?