His Innocent's Passionate Awakening

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Don’t even think about it.

  Luca knew how to control his impulses. He had learned the hard way not to rush into things without careful consideration first. Artemisia Bellante might be the most alluring young woman he’d met in a long time but a deal was a deal and his word was his word. Their paper marriage would last six months and no longer. Nonno’s doctors had given him no more than a year to live if he didn’t start treatment soon. The clock was ticking on the old man’s life and Luca was determined to present him with the perfect choice of bride.

  The housekeeper led him to the same salon as yesterday, where Artemisia was waiting for him standing by the windows. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture guarded. She looked regal and elegant even though she was wearing casual clothes—blue jeans and a white shirt with a patterned scarf draped artfully around her neck. The jeans highlighted the shapely curves of her hips and the white shirt brought out the creamy tone of her skin. Her chin was at a proud height, her deep brown eyes shining with unmistakable dislike.

  Hot and heavy desire tingled in his groin. Her dislike of him was a bigger turn-on than he’d expected. Dating had become a little too easy for him lately—a little too boring and predictable. But nothing about Artemisia Bellante was boring or predictable.

  Rein it in, buddy. You’re not going there, remember?

  Luca gave a sweeping bow. ‘Buongiorno, Artemisia. Have you made your decision?’

  Her indrawn breath was like the hiss of a cornered cat. ‘I have.’

  ‘And?’ Luca was only conscious of holding his breath when his lungs began to tighten. He wanted her as his bride. No one else was going to do. He had to have her. He couldn’t explain his intractable stance other than that something about her ticked all the boxes.

  She held his gaze with her icy one, her jaw set, her colour high. ‘I will marry you.’

  The relief that swept through him momentarily caught him off guard. It wasn’t that he’d expected her to say no but somehow he hadn’t realised until now how much he’d wanted her to say yes. ‘Good. I’m glad you see the sense in doing so.’

  Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly above her glittering eyes. ‘However, I have some conditions on my acceptance of your offer.’

  Luca was not one to allow people to push him around but something about her expression made him make an exception. She stirred him in a way he had never been stirred before. His blood heated with a backbeat of desire, his nostrils flaring to take in the flowery scent of her perfume. ‘Go on.’

  She unfolded her arms and smoothed her hands down the front of her thighs. He ran his gaze down the slim length of her legs and her neat calves. She was wearing light brown suede ankle boots that gave her an inch or two more height. But even with the benefit of heels, she still wouldn’t make it to the top of his shoulder. But that wasn’t the only thing she was wearing—his grandmother’s engagement ring winked proudly, almost defiantly, on her left hand. The arabesque design chosen so lovingly by his nonno to give to the love of his life—Luca’s grandmother—suited Artemisia’s hand as if designed especially for her. A faint alarm bell sounded at the back of his mind. He would have to be extra careful to keep his emotions out of this arrangement. Their relationship was a business deal and nothing more. There was no point feeling a little sentimental about seeing his grandmother’s ring on Artie’s hand. There was nothing sentimental about his choice of engagement ring. Sure, he could have bought any other ring but he had deliberately used his nonna’s ring knowing it would add authenticity to his committed relationship status in the eyes of his grandfather.

  It was his grandfather who was sentimental.

  Not him.

  ‘Won’t you sit down?’ Artie’s tone was all cool politeness but her eyes were hard with bitterness.

  Luca gestured to the sofa nearest her. ‘Ladies first.’

  Artie drew in another sharp breath and sat on the sofa, her hands clasped around her crossed knee, her plump mouth tightly set. ‘So, I’ve decided to accept your offer on the proviso we’re married here at the castello. A quiet wedding, minimal guests.’

  It intrigued him why she wanted a low-key wedding. Didn’t most young women want to be a princess for the day? He could think of at least half a dozen of his ex-lovers who had dropped enormous hints about their dream wedding. It had killed his interest in them stone-dead. ‘Is there any particular reason why you want to be married here and not at one of the local churches?’

  Her gaze didn’t quite meet his but aimed for the top of his left shoulder. ‘My father’s funeral was held here, so too was my mother’s. It’s where many of my ancestors are buried.’

  ‘Sì, but a funeral is a little different from a wedding, is it not?’

  Her clear brown gaze collided with his. ‘Not from my perspective. This isn’t a real marriage. I would be uncomfortable desecrating a church by saying vows neither of us intends to keep. It would be disrespectful. Nor do I want a big, flashy wedding with people I don’t know and have nothing in common with attending. It would be a waste of money and effort.’

  Luca didn’t care where they were married as long as they were married. He only hoped Nonno would be well enough to be able to travel from his home in Tuscany, but, since Umbria was a neighbouring region, it wasn’t a long journey—just over two hours’ drive.

  ‘Fine. We’ll marry here. Leave the arrangements to me. I’ve already applied for a licence so we don’t have to wait the six weeks normally required. Your father sent me a copy of your birth certificate and passport before he died. I took the liberty of getting things on the move.’

  Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. ‘You were so sure I would accept? But you hadn’t even met me in person until yesterday.’

  He shrugged one shoulder. ‘Your father showed me a photo and he talked about you a lot. I was satisfied you would be suitable.’

  She uncrossed her legs and sprang off the sofa, moving some distance away. ‘I would have thought a man in your position wouldn’t have to resort to finding a mail-order bride.’ Scorn underlined every word she spoke. ‘What if I’d said no?’

  Luca gave a slow smile. ‘I would have found some way to change your mind.’

  Her chin came up and her eyes flashed. ‘I can’t believe my father encouraged you in this ridiculous mission to acquire a wife. When did you meet with him? I’ve never seen you come here before yesterday and I barely left my father’s side.’

  ‘I visited your father when he was in hospital with pneumonia late last year. He talked you up so much it intrigued me. I was disappointed not to see you on one of my visits but he said you weren’t keen on hospitals since the accident. We emailed or phoned after that.’

  She bit her lip and looked away. ‘Did he say anything else about me?’

  ‘Just that you were shy and not much of a party girl.’

  She gave a snort of humourless laughter. ‘Yes, well, that’s certainly true.’

  Luca rose from the sofa and walked over to a row of picture frames on a sideboard. He picked up a photo taken when Artie was a child, sitting on her mother’s knee. ‘Your mother was very beautiful. She was English, sì?’

  ‘Y-yes...’ There was a slight catch in her voice.

  Luca put the photo back on the sideboard and turned to face her. ‘It’s hard to lose a parent in your teens, especially the same sex parent.’ Harder still when you were the cause of their death. And the death of your only brother. The guilt never left him. It sat on his shoulder. It followed him. It prodded him. It never let him forget. It kept him awake at night. His own personal stalker, torturing him with the what-ifs and the if-onlys.

  Her brown eyes met his. ‘You lost your father and older brother when you were a teenager, didn’t you?’

  Luca knew there was still stuff about his father and brother’s death online. Not so easy to come across these days but it was still ther
e if you did a thorough enough search. It had been a big news story at the time due to his father’s high profile in business circles.

  He could still see the headlines now—Property developer CEO and son and heir lost in heavy surf in Argentina.

  There had been nothing about Luca’s role in their drowning and he only found out years later it was because his nonno had pulled some strings in order to protect him.

  Another reason his marriage to Artie had to go ahead and soon. He owed his nonno peace in this last stage of his life.

  ‘Yes. When I was thirteen.’ He stripped his voice of all emotion—he could have been discussing the stock exchange instead of the worst day of his life.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Artie waited a beat and added, ‘Is your mother still alive?’

  ‘Yes. She lives in New York now.’

  ‘Has she remarried?’

  ‘No.’

  There was a silence.

  Luca could have filled it with all the reasons why his mother no longer lived in Italy. Her unrelenting grief. His strained relationship with her that nothing he said or did could fix. The constant triggers being around him caused her. The empty hole in her life that nothing could fill. The hole he had created by his actions on that fateful day. He hadn’t just lost his father and brother on that day—he’d lost his entire family as he’d known it. Even his grandparents—as caring and supportive as they tried to be—had been sideswiped by grief and became shadows of their former selves. His extended family—aunts, uncles, cousins—all of them had been affected by his actions that day.

  ‘So, what changed your mind about marrying me?’ Luca decided it was safer to stay on the topic of their upcoming marriage rather than drift into territory he wanted left well alone. ‘Let me guess. Was it the engagement ring?’

  She swallowed, her cheeks blooming with colour. ‘In a way, yes.’

  Luca hadn’t taken her for a gold-digger but it was a damn fine ring. His eyes flicked to her left hand. ‘It looks good on you. But I hope you don’t mind it being second hand. It belonged to my grandmother. She left it to me in her will.’

  Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. ‘Your grandmother’s? Oh, my goodness. Just as well I—’ She bit her lip and shifted her gaze a fraction, the colour in her cheeks deepening.

  ‘Just as well you...?’ Luca prompted, intrigued by her cagey expression.

  Her slim throat rose and fell over a swallow and her gaze slipped out of reach of his. ‘I—I misplaced it for a couple of hours. But it’s your fault for giving me such a ridiculously valuable ring. A priceless heirloom, for pity’s sake. What on earth were you thinking? Of course, I’ll give it back to you once the six months is up.’

  ‘I don’t want it back. It’s a gift.’

  Her gaze flicked back to his, shock written all over her features. ‘I couldn’t possibly keep it. It’s worth a small fortune, not to mention the sentimental value.’

  Luca shrugged. ‘It’s no skin off my nose what you do with it once our marriage is over. It’s just a ring. I will have no further use for it after this. It means nothing to me.’

  Her mouth tightened. ‘Is there anything that means something to you other than making disgusting amounts of money?’

  Luca slanted his mouth into a cynical smile. ‘There isn’t a law against being successful in business. Money opens a lot of doors.’

  ‘I would imagine it closes others. How would you know if people liked you for you or for your wealth?’

  ‘I’m a good judge of character. I soon weed out the timewasters and hangers-on.’

  Her top lip curled and her eyes shone with loathing. ‘Well, bully for you.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ARTIE WOULDN’T HAVE admitted it even under torture, but she was getting off on sparring with Luca Ferrantelli. Every time they exchanged words, little bubbles of excitement trickled into her bloodstream. He was intelligent and quick-witted and charming and she had to keep on her toes to keep up with him.

  She couldn’t understand why he had given her his grandmother’s engagement ring. Eek! Just as well she hadn’t lost it. But he didn’t seem all that attached to the stunning piece of jewellery, and yet she had fallen in love with it at first sight. Surely he had at least one sentimental bone in his body, or was everything just another business deal?

  Luca’s brief mention of his father and brother intrigued her. Mostly because he seemed reluctant to dwell on the subject. His expression had given little away, his flat, emotionless tone even less. But still, she sensed there was pain beneath the surface—deep pain that made him distance himself from it whenever he could.

  Maybe Rosa was right—Luca Ferrantelli had more than a few layers to his personality that begged to be explored.

  But Artie knew all too well about deep emotional pain. Talking about her mother, thinking about the accident and its aftermath sent her into a spiral of despair. Guilt was her constant companion. Wasn’t it her fault her father had lost control of his finances? He hadn’t been the same after the accident. Losing Artie’s mother, and losing the use of his legs as well as an acquired brain injury, had meant he was not the same man—nor ever could be—and she was entirely to blame. Nothing Artie could do would ever change that. It was only fitting that she wed Luca Ferrantelli and reclaim her family’s heritage.

  It was her penance. The price she must pay. But she would make the best out of the situation by owning her choice to marry Luca rather than feel he had forced her hand.

  ‘We need to discuss the honeymoon.’ Luca’s expression was inscrutable. ‘Do you have somewhere you’d like to go?’

  Honeymoon?

  Artie widened her eyes so far she thought they might pop right out of her head. She clasped her hand to her throat where her heart now seemed to be lodged. ‘A...a honeymoon? Whatever for? You said it’s going to be a marriage in name only. Why would we need to go on a honeymoon?’ Even saying the word ‘honeymoon’ made her body go all tingly and her heart race and her blood heat. Heat that stormed into her cheeks and simmered in other more secret places.

  One of his dark eyebrows lifted at her stuttering protest, a satirical glint shining in his gaze. ‘I’m fine with a quiet wedding here at the castello but I insist on a honeymoon. It will give our marriage more credibility if we are seen to go away together for a short break.’

  Seen? In public? Be in wide open spaces? Rushing crowds. Traffic. Noise. Busyness. Artie stumbled backwards, her arms wrapping around her body, her breathing tight and laboured. ‘No. I can’t do that. I don’t want to go. There’s no need. It’s not a proper marriage and it’s wrong of you to insist on it.’

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  Luca frowned. ‘Are you worried I’ll take advantage of you? Please be assured that is not going to happen. I gave you my word.’

  ‘I don’t want to go anywhere with you,’ Artie said. ‘How could you think I would? I don’t even like you.’

  His eyes dipped to her mouth then back to her gaze. ‘Artemisia, we need to be seen together in public. It’s not going to work unless we present as a normal couple. We’ll have to live together most, if not all, of the time.’

  Her stomach turned over. ‘L-live together?’

  ‘But of course. Isn’t that what husbands and wives do?’

  Artie gulped. Her skin prickled, her legs trembled, her mind raced. Live with Luca Ferrantelli? What would that entail? She couldn’t even leave her own home. How on earth would she move into his? Should she tell him about her social phobia? Would he understand? No. Not likely. Few people did. Even the professionals who had visited her at the castello had more or less given up on her.

  Her gaze moved out of reach of his and she fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt for something to do with her hands. ‘I’m sorry, but couldn’t you move in here? I mean, this place is huge and you can have your own suite of rooms and w
e’d hardly have to see each other and no one would ever know we’re not—’

  ‘No.’ His tone was so adamant the word could have been underlined in thick black ink.

  Artie swung away from him, trying to get her breathing back under control. She was light-headed and nauseous, her stomach churning fast enough to make butter. She was going to faint... No, she wasn’t. She was going to fight it. Fight him. She took a deep breath and turned around to face him. ‘I will not leave my home. Not for you. A marriage of convenience is supposed to be convenient for both parties. It’s not convenient for me to move right now. I’ve only just buried my father. I’d like more time to...to spend grieving out of the view of the public.’ It wasn’t completely a lie. She missed her father, not because they were particularly close but because looking after him had given structure and purpose to her life.

  Luca studied her for a long moment, his expression giving nothing away. She tried not to squirm under his unnerving scrutiny but it was a mammoth effort and only added to her light-headedness. ‘All right. We’ll delay the honeymoon.’

  Relief swept through her and she brushed back her hair from her face, her hand not quite as steady as she would have liked. ‘Thank you.’

  She hadn’t been in a car since coming home from hospital after the accident. She hadn’t been in a plane or train or bus since she was fifteen. She hadn’t been around more than two or three people in a decade. Her life was contained within these four ancient stone walls and she couldn’t see it changing any time soon.

  Luca closed the distance between them and held her gaze for another beat or two. ‘I realise your father’s financial situation has come as a shock to you. And I understand how resistant you are to my plan to turn things to your advantage. But I want my grandfather to see us married and living as a couple.’

  ‘Why is that so important to you?’

  ‘He’s got cancer but he won’t agree to treatment.’