“You chose nothing.” His eyes swept shut. “You were chosen for Addan and he died, leaving you to me…”
“Do you think you are the only one who had been fighting this?” She shook her head gently, her expression showing anguish. “Addan was so safe, Malik. He adored me and I him, and I knew we would spend the rest of our lives in a very relaxed, respectful friendship. I had lost so much – my father’s death changed me. I didn’t want the highs and lows of a passionate affair. I just wanted calm, easy contentment. Addan and I were perfectly suited in that regard. But you were like a sinkhole. If you were in the room, you were all I could think of, all I could look towards. Instinctively I fought this, and you, but I don’t think I could have fought it forever. I think, after Addan’s birthday, something would have changed. I don’t think two people can be so right for one another as you and I are and not find their way eventually.”
He made a guttural noise, rushing his hands through his hair, dislodging it from the messy bun. “You say that and yet, look what it took? You almost died. I have had to look down the barrel at life without you to realise that no guilt for Addan could prevent me from being honest with you.”
He groaned, moving towards her. “If you had died and never known how sorry I was, how wrong I have been, Sophia, it would have killed me. I fell in love with you so long ago, and I had to fight it. I had to fight wanting you, needing you, craving you. And it became a habit, a habit that didn’t die with my brother. I don’t want to fight you anymore.”
Her sob was completely involuntary. She swallowed it as best as she could.
He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her towards him gently, mindful of her scars – physical and emotional – mindful that all would take time to heal.
“I stared at you and I read Plato to you, and I kept hearing a quote from it, chasing itself around and around my mind.” He dropped his head, kissing her forehead because he could no longer resist. “I am the wisest man alive –“
“For I know one thing,” she interrupted. “And that is that I know nothing.”
He nodded jerkily. “I thought I had all the answers. I thought I could keep you boxed away in one place, that I could give you one aspect of myself and take one aspect of yours, and that it would be like an addict having a very small fix. I thought it would in some way mitigate my betrayal of Addan, if I didn’t overwrite everything he’d meant to you, if I didn’t demand your heart as well as your body.”
He dropped his head lower, brushing his lips over hers, and her heart squeezed.
“I thought I had all the answers, but I knew nothing. You were never going to be kept in one small box of my life, and nor should you have been. My father was right to select you as Sheikha – you are the most spectacular woman I have ever known. You have spread into my life, into all parts of my soul. I fell in love with you so long ago, Sophia, but I have fallen in love with you again and again, every day of our marriage.” He wrapped her tighter, close to his body.
“I know I cannot say anything here that will take away the damage I have caused. I know it will take time for you to forgive me, to let me back in. But I want, more than anything, to earn my place at your side, Sophia Bin Hazari.”
It was too much. His anguish was too much. “Stop it.”
He was very still for a moment and then he dropped his hands to his side.
“Addan was my best friend. Not for anything on this earth would I have risked hurting him. Can you not see how much more it makes me love you, to know you were willing to walk away from me even when it hurt you, hurt me, all for Addan? You loved him, and you cared for him and respected him. There is no guilt here for you to bear. If our marriage is a resurrection from the ashes of his death, I can’t feel bad about that. Until the day he died, we were faithful to him, to his wishes.”
Malik swallowed roughly, she felt the movement.
“You were faithful to Addan and knowing now what that cost you, it makes me care for you even more. There is only goodness in what you did.”
He groaned. “You are rewriting my actions…”
“No. I’m holding a mirror up and showing you that you can be proud of your conduct with Addan. You sacrificed for him. You were a good brother.”
“And a terrible husband.”
She lowered her eyes, her heart strangely light, her chest tingling. “There’s room for improvement,” she conceded, after a beat.
“Will you let me improve?”
She frowned, looking to him.
“I have had seven days to think about this, Sophia, to think about how I can fix this. And I have to say this to you. You have any option at your disposal that you would wish. Stay here in Abu Faya as my Sheikh, but never see me again, if that is your wish. Stay here in Abu Faya and divorce me, and I will ensure you never worry about anything, all your life. Go back to America; I will understand all these things. These are the options I should have presented you, that night he died, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough then to let you go.”
“And you are now?”
“Keeping you here and watching a part of you die because you are so miserable is not something I can do a second time.” His expression was ash. “Seeing you fade from me, these last few months, knowing myself impotent to fix it, God, Sophia, I cannot do that again. Choose what will make you happy and let me give that to you. Your happiness is all I care for now.”
So much grief flew from her and there was only relief in its place. “You want to make me happy?”
“With all my heart. I must.”
She nodded. “Fine. Then let me tell you what I want.”
And he held his breath, waiting, his expression one of pure wariness.
“Be my husband.” Her eyes bore into his. “Be my husband in every way. Talk to me, laugh with me, share your life with me. Your worries, your frustrations, your triumphs. Let me take my place at your side, as your Sheikha and as your wife. Your partner in all things. Be the parent to our children that I know you are.”
He didn’t speak. He only stared at her.
“Take me to the desert, often. Take me to those magical people, to be a part of their life and culture. Love me, Malik, without guilt, without fear. Love me completely.” She lifted up onto the tips of her toes, pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned and deepened it, holding her right where she was, his tongue duelling with hers, the force of his relief evident in every cell of his body.
“I promise you, Sophia, all of this, and all of me.”
“And I promise you I will be happy from now on,” she said, smiling, because she knew, without even a hint of doubt, that it was absolutely true. She had everything she needed, and always would, for evermore.
THE END
The Billionaire’s Untouched Bride
THE EVERMORE SERIES BOOK 6
Prologue
BENEDETTO DI FIORI WASN’T a man to walk away from a challenge. Nor was he a stranger to hardship. In fact, if you’d asked him a week ago what he lived for, he might have answered ‘the fight’.
For as long as he could remember, he’d done things the hard way. Not by choice so much as circumstance: despite the fact he now occupied a position amongst the world’s elite, his position in society hadn’t been handed to him on a silver platter— nothing had been.
No, Benedetto had done it the hard way, using his considerable brains, guile and fearless attitude to shape himself into one of the world’s most ruthless and wealthy bachelors.
If you’d asked him a week ago, he would have said he relished a challenge, but that was before his world came crashing down around his ears in the most spectacular fashion.
“You’re sure this is what they intended?”
Across the boardroom from him, an elderly lawyer who’d introduced himself as Bogart Welsh regarded a fistful of papers over the rim of his spectacles.
“You are Benedetto Alfredo Di Fiori?”
The Italian’s lip quirked in an expression of his trademark
disdain. He was known the world over, his name practically a household one thanks to his aggressive investment in the private space exploration and satellite industries, not to mention his pioneering efforts with life-saving medical equipment. Fiercely private, he hated the attention, but he’d become reconciled to it over the years.
“Si.” He bit the word out with more derision than he’d intended.
“Then yes,” the old man continued, his American accent pronounced. Beyond the windows of this steel and glass high rise, snow swirled. Benedetto couldn’t look at it without an ache in his gut, a painful accusation that the drifts of white could never answer.
It might look beautiful and soft, but he knew the truth. This weather phenomenon had killed them and his life would never be the same again.
“It makes no sense,” he pronounced, as though he could argue his way out of this. He pushed up from his chair, striding towards the windows, staring out at Manhattan without really seeing its distinctive skyline.
The lawyer made a noise that might have passed as agreement. After all, there was no one on earth who would have said Benedetto Di Fiori was a wise candidate to be legal guardian of a child.
“The Will is quite specific,” Bogart continued. “And it was updated only a week after Alfredo’s birth.”
Alfredo. His namesake. An all-consuming sense of panic surged inside Benedetto, like a tidal wave at its tipping point.
“What the hell were they thinking?” His eyes swept shut and he saw them as clearly as though they were standing right before him. Veronica and Jack, his best friends - except more like siblings to him than friends. Hell, they were the closest thing he had to family.
When the proverbial had hit the fan a year earlier, when his affair with Melinda had hit the tabloids and all the world had condemned his as a home-wrecker, they’d been there by his side, sneering with the same contempt that curdled his insides. Even if the papers had been right; even if he’d judged himself so much harsher than anyone else could.
Veronica and Jack hadn’t judged him. They’d understood. They knew him.
But surely they also knew how defective he would be as the legal guardian to a child? Surely they knew how little he would want this role?
He turned to face Bogart with an expression that would have put fear in his business enemies’ hearts. But Bogart was experienced in matters of probate law, and was used to dealing with frayed tempers and confounded expectations.
“There is a requirement that you will include Veronica’s sister in some decisions – education, for example – but otherwise, the Will is emphatic on this score. Full custody and raising of Alfredo Higham passes to Benedetto Alfredo di Fiori in the event of our death.”
Benedetto curved his hands over the back of a chair, his posture rigid, his lips a disapproving gash in his face.
“What the hell were they thinking?” He repeated; it was a rhetorical question, asked purely of himself, with no expectation of a response.
But Bogart had experience in such matters, and he said, quietly, sympathetically, with a small shake of his head. “I expect they were thinking they’d never die.”
Benedetto’s golden brown eyes – eyes that earned him the nickname il Lupo as a child, for their distinct wolf-like shape and depth – flicked to the older man as though he were being roused from a nightmare, being forced to meet an even scarier reality.
Jack had every reason to understand how closely death stalked – he’d already cheated its gnarled grip once, to hope for a reprieve a second time was to hope for too much.
“They should have known better.” Benedetto stalked to a different chair and lifted his suit jacket from the back. The funeral leaflet was still in his pocket, so as he shifted the jacket, it fell to the floor. He squatted down on powerful legs to scrape it up, his eyes landing on the portrait of Jack and Veronica, taken on their wedding day. The wedding day at which he’d acted as best man. The wedding day when he’d witnessed for himself true happiness, true exultation and trust.
His stomach clenched, because he knew he had to accept this. For as long as he cherished his friends’ memories, he had to respect their wishes. And for some ungodly reason, unbeknownst to anyone on this good earth, they’d left their child to his care.
Benedetto was now, to all intents and purposes, father to a three year old boy.
And he’d just have to learn to live with that.
Chapter 1
Six months later
“COME IN.”
Cleopatra hesitated a moment, running a hand down the front of her simple suit – a steel grey that brought out the shimmering blue of her eyes – then pushed the door inwards, holding her breath a little without realising it.
The man didn’t look up from his computer when she entered. “Take a seat.”
Nerves were normal in an interview. It was just being here, in the Roman townhouse – more like a mansion, in fact – of a man like Benedetto di Fiori that set her nerves even more on edge than usual. This place was as grand as a museum, or a wing of the Vatican, all high ceilings, highly-sheened marble floors, priceless works of art hanging on the walls. Everywhere she looked there was proof of a sumptuous and expensive lifestyle.
She took the seat he’d gestured to, clasping her hands in her lap, keeping her eyes on him out of compulsion rather than choice.
He had a face that demanded inspection. Strong features, as though each had been scraped from granite using a palette knife – a straight nose, chiselled jaw and cheekbones, a high forehead. His eyes were wide-set and large, and the darkest brown – almost black – she could imagine. His flesh was a dark brown, like caramel and his shoulders were broad, hinting at a muscular frame. Her mouth was inexplicably dry.
He looked at her, finally, his eyes sweeping over her face with a small frown etching across his lips.
“Cleopatra Ash-Compton.”
She’d started using her grandmother’s name after she’d received the letter from her brother – the brother she hadn’t known about until a few years ago, a brother she had no intention of ever knowing.
His brows drew together and he studied her for several long seconds, in a way that made her feel as though she were being pulled apart and weighed, bit by bit.
“You applied for the job I’ve advertised?”
And despite her nervousness, the hint of a smile twitched at the corner of her lips. “Yes.”
His only response was to draw his brows closer together. “You look too young to be a nanny.”
Cleopatra shifted her slim shoulders. “Do I?”
His lips quirked as though he’d enjoyed her quick response, but the emotion was flattened out of his face almost immediately.
“Exactly how old are you?”
“Twenty four.”
There was a beat as he processed this. “And you have experience?”
A smile touched Cleopatra’s lips as she thought fondly of Eloise. “Yes, Mr Di Fiori. I’ve worked the last six years for the American ambassador to Italy.”
A fact she was certain he possessed. There was no way she’d have been granted an interview with the great, renowned tycoon Benedetto di Fiori if he hadn’t done an extensive background check and personally called her references. She wondered if he’d uncovered her true identity? Unlikely, given that her father’s name wasn’t on her birth certificate and he’d never publicly acknowledged her. No, the secret that she had herself discovered less than a decade earlier was hers alone – no one other than herself and her biological brother and a handful of lawyers knew that she was, in fact, the love child of one of the wealthiest men in Europe.
“Why are you leaving?”
Another wistful smile. “Eloise – their daughter – just started boarding school. They don’t need me anymore.”
She’d known it was coming, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“They’ve been very kind,” she continued softly, her American accent more pronounced as she skated over the admission. “Offe
ring for me to stay at their home for as long as I need, while I find a new position. But without Eloise, I feel somewhat surplus to requirements. Besides, I like to be busy and right now, I’m definitely not.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So you could start immediately.”
Cleopatra tilted her head and tapped her finger against her knee slowly. There’d been very little about Benedetto’s needs in the advertisement she’d seen. “WANTED; NANNY, FULL TIME. EXPERIENCE WITH SMALL CHILDREN ESSENTIAL. IMMEDIATE START.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?” It was clear from his recitation of the word that this man wasn’t used to being argued with. His expression confirmed that – halfway to a scowl, he looked impatient and cross.
She bit down on her lower lip. “I think one of the hardest things for a child – and for me, if I’m honest – is taking on a position that isn’t right. I think it’s important to know I’m a good fit for a charge before I officially agree to care for them.”
“Meaning?”
“I need to know a little more about your situation before I agree to start – immediately or ever.”
A shift of his lips again which once more signalled a grudging kind of approval. “You say this with a lot of authority for a woman who’s only had one position as a nanny?”
“Why do you presume I’ve only had one placement?”
“Your age.”
“Ah.” She shook her head. “I worked with another family before I took up the role with Eloise. It was …not really a good fit.”
“In what way?” He leaned forward a little, his eyes scanning her face.
Cleopatra’s cheeks flushed bright pink as she thought back to that awful stage of her life. A friendship she’d taken as innocent that had meant so much more to her charge’s father.
“Well,” she contemplated how to answer that. “Being a good nanny isn’t just about the child. I mean, obviously, he or she is the most important part of my job, and it’s why I do what I do, but the whole dynamic has to be right.”
The Evermore Series II: Books 4, 5 and 6 Page 33
