The Sicilian's Banished Bride (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Maya Blake

  ‘Calm yourself, Mia. You really want Gianni to see you in this state?’

  She reversed direction, her emotions boiling as she faced him. ‘You’re unbelievable, do you know that? Now you’re accusing me of upsetting my son?’

  He spread his arms again, his eyes narrowing as he approached. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth, cara. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re devoted to our child.’

  Again, his unexpected words weakened the hard knot in her chest. But she knew better than to trust it. ‘Thank you, but I sense a but in there.’

  ‘But this display of...emotion serves no purpose. Like I said before, you have cared for Gianni alone but it doesn’t need to be the case going forward. You can deal with me now or you can deal with my lawyers before you reach the home you are so determined to run back to. Which is it to be?’

  She inhaled sharply, surprised at herself for momentarily forgetting the depths Rocco could sink to to achieve what he wanted. ‘You haven’t changed even a little bit, have you?’

  His resolve was a hard, unshakeable mask. ‘I discover a son I never knew existed and you expect me to do what exactly, Mia? Go back to Palermo and forget all about him? Or were you hoping I’d sit back and let you dictate terms? When have you known me to be that...unaffected when it comes to something I truly want?’ he asked, his voice deceptive lazily.

  Since the question was rhetorical, and since the throb of something in his tone tossed her back to another time frame, when that something he’d wanted was her, she kept her answer locked in her throat.

  While the net tightened around her, dragging her towards a precarious destination she didn’t want to go. Still, she managed to raise her chin, look him square in the eyes. ‘I’ll give you ten minutes to hear you out. But I won’t be railroaded into anything, just so we’re clear,’ she stated, pleased when her voice came out even, without hinting at the hysteria bubbling beneath her skin. ‘What do you want? Specifically?’

  He didn’t answer immediately. He stared at her, gauging the emotions she was grappling with before his gaze sauntered down her body to her toes. The return was slow and hot, setting off fireworks she didn’t want to acknowledge. ‘A few things come to mind. But for now, specifically, my presence in my son’s life. And I suspect the way to achieve that is to give you what you most want.’

  What she most wanted was to remove herself from his orbit. To stop the fizzle of giddy static from lighting her veins every time her eyes met his. Every time she breathed him in. ‘And what do you think that is?’

  ‘Why, a return to the career status you enjoyed before our parting, of course. Am I wrong?’ he enquired, a knowing gleam in his eyes she wanted to erase but knew she couldn’t. Because she did want back what she’d lost.

  ‘I’ll get it back. But it’ll be on my own, with no handout from you, thank you very much. If you think that’s some sort of carrot to dangle to get what you want, then the answer is no. My son isn’t some bartering chip for you to trade,’ she stated.

  ‘So much righteous pride,’ he drawled. ‘Are you sure you’re wise to dismiss my help?’

  ‘Help? When it comes with an endless amount of strings? No, thanks,’ she reiterated. The voice that urged her to stop talking grew louder. Even if she intended to reclaim her life by herself, did she want to brazenly antagonise him? She’d been out of the workforce for the better part of three years. Did she really want to start at the bottom of the pile again when a few words from Rocco could pave the way for a decent enough re-entry, enabling her to look after herself and Gianni? Wasn’t it the least he owed her?

  As if he knew the direction of her thoughts, he stepped closer, bringing the full force of his aura and the temptation of his body within mouth-watering reach. ‘Is that your definitive answer, then, cara? Your decision-making used to be so prudent and pragmatic. It was one of the things I admired about you. Have you grown rusty or are you simply disregarding what your brain is telling you simply to continue tussling with me?’

  She wanted to protest, toss out some clever answer that would put him in his place once and for all, but the voice urging caution held her tongue for the moment.

  He continued, his voice turning lower and deeper, almost seductive as he laid his plans before her. ‘Let me tell you what my intentions are while you think about the wisdom of contemptuously dismissing me out of hand. I’m not sure whether you’ve kept up with Vitelli Construction’s progress in the last few years?’ One eyebrow tilted, as he waited a beat for her to answer. When she didn’t give him the satisfaction of confessing the secret compulsion she’d had of tracking his company’s stellar progress over the years, he carried on.

  ‘Our Middle East expansion has now reached eight countries. The workforce is five times the size of what it was when you were last with me. Before his passing, Alessandro also expanded the Latin American arm. Eventually, should you wish it, you can take a pick of where you wish to base yourself.’

  Her heart jumped, a treacherous little action she condemned. Because she didn’t want to be seduced by what he was offering. Didn’t want to be tempted by memories of working alongside him, basking in the glow of his intelligent mind and the thrill of knowing she was working for the best of the best, her career poised to soar as a result of her hard work.

  She managed to throttle down the unwelcome excitement, and clinically sieved through his words. ‘Eventually,’ she echoed. ‘What exactly do you mean by eventually?’

  Incisive eyes rested on her face, dropped down to her mouth before rising to meet her gaze. He shrugged, walked past her to shut the doors of the dining room. Foreboding rained icy shivers down her spine, but she clenched her fist, forced herself to hold her ground as he sauntered back towards her. ‘I’m assuming you wish to be where our son is, don’t you?’

  She frowned. ‘Is that even a serious question? Of course I do.’

  He nodded, as if she had given him the exact answer he wanted. ‘Then we’re agreed.’

  Her ire and confusion intensified. ‘What exactly are we agreed on?’

  ‘That where I am, you will be. With our son. To start off with, that place will be in Palermo. For the next six months at least. Perhaps even a year. Depending on Nonna’s health issues and how quickly she recovers.’

  She spluttered, unsure which outrage to address first. ‘You think I’m coming to Italy to live with you? Why on earth would I do that?’

  When you threw me out. When for weeks every street I walked in Palermo reminded me of you and what I’d lost.

  His steady regard didn’t falter. ‘What other solution do you propose? That I commute every other day to your little Hampshire hamlet? With Nonna living in a faceless motel somewhere close by, perhaps?’

  ‘Where you or your grandmother live has nothing to do with me. I’m not going anywhere with you. Let’s make that absolutely clear.’

  ‘Then how do you propose we raise our son together?’ he delivered with a deceptively silky voice.

  Raise our son together.

  Against her better judgement, those four words sent a treacherous rush through her. Reminded her of everything she’d yearned for when she’d tried to give him the news of her pregnancy. A chance to raise their child together. A chance to rewrite her own history through Gianni. To give him what her own mother had failed to give her.

  A relationship with her father. For her son not to be tormented as she had been with questions about the man whose name appeared on her birth certificate but who she’d never clapped eyes on because her mother refused point-blank to discuss him, save for the fact that he was a mistake that should never have happened.

  Much like Mia had been to her.

  As if he knew how much the words affected her, Rocco strode closer, his eyes not leaving her face. ‘Tell me about your father, Mia.’

  She stiffened, more against the anguish of discussing the man she didn’t kno
w than by Rocco’s question. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because, as we’re both discovering, we were engaged for a time over three years ago, but clearly didn’t know a few important details about one another.’

  ‘And why do you think that is?’

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps we thought we’d have time to uncover what needed uncovering.’

  ‘Do you think so? Or were we too afraid to find out we wouldn’t like what we discovered beneath the surface so avoided it?’

  It was his turn to stiffen. ‘Perhaps. So, let’s be brave now. Let’s stop the speculation,’ he said, cleverly tossing the ball back in her court.

  Her father.

  Her answer was simple. And soul-destroying. ‘I don’t know a thing about him because I’ve never met him. My mother refused to tell me who he was or what happened between them. Other than he was a mistake she’d rather forget ever existed.’

  Mia knew by revealing that, she was exposing her jugular. Or at the very least, giving him ammunition for his argument. But Rocco’s gaze gentled, his breath slowly releasing as he absorbed her words. ‘You may think it a bad thing that your mother withheld details from you. But perhaps she was protecting you. Maybe you were better off remaining oblivious.’

  Memories of her mother’s bitterness whenever Mia had asked about her father made her think otherwise. ‘Would you have let it go were you in my shoes?’

  His lips curved in a rueful smile. ‘Assolutamente no. Even if it meant discovering that one’s parents were far...worth revering.’

  Her eyes widened, the notion that Rocco was offering her a brief glimpse behind his private, emotional veil stopping her breath.

  They regarded each other for an endless stretch before, with a conscious shuttering of his emotions, he continued, ‘Despite opposing forces, circumstance has brought my son and I together. I don’t intend to squander that chance.’

  Still a little shaken and more than curious at his revelation, she took a moment to gather her wits. ‘I didn’t intend to throw Gianni into the deep end of the relationship-with-family pool by uprooting him to Italy.’

  ‘And I will not be sidelined to part-time parenthood. Gianni is mine. You will give me the chance to get to know him as I haven’t been able since his birth.’

  ‘And what I want and what’s best for Gianni doesn’t matter?’

  The shrewd gleam in his eyes said he had the answer to that too. ‘You disagree that what’s best for Gianni is to be with both his mother and father?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she bristled.

  ‘Then it helps immensely that I know you love Italy. Almost as much as I do.’

  She had, once upon a time. Had uprooted her life for him and blissfully contemplated becoming an Italian citizen after they were married without a single regret. She’d never really got around to learning Italian because their work had been based mostly in the Middle East, but she’d loved everything about Italy and had looked forward to spending the rest of her life there with him. How stupid she’d been. And now he was proposing she go back to where he had dismantled her whole life?

  No way was that happening.

  ‘That was a long time ago. I’ve made a life for myself and Gianni in England and I intend to keep on living here.’

  ‘Answer me this, Mia. Why did you go to the trouble to contact me three years ago if you didn’t want me to play a part in our child’s life?’ he asked ‘Was it because you didn’t want to revisit what happened to you with your own father on our son?’

  A cold, heavy stone settled in her belly. And she couldn’t even blame him for cleverly using her history against her. Because it was the truth.

  Her own loneliness and abandonment issues had been acute and painful, a past she carried with her as a reminder to not let her own child endure the pain she’d suffered. And yes, she had hoped in some secret part of her that Rocco, learning of the child she carried, would rethink his absolute rejection of her, let her back into his life.

  But that was before the scales had fallen from her eyes. That was before she’d fathomed the depths of his ruthlessness. Who was to say that this wasn’t another calculated scheme on his part to lure her into his web?

  ‘Well?’ he pushed.

  She looked deeper into his eyes, unable to remain unaffected by the turbulent gleam that suggested this was important to him. ‘For good or ill, I believe every child has the right to know his parents.’ Before the turbulence turned into triumph, she rushed on, ‘But expecting me to blithely step back in time and pick up where we left off...’ She tailed off when his eyes conducted that heated exploration again, stripping her of every ounce of composure.

  ‘Perhaps not pick up exactly where we left off, but I don’t see why some things can’t go back to the way they were.’

  ‘Whatever you’re implying, I suggest you stop.’ She’d intended to snap her response. Only it emerged uneven, detonated by that vicious thrill of excitement that simply refused to die. The memory of the torrid kiss in the car kept pushing to the front of her thoughts, reminding her of his skill as a lover, the insatiable depths of his passion, and her eager acceptance of everything he had to give.

  Heat bloomed in her belly as he watched her with that knowing look. The one that mocked her every attempt at keeping cool, calm and collected.

  ‘You can have your old position back,’ he murmured, his voice deep and low and tempting enough to make her believe he was the devil himself, handing Eve the doomed apple.

  Her heart lurched, thumping hard against her ribs.

  He waited, watchful, taunting her with the knowledge that she was tempted. Oh, so tempted. She knew he wanted her to ask which position he was referring to, the subtle double entendre simply waiting to catch her out.

  After a moment, where she battled against the drowning sensation, he added, ‘Think of how much easier your life would be if you had it all back. How difficult things could get if you have to start from scratch. Is that what you really want, Mia?’ he taunted softly, dangerously.

  ‘Is that what this all boils down to? You threatening to withhold restoring my reputation if I don’t agree to come to Palermo?’

  His jaw gritted for a moment. ‘You were an asset in my company before you decided to defect. Provided your skills haven’t grown rusty, I could use someone with your expertise.’

  ‘I didn’t defect,’ she snapped.

  He didn’t acknowledge her denial with so much as a blink. ‘I don’t need to threaten you. Contingent upon a few things, you can have your old position back.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Just like that.’

  ‘Contingent upon what?’

  ‘The only reason I’ll let you back is if you agree that you and I will be working very closely together. Where I can keep an eye on you. You will not be left to your own devices.’

  ‘Next you’ll be suggesting I wear an ankle monitor like a common criminal.’

  His lips twisted with genuine amusement. ‘Not an offer I’d have thought of myself. Thanks for the suggestion but maybe not. I don’t think it’s a good look for Vitelli Construction.’

  ‘You find all of this funny, do you?’

  A layer of humour left his face. ‘I’m attempting to repair the damage done to you by giving you back everything you lost with all its advantages, and more. I suggest you stop fighting me on every angle before I withdraw the offer.’

  She lifted her chin, snatching in short breaths so she wouldn’t breathe in his intoxicating scent. ‘You’ve listed what you think I want but have you stopped to ask yourself whether you want this? You’ve known Gianni for a mere twenty-four hours. How do I know you won’t get bored a month from now?’

  Affront, and some dark, anguished shadow she couldn’t quite name, drenched his features. ‘Because he’s not some accessory I intend to toy with and toss away when the novelty wears off. Make no mistake, Mia. I want my
son. And I mean full access. I want him embraced by his family, in Italy, where he belongs. For my grandmother not to fret over it and further damage her health. What I want is for those things to happen immediately and to stay that way for as long as possible until I deem it otherwise.’

  She tilted her head, attempting to emulate his earlier humour. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer the ankle monitor? Because that sounds suspiciously like a prison sentence to me.’

  He didn’t return her amusement. ‘Hardly, cara. I’m offering you everything you claimed you wanted when we were together three years ago. All I need from you is your agreement to live under my roof.’

  ‘Live under your roof?’ she echoed.

  He stepped closer, until every corner of her vision was filled with him, her every sense infused with that illicit thrill he never failed to evoke in her, even when she knew deep in her bones that this kind of exposure was detrimental to her sanity. ‘Not just live under my roof, cara. You will do all the above, after you take my name. In short, Mia, I want you to marry me. Accept my marriage proposal or there is no deal.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ROCCO WASN’T SURE whether to be insulted or amused when a look of horror chased across her face.

  ‘You want me to...to marry you?’

  ‘Sì.’

  She grew paler, and the last trace of amusement departed.

  Watching closely, he could’ve sworn she swayed beneath the heavy demand of his words. For a single, unbridled moment, Rocco wanted her to exhibit more emotion, perhaps something resembling the naked rapture that’d accompanied her ecstatic yes when he’d asked this very same question three years ago. Even the somewhat unnerving happy tears he’d dabbed away then, he would’ve tolerated now.

  Anything but the pale apprehension she was showing so far.

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Which part of it do you disagree with, considering it was what you agreed to three years ago, minus the blessing of our son, of course?’