by Maya Blake
Heat surged into her face, his low, thickly accented words sending flames of shame and lust through her. Memories. ‘They were temporary aberrations that will never occur again.’
‘Never say never,’ he drawled, a tight little smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘And be careful what challenges you issue, Mia. You know how very hard it is for me to resist them.’
She remembered all too well. Didn’t he pursue her relentlessly for three months before she agreed to go out to dinner with him?
She’d got the job at Vitelli Construction after a gruelling set of interviews and she’d accepted with the sole aim of furthering her career and a determination to do nothing to jeopardise it.
The reminder of what her mother had endured as a single parent with zero career prospects, the accusations levelled at Mia for the simple fact of her existence, was the reason she’d vowed to herself at an early age never to fall under the spell of a man to the exclusion of all else.
But Rocco had very quickly consumed all her senses, his business acumen and his personal sexual charisma overcoming her every resistance. Those warnings had proved correct eventually. She’d lived in bliss for months, fooled herself into believing she was the exception to the rule. That she could have it all.
The reality check had been harsh and devastating. Within weeks she’d lost everything, save the new life she’d carried in her womb. She couldn’t forget that abject lesson. ‘So are we agreed?’
‘Agreed that the physical side of this agreement will remain off the table until you come crawling to me?’ he mocked.
‘I won’t. But if that’s what will make you agree, then yes.’
His smile was pure shark, making her nape tingle alarmingly again. ‘Of course, cara. If you insist.’
Refusing to rise to the bait he was setting, she turned to leave.
‘That’s it?’ he enquired, sounding a little stunned.
She shrugged. ‘What else is there? You wanted me to make a decision. I have. Now Gianni and I are going home.’
He was shaking his head even before she’d finished speaking. ‘No, Mia. You are going nowhere. In anticipation of your agreeable answer, I took the liberty of getting my people to apply for a special licence. You will stay here with Gianni, and we will fly to Sicily in the morning. Preparations are already under way for us to be married.’
It was her turn to be stunned. ‘How is that even possible? You’ve only known about Gianni’s existence for a little over a day.’
‘That should tell you how much I want him in my life. You’ve said yes so what’s the point in delaying?’
The sensation of the ground shifting beneath her intensified. ‘The point is that I have things to do.’
‘Things like?’
‘Like...sorting out my home. My life!’
He tossed her argument away with a very Latin gesture. ‘My people will take care of that.’
‘Take care of it how?’ she asked, but she knew.
It was with the same head-spinning efficiency that he’d first relocated her into his life the moment she’d accepted his proposal three years ago. As a renowned architect, Rocco had exceptional focus and organisational skill that seemed almost godlike at times. His ability to create magic within a vacuum had inspired a following long before he’d reached his thirties, and the list of clients waiting for his creations across the world inflated his ego and multiplied his power. So why did he continually leave her slack-jawed by his ability to pull off something so simple as dismantling her life and rearranging it into his in the space of a day? How was she even surprised that he’d calculated the move a dozen steps ahead?
‘Gianni doesn’t have a passport,’ she blurted, digging in as the ground gave way beneath her.
‘That too will be arranged,’ Rocco announced. ‘Any other objections?’
A dozen easily rose to mind, but she knew that he would bat them all away with calm efficiency. And as he’d stated, she’d agreed to marry him. There was no sense in prevaricating.
‘No. Looks like you’re a few steps ahead of me. Congratulations.’ Again she turned to leave.
‘One more thing. I’d very much like to know why my son ended up on a billboard.’
She’d wondered when he’d bring it up again, wondered whether he’d condemn her for it, but his expression only held keen curiosity. ‘Because it was a way to pass time.’ And a way to earn money, which had been secondary but also welcome. Of course, she didn’t tell Rocco that. She still had a little bit of pride left. ‘And before you object to it, you should know, we worked with a very child-friendly agency and he was recruited by one of the mothers in the mother and baby group. There was nothing underhanded about it.’
‘Did Gianni enjoy it?’ he asked, stunning her all over again. From his reaction before, she’d been prepared for his condemnation.
Her insides unknotted enough to trigger a smile as she answered. ‘He was the centre of attention, so of course he loved every minute of it.’
Her heart raced when one corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Bene. I’m thankful for the course of action that brought him into my life, but, besides the security risk, I’m also selfish and possessive about my son. So shall we agree to end the contract with the agency?’
She didn’t owe him any explanation. That was why she didn’t tell him that it’d only been a temporary thing. And of course, he was right. Now that Gianni had been claimed as Rocco’s son, his father’s wealth and influence meant his privacy and security were paramount. ‘Fine. Are there any other edicts you wish to throw around?’
‘You haven’t lost your fierce spirit, cara. That’s good to see. I have a feeling you’ll need it in the weeks and months to come.’
‘Is that a threat?’ she asked sharply.
His smile widened, its pulse-racing effect making her clench her thighs tighter. ‘No, cara mia, it’s quite the opposite. Call it anticipation. Butting heads with me always turned you on. Seems you haven’t lost that urge.’
Feeling another wave of heat invade her belly, she took a hurried step towards the door. ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and inform Gianni that we’re staying.’
He nodded. ‘Has your email address changed?’
‘Why?’ she asked warily.
‘To enable my team to liaise with you about packing up your house.’
Dear God, it was all going so fast. She raised a hand to her temple and massaged it, hoping to stop the dizziness assailing her. ‘I have a say in something, then, do I?’
Displeasure etched into his face. ‘I’m not a complete tyrant, Mia,’ he murmured.
You could’ve fooled me, she wanted to blurt. But she’d exhibited far too many weaknesses around him. ‘It hasn’t changed,’ she murmured.
‘Good,’ he said abruptly, then, with another penetrative look, he turned away and sauntered back to his desk.
Mia left, reeling from the breakneck speed of events. Needing his grounding presence, she went in search of Gianni. She found him in the garden, exploring the profusion of flowers being tended to by the housekeeper. As if sensing she wanted to be alone with him, the housekeeper discreetly absented herself, leaving Mia to bask in her son’s unabashed delight as he dug through dirt.
Hearing a plane flying overhead, Gianni excitedly pointed to it.
Unbidden, a lump formed in her throat. Tomorrow, her son would be taking his first trip on a plane. She stopped herself from telling him just yet. It wouldn’t stop the freight-train momentum of what was happening, of course, but she needed a little more time where she could pretend everything was normal.
Eventually, when his exploration tired him out, Gianni crawled into her arms. She carried him inside, and, at the housekeeper’s direction, headed upstairs to the guest suite.
Just like everywhere else in the house
, it was opulently decorated. Thick luxurious carpeting muffled her footsteps as she made her way to an equally breathtaking bathroom. Every amenity had been provided, making her task of giving Gianni a quick bath an even more pleasant experience. After changing him into the lounge clothes she’d packed, she settled him into the multi-pillowed bed. She was barely a few pages into his favourite bedtime story before he fell asleep.
She was tempted to join him but the thought of Rocco coming in search of her made her reluctantly leave the room. Tentatively she made her way downstairs, only to discover that Rocco had left the house, with instructions for Mrs Simpson to feed her and a message to say he would see her in the morning.
Mia barely tasted her meal. For the life of her, she couldn’t stop her mind from dwelling on where Rocco had gone. Which brought her to another matter she couldn’t seem to stop her brain from dissecting.
Was Rocco seeking anyone? If so, how would it play out once they were married? He was a virile and passionate man, one who didn’t apologise about indulging his needs. And since she’d effectively closed the door to anything physical between them, did that mean he’d cater to those needs elsewhere?
The bite of jealousy seared so deep, it killed the dregs of her appetite. What he did in his private life didn’t...shouldn’t matter to her. Just as she had asked for her privacy, she would turn a blind eye to his. Wouldn’t she? But how would that affect Gianni? Realising she’d left one vital subject unexplored, she pushed her plate away.
Did she really have it in her to permit him to have liaisons with other women while married to her? The question kept her tossing and turning through the night, making her increasingly agitated and annoyed with herself for her inability to dismiss it.
This was a marriage in name only for the sake of their son. Surely what Rocco did outside ensuring Gianni’s care and well-being was none of her business?
After repeating that hollow-sounding statement to herself a few hundred times, she finally got to sleep, only to awaken what felt like a handful of hours later to bright sunshine. Momentarily disoriented, she rose and rushed to Gianni’s room, to find his room empty and a young girl, who introduced herself as Mrs Simpson’s niece, making his bed. After she smilingly informed her Gianni was downstairs with his father, Mia returned to her room. As much as she wanted to storm downstairs and ensure her son was fine, she knew she needed a little grounding time. Plus a quick look in the mirror cheerily announced the effects of her restless night.
After a quick shower she donned the dress she’d worn yesterday and went downstairs to find Gianni and Rocco tucking into their breakfast. She stopped at the sight of them, her heart flipping over at the similarity between the two. They remained oblivious to her for a few seconds, giving her a chance to absorb their interaction.
Gianni was regaling his father with a rambling tale while attempting to stuff miniature pancakes and fruit into his mouth. Rocco was smiling, his attention rapt on his son’s face.
An instant later he looked up, his hawk-like eyes locking on her. ‘Buongiorno. Are you going to join us?’
Gianni looked her way and broke into a wide smile. ‘Mummy!’
Her heart filling, she approached him and dropped a kiss on his head. Taking the seat next to her son, she glanced at Rocco. ‘Why didn’t you wake me when he woke up?’
‘We have a busy day today. I felt an extra hour or two in bed wouldn’t do you harm.’
‘Busy day?’ she echoed as she helped herself to coffee. Rocco pushed a platter of pastries towards her. ‘I thought your little minions had everything covered?’ she asked, a little bitterly.
‘We aren’t just flying home to Palermo. When we get there you have event planners ready to liaise with you regarding the wedding. You are planning on being involved, aren’t you?’ he drawled.
That ground-shifting sensation returned. ‘Is there any reason why we need to rush into this so soon? Can’t we wait a few months?’
His eyes flicked to his son. When they returned to hers, their ferocity was intensified. ‘I like to strike while the iron is hot, cara.’ His voice was deceptively soft, for Gianni’s sake, she suspected. ‘And because I’d prefer my son in the rightful place that has been denied him since his birth.’
‘Are you sure that’s not your Sicilian machismo talking?’
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps so. But I still want what I want. And I won’t be denied.’
Before she could respond, a bell sounded. He tossed his napkin down, ruffled his son’s hair before rising to his feet.
‘That’ll be my lawyer now. Finish your breakfast and join me in the study. There are some papers to sign.’
Mia blindly reached for her coffee cup, reassuring herself that it didn’t matter in the long run when she married him. It was going to happen anyway, so why not get it out of the way?
She ate her breakfast, then fed Gianni the last pieces of fruit. As if by telepathy, Mrs Simpson appeared. Reluctantly, Mia handed her son over, and made her way to Rocco’s study.
The same Italian lawyer who’d questioned her at the meeting yesterday greeted her neutrally, before producing papers the moment she settled in the chair in front of Rocco’s desk.
The twenty-page document was meticulous, outlining in stark detail everything she’d agreed with Rocco. In return for marriage, she would get her previous position in his company back. The marriage would be mutually dissolved once his grandmother’s health was improved or at such time as Gianni wasn’t adversely affected by a divorce between them.
Mia moved on, her stomach twisting weirdly every time she read the word divorce.
She froze when she saw the sums detailed for her in settlement for her future divorce. She looked up at him. ‘I don’t want your money,’ she said, her voice sharp and uneven.
Rocco’s lawyer’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak but Rocco waved him away. ‘You will take it nonetheless or there’s no deal.’
She tossed the papers on the desk. ‘Then there is no deal,’ she stated firmly.
This time it was Rocco’s eyes that widened. ‘You feel so strongly about it?’
‘I don’t want gold-digger added to my list of apparent sins. I earn my own salary and when we’re no longer together I’ll look after my son with my own money. You can keep yours. Those are my terms, Rocco. Take it or leave it.’
His eyes narrowed into slits, his lips a flat line of displeasure. Before he could launch a counterargument, Mia reached across the table, took his fancy fountain pen, and drew a line through the offensive clause. After printing her initials next to it, she carried on reading, aware of the tense silence surrounding her. When she was done, and happy with the custody clause, which was most important to her, she signed the document and set the pen down.
Defiantly she stared at him.
Keen speculation gleamed in his eyes as he slowly reached for the contract. That gaze rested on her for endless minutes before he signed his name next to hers. Once the lawyer had witnessed it, he departed.
‘If that was some ploy to make me think—’
‘I don’t really care what you think, Rocco. Not any more. Gianni’s the only one I care about.’
A shadow crossed his face, a mix of speculation and suspicion. Unwilling to linger and be drawn into another charged argument with him, she left the room, went into the suite she’d slept in last night and gathered her things.
Five hours later—after a fifteen-minute video conference with expert relocators who had miraculously packed up her whole house and assured her her possessions were secure until she needed them—Mia struggled to keep an excited Gianni contained as they arrived at the private strip in North London. She explained to him what was happening as his father held him and, although she wasn’t sure whether he’d fully grasped the unfolding events, he babbled excitedly as he was escorted in his father’s arms up the short flight of stairs int
o the plane.
Once they were airborne, Rocco excused himself and occupied himself with business calls for most of the three-hour journey. He returned to where she sat with Gianni a few minutes before they landed, buckling himself into the seat next to his son.
Then he speared her with dark eyes. ‘Your performance is about to begin, cara, so I suggest you compose yourself and stop shooting those dagger eyes at me.’
She inhaled sharply. ‘My...what performance?’
‘I’ve just been informed that my grandmother’s meeting us at the airstrip. She couldn’t wait to meet her great-grandchild. So prepare yourself.’
That was all the warning she received before she was flung into high drama that made her wish she’d taken another day, week or year to agree to this devil’s bargain with Rocco.
Because it wasn’t just his grandmother—leaning heavily on a walking stick beside the gleaming black limo—who waited for them when they stepped out of the plane.
Allegra Vitelli, Alessandro’s very young, very designer-clad widow stood right beside her, one arm curled around the old woman’s arm in comfort, while the disdainful glare she’d perfectly copied from her husband blazed from the eyes fixed squarely on Mia.
CHAPTER NINE
THE OVERFLOW OF emotion the moment Caterina Vitelli clapped eyes on her great-grandchild left a lump wedged in Mia’s throat for a solid hour. She’d been prepared to defend herself and her child from even the merest hint of censure, direct or implied, but all they’d received since the swift journey from private airstrip to sprawling Palermo villa was unabashed joy, first from Rocco’s nonna, then the household in general. Even the staff displayed wide smiles and open arms at being introduced to Gianni.
Mia’s fingers tightened around the excellent glass of limoncello made with authentic Sicilian lemons they’d been served as part of what was turning out to be a lengthy celebration of welcome for the newest member of the Vitelli family.
