The Italian's Ruthless Marriage Command (HQR Presents)

by Helen Bianchin

  A film ran on the display screen, and she watched for a while, unaware when she fell asleep, only that when she stirred through the night she discovered her chair had been lowered and someone had added a blanket.

  Dante?

  The cabin lights were dimmed; a brief glance revealed Dante intent on checking data on his laptop. Taylor merely closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  The switch to a different time-zone meant they touched down in Florence late afternoon, and after clearing Customs they were transported by chauffeured limousine to Dante’s mother’s apartment situated on the uppermost floor of a restored palazzo owned, Dante revealed, by the d’Alessandri corporation. The two lower levels had been tastefully renovated into self-contained units alternately rented or leased to visiting tourists.

  A private lift transported them to what amounted to the penthouse, where Graziella greeted them with open affection.

  An attractive woman of average height in her early seventies, immaculately attired, with kind, if faintly sad eyes.

  This was no matriarch, Taylor perceived, although there was strength apparent…and genuine warmth as Graziella welcomed them in to a spacious lounge with exquisite antique furniture, beautiful paintings and cabinets showcasing delicate crystal and porcelain.

  ‘There are refreshments, and after I will show you to your rooms. Ben, come sit close and tell me what you thought of your flight.’

  Magic words, which drew descriptive detail, politely at first, then with boyish enthusiasm.

  Taylor began to relax a little, allowing some of her apprehension to subside as she sampled a proffered platter comprising cheeses, crackers, bite-size portions of fresh fruit, and opted for tea instead of wine.

  The apartment, on inspection, appeared to be divided into three sections, with Graziella’s private rooms occupying one third. The lounge, formal dining room, informal sitting room and kitchen were centrally located, with three guest suites leading off from a passageway to the right.

  Beautifully appointed throughout, the guest suites reflected exquisite taste. Dante occupied one, and Taylor and Ben shared a suite comprising two bedrooms with a central shared en suite.

  There was time to unpack and shower before dinner…a meal during which Graziella posed the necessity for Dante’s attendance at a charity function sponsored by the d’Alessandri corporation.

  ‘It is unfortunate timing, caro,’ Graziella indicated with a philosophical lift of her shoulders. ‘But important that you attend. I have declined out of respect to family bereavement. You will escort Taylor as your partner for the evening, and Ben shall stay with me.’

  Whoa. ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘Of course we’ll attend.’ Dante’s intervention was smooth as silk.

  We sounded a little too…together, and Taylor shot him a quick glance, which he appeared to ignore.

  ‘I thought perhaps a dinner before we leave for Montepulciano,’ Graziella posed. ‘My brother, his wife and son. Your father’s sister and her daughter. I will host it. Ben should meet his Italian family, don’t you think?’

  ‘I agree. Is it too much of an imposition to request you arrange it soon? I want to relocate to the vineyard in a matter of days.’

  Dinner with family was a perfectly reasonable suggestion…but partnering Dante to a charity function undoubtedly attended by some of the city’s social élite?

  They needed to talk! Except the opportunity to conduct a private conversation was almost impossible. Added to which he absented himself at the d’Alessandri city office the next day, returned late after dining with business associates, and had already left for the office when Taylor and Ben joined Graziella for breakfast the following morning.

  She could almost believe he was being deliberately elusive, and she was tempted to call his mobile…only to dismiss the option as the day progressed.

  The evening would prove equally impossible for any private discussion, given Graziella was hosting the proposed family dinner.

  Preparations involved much of the day, with the menu comprising lasagne, thin slices of veal coated with flour and dipped in beaten egg, then rolled in breadcrumbs and quickly fried. An assortment of steamed vegetables. A dessert to die for.

  Graziella accepted Taylor’s help, and they chatted companionably while Ben was happily ensconced viewing a DVD.

  ‘Family is important, don’t you agree?’ Graziella posed gently as she layered pasta, meat sauce and bechamel to build the lasagne.

  ‘It’s the glue which holds everything together,’ Taylor responded simply.

  ‘Especially so as both you and Casey lost your parents at a young age. You are very simpatico with Ben. He adores you.’

  ‘He’s a wonderful little boy.’

  Graziella’s hands moved with a skilled fluidity Taylor could only admire.

  ‘For whom you have chosen to devote your life. It says much for your character. Your heart.’

  What could she say, except—‘Thank you’?

  Graziella placed the completed lasagne dish into the oven, then together they dealt with the various pots and tidied the kitchen.

  ‘Now we share coffee, then we bathe and change ready to receive the family.’

  The formal dining-room table was set with exquisite lace over white linen, fine bone china and crystal, silver cutlery.

  Redolent aromas permeated the air as Taylor checked the slim jade silk sheath she’d chosen to wear, added stilettos, swept her hair into an elegant knot secured with a fashionable clasp, decided her make-up should remain understated, and turned to regard Ben with smiling approval.

  ‘Handsome, definitely.’ Long trousers, tailored shirt, a fashionable jacket, his hair groomed to within an inch of its life, he bore the look in miniature of the man he would become. A d’Alessandri male, in the mould of his father and uncle.

  There was no need to remind him of his manners…Casey had ensured he’d mastered them perfectly.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘I guess.’ He looked beyond her towards the door. ‘Dante’s here!’

  Taylor turned, saw him poised in the aperture, noted his formal attire, the ready smile…and felt her heart bump a little against her ribs.

  Crazy!

  ‘My uncle and his family have arrived. Shall we go meet them?’

  Pleasant, friendly people, who conversed in English, welcomed Ben and engaged Taylor in conversation as if she were part of the family and not merely a guest.

  Which was nice. A little awkward was Dante’s cousin Giuseppe, who seemed intent on playing the charming admirer, which resulted in a dark, warning look from Dante, immediately followed by cousin Isabella’s droll reminder.

  ‘Taylor is with Dante. End of story.’ She spared Taylor a faintly wry apologetic smile. ‘Giuseppe is the biggest flirt.’

  With him? Is that what they thought? Taylor opened her mouth to refute it, only to close it again in shock as Dante’s hand closed over her thigh in silent warning.

  ‘I suggest you amuse yourself elsewhere.’ Dante’s voice was pure silk, causing an electric silence, then Giuseppe effected a graceful shrug.

  Graziella’s brother complimented the lasagne, Isabella noted the wine, and the moment passed, seemingly forgotten.

  Not, however, by Taylor, who smiled, conversed, pleased when Ben spoke for himself without prompting…and silently willed the evening to end.

  Settling Ben into bed provided a welcome break, although not alone, as Dante joined her and read part of a bedtime story.

  There was a one-minute window between closing the door to Ben’s suite and rejoining Graziella and her guests…and no time at all in which to begin an argument.

  To compound it, Dante linked her hand in his and did the unforgivable by raising her hand to his lips as they entered the lounge, where Graziella was in the process of serving coffee.

  What was he trying to prove?

  Eventually the evening came to an end, and everyone left.

  ‘Go to bed,’ he b
ade gently as Graziella began gathering cups and saucers together. ‘Taylor and I’ll tidy up and see to the dishes.’

  ‘Please,’ Taylor endorsed. ‘It was a beautiful meal. You went to a lot of trouble. Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ She hesitated, then gestured to the coffee-table. ‘Are you sure? I can—’

  Dante leant forward and brushed his lips to Graziella’s cheek. ‘Sure. Goodnight.’

  The various pots and pans had already been cleaned and put away, and there was only the chinaware, crystal and cutlery that needed to be rinsed and placed in the dishwasher.

  ‘Nothing to say?’ Dante queried as they worked for several minutes in silence, and she deliberately refrained from looking at him.

  ‘I’m waiting until only the cutlery remains. I need to resist the temptation to break a dish or three over your head.’

  ‘You’re upset.’

  ‘You can tell?’ Her voice dripped with ice, and her anger intensified when he smiled. ‘I don’t find it in the least amusing. They assume we’re—’

  ‘Together? We’re not?’

  He was teasing her, and she threw him an angry glance.

  ‘You know precisely what I mean.’

  ‘And it bothers you?’

  ‘Kissing my hand…what was that?’

  He caught hold of her shoulders and pulled her close. She didn’t have time to blink as his mouth closed over hers, angled a little and went in deep.

  One hand moved to hold fast her nape, while the other slid down to cup her bottom.

  Her head spun as he savoured her, and she instinctively clutched hold of his arms in case she fell in a heap at his feet.

  She lost all sense of time and place, for there was only him, the electric, all-consuming passion that tossed her high, and she groaned, heard it on some subconscious level, and tentatively met the demand of his tongue as it led an evocative dance with her own.

  Nothing had come close to this. Ever.

  It was almost too much.

  Perhaps he sensed it, for he gentled his touch, soothing the soft inner fullness of her mouth, then brushed his lips across her own, nibbled a little, then he lifted his head, looked at her shocked expression and murmured something she didn’t catch beneath his breath as he pressed her head to his chest.

  ‘I’m sorry…I just came to check I switched off the oven.’

  Taylor registered Graziella’s voice as if through a distant haze, and she froze, barely aware of the hand that soothed a slow, sweeping path over the length of her spine.

  She felt his lips brush the top of her head, and she pushed against him in a bid to step away from him.

  ‘How could you?’ The words emerged as a shocked whisper, and her eyes glazed as he framed her face and gently soothed a thumb over each cheek. ‘Graziella will think—’ She faltered, unable to finish, and saw his mouth curve into a gentle smile.

  ‘It matters little.’

  ‘Yes, it—’

  He halted her words by the simple expediency of placing a finger to her lips. ‘You’re wrong.’

  She wanted to cry, and almost did. ‘Please…’ She didn’t know what she was pleading for, except the need to be alone, and he let her go, watching as she fled as swiftly as if the devil himself were at her heels.

  After a few minutes he turned back to the counter, completed stacking the dishwasher, wiped down the counter-top, then he dealt with security, the lights, and moved towards his suite.

  The door to Taylor’s suite was closed, and he entered his own, shed his clothes, then he slid beneath the bedcovers, crossed his arms together behind his head and reflected on her response.

  Unbidden, warm, passionate. More than he had expected. Enough to leave him aroused and wanting.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A FASHION consultation with Graziella regarding suitable attire to wear to the charity event resulted in Taylor choosing an elegant full-length fitted gown in red silk with a demure neckline and cap sleeves. It had the effect of enhancing the creamy texture of her skin, and an upswept hairstyle exposed the delicate shape of her nape.

  A delicate diamond pendant with matching ear-studs comprised her only jewellery, and red stilettos completed the outfit.

  Graziella’s approval was equally met by Dante’s appreciative glance, and Ben’s vocalised boyish enthusiasm.

  ‘We should leave,’ Dante indicated as he brushed his lips to Graziella’s cheek, then he swept Ben high for a goodnight hug, before setting him down on his feet. ‘Look after Nonna.’

  ‘We’re going to watch Shrek on DVD.’

  Taylor leant down and kissed him. ‘Love you.’

  ‘You, too,’ Ben responded at once.

  The nerves which had taken root as she had dressed began to develop as she rode the lift down to the lobby, worsened slightly as the chauffeured limousine eased through the streets towards their destination.

  It didn’t help when Dante reached for her hand and threaded her fingers through her own, then soothed the fast-beating pulse at her wrist.

  ‘You have no need to be nervous.’

  ‘What makes you think I am?’

  The limousine slowed and turned into the forecourt of a gracious hotel.

  ‘Will it help if I assure you I’ll remain by your side for the entire evening?’

  Given he was responsible for almost all her nervous tension, his assurance really didn’t cut it.

  She was saved from responding as the limousine slid to a halt, her door opened by a uniformed concierge Dante greeted with due reverence as he moved to her side and escorted her into the lobby.

  It was, Taylor observed with a degree of trepidation as they mingled with fellow guests, a very splendid event.

  Sparkling jewellery adorned every designer-gowned woman present, and there was the aura of wealth…old and new.

  Dante’s presence garnered interest and, unless she was mistaken, a degree of speculation. There were introductions to people who expressed sympathy for their recent loss. A moment when a fellow guest captured Dante’s attention, whereupon he excused himself and stepped a few paces away.

  ‘Such a tragedy,’ a matronly woman sympathised. ‘To lose a son and daughter-in-law, so young. Graziella mourns their loss dreadfully. Grazie di Dio the little one was spared.’

  What could Taylor do but offer a few suitable words in agreement?

  The woman’s gaze swept the groups conversing near by. ‘Ah, Dante has managed to extricate himself,’ she declared with an animated laugh.

  Taylor turned slightly and summoned a brilliant smile.

  She glimpsed the faint darkness apparent in his eyes as he read her expression, then it was gone.

  ‘My apologies. A colleague,’ he explained, turning towards the woman at Taylor’s side. ‘Angelina.’ His greeting held friendly courtesy. ‘Your presence at any event is always a bonus.’

  ‘Grazie,’ Angelina acknowledged. ‘May I offer you both my congratulations on your forthcoming marriage?’

  Marriage? What on earth was Angelina talking about?

  Perhaps it was Taylor’s startled expression that resulted in an explanation.

  ‘You were unaware of the article in the media?’ Angelina frowned slightly. ‘You do not understand Italian? Of course!’ she exclaimed. ‘Allow me to explain—the article notes Dante’s arrival in Florence, tonight’s event, confirms the custody arrangements of Leon’s son, together with the rumour of a possible marriage.’

  Taylor waited for Dante to refute it, and her eyes flew wide as he took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘It is a sensible solution, perche?’

  You have to be kidding.

  He fielded her silent communication by the simple gesture of pressing a finger to her mouth. ‘When it takes place it will, of course, be a very private celebration.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  He retained hold of Taylor’s hand, and gave no sign when she dug her nails in hard.

  ‘If you’ll excuse us?’

&n
bsp; A subtle hint…sufficient to sow the speculative seed with the media. There could only be one person…

  ‘Graziella—’

  ‘Has been questioned, and conceded something she said was possibly misconstrued.’

  She looked at him carefully. ‘You believe that?’

  ‘I believe my mother sees a marriage between us as providing a solution.’

  ‘A solution to what, precisely?’

  ‘Formalising our present living arrangements—’

  ‘I don’t believe this.’

  ‘And becoming Ben’s legal adoptive parents,’ he concluded, watching the green flecks in her eyes become accentuated as she attempted to control her anger.

  Had this eventuated because Graziella had witnessed them kissing in the kitchen?

  If so, it was unconscionable!

  ‘You would actually sanction such a thing?’

  ‘We share the same home, we’re committed to raising Ben as our own.’

  ‘Do you have any idea how hard I’m trying not to hit you?’

  ‘Need I remind you we’re in a public place?’

  ‘You have, of course, insisted a retraction be printed in the media?’ Taylor countered fiercely.

  ‘Not as yet.’

  ‘But you will.’

  ‘Damage control?’

  Her body simmered with barely controlled anger. ‘Don’t prevaricate.’

  ‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’

  She could leave. Turn and walk away from him, summon a taxi and return to Graziella’s apartment.

  A fine plan…except she didn’t know the address.

  Dante watched the fleeting expressions cloud her eyes, the latent flecks burn green as she fought for control.

  ‘Eventually the evening will end,’ she managed with remarkable calm.

  None too soon, she vowed as she stood at Dante’s side and fielded ‘good wishes’ as the news spread.

  For the next hour she smiled and echoed grazie until her jaw ached, and bore the light touch of Dante’s hand at the back of her waist.