‘Hi there.’ Dante lifted Ben high in the air and felt small arms wrap round his neck.
‘You’re back!’
Taylor crossed round the vehicle and watched as Ben swivelled in Dante’s grasp to reach out and plant a kiss on her cheek.
‘I missed you.’ He scrambled down and caught hold of her hand. ‘Did you have fun?’
‘We had a nice time,’ she assured solemnly. ‘We visited the markets, and went out to dinner.’
They moved as a group indoors, where Graziella welcomed them with fond affection.
‘Lena will bring tea out onto the terrace in half an hour. That will give you time to unpack.’ She spared Taylor a warm smile. ‘I’ve had Lena transfer your things to Dante’s suite.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can I come and help you unpack?’ Ben asked a little wistfully, and Taylor gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
‘Of course.’
The suite Dante occupied was large, the bed king-size, with an adjoining en suite, double walk-in wardrobes, and visible through a wide aperture there was an informal room furnished with a comfortable sofa and chairs.
Dante followed soon after with their bags, and Ben perched on the side of the large bed.
Taylor was almost done when Ben announced in a sad little voice, ‘I had a bad dream last night.’ He was trying to play it down, but not quite succeeding, and she crossed to his side to sit beside him. ‘I dreamed you didn’t come back.’
Her heart turned over, and she gathered him close. ‘It’s OK,’ she assured gently.
‘Daddy and Mummy were going to come back, but they didn’t,’ he said in a quiet little voice.
‘There was an accident, sweetheart.’ She felt the tears welling in her eyes, and blinked rapidly to dispel them. ‘A car accident, you know that.’
‘Yes, but why? Daddy was a good driver. Just like Dante.’
Dante hunkered down to Ben’s eye level. ‘Will it help if I promise to be very careful?’
Ben looked incredibly solemn as he considered Dante’s words. ‘Some,’ he admitted. ‘I guess.’ His shoulders moved as he took a deep breath. ‘I cried, and Nonna came and got me. Nonna told me a story and I fell asleep.’
Taylor’s heart felt as if it broke a little. ‘Well,’ she began quietly, ‘tonight you get two stories.’
He brightened a bit. ‘Can I pick them? One from you and one from Dante?’
‘Sure can.’ She lifted his hand to her lips, and smiled. ‘How about you come see what we bought you?’
‘A present? You brought me a present?’
Dante rose to his full height as she scooped Ben into her arms and moved to her bag.
‘It’s only small, but I think you’ll like it.’ She withdrew the box with its bright wrapping, and watched as he carefully undid it.
He was a lovely little boy, gentle in the ways that counted, and she felt so fiercely protective of him it almost brought her to tears.
The wrapping came off, he lifted the lid…and smiled. As she’d predicted he would when she purchased the small black porcelain kitten.
‘It’s just like Sooty. There’s the same white splash on his nose.’ He hugged her tight. ‘Do you think he and Rosie will have missed me?’
‘I’m sure they have.’
Graziella was about to serve tea when they joined her, and afterwards Dante excused himself to go check the vineyard and cellars.
It looked like being a bumper harvest, and there was a sense of pride in that it was his…a place where he aimed to spend more time as the years progressed. His private niche to escape the pressures of big business and discard some of his obligations.
He’d acquired a wife, and soon he’d be able to call Ben his adopted son. The next d’Alessandri generation was secure.
There was a need to be part of it…except he was due in Paris tomorrow; Wednesday they’d depart the vineyard for Graziella’s apartment in Florence; Thursday he would take the early flight to Rome; Friday he’d need to wrap up business matters in the Florentine d’Alessandri office; a gala event in the city necessitated his presence Saturday evening; and Sunday he would return to Sydney with Taylor and Ben.
A full schedule, but a necessary one in order to keep his finger on the pulse of the d’Alessandri corporation.
It was evening when he returned indoors and went upstairs to shower and change for dinner. Taylor had chosen a stylish design in varying shades of pink, and he voiced his appreciation as he admired the way her fingers deftly fixed her hair.
For a moment he almost suggested she leave it loose, but then he wouldn’t have the pleasure later of removing the pins and letting her hair cascade down onto her shoulders.
‘Ben?’
She shot him a glance via mirrored reflection. ‘With Graziella.’
He began undoing the buttons of his shirt, then pulled it free and shrugged it off.
She loved the shape of his back, the way it curved up to his shoulders, the strong musculature that seemed to flow fluidly with every move he made.
Olive skin, lightly tanned from his days in the sun, and the tapered waist.
She had an urge to close the distance between them, lean in close and curve her arms round his shoulders, then angle her mouth against his own.
Instead she returned her attention to her hair, and focused on applying lipgloss as he stripped and walked naked into the en suite.
Dinner was a relaxed meal, after which they saw Ben into bed, read the promised two stories, after which Dante indicated the need to spend time in his home office.
‘That’s OK,’ she assured with a smile. ‘I’ll take my laptop down to the library.’
Why should this evening be any different from those preceding it?
Their marriage wasn’t a love match, she reminded herself as she retrieved her laptop and made her way downstairs.
So…forget any fanciful feelings, and accept that life after marriage wouldn’t be much different from how it had been before.
Except she now enjoyed the wonderful bonus of intimacy…with a man whose sexual skills proved delightful beyond belief!
Taylor worked until the letters on-screen began to blur, then she saved the file, closed down and quietly made her way upstairs, checked on Ben, then crossed to Dante’s suite.
Empty, she perceived as she quickly dispensed with her clothes and slid into bed.
She fell asleep within minutes of her head touching the pillow, and she wasn’t aware of the man who joined her some time later, or that she barely stirred when he gathered her close.
At some stage she became caught up in a series of dreams that merged and became one…sighing a little as light fingers brushed her thigh, slid over her hip and captured her breast.
‘Nice,’ she murmured…and almost purred with pleasure as lips caressed the vulnerable hollow at the edge of her neck.
Fingers stroked the peak of one breast, arousing it to sensitive life, and she groaned a little as a hand trailed to her stomach, then moved lower to explore the incredibly sensitive labia…until she wanted to beg he ease the excruciating sensation arrowing there.
Then her body arched as he touched her clitoris, and she did cry out as he brought her close to orgasm.
The feeling was so intense, it brought her to wakefulness, and the dream became reality as Dante took possession of her mouth.
What followed became a feast of the senses, as he drove her high time and again, before joining her in a cataclysmic climax that left them both breathing deep and slick with sexual heat.
Together they lay there, easing down to a state of inertia.
Then Dante’s watch beeped an alarm, and he moved from the bed, scooped her into his arms and strode into the en suite.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Having you share my shower, then I’ll tuck you back into bed while I dress, have coffee, then drive in to the airport en route to Paris.’
‘Paris?’
He opened the shower cu
bicle, turned the water dial, then stepped in and let her slide down onto her feet.
‘Uh-huh. I’ll be back tonight.’
Taylor reached for the soap and he took it from her, then began smoothing it over her body.
‘What are your plans for the rest of the week?’
‘Shower talk?’
‘We’ve already done the sex thing.’
Dante lowered his head and kissed her…thoroughly.
‘So we have.’
‘Yes, well…it was nice,’ she managed with circumspection, and heard his soft laughter.
‘Rinse off, and go.’ Dark eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Or I’ll be tempted to show you better than nice.’
‘You have a flight to catch,’ she reminded.
‘There’s always tonight.’
She escaped, dried off, then she pulled on underwear, jeans, added a top, then brushed out her hair and smoothed its length into a pony-tail.
He emerged as she moved towards the door. ‘It’s barely six.’
‘So I’ll go make coffee.’
‘And kiss me goodbye?’
She pretended to consider it. ‘Maybe.’
Dante the vintner was replaced by Dante the sophisticated, tough businessman in an expertly tailored three-piece business suit, crisp linen shirt and silk tie. A briefcase and laptop rested on the table, and he took his coffee hot, black and strong.
It was he who laid his mouth on her own in a brief, hard kiss, then he collected both briefcase and laptop, shot her a dark, gleaming look, and left.
Taylor heard the four-wheel-drive start, followed by the muted hum of the engine, and she cleared their cups, then returned to their suite to sit cross-legged on the bed as she booted up her laptop.
Following breakfast she spent the day with Ben, then began packing ready to return to Florence the next morning.
Dante rang late afternoon to say he’d be delayed and would arrive late, and on the pretext of a headache Taylor excused herself soon after settling Ben to bed.
She was unaware what time Dante returned, and when she woke next morning the bedcovers were tossed on his side of the bed, his pillow askew and the bed empty.
Graziella’s apartment in Florence seemed constrained after the villa’s spaciousness, and there was no room for Ben to play, which meant a more concentrated effort to entertain and keep him occupied.
Dante’s presence seemed fleeting, for he spent nearly all of his waking hours tending to business, and on the few evenings he made it back to Graziella’s apartment for dinner he retreated soon afterwards to put in long hours on his laptop.
If he was home in time he settled Ben into bed with a story, and Taylor used the evening hours to work, choosing to sit cross-legged in bed as she keyed the pages.
Twice he reached for her in the early dawn hours, after which they shared a shower, shared coffee, then he left for the city office.
Saturday proved to be just another day, although he gave Graziella his word he’d return in time to attend the evening’s charity event.
Taylor was in the guest suite putting the finishing touches to her make-up when she heard Graziella offer several firm words and Dante’s response.
Then he entered the suite, discarded his clothes in record time, showered, shaved and dressed in evening clothes, added a black bow-tie and pocketed his wallet, the embossed invitation, then he crossed to her side and took possession of her mouth.
‘And that was because?’
‘Just…because.’ He touched a finger to her slightly swollen lower lip.
The inner-city hotel venue hosted a large number of guests mingling in the expansive marble-tiled foyer adjoining the ballroom.
A prestigious fund-raising event to aid children with disabilities, Dante relayed, and one to which the d’Alessandri corporation gave support.
Black tie among the men appeared de rigueur, and the women wore designer gowns and sufficient jewellery to warrant tight security.
Taylor stood at Dante’s side as she observed the guests. Much could be gained by idly noting stance, facial expression and mannerisms, she mused. It was an instinctive pastime of any artist engaged in creativity, the conscious and unconscious study of people, places, enhancing a developed sense of mood, ambience…the ability to stretch the imagination and take it to another level.
Voices, some muted, others bright, even extrovert, rose above the background music, and Taylor was fascinated by the tone and cadence of another language…one, if they were to spend any time in Italy, she and Ben would need to become conversant with.
Dante’s recent marriage resulted in a series of congratulations by several guests, and Taylor smiled, inclined her head and intoned grazie at regular intervals.
Beautiful women, exquisitely gowned and groomed to perfection, whose greetings were a little too blatant…or was that just her fertile imagination?
Whatever, it gave her pause to wonder just how many associations Dante had enjoyed, and with whom.
‘You seem to have a legion of female friends,’ she managed quietly as a gorgeous—gorgeous was the only word—young woman moved away after offering him an overly enthusiastic greeting.
His dark eyes seared hers, and his mouth curved a little in silent amusement. ‘It bothers you?’
She offered him a bright smile. ‘Why should it?’
At that moment the ballroom doors opened and the guests were encouraged to show their tickets prior to being directed to their reserved tables.
Dante curved an arm along the back of her waist as guests converged, and there was little she could do to still the slow-curling sensation settling low in her stomach.
He generated a devastating sensuality beneath the sophisticated façade…a dramatic elemental quality that hinted of the primitive, as well as the passion.
A man who could drive a woman wild…and did, with superb finesse.
As CEO of the d’Alessandri corporation, Dante had earned the respect of many, and the woman he’d chosen to marry garnered speculative interest.
Media coverage ensured the populace in general were aware of Leon’s tragic death, his orphaned son. It wasn’t difficult to conclude Dante’s recent step into matrimony very neatly took care of a few legal loose ends.
So why attempt to pretend the liaison was based on affection?
For Taylor it was more, so much more than she cared to analyse, and she was all too aware of the danger in mistaking affection for love. For to lose her heart to Dante would amount to emotional suicide.
‘Caro!’
If it were possible for a feminine voice to purr and project provocative eroticism in the sound, then the woman achieved it…in spades.
Taylor was blatantly ignored as a female vision of perfection wrapped her arms around Dante’s neck and kissed him…thoroughly.
There was a slight distinction in that he didn’t appear to participate and, to give him credit, he quickly released himself from her grasp.
Taylor had little knowledge of the woman’s petulant response in French, but, accompanied by a moue, it was easy to do the maths.
‘English, Simone,’ Dante rebuked as he drew Taylor forward. ‘Allow me to introduce my wife, Taylor.’
Beautiful, exquisitely showcased dark eyes glittered as Simone attempted to recover her poise…and her manners.
‘Wife, caro?’ The smile was a mere facsimile. ‘I spend a month in Provence, and in that time you marry?’ She spared Taylor a sweeping interrogative appraisal, and arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Really. How—’ she pretended to search for the appropriate word ‘extraordinary. Especially when Taylor did not number among your—’ there was a delicate pause ‘known—acquaintances, shall we say?’
‘I have many friends, some of whom are women,’ Dante drawled with silky smoothness, appearing not a bit disturbed.
‘Some more special than others, n’est-ce pas?’
He merely offered a lazy smile. ‘If you’ll excuse us?’
‘That was
interesting,’ Taylor commented as he led her in the direction of their allotted table. ‘Not, of course,’ she assured with deliberate guile, ‘that I’d think of questioning your—er—active past.’
His husky laugh sent the blood fizzing through her veins, and she looked at him in silent askance as he lifted her hand to his lips.
Their table held prominent position, their fellow seated guests charming, with one vacant chair remaining.
The overhead lights dimmed a little in sequence as spotlights illuminated the podium, and Taylor focused on the charity chairperson as she addressed the guests.
Interpretation was guesswork, at best, although Dante relayed the gist of the speech when it concluded.
It was then Taylor noticed the empty chair had become occupied by Simone.
Dante’s new wife and a former lover seated at the same table had to be someone’s idea of a joke…or deliberate, to provide titillating speculation?
Taylor told herself she didn’t care, as she indulged in polite conversation with deliberate ease, enormously relieved their table guests understood English.
Throughout the evening it became increasingly difficult to pretend she didn’t notice Simone’s clever flirting. It wasn’t so much what Simone said, but the seductive tinge in her voice, the way her lips curved in silent invitation, and the deliberate slide of her tongue over her lower lip.
There was little doubt in Taylor’s mind that Dante and Simone shared an intimate history, but flaunting it was nothing less than calculated intent.
If Simone hoped to engender some form of reaction, then she was bound for disappointment.
Taylor engaged a fellow guest in animated conversation about the plight of various Australian wildlife, comparing it to wildlife on other continents, as she valiantly strove to ignore Simone’s antics.
It was crazy to feel upset, and she silently chastised herself for even beginning to care. What had she expected…her marriage to Dante to become a love match?
Get real. She was a mother for Ben, a social hostess and convenient woman in Dante’s bed. Anything more belonged in the realms of fantasy.
The Italian's Ruthless Marriage Command (HQR Presents) Page 13
