by Lynne Graham
‘But you’re crying,’ Alissandru said gently as though she might not have noticed.
Isla gave an inelegant sniff. ‘I think it’s my hormones. I think it’s being pregnant.’
Alissandru was bewildered. ‘So...you’re happy? You’re definitely going to marry me?’
‘Obviously.’ She gulped. ‘You’re not usually this stupid.’
‘I’ve never been in love before. Never been with a woman who would dare to call me stupid, either,’ Alissandru admitted with a spontaneous laugh.
‘Well, of course, you’re going to be stupid sometimes,’ Isla told him briskly, having finally mastered the tears dripping down her face. ‘But, you know, you’re not the only one who fell in love this spring. I love you too, but this time I thought we were only having an affair because you kept on hinting that we weren’t going to last for ever.’
‘That was the last dying strands of the single guy trying to stay free,’ Alissandru told her with wry amusement in his gaze. ‘Paulu told me once I didn’t know what love was and he was right. I would forgive you just about anything...but now don’t take that as an invitation,’ he added with his usual caution.
‘Are you really happy about the baby? How do you think it happened?’
‘I haven’t got a clue and don’t care. I’m just delighted that it has,’ Alissandru confided with warmth glowing in his level dark golden eyes.
‘I’m scared that something will go wrong again,’ Isla confided in a rush.
‘We both are, but at least we’re together now and together we can handle anything,’ Alissandru said with confidence. ‘I’ve got you and a whole future with you waiting for me...and I’ve never been happier in my whole life than I feel at this moment.’
That was quite a declaration from the once cynical love of her life and Isla rested her head back against his shoulder, struggling to accept that such wondrous happiness could finally be hers. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, stroking a fingertip along his shapely upper lip. ‘And we’re going to be incredibly good together.’
Alissandru smiled down at her with such tenderness in his beautiful eyes that her heart squeezed tight as the hold she had on him. This man with all his emotion would love strong and true, she sensed, thinking of his care for his own family. They had travelled a rocky road to their happy ending but they had both learned a lot on the journey. Her whole life was now opening up into a new dimension and the knowledge that she was no longer alone was a great source of joy to her. Alissandru and a baby too, she thought blissfully...
* * *
Almost four years later, Isla presided over a Christmas spent in London in their town house, which was filled to capacity with dogs and children. Indeed, Alissandru was talking about looking for a larger house as a London base.
‘I just don’t know how you’ve managed to acquire four of them so fast,’ Grazia pronounced, eying the four children surrounding Constantia with astonishment. ‘Thank heaven, I’m only having one,’ she added, patting the swell of her stomach beneath her highly trendy mint-green dress.
‘Two sets of twins adds to the count,’ Isla pointed out with amusement sparkling in her eyes, for Grazia, who had become a dear friend, had only married the year before and motherhood was entirely new to her. Entering an environment cluttered with the paraphernalia of four young children was more than a little daunting for her.
Gerlanda and Cettina had been born first—identical twins, dark haired and blue-eyed, two very lively little girls now three years old. Luciu and Grazzianu were non-identical boys and still babies, one noisy and demanding like his father but with red hair, the other quieter and more contented and dark. They had truly planned their third pregnancy although they hadn’t planned on a second set of twins.
Isla’s favourite photograph of their wedding sat near the fire, ring-fenced by a guard to protect the children. It showed her gorgeous traditional wedding dress, which had been nowhere near as trendy as poor Grazia had wanted to make it but had been everything that Isla had dreamt of, which was exactly as it should be, Grazia had said of a bride’s gown. Her uncle had given her away at their beautiful Sicilian summer wedding and it had been a wonderful family day, her relatives as welcome as the Rossetti clan could make them.
It was hard for Isla to credit that she had been married to Alissandru for almost four years. While she was pregnant with the girls she had done the London course she had wanted to do to complete her education to her own satisfaction. That achieved, she had discovered that she was happy to be a stay-at-home mother with a bunch of kids and dogs because she liked to be available when Alissandru was at home. He didn’t travel as much as he once had and he was always home at weekends and holidays, she thought fondly, watching Alissandru lift his youngest son in his arms and talk with apparent confidence about his feeding schedule. As if he had anything to do with it, Isla ruminated with amusement. They had a nanny to help and Alissandru got more involved with the fun side of parenting like bathtime and bedtime and buying toys. My goodness, could that man buy toys!
That had possibly been the biggest surprise of their marriage, Isla conceded with a tender smile. Alissandru adored kids, adored her being pregnant and wanted more. And she had told him no, four was enough and he would just have to content himself with four.
They spent most of their time now in Sicily and Isla could speak the language, although she made a fair number of mistakes, which she could depend on Alissandru to always correct. Sometimes, she thought ruefully, he was the most annoying man and yet if anything, after four years, he owned even more of her heart than he had at the outset of their marriage. He treated her as if she were as fragile as glass and tried to protect her from anything that he deemed prejudicial to her state of mind.
He strode over to her, clutching Grazzianu to his chest like a well-wrapped parcel. ‘He’s ready for his nap.’
As he bent his dark head down to her she saw the devilment in his gaze and knew that the only person ready for a nap was Alissandru and it wasn’t a nap he meant. She collected Luciu from his adoring grandmother and they took the babies upstairs to the nursery to settle them into their cots.
‘I... I just wanted to give you this,’ Alissandru confessed, surprising her as he loved to do, wrapping a diamond necklace round her throat like a choker and fixing the clasp before she could object. ‘You thought I meant sex,’ he said piously, as if such an idea would never have occurred to him.
‘It’s not even Christmas Day yet!’ Isla exclaimed, ignoring that crack.
‘I love buying you stuff. I love that you can’t say no now, mia bella,’ Alissandru confided, tugging her close to his lean, powerful frame.
‘I have more diamonds than I know what to do with,’ she muttered repressively, thinking of the king’s ransom in jewellery he had given her and the shelves and shelves of glorious handmade silk and lace lingerie, which she was willing to admit that she enjoyed wearing. ‘But thank you very, very much,’ she whispered, because she knew it was his way of showing how much he loved her and that she couldn’t change him and wouldn’t have changed him even if she could have done.
‘But you’re the most precious diamond of all,’ Alissandru intoned huskily. ‘I just adore you.’
And Isla smiled with the tremendous warmth that had attracted him from the very first time he saw that smile, he acknowledged thankfully. She was the centre of his world and all the sunshine in it, and the idea that he might have walked on by and missed out on what he had found with her still terrified him in retrospect.
‘And you know you’re loved...or you ought to,’ Isla informed him, kissing that smoothly shaven jaw line, which was as far up as she could reach, thinking how different he felt unshaven as he had been at dawn and as hot and rampant as only Alissandru could be and making her equally so.
‘I like to be told occasionally,’ Alissandru countered, taking a stand.
‘Why don’t I show y
ou instead?’ Isla whispered, watching those stunning eyes of his light up with alacrity and smiling even more.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed The Italian’s Inherited Mistress you’re sure to enjoy these other stories by Lynne Graham!
The Secret Valtinos Baby
Castiglione’s Pregnant Princess
Da Rocha’s Convenient Heir
The Billionaire’s Blackmailed Mistress
Available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Married for His One-Night Heir by Jennifer Hayward.
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Married for His One-Night Heir
by Jennifer Hayward
CHAPTER ONE
“SO, WHAT DID they think?” Giovanna De Luca leaned back against the windowsill of her boss’s office, a cup of coffee cradled between her fingers as she absorbed the brilliant sunshine that flooded through the space that served as the epicenter of power for Delilah Rothchild’s luxury Caribbean hotel chain.
To look at her, one would have bought the deliberately casual picture hook, line and sinker. That she hadn’t just completed the most important assignment of her life, with the decor she’d done for a series of private residences on Delilah’s flagship Bahamian resort that would sell for upward of 20 million dollars each. That she was as cool as a cucumber as she waited for the feedback from the initial round of prospective buyers Delilah had met with this morning. But inside, her heart was racing.
Delilah, however, knew better. Knew she was a master at hiding her emotions. “I have verbal expressions of intent for all but two of the villas,” she announced, a Cheshire-cat smile curving her lips. “Which will be snapped up in the second round, leaving them desperate for more. Due in large part,” she allowed, tipping her head at Gia, “to you. The interiors knocked their socks off, Gia. They were mad about them.”
Gia released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding on a quiet, even exhale. A warmth flooded through her, spreading from her fingertips to her toes, then sinking deep to wrap itself around the thrumming beat of her heart. She had worked day and night to make sure those villas were perfect. To position them as the irresistible showpiece that would launch the opening of this phase of Delilah’s development to critical acclaim. But it went much deeper than that.
The Private Residences at the Rothchild Bahamas had been her opportunity to give back to Delilah everything she’d given to her. To prove the bet the hotelier had made on her had been the right one. To prove to herself she could do this—that she could have the career she’d always dreamed of.
She closed her fingers tighter around the coffee cup she held, fighting back the rush of emotion that chased through her. “I’m so happy to hear that,” she said huskily. “I know how much this project means to you.”
Delilah fixed a laser-sharp, bright blue gaze on her. The woman was legendary for her ability to read a person in under a second flat. Her gaze was warm, however, as it rested on Gia, the bond they’d formed over the past two years undeniable. “You deserve every bit of the kudos. This wasn’t personal, Gia, it was business. You earned it with your talent.
“Which is also,” Delilah added, rolling to her feet and crossing to the bar, “a cause for celebration.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, then turned and leaned against the counter. “I’m having a barbecue tonight to celebrate Junkanoo. Not a big thing—just some friends and a few business acquaintances. A chance to kick back and have a glass of champagne. Put on a pretty dress and come.”
Gia shook her head in a refusal that had become customary. “I was looking forward to a night at home. A couple of hours with Leo, a good book and a glass of wine.”
Delilah pointed her cup at her. “You need a life, Gia. It’s been two years since Franco was killed. You are twenty-six years old. Working yourself to the bone, then spending all of your time with Leo, isn’t any kind of a life.”
She thought it was the perfect life. Her three-year-old son, Leo, meant everything to her. She had walked away from her family—one of the most powerful organized-crime syndicates in America—to protect him. He was happy and thriving and that was all that mattered.
“Besides,” Delilah added, a crafty smile curving her mouth, “there is someone I want you to meet. A friend of mine who does international financing. He is single for the first time in forever, he is nice and he is loaded. And,” she added on a low purr, “he is divine-looking. As in drop-dead gorgeous.”
As in the last thing she was looking for. Getting involved with another rich, powerful man after her life had been ruled by such men held no interest for her. Getting involved with any man wasn’t in her plans after her disastrous marriage to Franco. But she would never say that to Delilah, the woman who had given her sanctuary in the months following her husband’s targeted assassination. Who had been her lifeline ever since.
“I’m not interested in being set up,” she said firmly. “But maybe you are right about me needing to get out. Will I know anyone there?”
Delilah named a couple of women she worked with at the hotel. Gia thought about the hours after Leo went to bed, when there was no escape from the loneliness that had consumed her life. When she missed her mother so much it felt like her insides were being torn out. When what-ifs infiltrated her head, taunting her with what might have been.
Her stomach curled. She didn’t want to go there tonight. Her new life was wonderful—amazing—and everything she’d always dreamed of. She was moving forward, not backward. Delilah was right, it was time for her to start living again. Tonight would be the perfect opportunity to dip her toe back in.
She lifted an eyebrow. “What should I wear?”
Delilah’s eyes flashed in triumph. “Wear something summer fun. Sexy.”
Gia shook her head. “I am not letting you set me up, Delilah. This is about me getting out to have some fun. That’s all.”
“You should still wear something sexy.”
* * *
Gia settled for a dress that was neither sexy, nor conservative. A bright coral, with a wrap-front ruffle, it showed off the golden tan she’d acquired while living in the tropics, as well as the smooth length of her legs with its short, flirty skirt.
Anticipation nipped at her skin as she kissed Leo good-night, left him with his babysitter, then walked the short distance from the villa where she lived on Delilah’s exclusive Lyford Cay estate, up to the main house. To not have her bodyguard, Dante, tracing her every step was still a novelty s
he couldn’t quite fathom. To step out her front door and not wonder what was going to be on the other side was a peace she couldn’t articulate.
But there was also trepidation as she climbed the hill toward the sprawling colonial-style mansion, ablaze with light. She didn’t remember what it was like to go out for a carefree evening of fun. Had no idea how to even approach it. Maybe because her life had rarely, if ever, afforded her that luxury.
Tonight, however, she was Giovanna De Luca, not Giovanna Castiglione. She was free.
The barbecue, held on the beachside terrace of Delilah’s home to celebrate the popular Bahamian Junkanoo summer festival—a celebration of the arts on the island—was already in full swing when she arrived. A spectacular sunset stained the sky, a fiery pink-and-gold canvas for the festivities as the torchlight climbed high into the night. In the midst of that exotic atmosphere, the guests enjoyed fresh fried fish straight off the grill, rum-based refreshments and a steel band—the classic island experience.
Gia hesitated on the fringe of the group, an age-old apprehension slivering through her. Once upon a time she had been judged for who she was, the family that she came from, rather than the girl she’d been. It had broken her heart—that sense of always being an outsider no matter how hard she had tried. But Delilah quickly spotted her, drew her into the crowd and slid a drink into her hand.
The welcome cocktail, which was heavy on the rum, eased her nerves. As did the handsome financier Delilah introduced her to. He was charming and a gentleman to boot. She might have no intention of getting involved with him, but the clear attraction in his eyes was a boost to her ego, which had taken such a hit with Franco, she wasn’t sure the wounds were ever going to heal.
Relaxing into the vibe, the alcohol warming the blood in her veins, she cast an idle glance over the crowd, surveying the new arrivals. A tall, fair-haired male that Sophie, the hotel’s glamorous publicity director, was chatting up claimed her attention. Muscular and well-built, he was undeniably commanding in his white shirt and dark pants that showed off every rippling, well-honed inch of him. But it was when her gaze rose to his elegant profile that her breath caught in her throat.