The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride Of Convenience: The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride of Convenience (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Carol Marinelli

  She was dark-eyed and dark-haired, with voluptuous curves that had never seen a gym let alone a scalpel or silicone. Beneath her full bust in the white crochet dress there was a thin strap of leather, tied in a bow. He could think of no other woman who might look so sexy in such a dress, but she certainly did. He wanted to pull on that bow…he wanted to bare her breasts and pull her onto his knee. To kiss that mouth and properly welcome her to Rome.

  His eyes drifted down to her shoes, which were neutral. Her legs, though, were not—their olive skin was bare and her calves were toned. His gaze followed the line of her long limbs until it rested where he knew he would find dark silken curls; he knew, too, the grip of those thighs.

  She was fire. And he must do all he could not to let it catch him. For what Nico craved in his life was order.

  Aurora could feel his eyes on her and she liked the vague, unsettled feeling that tightened low in her stomach and brought a hot and heavy sensation between her legs.

  She had seen him since that fateful night—of course she had. But since the morning after they had never been alone.

  Now, for a few precious moments, they were.

  Aurora had practised this moment in her head and in the mirror so many times, and had sworn to rein herself in. But what had she gone and done?

  Teased and cajoled and tried to draw a reaction from this cold immutable man, who had ruined her for anyone else.

  Yet she could not bring herself to regret losing her virginity to him. Aurora would never regret that.

  She attempted a more bland conversation. ‘I like Rome…’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Though I love it in the early morning. I went exploring this morning…’

  Nico looked back to his computer screen.

  ‘I felt as if I had the city all to myself. Well, not quite…’

  She thought of the cafés and markets opening, and the street cleaners she had encountered on her early-morning walk—the walk during which she had promised herself that when she saw Nico later she would be serene and controlled. Sophisticated. Like the slender beauties he dated, whom she read about while bile churned in her stomach.

  ‘Tonight we’re all going on a bus tour…’ She halted, thinking how touristy and gauche she must sound to him. ‘Are you excited about the Silibri opening?’ she asked, because that seemed safe.

  ‘I will be glad when it’s done.’

  Glad when he would be able to hand it over to his executive and the managers. When it would be up and running and no longer at this intense stage.

  Right now, though, the tension was all in his office.

  It was a relief when Marianna appeared and, with Aurora observing, they began to go through his schedule.

  Nico was to meet with the Silibri hotel staff in fifteen minutes, and after that his day was back-to-back meetings with accountants, financiers and lawyers—and, no, Nico said, he would not be staying at the hotel that night.

  ‘You have a breakfast meeting at seven and the helicopter is booked for nine…’ Marianna frowned at this slight anomaly. ‘Usually you stay here if you’re flying out.’

  ‘I’ll be residing at home tonight,’ Nico said. ‘Now, can we check my Silibri schedule? I want to see my father’s doctor as soon as I arrive.’

  ‘You’re going home…?’ Aurora blinked. ‘Why are you going home when we are all here?’

  ‘Again…’ Nico sighed. ‘You are here for staff training.’

  He looked to Marianna and was grateful when she stepped in.

  ‘Signor Caruso and I run through his schedule each morning, Aurora. This is not a meeting, and nor is it a discussion; it is to ensure that everything is in order and that we are both clear on timings.’

  ‘Of course…’ Aurora attempted, but there were a million questions in her eyes about why he was leaving Rome so soon after they had arrived.

  Nico answered none of them.

  Instead, having gone through his impossibly busy week, they headed out of his office, with Nico holding the door for both the women.

  ‘After you,’ Nico said.

  He wished his good manners were not quite so ingrained, and that he did not have to hold open the door, for the scent of her reached him again. The chemistry that flared between them was undeniable, and the want was still there.

  Nico, though, was first to walk into the boardroom.

  The Silibri contingent were there, waiting, and they greeted him warmly.

  Too warmly.

  ‘Hey, Nico!’

  And there were more gifts set out on the table.

  Amongst other things, Francesca had brought homemade biscotti to go with the coffee being served. Only Vincenzo, his marketing manager, sat rigid, clearly taken back by the party-like atmosphere in the room.

  He smoothed his auburn hair nervously and cast a slightly aghast look at Nico. Bizarrely, for the briefest of seconds, Nico wanted to tell Vincenzo to relax. Did he not know how things worked in Sicily? Did he not know that humour and conversation were an art form there, especially in Silibri?

  Of course not. Vincenzo had been brought in from the Florence branch.

  ‘Let’s get started,’ Nico said.

  It would hopefully be a quick meeting.

  Aurora was to be assistant manager of marketing. It was not something she had studied for, but she knew the area well and loved taking photos—and she had ideas. Many of them.

  Nico hadn’t actually got her the job; she did not need him to succeed.

  Well, maybe a bit…

  For without him there would be no hotel.

  Vincenzo was speaking of the excitement locally, and said there were a few interviews nationally, for various tourism shows and breakfast television and the like.

  ‘I shall handle those,’ Vincenzo said.

  ‘You can take turns with Aurora,’ Nico interjected.

  ‘But I have had media training,’ Vincenzo pointed out. ‘Aurora can be a touch…forceful, and we want to extend a gentle invitation.’

  ‘Vincenzo,’ Nico said. ‘I wasn’t offering a suggestion, I was telling you to take turns with Aurora.’

  He was not doing her any favours. Vincenzo was vain and self-serving—and, though he was brilliant at his job, it was as clear as day to Nico that Aurora, with her passion, her low throaty laugh, with her sheer love of Silibri, would be more enticing for potential guests.

  ‘Next,’ Nico said, and nodded to Francesca.

  ‘The fittings for the uniforms have been delayed.’

  ‘Then get them done,’ Nico said, even while knowing it wasn’t going to be as easy as that.

  ‘I have tried, but the staff have issues with the colour.’

  ‘And the fabric…’ It was the first time Aurora had spoken. ‘The wool is too heavy and the green makes us look like…’ She snapped her fingers. ‘That Englishman’s Merry Men.’

  Nico had to think for a moment. But then he always had to think when Aurora was around—she brought him no peace.

  He thought of the dark green uniforms that looked so elegant against the old Roman and sophisticated Florentine buildings, and worked well in both England and France, and then he joined the dots she had led him to with her mention of ‘the Englishman’s Merry Men’.

  ‘You mean Robin Hood?’

  ‘Who?’ Aurora frowned, and then she gave him a tiny smile to say of course she knew who he meant and was teasing him.

  Their minds jostled, and she could see he was fighting not to return her smile. She was still looking at Nico’s full mouth, with a smile on her own, when Vincenzo cleared his throat and spoke up.

  ‘We think that Silibri should have a more casual feel.’

  ‘It’s a five-star hotel.’ Nico gave a shake of his head. ‘I do not want my staff looking casual.’

  ‘Of course not,�
�� Vincenzo agreed. ‘But there is a stunning French navy linen, and teamed with crisp white shirts…’

  ‘We would look like sailors,’ Aurora sulked.

  Nico pressed the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. What the hell had he been thinking? What had possessed him to venture into Silibri? He should have sold the land there and been done with it…

  Yet as he sat there he recalled Aurora’s emphatic no when he had suggested that the night after—

  Damn, no matter how he tried to avoid it, all roads led to that night.

  Nico forced himself back to the moment: What in God’s name was he doing, sitting here discussing fabric? It was his hotel and it had been four years in the making.

  The trouble with the Silibri venture was that the staff considered it to be their hotel too. They were all so involved and took it all so personally.

  ‘What about the same green as the other hotels, but in linen?’ Francesca suggested.

  Aurora shook her head.

  ‘That just takes us back to the Merry Men,’

  ‘So what do you suggest, Aurora?’ Nico threw down his pen in exasperation.

  Of course she had an immediate answer. ‘Persian Orange.’

  From her seemingly bottomless bag she produced several swatches of fabric and proceeded to pass them around. It was a linen blend that wouldn’t crease, she assured them, and with one look Nico knew she was right.

  ‘It is the colour of the temple ruins and the monastery just before sunset,’ Aurora said. ‘And you know how beautiful Silibri looks at that time of night. Mother Nature chose her colours wisely.’

  ‘It is a bold colour,’ Vincenzo objected. ‘A touch too bold, perhaps?’

  ‘I don’t agree that it is too bold; it is, in fact, quite plain,’ Aurora refuted, then cocked her head to the side.

  Nico watched as her knowing eyes weighed up Vincenzo.

  ‘Are you worried that it might clash with your red hair?’

  ‘Of course not…’ Vincenzo was flustered and smoothed said red hair down.

  ‘Because,’ Aurora continued, ‘we could have bespoke shades on the same theme, with Persian Orange being the main one.’

  ‘Bespoke shades…?’ Vincenzo checked.

  And Nico watched silently as his marketing manager warmed to his new assistant’s idea, and watched, too, Aurora’s small, self-satisfied smile as of course she got her way.

  Heaven help Vincenzo, Nico thought, trying to manage her. Because Aurora could not be managed nor contained.

  She was as Sicilian as Mount Etna, as volatile as the volcano it was famous for, and she could not be beguiled or easily charmed. She was perceptive and assiduous and…

  And he refused to give in to her ways.

  ‘I’ll consider it,’ Nico said.

  ‘Consider it?’ Aurora checked. ‘But what is there to consider when it’s perfect?’

  ‘There is plenty to consider,’ Nico snapped. ‘Next.’

  It had been scheduled as a thirty-minute meeting but in the end it took sixty-three—and of course it did not end there.

  As Marianna disappeared for a quick restroom break, and Nico attempted to stalk off, Aurora caught up with him. ‘I wonder if we could speak? I have an idea.’

  ‘It has all been said in the meeting.’

  ‘This isn’t about the uniforms. I have another idea for the Silibri hotel.’

  ‘Then speak with Vincenzo, your manager.’

  ‘Why would I share my idea with him?’

  ‘Because I don’t generally deal with assistants.’

  Aurora felt his cool, snobbish dismissal and told him so. ‘It is spring, Nico, and the sun is shining—yet you are so cold that when I stand near you I shiver.’

  ‘Then get a coat! Aurora, let me make something very clear—and this is a conversation that you can repeat to all your colleagues. You are here for a week of training to find out how I like things done and how I want my hotel to operate. You’re not here for little chats and suggestions, and catch-ups and drinks. I did not build a hotel in Silibri to expand my social life.’

  Nico wanted this conversation to be over.

  ‘You are shadowing Marianna for the rest of the day?’ he checked.

  ‘Sì?’

  ‘Then what are you doing standing in mine?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  DAMN YOU, NICO!

  How much clearer could he have made it that he did not want her near him? He could not have been more horrible had he tried.

  As Nico stalked off Aurora wanted to be done with her feelings for him. To shed them. To discard them. To stamp her foot on them and kick them to the kerb. She was tired of them and bone-weary from this unrequited love.

  ‘Aurora.’ Marianna had found her. ‘We need to talk. Or rather, you need to listen.’

  ‘I already know what you’re going to say.’

  But she was told anyway.

  A little more decorum and a lot less sass, or she would be shadowing the bottle-washer for the rest of the week.

  And while Aurora understood what was being said, she just did not know how to squeeze herself into the box demanded of her. Or how not to be herself when she was near Nico.

  ‘Hello, husband,’ she had used to greet him teasingly when, as a young girl, she had opened the door to him.

  He would shake his head and roll his eyes at the precocious child who constantly fought for his smile and attention. ‘Your father says he wants some firewood chopped,’ Nico would respond.

  Yet, as much as he’d dismiss her, she would still sit and watch him chop firewood, and her heart would bleed when he took off his top and she saw a new bruise or a gash on his back.

  How could Geo do that to him?

  How could anyone hate Nico so?

  Then he would look over, and sometimes he would smile rather than scowl at his devoted audience. And her day would be made.

  Nico hadn’t broken her heart when he had first left Silibri—after all, she had only been ten then—though for a while she had cried herself to sleep at night.

  No, the heartbreak had occurred on one of his rare trips home, when Aurora had been sixteen.

  Her heart had sung, just at knowing he was home, and then one afternoon he had spoken at length with her father behind closed doors. She had assumed they were drinking the grappa her father had saved for this very day.

  And then Nico had come out and asked if she’d like to take a walk. She had quickly washed her face and hands and scrubbed her nails, so her hands would look pretty for the ring. And she had brushed her teeth for she had wanted to taste fresh for her first kiss.

  They had walked down the hill and around the old monastery, but instead of heading to the ancient temple ruins, Aurora’s favourite place, Nico had suggested they take the steps down the cliff to the beach.

  ‘Our fathers are very old fashioned…’ Nico had said as they walked on the deserted sands.

  ‘Yes!’ Aurora had beamed, for she had known he had just been speaking with hers.

  ‘They try to make decisions for us.’

  She’d felt the first prickle of warning that this conversation might not be going as she had long hoped. ‘They do,’ she had rather carefully agreed.

  ‘Aurora, I stopped allowing my father to dictate to me a long time ago.’

  ‘I know he is difficult. I know you hate him. But—’

  ‘Aurora,’ he broke in. ‘I can’t see myself ever marrying. I don’t want to have a family. I want freedom…’

  It had been the worst moment of her life.

  ‘Aurora!’

  Marianna’s voice broke in on her painful reminiscence.

  ‘Are you even listening to what I’m saying?’

  ‘Of course,’ Aurora said. She hadn’t been listening, but she could guess
very well what Marianna had said. ‘Don’t worry, I…’ She gave a slow nod, took a deep breath and made a vow—not just to Marianna but also to herself. ‘I will not embarrass myself again.’

  Aurora was done with Nico Caruso.

  For eight years she had loved him in secret.

  A whole third of her life!

  Well, no more.

  It was time to snuff out the torch she carried.

  She would be calm and distant and professional if she ever saw him again.

  ‘I didn’t mean you to take it like that…’ Marianna gave her first kind smile. ‘Nico is a wonderful boss, but he’s no one’s friend. Just remember that when you’re working together.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Come on—the driver is waiting.’

  ‘The driver?’

  ‘So I can go and pack for Signor Caruso’s trip. Oh, and I must organise his driver for the morning, now he’s no longer staying at the hotel…’

  Aurora just wanted the day to be over. She wanted to go back to her hotel room, throw herself on the bed and cry…and then emerge better and stronger and step into the future without him.

  Instead, she had to step into his home.

  It was beautiful, of course.

  Nico lived in the Parioli district, and his residence was just a short drive from the hotel. It was elegant and tasteful and her heels rang out on the marble floors.

  There was a huge gleaming kitchen, where Marianna deposited the limoncello and passata in rather empty cupboards. Then they went back to the main corridor, with its cathedral-high ceilings and a grand staircase which she climbed reluctantly—for surely Nico’s bedroom was not the best place to attempt to get over him?

  The master bedroom had French windows and a balcony and looked out to Villa Borghese Park. And, had it not been Nico’s bedroom that she stood in, Aurora might have been tempted to step out onto the balcony and drink in the view. Instead she looked at the vast bed, dressed in white with dark cushions, and imagined Nico beneath the crisp linen.

  His bedroom daunted and overwhelmed her, although Marianna was clearly very used to it and quickly pulled out a suit carrier and a case and started to select shirts and suits.