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’d leave sometime in the night—or I would; I never slept a whole night with a woman. Perhaps we’d see each other again…perhaps not. Rinse and repeat. And yet right now it felt like the last thing I wanted. It felt like a burden rather than a pleasure, and one I had absolutely no interest in.

  Did this happen to everyone at one time or another? Or had Daisy done something to me with her fiery determination, her sudden hurt—and that kiss?

  Oh, that kiss.

  ‘Matteo?’ Lara’s speculative gaze rested on my face, uncertain and a bit impatient.

  Even as I contemplated taking her up on her offer, if only just to banish this strange new sickness that seemed to have taken me over, I shook my head. ‘I have work to do,’ I said, and turned on my heel.

  I strode out of the ballroom, uncaring of the whispers that followed in my wake. No doubt most people had seen Daisy confront me a short while ago, and now they saw me leaving in a hurry. The rumours would spark and fly—something I had always been keen to avoid—but now…

  Now I really didn’t care.

  I headed to the hotel bar and ordered a whisky, neat, throwing it back with grim intention. I was on the brink of making a big decision and I needed to be sure. Did I want Daisy that much? Was I willing to bind her to me for ever? And what about the needed heir? A child? Was I ready to take on that responsibility?

  Briefly I pictured myself locked away, being told I was worthless, tormented simply because of my parentage. Anger still burned at the rank injustice and cruelty of it—the injustice and cruelty I’d been subjected to again and again, not just by my grandfather but by his savage minion, Eleni.

  My lips twisted at the name.

  Would having my own child heal that old wound in some small way? Was I capable of being a good father in a way my own father and grandfather had not been?

  Did I even want to try?

  I laid my hands flat on the bar, ideas and implications racing through me. Was I willing to give up my way of life for something else? Something perhaps better?

  An image floated through my mind—a little boy with grey eyes, a young girl with light brown hair. A sudden shaft of longing pierced me unexpectedly, and I nearly gasped from the strength of it.

  Could I possibly be thinking this way? Wanting a child when I’d always said I did not? Wanting a life I’d never actually envisaged for myself? And what about Daisy?

  I could handle her, I decided. She would bend to my will as she had before. This marriage might no longer be quite as convenient, but it would still be on my terms.

  ‘Wake up, Daisy.’

  Sleep blurred my brain and clouded my vision as I slowly blinked the world into focus. The first thing I saw was the clock by the side of the bed in my hotel room—half past seven in the morning. The second thing I saw was Matteo Dias, standing at the end of my bed.

  ‘What?’

  The word came out in a high-pitched screech as I scooted upright, clutching the duvet to me in maidenly modesty. I was wearing a roomy T-shirt and shorts as pyjamas, but still…

  ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘I want to talk to you.’

  Matteo seemed unconcerned that he’d invaded my hotel room at a decidedly early hour. He looked remarkably well put together, considering the time, dressed in a grey pinstriped suit with a starched blue shirt and cobalt tie, his hard jaw freshly shaven, his dark hair still slightly damp from a shower. He looked wonderful, and I hated that fact.

  ‘How did you get into my hotel room?’ I demanded, my senses still spinning simply from having him here.

  ‘I asked the concierge to let me in.’

  ‘What?’ I could scarcely believe it. ‘And he did? That’s a total invasion of my privacy!’

  ‘You’re my wife,’ Matteo replied with a shrug, seemingly unconcerned by the gross misconduct of the hotel staff.

  ‘When it suits you,’ I snapped.

  I was at a distinct disadvantage, sitting in bed with what I suspected was a terrible case of bedhead and a pair of short pyjamas, while he was looking as if he’d just stepped out of a business meeting.

  ‘I’m going to make an official complaint to the hotel.’

  ‘Then you can do so to me. I own it.’

  I gawped at him for a few seconds. ‘Oh,’ I said finally, feebly.

  I knew Matteo was CEO of a real estate company, of course, but I had never known how vast or wealthy it—and he—was, although I expected very was the answer to both. I certainly hadn’t realised he owned the place when I’d booked myself in.

  ‘Even so…’ I managed to rally. ‘You shouldn’t abuse your privilege like that.’

  Another shrug was all the apology I got.

  ‘I wished to speak with you before you left for Amanos and this was the most expedient way of doing so.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked irritably. I scooted out of bed and snatched the thick terry cloth dressing gown off the bathroom door, swathing myself in it for protection. I still had bedhead, but at least I wasn’t half naked. ‘I hardly think there is anything left to discuss.’

  ‘Actually, there is. I’ve ordered breakfast. Why don’t we discuss it while we eat?’

  ‘That sounds remarkably civilised,’ I harrumphed.

  In fact, I was hungry. I’d missed dinner last night, intent on finding Matteo. With little choice, anyway, I followed him into the suite’s small sitting room. I’d dithered about staying in such a top-drawer hotel, but I’d wanted to be near to the ball and I’d justified the expense by asking for the hotel’s cheapest room—which was still luxurious by my standards.

  Now I wondered what the concierge must have thought this morning, discovering that the owner’s wife had requested such a thing.

  ‘Here we are.’

  All urbane hospitality, Matteo began taking the domed lids off several silver dishes, and the tantalising aroma of freshly baked croissants wafted out.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked, so very solicitously, as I sat down.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  I watched as he loaded up a plate with croissants and fresh fruit, wondering what on earth he was doing here. What could he possibly want from me?

  My stomach cramped at the possibilities—as well as at the scorching memory of that kiss last night. A punishing, proving kind of kiss, and it made me cringe in shame at how I’d responded to it.

  Matteo handed me the plate of food and a cup of steaming coffee before sitting down opposite me.

  ‘Now,’ he said with a smile. ‘We can talk.’

  He was being friendlier than I’d ever seen him before—although admittedly that was a total of two times.

  After leaving Matteo last night I’d escaped to my room, longing to forget my own folly. As smart as I liked to think I’d become over the last few years, there was still a bit too much of the country bumpkin’s wide-eyed optimism about me. I’d convinced myself I was being savvy and proactive, going to find my husband and ask for an annulment, but I realised last night I’d just been horribly naïve.

  Of course Matteo wasn’t going to give me what I wanted, and of course I wouldn’t be able to get it without his consent. Worse, I’d started to wonder why it even mattered. Matteo was right; Mr Right wasn’t waiting for me in Amanos or anywhere. Why bother upending my life on the off-chance I’d find a man who most likely didn’t exist?

  ‘What do you want to talk about?’ I asked now—because surely it was better to know than not?

  Matteo sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he said, his voice as unruffled as if he were talking about a slight alteration to his plans for the day. ‘I wish to renegotiate the terms of our marriage.’

  I eyed him warily, suspicious of his rather smug look—much like the typical cat with the cream, except Matteo was more of a tiger. Last night, curled up in
bed, I’d heartily wished I’d never come to Athens to track him down, and even almost wished that I’d never married him in the first place.

  Although, despite everything, I couldn’t quite make myself wish that…

  ‘Well?’ he said, dark eyebrows arched. ‘Aren’t you curious?’

  ‘Nervous, more like. Suspicious.’

  ‘Suspicious! I’ve always treated you fairly, Daisy.’

  I could hardly argue with that. A million euros was hardly unfair. And yet at the same time, I knew Matteo had had all the power, all the time, and that seemed unfair. I was at his mercy, whether I wanted to be or not…and I was afraid we both knew it. He certainly did.

  ‘Why don’t you just tell me what you want?’ I said, trying to sound briskly practical and most likely failing. ‘Then we’ll go from there.’ Or not.

  ‘Very well.’

  Matteo put down his coffee cup and leaned forward, his look of intent both purposeful and predatory. I tried not to shrink back. Tried not to remember how persuasive his kiss had been, his hands… No, I most certainly did not want to think about that right now.

  ‘I’ve decided I wish to make our marriage…real.’

  ‘Real…?’ I repeated dumbly. Surely he couldn’t mean what my mind had foolishly leapt to because of that awful, amazing kiss? ‘Our marriage is pretty real, Matteo. Signed and everything.’ I laughed weakly.

  ‘No, glykia mou, it is not. Most definitely not. But it will be.’

  His teeth gleamed as he smiled and I simply stared. ‘What does glykia mou mean?’ I asked after a moment, because I couldn’t process anything else about his statement just yet. After three years on Amanos, I could speak some Greek but that phrase escaped me.

  Matteo’s smile widened. ‘My sweet.’

  As if I was anything of the sort. I shook my head, putting my plate and cup down, my appetite vanished. If he meant what I thought he meant, there was no way I could agree. No way I could let myself even consider it—because after that kiss, part of me was dangerously tempted.

  ‘However “real” you want to make this marriage, Matteo, I’m not interested.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Yes, very sure.’ I stood up, clutching the dressing gown around me. ‘I never should have come here. I was very happy with the way things were. Are.’

  Matteo cocked his head, his gaze sweeping slowly and thoroughly over me. ‘Were you really, Daisy? Because I don’t think you would have gone to such lengths to find me if you were.’

  I opened my mouth to say something but no words came. He was right, of course. The desire, the need for a husband and family of my own, was as strong as ever—but it was one I’d just have to live with. I’d lived with it this long already, and who knew? Maybe one day I would find that Mr Right Matteo had scoffed about, even if in my leaden heart I doubted he existed.

  Even so, Matteo Dias was too dangerous for me to tangle with any more than I already had. He was especially dangerous when he wanted something, and I realised right then how lucky I’d been, how safe, when Matteo hadn’t been thinking about me at all.

  ‘You grew up with your grandmother, did you not?’ he remarked suddenly, and my mouth opened again—this time in shock.

  Speechless, I stared at him. ‘How did you know that?’ I finally managed.

  ‘I did a bit of research last night.’

  ‘Now who’s stalking?’

  He shrugged. ‘It is always useful to be informed.’

  For what reason? And why on earth had he changed his mind about all this? I was afraid to ask, to know.

  ‘Yes, I grew up with my grandmother,’ I told him shortly. ‘My mother died in a car accident when I was a baby and my father was never around.’

  ‘So you’ve never had any real family?’

  His assessment was brutally to the point. ‘My grandmother was my family,’ I protested, although I wasn’t sure why.

  My granny had done her duty, but it had not been tempered with much love. She’d been tired, broke, worn out from working her fingers to the bone cleaning other people’s houses. I could hardly blame her for not wanting to take on a baby at her age, or for not having enough room in her heart to love me the way I’d ached to be loved.

  ‘But not much family,’ Matteo said quietly, watching me. ‘Not the kind of family you really want, I think, because that’s what has motivated you to find me, isn’t it? Not so much wanting Mr Right as being Mrs Right? The mother.’

  I gaped at him, shocked at how he’d cut to the heart of it. Of me. How had he discovered so much, so quickly? And not just the bare facts of my upbringing, which I supposed were easy enough to dig up, but the desires of my heart that I’d spoken of to no one. It unsettled me and touched me in equal measure that he saw those. That he seemed to understand them. And I knew the latter reaction was far more dangerous than the former.

  ‘So what are you suggesting?’ I asked hoarsely.

  I couldn’t make myself say the words, but Matteo said them for me.

  ‘We’ll have a family together,’ he said. ‘A real family, and a real marriage.’ His smile widened as he held my gaze. ‘We’ll both get what we want.’

  Daisy stared at me, her face draining of colour, her body lost in that enormous robe. I waited, sure she’d see the sense in my plan. How could she not?

  I’d spent most of the night considering it in all its detail, as well as considering any potential objections Daisy might have—all of which seemed negligible. She wanted a family, a baby, and she would get one. And I would get what I wanted…an heir and an end to this restless ache. My convenient wife made just a little bit more convenient.

  ‘Well?’ I asked when she simply stared at me, her face very pale. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘What do I think?’ she repeated, the last word ending in a yelp. ‘I think you’re crazy, Matteo Dias. And I think I will respectfully and firmly decline your offer of a real marriage, thanks anyway.’

  With that she whirled around and stalked back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  That was unexpected. I sat there for a moment, sifting through her words in my mind, trying to discern what was really bothering her. Daisy wanted a baby, she’d already reconsidered the annulment, and she was most certainly attracted to me—something I would happily prove to her again, and with ease. What on earth could her objection be?

  Fighting irritation at her theatrics, I stood up and strode to the door, annoyed to find it locked.

  ‘Open up, Daisy. We’re not finished with our discussion.’

  ‘We most certainly are,’ she snapped back, ‘and, anyway, I’m getting dressed.’

  I folded my arms, tapping my foot as I counted to one hundred for form’s sake. ‘You must be dressed by now.’

  ‘You’re right—I am.’

  She flung the door open and I blinked at her. She was dressed in faded jeans and a loose top that somehow made her look even more appealing, the clothes merely hinting at her lovely figure rather than highlighting it. Why had I never noticed how delicious she was, her curves in perfect proportion to the rest of her? Or that she had pale golden freckles across her nose and shoulders, like a spattering of gold dust, that matched the topaz of her eyes? Eyes, I saw now, that were glittering with both hurt and fury.

  ‘Why are you so angry?’ I asked, keeping my voice deliberately mild. ‘I thought you would be pleased.’

  ‘Pleased!’ She choked the word out. ‘Only you, Matteo, could ever think such a thing. You are so seriously deluded it’s almost funny—except, of course, it’s not. It’s not funny at all.’

  She shouldered her way past me as I held on to my temper with effort. ‘I assure you, I am not deluded. My plan makes complete and utter sense, and I expect you will see that once you put this unwarranted emotional reaction aside.’

  ‘And yo
u’re doing a really good job of convincing me.’ She shook her head in disbelief as she moved past me.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I demanded, for she had a bag over one shoulder and was now shoving her feet into sandals.

  ‘Back to Amanos.’

  Fury bit deeper. This was most vexing. I’d expected her to be surprised, perhaps a bit taken aback, but not so scathingly incredulous and, worse, dismissive. No one dismissed me. Not any more.

  ‘Not until we’ve finished our discussion,’ I barked, but she didn’t even look at me as she responded.

  ‘We’ve finished it. I’m not making this marriage any more real than it already is.’

  She turned to me, her expression fierce, and everything about her was vibrant and glittering.

  ‘And if you want to annul the marriage instead, that will be fine by me. Go ahead. Make my day. Like I said, I’ll give you the money back—every last euro.’

  I stared at her, unimpressed by her display of histrionics, although I suspected in that moment she meant it. Clearly she needed to see sense. ‘I have to say you’re reacting very emotionally to what is an eminently sensible idea.’

  Daisy threw her head back and laughed once—a wild, ragged sound that slipped under my sensibilities and touched me somehow.

  ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head right there.’

  It took me a few crucial seconds to decipher her meaning. ‘You dislike how sensible I’m being about marriage?’

  ‘About a real marriage.’

  She dropped her bag to level me with a look that felt bleak and powerful in its honesty, like a fist to the gut. I did my best to remain unmoved.

  ‘I can just about live with myself, Matteo, for marrying you for convenience and money, even though it felt wrong. I was at such a low point when you asked me, with no friends, no money, nowhere to go and, worse, no hope. You were like a knight, riding in on your white charger, rescuing me. But you’re not a knight, and I don’t need to be rescued any more. I certainly don’t need your version of a “real” marriage and family, whatever you think that looks like—because I assure you it is not the same as the way I see it.’