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

  ‘How can you possibly know that?’ I demanded. I disliked the way she was twisting events—as if I’d somehow exploited her, when we both knew she’d been given a very good deal.

  ‘You’ve said enough to make me perfectly aware.’

  ‘I’ve barely said anything,’ I retorted, my temper rising and breaking through. ‘You haven’t listened.’

  ‘I’ve heard enough.’

  ‘Enough to presume you know what a real marriage between us would look like?’ I countered. ‘Why don’t you enlighten me, then?’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t think you even know what a real marriage is.’

  That stung more than it should. ‘And you do?’

  ‘Not from personal experience, obviously, but I know that when and if I do marry—really marry—I’ll do so for love.’

  She made a face, as if she anticipated my reaction.

  ‘I’m not pretending I know Mr Right is out there waiting for me, but I still hope one day after our marriage is annulled that I’ll find him. Because the truth is…’ Her voice turned jagged and she took a deep breath to compose herself. ‘The truth is,’ she resumed, ‘I want more than what you can offer me—and I’m not talking about some more stupid euros, or even the baby you’ve guessed I want so much. I want to love someone and be loved, Matteo.’

  I must have grimaced without realising it, because she laughed and nodded.

  ‘Yes, I’m quite sure that horrifies you. Don’t worry—I get that. Your lifestyle has made that abundantly clear. But I’m different from you and I want to know what love feels like, because I never have, and I’m quite sure those concepts are not part of the scenario you’re suggesting.’

  I kept my expression composed, although her words had rocketed through me. Love. I’d assumed—erroneously, it seemed—that a woman who had agreed to a convenient marriage, who had lived it out for three years, accepting an outrageous sum of money as her due, would not be so deluded by the whole illusion and mockery of love. Clearly I would have to disabuse her of the notion.

  ‘So you are refusing my proposal out of hand simply because of a misguided belief you have in the idea of love,’ I stated.

  Daisy let out another one of those disconcertingly wild laughs. ‘You’ve got it in one. Although it’s not so much a proposal as a proposition, is it? Since I’ve already accepted your proposal.’

  She shook her head, as if at her own folly, and I decided I’d had enough of her scorn, such as it was.

  ‘I think you’re mistaken, Daisy.’

  ‘And I think you are, so we’re at an impasse.’

  ‘Are we?’ I took a step towards her and watched as her pupils flared. An impasse, indeed. ‘I really don’t think we are.’

  ‘Don’t do that,’ she warned me, her voice wobbling as colour surged into her lovely face.

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘Do what?’

  ‘That…that smoulder. Seriously, I’m warning you.’

  ‘Smoulder?’ I pretended affront. ‘You make me sound like some cartoon character.’

  ‘You can’t convince me, Matteo, no matter what you do.’

  ‘Now, that,’ I murmured, ‘sounds like a challenge…’

  Daisy stood stock-still, her bag at her feet, her eyes wide, everything about her waiting. If she’d really been serious about what she’d said she would have left already. Instead she stood right in front of me, her body trembling like a flower in the wind, and didn’t move at all.

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be a challenge,’ she said, her voice little more than a breathless whisper.

  I had her already and I hadn’t even touched her. The knowledge was intoxicating. Electrifying. Because I wanted her as much as she wanted me. Desire pulsed between us like a live wire, connecting us, drawing us closer with a crackle.

  ‘Matteo…’ She licked her lips and shook her head, but still she didn’t move.

  ‘This feeling between us is unexpected, isn’t it?’ I murmured as I wrapped a tendril of her hair around my finger and pulled ever so gently. ‘I think it’s taken us both by surprise.’

  ‘You don’t…’ she began feebly.

  I tugged a little harder, drawing her towards me. ‘I think you’ll find that I do.’

  Her hips bumped mine and she looked up at me unsteadily. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Because I want to. And because you want me to. Do you deny it?’

  It felt important that she be honest with me, at least in this.

  ‘No,’ she whispered brokenly as her eyes fluttered closed.

  And then I kissed her.

  She tasted just as sweet as she had last night, her mouth opening under mine as her head fell back and I plundered her soft depths. And no matter how much I tasted, I felt only a deeper need for more.

  Her body was soft and pliant under my hands, the dip of her waist fitting my palm so perfectly. I slid my hand under her loose top, felt her skin like silk beneath my questing fingers, the lovely fullness of her breast resting in my palm. She was perfect. Surprising, but perfect.

  ‘Matteo…’

  My name was a moan on her lips and I liked it that way. I liked it very much. I backed her against the door, pressing against her, thrilling to the way one slender leg slipped between mine and hooked around my calf. Now she was the one pulling me closer, and I went gladly. The only problem was the number of clothes we were both still wearing.

  I unsnapped her jeans, my hand sliding towards the silky depths hidden there, and her whole body tensed.

  ‘No, we can’t…’

  ‘We can, I assure you.’

  I kissed her again, to remind her just how much we were both enjoying this, but with what felt like superhuman effort Daisy wrenched herself away.

  ‘No. No, I won’t be had like some—some harlot against a door!’ Tears glittered in her eyes.

  I tamped down on the sexual frustration roaring through me. ‘I think we could have made it to the bed.’

  ‘No, you don’t get it at all.’ She shook her head despairingly. ‘And you never will. Because you—you don’t even understand what a relationship is, Matteo. I’ve read the tabloids—’

  So that was how she’d formed her opinion of me? I suppose I couldn’t expect anything else. It wasn’t as if we knew each other—yet.

  ‘Gossip rags,’ I dismissed. ‘I’d hardly trust them.’

  ‘They report that you’re with a different woman every week.’

  Irritation bit deep, and I masked it with a tone of boredom. ‘Hardly every week. Every other week, perhaps.’

  ‘And now you expect me to believe you want to be married in the—the biblical sense, and stay faithful to one woman? To me?’

  I hesitated for the briefest second—only because I wanted to be sure. I always kept my promises. But it was enough to have her grabbing for her bag and reaching for the door.

  ‘Never mind. That’s answer enough. I don’t know why you’ve changed your mind, or why you think having a real marriage—which it wouldn’t be—is a good idea. Perhaps you like a challenge.’ She shook her head. ‘Or perhaps I’m a novelty. But I do know this. A marriage like you’re suggesting would be a disaster for both of us.’

  ‘You don’t even know what I’m suggesting,’ I snapped. I’d had quite enough of her sweeping statements.

  ‘And I don’t want to find out,’ she retorted.

  And then she wrenched open the door and was gone.

  I stood there for a moment, breathing hard, my blood firing through me. Perhaps we wouldn’t have made it to the bed. But one thing I knew with complete certainty—this wasn’t over yet. In fact, it was just beginning.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘DAISY, ARE YOU LISTENING?’

  Maria’s voice was playfully exasperated as I tried to refocus on the accounts in front of
me.

  ‘Yes, yes—sygnomi. I’m a bit distracted, that’s all.’ I pulled the ledger towards me, intent on seeming businesslike as usual. ‘We’re well into the black for the first time. That’s a very good thing.’

  ‘Yes, and the demand is now greater than the supply. That is how you say it, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I smiled, thankful yet again that Maria Petrakis spoke English. She’d been my right-hand woman since I’d come to Amanos, and I could not have started Amanos Textiles without her.

  ‘So we need more spinners and weavers?’ I mused.

  Amanos Textiles now employed thirty women to spin the turquoise-coloured cloth particular to the island, thanks to a dye made from local berries, but clearly we needed more.

  The idea had come to me after being on Amanos for a few weeks. I was feeling bored with my sudden and unexpected freedom. I’d worked my whole life—cleaning houses with my grandmother from the time I was eight, and then working after-school jobs through my teens and a stint at a local college in Kentucky. I was so used to hard work I realised I didn’t know how else to be, and idleness started to feel like anathema.

  Besides, after exploring Amanos I’d realised that employment was low and that the blue cloth I saw the women wearing was gorgeous. I didn’t know much about fashion or style, but I’d always known about fabric. My grandmother had taught me to both quilt and sew, and I’d made my own clothes since I was twelve.

  I’d started small, putting some of the money Matteo had deposited into my account into starting up a local business employing women who spun and wove cloth to sell in towns and cities around Greece. I’d invested the rest, as I’d told him, and lived off the interest.

  Maria, who had made my acquaintance early on, when I’d got lost on my way to the island’s only village, had been invaluable, and within a year we had several buyers in Athens who were interested in sustaining a local economy and using the blue cloth for their fashions.

  It had felt good to use some of the money from Matteo for such a purpose, and Maria had handled the buying side of it—which had been mostly done online anyway. In three years I’d never had to leave the island…until I’d gone in search of Matteo.

  Matteo.

  His name sent a ripple of…something…through me. I was afraid it might be longing. For the last week I’d been going over his offer of a real marriage and half wondering why I’d turned it down. Did I really think Mr Right was going to amble along one day? And what about when our marriage was annulled? My life was on Amanos now, wrapped up in this business. I hated the idea of starting over somewhere new, where once again I’d be anonymous and alone.

  I was hardly going to find a husband on Amanos, though, and in any case I was already married.

  ‘Daisy?’ Maria prompted again. ‘Your head is in the sky!’

  ‘You mean the clouds.’ I smiled and sighed. ‘Sorry…just thinking.’

  ‘You have been “just thinking” since you returned from Athens,’ Maria returned shrewdly.

  I hadn’t told her I’d gone looking for Matteo, but I suspected she’d guessed. She knew about the nature of my marriage and had always been pragmatic about it.

  ‘Yes…’ I let out a breath. ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘And what have you been thinking about? Kyrie Dias?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  She shrugged. ‘Who else could it be?’

  No one—because I didn’t know anyone anywhere, and certainly not in Athens. Still, I made a half-hearted attempt to direct her attention elsewhere.

  ‘I could have been meeting our buyers.’

  ‘Then you would have told me.’

  ‘True.’ I drummed my fingers on the table. ‘All right—how about this. We need more spinners and weavers, so what if we start a school for young women? To teach them?’

  Part of the problem on Amanos was that the old ways were dying out, and young people were moving to the cities for work. It was the same story back in Kentucky; hardly anyone knew how to quilt any more. In some ways life on Amanos was a lot like it had been back in Briar Valley, just the language was different.

  ‘Yes, that could be a good idea—and also perhaps expanding to the neighbouring islands? Kallia is not so far away.’

  ‘No, that’s true. That’s a good idea.’

  ‘And now you will tell me about Kyrie Dias?’

  Maria’s eyes glinted, but I shook my head.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  Even if I was starting to regret my impulsive rejection of Matteo’s suggestion. Even if I was doubting that anything better would ever come along.

  ‘I think there is,’ Maria said as she gathered up the accounts. ‘But I will leave you to tell me another day.’

  I smiled at her in gratitude and she waved a farewell before heading back to her home in Holki, the island’s only village.

  Alone, I wandered around the villa I’d called my home for the last three years.

  Matteo had been understating things when he’d said the place was comfortable; it was amazing. Two sprawling floors of white stucco with a red terracotta roof, right on the beach, overlooking the aquamarine waters of the Aegean Sea. I had a bedroom bigger than my apartment back in New York, and the kitchen alone was bigger than my grandmother’s house back in Kentucky. I also had the use of an exercise room, an outdoor infinity pool, and a gorgeous garden bursting with bougainvillea and hyacinths.

  In my time here I’d made only a few changes—I’d added a herb garden outside the kitchen, and personalised the study, making it into the business headquarters of Amanos Textiles.

  The main operation of the company still took place in the women’s homes, which was how I’d wanted it. I remembered my grandmother hemming clothes in the evenings after work to make a few extra dollars, and I knew how important it was that women were able to work as well as look after their families.

  Deciding the best antidote for my restlessness was work, I headed back to the office and pulled up a report on my laptop. One of the women who spun cloth had suggested a new colour for the cloth, a deeper shade of the turquoise, and I had just received a report from a chemist about the possibility of deepening the dye.

  A few minutes later the rat-a-tat whirring of a helicopter hovering nearby startled me out of my studies. Search and rescue helicopters were fairly common to the area, but I’d never heard one so close.

  As I peered out of the picture window of the large lounge my mouth dropped open and my stomach swirled with dread—and more than a little excitement. It wasn’t a search and rescue helicopter. It was a private one, with an A and an E embossed on its side, about to land on the villa’s never-used helipad.

  It was Matteo.

  In three years he’d never come the island. Everyone knew of him, of course, and I’d heard how he’d come in a whirlwind five years ago and bought the place, staying only for a day. Due to his presence on the island—or lack of it—many of the villagers followed him in the news, just as I did, but they’d never seen him.

  And now he was here…for me?

  A thrill ran through me and instinctively I suppressed it. If Matteo suggested his outrageous proposition again I was going to refuse, wasn’t I? Surely that was the sensible, sane thing to do.

  And yet…

  And yet he was here. And that reality undeniably thrilled me.

  I watched, my heart starting to pound, as he emerged from the helicopter and started up the path towards the villa. He strode with purpose, dressed as always in an immaculate three-piece suit, looking polished and diamond-hard. And here I was in a pair of cut-off shorts and a T-shirt stained with blotches of turquoise dye. I was hardly the epitome of a professional woman, but I supposed that was one of the fringe benefits of working in a cottage industry on a remote island.

  I wasn’t prepared for visitors…visitor
s like my husband.

  And right now he was coming through the front door.

  I’d given her a week. A week to wonder, to wish, to regret. And hopefully to see sense. The week apart from my wife had only lent fire to my resolve to make this marriage real. And now I was on Amanos, ready to make it happen.

  I strode through the villa I’d bought five years ago as an investment property, little knowing then how I would need to use it. I didn’t really remember its tastefully bland decoration, but something about it felt subtly different. Enhanced.

  Was it simply Daisy’s presence? Where was she?

  Then she stepped into the centre of the living room, her face pale, her chin tilted. ‘Hello, Matteo.’

  I stopped where I stood, taking her in. Even in a pair of ragged shorts and a stained top she looked eminently desirable. Her legs seemed endless, and the wisps of hair escaping her ponytail framed a face that was heart-stopping in its pure loveliness.

  How had I not seen her beauty before? Not recognised it on that rainy street in Manhattan? Perhaps I’d become hardened to it, because I was so used to the polished, brittle glamour of the women I usually consorted with. Now that kind of calculated beauty’s finish had cracked, and I’d seen the ugliness underneath. Daisy, on the other hand, seemed fresh. Pure and uncomplicated…unlike our marriage.

  But that was all about to change.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked unsteadily.

  ‘I want you to reconsider my proposal.’

  ‘That’s right to the point.’

  ‘I don’t see any need to dissemble.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  She gave a small smile, which heartened and even moved me—perhaps more than it should.

  ‘One thing I like about you, Matteo. You’re honest.’

  The last was said on a sigh, but still… At least she liked something.

  ‘That’s enough to build a marriage on, don’t you think?’ I returned lightly.

  I glanced around the room, taking in a few throw cushions in vivid turquoise, but otherwise the place seemed unchanged. So she hadn’t redecorated ten times, or even once. What had she spent my money on, then?