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

  ‘Why don’t you give me a tour?’ I suggested.

  ‘Of your own house?’

  ‘You’ve been living here and I never have. I’d like to see what you’ve done with it.’

  ‘Nothing, really.’

  But her gaze slid away from mine. She almost looked guilty, and a new wariness stole through me. What was she hiding? She’d said she could pay me back, but her bank account was nearly empty, no matter what she’d said about investments.

  Before I outlined the terms of my new proposal, perhaps I should discover just how my possibly errant wife had been spending so much money.

  ‘Still,’ I said, a bit more firmly, ‘I’d like a tour.’

  She shrugged and moved towards the kitchen. ‘You know the place as well as I do.’

  ‘Not really. I only visited it once, for a day.’

  I glanced into the kitchen, which looked homelier than I remembered, with some colourful pottery scattered around and pots of herbs and flowers on the windowsill.

  Daisy glanced at me uncertainly before moving on, through the other rooms downstairs—the dining room, the media room, the library. Everything looked more or less as I remembered.

  ‘And upstairs?’ she said, moving towards the stairs.

  I followed her, wondering if I’d find dozens of haute couture gowns in her closet. It seemed unlikely, but I’d seen nothing else on the property that she could have spent her money on, and I’d already checked with my sources to see if any investment accounts had been opened in her name. There hadn’t been.

  I glanced into five pristine and bland bedrooms, uninterested, before Daisy hesitated in front of the master bedroom. My interest was piqued and my blood heated. I could picture us both on that king-sized bed, sprawled and tangled. I could picture it perfectly. And judging from the flush on Daisy’s face, she could, as well.

  ‘Shall we…?’ I murmured, and wordlessly she nodded and stepped inside.

  The room was vast, with a huge picture window overlooking the beach, and the sea sparkling in the distance like a jewel. But the bed was the true centrepiece, canopied and on its own dais, made for romance. For sex. We both stared at it for a long, prickling moment and images danced through my mind. My palms itched to reach for her and draw her towards that soft expanse piled high with pillows in vivid shades of blue.

  Abruptly Daisy turned away. ‘And the bathroom,’ she muttered, nodding towards an en suite bathroom decorated in black-and-white marble, its sunken whirlpool tub and double shower causing me to envisage other, just as delectable scenarios.

  The bed, the bath, even on the floor… I could picture us everywhere.

  ‘Very nice,’ I murmured, and when I glanced at Daisy I saw she was nibbling at her lip, her cheeks as bright as roses. Was she thinking the same as me, or was she nervous for another reason? I still hadn’t figured out where the money had gone, or if she still had it as she claimed, and now I was more than curious. I needed to know.

  ‘There. That’s the tour.’

  She started walking down the hallway, looking and sounding unaccountably nervous. I walked slowly after her, processing all I’d seen…and hadn’t seen.

  What has she done with that money?

  Then, as we came downstairs, I noticed a room off the front hall that she had not chosen to go into. The study, if I remembered correctly.

  ‘What about that room?’

  ‘Oh, it’s a mess…’

  ‘A mess?’ My eyes narrowed as I took in her definite jitters. ‘What are you hiding from me, Daisy? How have you spent my money?’

  Her jaw dropped and her eyes blazed gold fire. ‘Is that what this little tour has been about? You’re trying to figure out how I’ve spent “your” money—which, I’ll remind you yet again, is actually mine, as per our agreement. Besides, I told you I could pay it back.’

  ‘I don’t know whether to believe you.’

  ‘What—’

  ‘No investments have been made in your name—either Daisy Campbell or Dias.’

  ‘Seriously? You think I lied? How stupid do you think I am?’

  I didn’t answer as I strode towards the door and pushed it open. With a sigh, Daisy followed me.

  It took me a few seconds to assimilate what I saw and then to make sense of it. The room was clearly in use. The laptop on the desk was open and surrounded by papers. A noticeboard on the wall was covered in messages and schedules and lists. Swathes of fabric in the same shade of blue I’d seen around the house were draped over various surfaces, and above the window there was a sign wrought out of wicker: Amanos Textiles.

  I turned to Daisy. ‘What is this?’

  ‘My office.’ She looked at me mutinously.

  ‘Yes, I can see that—but I didn’t think you worked.’

  ‘Well, I do.’

  Why was she being so recalcitrant? ‘What is Amanos Textiles, Daisy?’

  ‘My company.’

  I stared at her, incredulous. ‘Your company?’

  ‘Yes—and the investments I’ve made are in its name, Smarty Pants.’

  ‘I…’

  For once I was truly speechless. I couldn’t believe she’d just called me Smarty Pants, and neither could I believe that she’d started her own business. She had never said a word about it. I hadn’t the faintest clue—and, I realised, I hadn’t actually thought her capable of starting her own company, if that was in fact what she’d done.

  ‘Your company?’ I repeated, and she heard the scepticism in my voice.

  ‘Yes, my company. When I arrived in Amanos I noticed the women wore a lovely blue cloth, and I discovered they weave it here, using a dye made from a plant native to the island. I decided it was marketable, and I set up a company to sell the cloth to manufacturers throughout Greece.’

  ‘You did?’ I was even more shocked. ‘This is what you used my money for?’

  ‘My money—and, yes. I used two hundred thousand to buy proper equipment, looms and vats for the dye, and also to set up the website and hire someone to help. Maria,’ she explained. ‘She does a lot of the admin, and as a native Greek speaker she has become my right-hand woman. She helped win my first clients. The rest of the money I invested in the company’s name and put the interest back into it. We started turning a profit just over a year ago.’

  I shook my head slowly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’

  ‘When would I have told you?’ she fired back. ‘When we were having one of our regular chats?’

  ‘Is this why you’ve seemed so nervous? You didn’t want to tell me?’

  She looked down, a lock of her hair falling forward to hide her face. ‘I thought you might be cross.’

  ‘Cross?’ I was baffled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you like to be in control, Matteo. Why else would you have me waiting out our marriage on this island? I thought you might resent the fact that I wasn’t just sitting here, waiting.’

  I tried for a laugh to mask my sudden and surprising hurt. ‘You make me sound like some sort of monster.’

  ‘No, just a control freak.’ She sighed. ‘But the truth is I didn’t know how you’d react because I don’t actually know you.’

  Which provided my perfect opening. ‘Then let’s change that,’ I said with a determined smile. ‘Starting now.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE WASN’T ANGRY. Even as relief pulsed through me I wondered what I’d been so afraid of. Why should Matteo be angry that I had started my own business—admittedly in his house, and with the money he’d given me? Still, as I’d told him, it was my money. My life. And now that my nerves had passed I realised I was proud of all I’d achieved, and pleased that Matteo knew about it.

  Why I should be pleased, I didn’t like to think about. It implied that I cared about his opinion, and I knew I shouldn’t. Not if I wanted to keep
my distance, which had been my first resolve. Now, with Matteo smiling at me, his expression managing to be both easy and determined, I didn’t know what I felt.

  ‘You want to get to know me?’ I said uncertainly. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. Is that so hard to imagine?’

  ‘Frankly, yes. Your…transactions with women have not been characterised by your getting to know them, at least in anything other than the physical sense.’

  ‘But we’re married,’ he pointed out. ‘And we’re going to have a baby together. It’s different.’

  ‘We are not going to have a baby together,’ I retorted.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at the arrogance of the man. Even now, after I’d refused him in no uncertain terms, he was completely confident of winning me round. And the trouble was I knew he might.

  ‘For now, why don’t we just have a conversation? Spend the afternoon together and see where it leads?’

  He raised his eyebrows expectantly and I did my best not to read innuendo into those words. Not to imagine that big bed upstairs with the two of us in it.

  ‘Fine,’ I said, knowing I sounded ungracious. ‘Since you came all this way.’

  ‘Why don’t you show me the village? I don’t think I’ve actually seen it before.’

  ‘All right.’

  Against my better judgement I found myself warming to the idea. I could show Matteo the warehouse where we stored the finished fabrics, and the building where we kept the dye vats. I realised I was looking forward to showing him that I wasn’t the pathetic, washed-up waitress with no sense of style or sense that he’d assumed I was. I might not have oodles of confidence when it came to high society or city life, but here on Amanos I knew who I was. Because it was here that I’d found myself.

  ‘Let me just change,’ I said, and Matteo inclined his head.

  ‘I will, as well. I imagine things are casual on the island.’

  Upstairs, anticipation fizzed through my stomach along with nerves as I flipped through my limited wardrobe, looking for…what? A cute sundress that managed to be both sexy and demure? Something to show Matteo I was a woman with appeal and beauty?

  I let out a huff of humourless laughter. I didn’t have anything like that in my wardrobe of mostly shorts, jeans, T-shirts and hoodies—and, anyway, I didn’t want to doll myself up for Matteo’s sake. The only reason he was interested in me was because I was a challenge.

  At least that was what I’d told myself over the last week, when I’d been obsessing about his proposition.

  I settled on a pair of capris with a loose top in the turquoise linen of Amanos Textiles. Hardly sexy stuff, but I looked nice enough.

  Matteo, as usual, looked almost unbearably attractive. Whether he was in a tuxedo, a suit, or, as now, a pair of dark trousers and a grey polo shirt that brought out the vivid colour of his eyes, he was devastating. He devastated me.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said, trying to keep my voice light, trying not to react to the way Matteo’s gaze seemed to burn my skin as he looked at me.

  My every nerve ending felt as if it were tingling to life as we strolled the half-mile down the rock-strewn dirt road that led to Holki.

  ‘Why did you buy this place if you were never going to visit?’ I asked as we walked along.

  ‘It was meant to be an investment, but in the end it suited my purposes admirably.’ He shot me a gleaming glance, all eyes and teeth. ‘You’ve been happy here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It had been a haven when I needed one, and starting Amanos Textiles had been the purpose I’d longed for. I suppose, in a somewhat roundabout way, Matteo had been responsible for both, and the realisation humbled me. Since confronting him in Athens I’d been so focused on his haughty manner, his displeasure in having me disrupt his rules, that I’d forgotten just how much he’d done.

  ‘Thank you,’ I added abruptly.

  Matteo raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re thanking me? How novel.’

  ‘I know…I know.’ Impulsively, I punched his arm, laughing a little. ‘I’m sorry. You have been very kind in providing me with so much—a home, the means to start my own business… Since seeing you face-to-face, I haven’t always seemed grateful.’

  ‘Why is that, do you suppose?’

  ‘Because you can be an arrogant so-and-so.’

  I could hardly believe we were talking and teasing like this, but it felt nice. My heart was light.

  ‘It’s not arrogance when I’m right.’

  ‘Of course not.’ I shook my head. ‘I’d expect no less from you.’

  ‘At least you expect something from me.’

  The import of his words had me blushing. What was he saying, really? That we had the start of something?

  I looked away, keeping my gaze on the shimmering, tranquil waters of the sea in the distance. Already I was feeling out of my depth. A few moments of light-hearted conversation was making my heart do cartwheels. Really, I needed to calm down. What was it about Matteo Dias that made my head both empty and spin?

  The answer was everything.

  Daisy was surprising me at every turn, and I found I quite liked it. I was still amazed that she’d built her own business from nothing, and I was looking forward to seeing the extent of the operation. I was also looking forward to spending time with her, which was novel. The time I spent with women was almost always in bed.

  Yet here we were, Daisy and I—my wife and I—strolling along a sunny road. I glanced at her, noting the way the loose top skimmed her curves, the capris emphasised her slender legs. Her hair was loose about her shoulders in soft, golden-brown waves. I imagined if I kissed her right now she’d taste like sunshine.

  But I had to stop thinking that way. Today’s little jaunt, pleasant as it was, had a purpose—and that was to prove to my bride that she belonged to me. I would not let myself forget that for a moment.

  ‘So what are the top ten sights of Holki?’ I asked as the village with its whitewashed buildings and narrow, cobbled streets came into view.

  Daisy threw me a laughing glance. ‘I’m not sure there’s ten total, never mind at the top.’

  ‘Tell me what I should see first.’ I flung my arms wide, enjoying the novelty of a sunny afternoon spent with a beautiful woman, and not in bed.

  ‘Well…’ Daisy ducked her head before giving me a shy glance. ‘We could visit the workroom and the dyeing areas for Amanos Textiles.’

  ‘You have a workshop? Let’s see it, then.’

  Over the next few hours my amazement at and my admiration for my wife increased more and more. We toured the workshop—a converted barn that was bright and airy inside, filled with reams of the distinctive blue cloth as well as several industrial-sized tables where women were busy working.

  Their eyes rounded when they caught sight of me, but they were happy for me to see their work. And I was happy to see it too, as well as to listen to Daisy’s at first halting and then more confident explanations.

  ‘The women weave the cloth in their homes, because I think it’s important that they’re able to work from home, where they can still supervise their children, but we dye it in a separate space—because of the mess and the smell—and then finish it off here because we need the space to cut it.’

  ‘And what about your buyers? How did you find those?’

  ‘Online, mostly. I started a website and paid for some advertising. Maria approached a few small, independent clothing retailers—ones we knew supported grass-roots enterprises and cottage industries. It took a while—those one million euros certainly helped provide a cushion.’

  ‘And to think I thought you were redecorating or buying clothes.’

  ‘Over a million euros’ worth of clothes?’ she exclaimed, looking laughingly appalled. ‘And yet I wore that wretched red dress to your ball? Credit me with some sen
se, at least.’

  I laughed out loud, enjoying her candid humour even more than the lovely sight of her.

  ‘How did you learn all this?’ I couldn’t help but ask. ‘How did you know what to do?’

  Daisy made a little laughing grimace. ‘I might not have much fashion sense, but I’ve worked with cloth all my life. My grandmother taught me to quilt, and I’ve sewn my own clothes since I was little more than a child.’

  ‘And the business side of things?’

  ‘Maria helped. You’ll have to meet her. And I learned along the way—made a lot of mistakes. It’s still not a very big business, you know. It hardly rivals Arides Enterprises.’

  ‘It’s very impressive.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She smiled and ducked her head, shyly pleased, as we walked out of the workshop into the sunlit square of the village.

  ‘How about lunch?’ I suggested, nodding towards the village’s one café.

  ‘People will talk if they see us together like this,’ she warned.

  I shrugged. ‘I want them to talk.’

  ‘Matteo…’

  ‘I assume everyone already knows we’re married? They will have sussed that out already?’

  ‘Yes, but they also know what kind of marriage it is.’

  For some inexplicable reason that annoyed me. It had been my idea, so I knew my reaction was unreasonable, but it still did.

  ‘Then they’ll know what kind of marriage it is now,’ I said and, taking her hand, I drew her to me and kissed her.

  It was meant to be little more than a buss of the lips, but the first strawberry-sweet taste of her had me plundering her mouth for more. As she had before, she opened her mouth under mine, accepting my kiss and returning it, one hand coming up to grasp at my shirt as desire’s pistons fired through us both.

  In the distance a child laughed, breaking the moment—although only just. Reluctantly I pulled away. Daisy’s lips were swollen, her eyes bright.

  ‘Now they’ll really talk.’