A Deal To Carry The Italian's Heir (The Scandalous Brunetti Brothers Book 2)

by Tara Pammi

  She was wearing a blouse with a long shawl draped over it and a billowing skirt underneath—all in the same cream and gold silky, flowing material that made her look like some beautiful princess stepping out of a fairy tale.

  Large earrings with a cluster of pearls bobbed when she moved her head. A black dot took the pride of place between her eyebrows, and her eyes, lined with kohl, were huge in her face.

  Her mouth was painted a light pink shade that reminded him of those decadent, pink confections she had once asked him to taste-test when he’d found her in the industrial kitchen at one of So Sweet Inc.’s branch of bakeries. The bracelets she wore on each arm shimmered gold.

  She stilled, her gaze running over him like a physical caress, a warmth in her eyes that he couldn’t help but bask in. “Will I do?” she said, reminding him of his pithy text that she should dress up.

  He nodded, something primal and possessive rising inside him.

  “Will you tell me the surprise now?” she asked, her hand reaching his hair and pushing away at a lock. And, just as fast, snatching it away. The subtle scent of vanilla and something sweet filled his breath, his body desperate for more.

  He pulled the tickets out of the inside pocket of his jacket and waved them in front of her. “We’re going to a tabla concert, although I’m not sure if ‘concert’ is the right word? By your favorite maestro.”

  “My God, Ustaad Atif Hussain? That’s why you asked me to dress in traditional clothes.” Her eyes widened as she grabbed the tickets from him and scanned them. She vibrated with excitement. “I was too late to get tickets for it. Wait! It’s a super-exclusive invite-only event because Ustaadji doesn’t perform for crowds. He’s supposed to be super-private... How did you...? I can’t believe you remembered how much I adore his music.”

  “You told me once you’d always dreamed of taking your papa to see him. That he and you used to spend hours in the bakery working with the tabla records on in the background.”

  Tears filled Neha’s eyes. “I never got a chance to bring Papa to see him.” She lifted those beautiful eyes to his, and a tightness filled his chest at the emotion in them. He grunted when she threw herself at him and hugged him with all the strength she had in her. He laughed when she kissed his face, sputtering thank-yous in between, with all the enthusiasm of the younger Neha who had stormed into his life one summer.

  She pulled away suddenly and stared at him. “Why did you do this?”

  Leo didn’t hesitate. “I know how upset you were that your mum canceled the whole thing you do for your father’s birthday. I know how hard this is hitting you. And it’s kind of my fault.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Mario knows about your retirement plans. I knew he was going to come hard at you. I just...”

  “You just didn’t expect that she’d break such an important tradition at his behest? Neither did I. But there it is.”

  Leo clasped her chin, guilt coursing through him. “I’m sorry I went off script, cara.”

  She clamped her fingers on his wrist, sinking into his touch. “No, this was going to happen, anyway, remember? But I’m not alone to deal with it, at the least.”

  “No, you’re not.” The ache in her eyes was like a fist to his gut. Ache he still felt responsible for. “I thought this would be a perfect way to pay a tribute to your father’s birthday...maybe even become a new ritual?”

  She nodded, something flashing in her eyes he couldn’t recognize. “Time for new things, yeah.” Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath, the tinkle of her bangles a sound he’d never forget. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Just enjoy the evening. Mario and your mother and BFI can all wait for a few hours, sì?” He ran his thumb over her lips, unable to hold back. “After all these years, I thought we deserved a normal date.”

  She nodded, that sparkle back in her eyes. “I’m game. No talk of dysfunctional families or careers or vengeful enemies.” She tucked her arm through his. “But you don’t even know if you like Hindustani music.”

  “If you can sit through the opera when you hate it,” he said, mentioning the time they’d attended the opera at La Scala and she’d barely sat still, “I can sit through this.”

  “Oh, the opera’s got nothing against Ustaadji’s fingers on the tabla,” she said.

  “No worries, bella. I’ll find a way to exact some kind of compensation in return if I do find the maestro boring,” he whispered, and laughed when she instantly got his meaning.

  Suddenly, the evening ahead felt incredibly long when all Leo wanted to do was to bring her upstairs, slip the ring in his jacket on her finger, find that bedroom and claim her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LEONARDO’S PRESENCE STARTED a thrumming in Neha’s veins. He walked around her home—her pride and heart and her first big victory against Mario—stopping here and there to study artwork she’d collected on her international travels.

  She’d been telling herself that the time in the greenhouse couldn’t have been as spectacular as she remembered. That she wasn’t that wide-eyed teenager who still nurtured a fragile hope that Leo would want her in his life. But tonight...tonight that hope had come roaring back into life.

  Tonight, all the lines between them were blurred. And she wasn’t even afraid.

  God, he’d been the most amazing companion through the tabla concert, going as far as encouraging her to talk to Ustaadji after. Dinner had been a noisy affair at an outdoor café, and she’d talked and talked about the exquisite music they’d heard. And now...now that he was inside her flat, she had no energy to hold herself aloof. No way to stop what the evening had meant to her, what his actions meant to her, from drowning her in a surfeit of emotions she didn’t know to handle. Even knowing that it was mostly guilt that had motivated him.

  He’d been right when he’d said she’d run away. She had. She’d resolutely buried the longing she’d felt, the insane urge to ask him when she’d see him again on the phone. How was she to fight it now when he was the most perfect man she could’ve asked for?

  While he looked at the gallery wall she’d decorated with a number of pictures of her and her parents through the years, she stole the time to study him to her heart’s content.

  He’d shrugged off the charcoal jacket he’d been wearing, and the very breadth of his shoulders made her palms itch. He was a giant of a man and a primal part of Neha loved that he was so big that he made her feel feminine, fragile, sexy.

  The sky-blue shirt fit his torso perfectly. With no tie and three buttons undone, he looked less the suave businessman and more the rough and tumble gardener who loved getting his hands dirty. Whose fingers had felt so abrasively delicious against her skin.

  She let her gaze traverse to his lean hips and the taut behind. Her fingers curled as the memory of sinking her nails into his buttocks while he’d pumped into her came at her fast.

  He turned at that exact moment. His gaze dipped to her mouth and lingered. Awareness enveloped them in a world of their own, taunting with memories of that night.

  “I’ll change and then we’ll talk. I made a list of things to run by you,” she added, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, “when you said you’d be coming over.”

  “You don’t need a reason to have my company.”

  “Or to simply have you?” she taunted.

  He caught her wrist, arresting her between his legs in a sudden move. A sensual smile curved his lips. “Or to have me, sì.”

  Rough fingers abraded the plump vein at her wrist, pulling her down, down until she rested her hands above his knees. His thighs were rock hard under her fingers. Her hair fell forward on both sides of her face like a shimmering curtain, blocking the world out.

  “I don’t have the emotional energy today to walk away when we’re done,” she said, offering them both an out before she gave in.


  “I never asked you to, cara.” Each word pelted her skin like a caress, drawing a shuddering response. This close to him, she could see the lines carved into his rugged face, feel the heat radiating from his powerful body. “You’re so busy acting how you think I want you to act that you’re depriving us both of what we really want.”

  She gasped as he held the dupatta in one hand and pulled sharply. It fell away with a silky hiss, leaving the deep neckline of the blouse and, with it, her cleavage exposed. Dark eyes tracked the rise and fall of her flesh like a hungry hawk. His fingers landed on the patch of bare skin between her blouse and the skirt, and she had to fight to not sink into his touch.

  His mouth covered hers, swallowing away her confusion and vulnerability and in turn giving her pleasure and joy and warmth. In the beat of a harshly drawn breath, she was in Leo’s lap, her legs draped over his, her flowing skirt and all, and his mouth continued to devour hers. Neha sank her fingers into his hair, loving the rough texture of his hair. Soft and firm, his lips laved and licked, his tongue teasing her into such erotic play that she writhed in his lap. He gave her everything she wanted without being asked for it.

  It felt like heaven. Like coming home. Like a safe place to land. After that first demanding taste of her mouth, he groaned against her quivering lips. “That’s all I’ve wanted to do for days now.”

  He explored her mouth softly, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world to learn her anew, as if he was determined to know more of her than anyone ever had. His fingers held her with infinite gentleness, his body a haven of warmth she didn’t want to leave.

  There was already a sense of familiarity in how they melded their mouths, in the pull and push of their lips and breaths, and yet there was that thrill making her blood rush, her nipples knot, her body melt with each increasingly clever touch of his.

  His long fingers left striations of heat on her belly and back, inching up and up under the loose blouse. His hands busily roamed her torso, plumping and squeezing, stroking and pinching. The pad of his thumb unerringly found the tight knot of her nipple and Neha arched into his touch.

  She palmed his shoulders with her fingers, exploring every tense muscle in his neck and shoulders and back, while he ravished all her senses. With him so solid in her hands, it was hard to fear the future. So deliciously demanding against her mouth, hard to stay rational, sensible.

  She was falling, falling, and yet didn’t care about anything but the thrill of his hot mouth and roving hands and warm body.

  His large hands encircled her waist, pulling her closer and closer, his desire a hot, hard throb against her hip. All Neha had to do was undo the zipper on her lehenga and slide it off her legs, and straddle him until her warm core was notched against that hardness. The world disappeared when he was inside her. She could escape the pain of the increasing rift between her mum and her; she could escape the seesaw of her own emotions when it came to this man.

  But when it was done, he would leave and...tonight, she felt too raw to face the rest of the night alone. Lord above, please help her that she’d already conceived, and these were hormones taking over her body and not something else. How many months of this could she take if they didn’t conceive immediately?

  Would she be able to keep her emotions separate from her desires when it was Leonardo? It was such a scary thought that she pulled her mouth away from his. She buried her face in his neck, willing her breath to even out. Every inch of her shivered with longing and something else she didn’t want to identify. “I’m afraid this is getting too hard,” she said, opting for honesty. She could never play coy or tease, especially not with Leo.

  “What is?”

  “This...you and me.” She tugged her gaze to his face and felt a tug in her chest that had nothing to do with attraction and desire or dreams she was determined to realize. This was all about the young man she’d adored once and the perfect man she admired so much today. This was about wanting so much more than what she already had. Of him.

  His fingers played on her cheek. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

  “You’ll think I’m changing the rules on you.”

  “Because you want me for more than one stolen night in a greenhouse?”

  “I don’t know what I want anymore. Or how much. That’s what’s scary.”

  His fingers clasped her cheek gently. “This was never going to stop only at sex and conception, bella,” he said, shocking her with his perceptiveness, the scent and feel of him a warm anchor in the maelstrom of her emotions. “We’ve known each other for years and it could never be just that, sì? I don’t think we established rules in the first place, tesoro. Not for any of this. So how about we address it now?”

  Neha nodded, her eyes still closed, a rush of warmth filling every inch of her. God, how did he know to say the exact thing she needed to hear?

  He crossed his legs with a grimace, and she laughed. A wicked hunger shone in his eyes, making promises that didn’t need words. “I have the perfect solution for our situation, but first, let’s talk about Mario. That should cool me down like nothing else.”

  She studied her hands, willing the shaking that began deep in her soul to subside. “I didn’t think Mum would cancel our day together for Papa’s memorial. When I called, she wouldn’t even come to the phone. He’s completely cutting me out of her life and there’s nothing I can do.”

  His fingers squeezed her shoulder. “Mario’s every bit the monster you said he is. I’m sorry for doubting your fears for even a moment.”

  She frowned, something in his tone tugging at her. “What did he say?”

  “A lot of posturing...but the most important thing was that you had an anxiety attack when you were in China. Why didn’t you tell me, Neha?”

  “I told you everything but about the attack. And it was a full-blown panic attack actually, the one when I was traveling. It scared the hell out of me, but it was the kick I needed to make much needed changes. I promise, Leo, my health—physical and mental—is my top priority. I wouldn’t put our child in harm’s way.”

  “I never doubted that.” He squeezed her fingers and Neha had to swallow the lump in her throat. “Have you spoken of it to anyone? Your mum?”

  “No. I... There was something to deal with when I came back and—”

  “You’re struggling with a very serious problem and you hadn’t felt like you could confide in her?” He nudged her in that infinitely patient tone.

  Neha sat back in the sofa, a tremble in her very limbs. As if a truth she’d been trying to escape hit her in the face.

  There was no excuse that she could offer that answered his softly spoken question.

  He was right. She should’ve been able to confide in her mum, draw on her support. She’d been close to falling apart, and still, she’d had to make allowances for her mum, instead of the other way around. That the attacks could be used by Mario as some sort of weapon meant she’d had to hide it from her parent.

  Her chest tightened at the pain of that final thread breaking in her heart. She couldn’t fool herself that if just given a little more time, her mum would do the right thing.

  Her mum might never do the right thing by Neha.

  “New things don’t grow unless everything that is dead is pulled away at the roots, sì?”

  Neha flinched, an ache that had been building for years and years settling like an unbearable weight on her chest. “She’s hurting me with all this, yes, but she does love me. Neither can I stop loving her, Leo. Love can’t be calculated like a transaction.”

  “Tell me this, bella. If you had any inkling that our child was struggling with something like this, for instance, what would you do?”

  “I’d fight the entire world to protect her or him. I’d take on anyone. Even you.” The fierce quality of her answer was inescapable.

  “Tell me what the doctor sai
d.”

  “That it was chronic fatigue. I know the signs of an impending attack now and I’ve been trying really hard to avoid the triggers. But it’s not going away until I fix the root of the problem. I work eighty to ninety hours a week doing things I have no interest in. I have no life outside of work, no companions, no friends.”

  “Which is why you want to retire,” Leo said, concern in his eyes.

  Neha hadn’t cried even when she thought an attack had been impending, but hot tears filled her eyes now. And crashed down her cheeks, her control in shreds.

  She turned away from him, embarrassed beyond measure, but he arrested her, his arms like steel bars around her, crooning to her as if she were a fragile thing. Whispering to her that she’d never be alone again. That he’d always be there to catch her if she fell. That she was the most beautiful, most courageous woman he’d ever known.

  God, she should’ve had this with her mum. This outlet to let all her fears out, to sob through the crippling fear, to have the plain comfort of another person’s touch...there was nothing to be gained in hanging on to a relationship that only brought grief. “You’re right. I need to let her go. But I can’t do it overnight. I...just can’t.”

  “I know, cara.” Arms tightening around her, his mouth warm against her temple, Leo just held her for a long time, his body a haven of tenderness. “Describe the attack to me.”

  She took the rope he threw her with overflowing gratitude. Words came so easily then, piling on top of each other, as if they’d been waiting to be let out.

  “I’d been working without a break for months. We were shooting a segment for my guest appearance in between my tour in Beijing. I’d barely eaten and I still hadn’t adjusted to the jet lag. When the lights came on, I froze for a few minutes. I...had no idea where I was or what I was doing. I could hear people calling my name, but it was like I was in a separate world.

  “It felt like someone was cutting off my breath. I fell to my knees and stayed on the floor until it passed. I... It was exactly the wake-up call I needed.”