Redemption Of The Untamed Italian (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Clare Connelly

  The tirade left her feeling exhausted. She glared at him, though, needing to get through this, and then once she was alone she’d give into the full force of the tears that were threatening to engulf her. ‘Please leave.’

  ‘I went to Alaska,’ he spoke slowly, as though she hadn’t said anything. ‘And I caught fish and I ran. I ran as though I could escape you, and I never could, because you’re in here.’ He pressed his fingers to his chest. ‘You followed me everywhere I went, and one day I was running, thinking of you, wondering what you were doing—were you thinking of me? Missing me? Did you still love me? Or had that love turned to hate? And I came upon a grizzly bear. At least eight feet tall, dark brown, easily strong enough to snap me in half.’

  Her silence was stony even as her heart was compressing painfully in her chest.

  ‘He was no more than a few feet away and, as he turned to look at me, and I knew I was no match for him—no man could be—I thought that maybe if he were to catch me I would at least be out of my misery. At least I could no longer miss you in a way that was driving me completely insane.’

  Another gasp.

  ‘You were right, Jemima. You were so right about me. At sixteen, I swore I would make a success of myself. The memory of how poor my mother and I were has stalked me all my life, and I have done everything I could to outstrip it, to ensure I don’t get dragged back into that life. For twenty years I have worked almost every day. I have become singularly determined and utterly stupid, all at once. How could I realise the greatest fortune of my life was standing right before me, begging me to see what we were?’

  She squeezed her eyes shut, his words rushing through her.

  ‘I have never propositioned a woman for sex. I have never blackmailed a woman into my bed. And I have spent the last five weeks wondering why the hell I demeaned myself by behaving in such an outrageous way. And, the truth is, I knew from our first meeting that I couldn’t live without you. I didn’t know how to win you over with any certainty, and failure wasn’t an option, so I did what I could.’

  He rounded the kitchen bench, lifting his hands to cup her cheeks. ‘I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know why I felt this way, I didn’t know why a beautiful little bird of a woman had begun to monopolise my every thought and dream. Christo, uccellina, I get it now—I get it. Please fly back into my world.’

  She shook her head, because she didn’t know what she wanted or what she could offer. She just felt completely blindsided.

  ‘I will work, every day, to earn back your trust. I will listen to you next time you try to tell me how I feel. I will do whatever you require of me, but please, do not make me leave now.’

  She lifted her face to his, staring at him with a frown on her face. ‘I only ever wanted one thing from you.’ She spoke quietly, softly. ‘I wanted to love you. It was simple, really.’

  ‘No one’s ever loved me,’ he said. ‘So, to me, it wasn’t simple. It was terrifying.’

  ‘Why?’ She shook her head, still fighting him, fighting this, even when her heart and body wanted her to surrender to what he was offering.

  ‘I have had a long time to think about that, too.’ He moved to her again, and she didn’t step away. ‘My mother almost lost her job because of me. As a child, one day I got into a fight with one of the children she cared for and, when I was disciplined and he was not, I went to the tennis court and I chipped up the grass, right in the middle.’ He winced. ‘I was sent away to boarding school—my mother’s boss pulled some strings and got me a scholarship. I was only a little boy still and the bottom fell out of my world.’

  Jemima sucked in a deep breath of air.

  ‘I was made very aware of the fact that I was there by the good grace of the school. If my grades slipped, even a little, I was out. I didn’t feel I was welcome at the house my mother worked at—I had no home, and no one. And so I devoted myself to my studies. I worked harder than anyone else at school, and have done all my life. And then I poured that into business. It’s driven by a need to succeed, certamente, but more than that it’s a fear I have, deep down, that if I don’t do everything right, everything’s going to fall apart.’

  He cupped her cheeks. ‘No one has ever wanted me for me, Jemima. It has been my grades and then my wealth—what I can offer. You are the first person to see me as valuable for who I am, and do you know how terrifying that is? You offered me so much—your beautiful, kind heart—and yet what if I don’t deserve it? What if you realise that and I lose you? I don’t know how to keep you.’

  She sobbed then, a sob for her own sadness, but mostly for his, for the little boy he’d been who’d ceased to recognise his own value. ‘Do you love me?’

  He lifted his head, a frown on his face. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  She smiled, because it was, yet she needed him to say it. ‘Not to me.’

  ‘I love you, sì. I have loved you, I think, for as long as I have known you.’

  ‘Then keep loving me and you will never lose me.’ She lifted up onto her tiptoes so she could brush her lips against his cheeks. ‘And don’t ever, ever hurt me like that again.’

  He grabbed her shoulders, holding her away from him a little so he could look at her properly.

  ‘I won’t.’ It was so simple, so him, and she believed him.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the truth of this wash over her.

  ‘I love you,’ he said simply. ‘And I am terrified that one day you will decide you don’t love me. But if the alternative is that I go and wave myself around in front of grizzly bears, then I would rather take this risk, throw myself at your feet and beg you to love me for as long as that good heart of yours can bear.’

  ‘I will love you for ever,’ she promised, wrapping her arms around his waist. ‘Because that’s exactly what you deserve.’

  Their kiss swallowed most of his groan.

  ‘You’ll marry me?’

  She laughed, because it was so like him to ask in such a manner, but she nodded anyway, smiling up at him. ‘As soon as humanly possible.’

  His eyes flared. ‘Done.’

  ‘On one condition.’

  He stilled, wariness in him, and she ached to wipe that away. But she knew only a lifetime of being loved and accepted would do that. She smiled, so he knew she was joking, and he relaxed.

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘No way will my husband be able to work the hours you do. I expect you to take weekends off, at least.’

  He grinned. ‘I’m going to spend at least the first year of our marriage working from home. And even then, only sparingly. I have executives, you know, and a very wise woman once suggested I should delegate a little more freely.’

  ‘She sounds inspired.’ Jemima batted her lashes.

  ‘She is perfect, in every way.’

  ‘And she’s all yours, for always.’

  ‘I have a wedding present for you.’

  Jemima stifled a yawn against the back of her hand. It was late. Somewhere around two in the morning. Their wedding, in the gardens of Almer Hall, had been everything she could have wanted. Small, no more than thirty people, in a marquee in the garden surrounded by candles and flowers, it had been low-key and exquisite all at once.

  He’d flown them via helicopter back to London, and they were now in his townhouse where she’d come that first night—which felt so very long ago now.

  ‘I don’t need anything.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then don’t give it to me,’ she teased, moving across the carpeted room and brushing a kiss against his lips.

  He smiled down at her then strode towards the dressing table. He’d taken off his tuxedo jacket and waistcoat and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to reveal perfectly tanned forearms that made her mouth go dry with wanting.

  ‘It’s something I bought a while ago, as a point of f
act. We can call it a gift, rather than a wedding present, if that helps.’

  ‘It doesn’t.’

  ‘Well, I cannot return it.’ He shrugged and pulled a small white envelope from the drawer.

  It was so tiny, perhaps a card or a photo. Nothing of intrinsic value. Curiosity sparked, she extended a hand and he placed the envelope into her fingertips. She slid her finger under the triangular back and pulled out a single sheet of folded paper.

  It was the deed for Almer Hall.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  He came to stand beside her and pointed to a line at the bottom. Unencumbered.

  A shiver ran along her spine. She lifted her gaze to his face, incredulity on her features. ‘Cesare...’ Her voice held warning.

  But he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her, and dropped his hand to another line on the deed. Her eyes followed the gesture and it was then that she read the date—the very same day she’d left the island.

  ‘You did this after we fought?’ she whispered, emotions rioting beneath her skin.

  ‘I did it before I propositioned you,’ he said. ‘I had no intention of leaving your family property debt-ridden once I knew the extent of your worries. I wanted you to stay with me, but I was always going to do this. No matter what.’

  Tears filled her eyes. He shook his head gently. ‘No more tears, Jemima. This is good news. Your parents don’t have to worry. You don’t have to worry.’

  ‘I know.’ She still couldn’t make sense of this. ‘So you did this before you spoke to me?’

  ‘I think even I knew I was going too far,’ he grunted.

  ‘Well, I guess that’s something.’ She looked at the paper again. ‘You didn’t have to do this.’

  He frowned. ‘Yes, I did. You needed help, and I could give it.’

  Her heart turned over in her chest.

  ‘Anyway, we are family, and one day our children will want to see their family home.’

  ‘Look at you, taking to the aristocratic lifestyle,’ she teased.

  ‘Never!’ He laughed, pulling her to his body, and she couldn’t help think how well they fit together. His lips claimed hers and she sighed, surrendering to his kiss most willingly. But when his hands found the waistband of her simple going-away outfit, she pulled away from him.

  ‘Hang on,’ she murmured. ‘I happen to have a wedding present for you, too.’

  ‘Oh?’ He lifted his brows enquiringly.

  ‘But it’s not ready yet. It’s on back order. It won’t be delivered for around seven months or so.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure,’ she said, tilting her head to one side.

  ‘My beautiful Mrs Durante, you are making no sense.’

  ‘Aren’t I?’

  ‘Something you’ve ordered, but you don’t know what it is?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t order it.’ She batted her lashes. ‘I think it was more your doing than mine.’

  ‘I don’t...’

  And then, as comprehension dawned, his hands rushed to cover her stomach. ‘You’re not...do you mean...?’

  She dipped her head forward, pressing her brow to his flat chest. ‘Yep.’ And then she jerked her face towards his, trying to read his expression. ‘Is that... Are you...happy?’

  He stared at her, bemused. ‘Am I happy?’

  She waited, her breath held, her body perfectly still.

  ‘In one night, I have gained as my wife the woman I am head over heels in love with, and now you tell me I am going to become a father? Sì, I am happy. I am happier than I ever thought I would be, and it is all because of you. Everything good in this world is because of you, uccellina.’

  Coming next month

  THE SCANDAL BEHIND THE ITALIAN’S WEDDING

  Millie Adams

  “Why did you do it, Minerva?”

  “I am sorry. I really didn’t do it to cause you trouble. But I’m being threatened, and so is Isabella, and in order to protect us both I needed to come up with an alternative paternity story.”

  “An alternative paternity story?”

  She winced. “Yes. Her father is after her.”

  He eyed her with great skepticism. “I didn’t think you knew who her father was.”

  She didn’t know whether to be shocked, offended or pleased that he thought her capable of having an anonymous interlude.

  For heaven’s sake, she’d only ever been kissed one time in her life. A regrettable evening out with Katie in Rome where she’d tried to enjoy the pulsing music in the club, but had instead felt overheated and on the verge of a seizure.

  She’d danced with a man in a shiny shirt—and she even knew his name because she wouldn’t even dance with a man without an introduction—and he’d kissed her on the dance floor. It had been wet and he’d tasted of liquor and she’d feigned a headache after and taken a cab back to the hostel they’d been staying in.

  The idea of hooking up with someone, in a circumstance like that, made her want to peel her own skin off.

  “Of course I know who he is. Unfortunately… The full implications of who he is did not become clear until later.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She could tell him the truth now, but something stopped her. Maybe it was admitting Isabella wasn’t her daughter, which always caught her in the chest and made her feel small. Like she’d stolen her and like what they had was potentially fragile, temporary and shaky.

  Or maybe it was trust. Dante was a good man. Going off the fact he had rescued her from a fall, and helped her up when her knee was skinned, and bailed her out after her terrible humiliation in high school.

  But to trust him with the truth was something she simply wasn’t brave enough to do.

  Her life, Isabella’s life, was at risk, and she’d lied on live stream in front of the world.

  Her bravery was tapped out.

  “Her father is part of an organized crime family. Obviously something unknown to me at the time of her…you know. And he’s after her. He’s after us.”

  “Are you telling me that you’re in actual danger?”

  “Yes. And really, the only hope I have is convincing him that he isn’t actually the father.”

  “And you think that will work?”

  “It’s the only choice I have. I need your protection.”

  He regarded her with dark, fathomless eyes, and yet again, she felt like he was peering at her as though she were a girl, and not a woman at all. A naughty child, in point of fact. Then something in his expression shifted.

  It shamed her a little that this was so like when he’d come to her rescue at the party. That she was manipulating his pity for her. Her own pathetic nature being what called to him, yet again.

  But she would lay down any and all pride for Isabella and she’d do it willingly.

  “If she were, in fact my child, then we would be family.”

  “I… I suppose,” she said.

  “There will need to be photographs of us together, as I would not be a neglectful father.”

  “No indeed.”

  “Of course, you know that if Isabella were really my child there would be only one thing for us to do.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes.” He began to pace, like a caged tiger trying to find a weak spot in his cage. And suddenly he stopped, and she had the terrible feeling that the tiger had found what he’d been looking for. “Yes. Of course, there is only one option.”

  “And that is?”

  “You have to marry me.”

  Continue reading

  THE SCANDAL BEHIND THE ITALIAN’S WEDDING

  Millie Adams

  Available next month

  Copyright ©2020 by Millie Adams

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