Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss

by Rebecca Winters

  The proud father looked up at them. “Come all the way in and meet our baby. We’ve decided to call him Nico. He’s seven pounds six ounces and measures twenty-two inches long. Though he came two weeks early, the pediatrician says he’s perfect.”

  “Felicitazioni!” sounded their cry. “A new Duc di Lombardi has graced our world.”

  Soon they left the hospital. She kissed Cesare’s cheek. “That’s a perfect family.”

  He reached for her hand. “That’s what we’re going to have, Tuccia.”

  “I know we’re not even married yet, but already I want your baby.”

  “There’s one promise I’ll make to you. I’ll do my best to get you pregnant.”

  “I’ll do my best to get pregnant,” Tuccia gave a happy sigh. “Everything has worked out because of you, Cesare.”

  His hand slid to her thigh. “I don’t think you have any idea how much I love you.”

  Her heart was too full to talk. All she could do was cover his hand with her own.

  “Takis seems to be handling his wife’s pregnancy well,” he said, “but he can be inscrutable at times. I would imagine that deep down he’s holding his breath until she delivers.”

  After they reached the apartment and he took her inside, he pulled her down on the couch so they half lay together. “I’ve made a decision about something and wanted to talk it over with you.”

  “What is it?” But being this close, she couldn’t resist kissing him again and again.

  “I’m going to sell all my business interests in New York and invest the profits. I don’t want to have to fly there anymore and leave you. Our life is here. We always have a place to stay at the castello, and at the villa when we visit my mother. But I’d like to think about a home of our own in Palermo.”

  “I’m so glad you said that. It’s what I want. Our own place. It doesn’t have to be big. Just large enough to hold two or three children. I want us to have a normal life.”

  “I want the same thing. You know Takis has worked things out so he can be here part of the time. The rest of the time he spends with Lys at their home in Crete. And Vincenzo lives in a villa on Lake Como with Gemma. There’s no reason we can’t do the same thing and fly back and forth when it’s necessary.”

  “I think you’ve just made me the happiest bride-to-be in the whole world. Please don’t go home tonight. Stay with me.”

  He hugged her tighter. “I’d like to take you in the bedroom, lock the door and throw away the key forever. Don’t tempt me. Just three more days to wait, amore mio. We’re almost there.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CESARE STOOD AT the front of the church in Palermo with Dimi and Takis. They all wore dark blue dress suits and ties with a white rose in the lapels. He’d put the rings in his pocket. Even though Vincenzo couldn’t make it, this made four times that they’d celebrated each other’s weddings.

  Six weeks ago, if anyone had told him he’d be married to the love of his life this morning, he would have laughed in disbelief. He kept looking at the back of the church, waiting for Tuccia to enter on the arm of her father.

  The marchesa and her sister Bertina sat together by Cesare’s mother. Behind them sat Isabella and her husband, Tomaso. They’d left the baby with Tomaso’s mother. Filippa, Dimi’s wife, and Lys sat by each other. The few other guests were the close friends of Tuccia’s parents.

  She’d insisted on keeping their wedding as low key as possible. Her life growing up had been filled with too many bad memories. She’d begged for simplicity and a non-princess wedding. Cesare had seen to her wishes.

  As he wondered if something had gone wrong, he saw the priest out of the corner of his eye. Behind him walked Tuccia on her father’s arm. She looked a vision in a full-length white silk wedding dress. The lace mantilla covering her gorgeous black curls was a sight he’d never forget. She held a bouquet of white roses from her aunt’s garden.

  The priest had agreed to perform their short ceremony in Sicilian.

  “Cesare Donati, please take Princess Tuccianna Falcone Leonardi by the hand and repeat after me.”

  Their eyes met before he grasped it. The love and trust in those gray orbs melted him on the spot. Thus began the age-old ritual that took on indescribable meaning to him as he kept looking at the woman who’d agreed to marry him. There was no person more precious to him.

  They exchanged vows and rings.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

  The priest didn’t have to tell him to kiss his bride. Cesare gathered her in his arms and embraced her. Her hunger for him matched his. They were on fire for each other. If he could run away with her now, he would, but they had one more celebration to get through.

  Holding her hand tightly, he walked her down the aisle to the foyer where everyone hugged and congratulated them. Afterward they went outside to get in the limos that drove them to her parents’ palazzo for their wedding brunch on the east patio.

  While they ate, Tuccia’s father made an announcement. “Unbeknownst to Tuccianna and her new husband, I’ve made arrangements for them to have a small honeymoon aboard our yacht, so they won’t be flying back to Milan for a few days.”

  Cesare’s heart leaped. They wouldn’t have to endure a flight. At least not for a couple of days.

  At that juncture Takis rose to his feet. “No man should have to worry about getting back to work right away. Maurice knows about your marriage and has agreed to run the kitchen until the Siciliana gets back. He told me to tell you he’s looking forward to seeing the new Signora Donati without your uniform and that floppy chef’s hat.”

  Everyone laughed, but Tuccia’s face went crimson. Cesare loved it.

  “How soon can we leave?” he whispered near her ear.

  “As soon as I change. I’ll be right back.”

  She gave him a wife’s kiss to torture him and hurried through the rooms to the upstairs. Once she’d gotten out of her wedding dress, she put on a pale pink summer suit and strappy high heels. Grabbing the case she’d packed earlier, she hurried back down. More hugs and kisses ensued.

  But his impatience was too great. He put his arm around her shoulders, waved goodbye to everyone and they rushed outside to get in the limo. What an amazing experience to be headed for the dock in Mondello and go aboard the royal yacht.

  Cesare had seen it out in the harbor many times along with the other yachts after he’d hiked the bluff. When he’d been younger all his thoughts had been intent on leaving for New York to make his way in the world. Little did he dream that his great adventure would bring him right back home, right to this yacht where his new wife had learned to make granita.

  The deck steward showed them to the master bedroom below deck. Once he left them alone Cesare picked Tuccia up in his arms and twirled her around. “Finally I have you all to myself the way I’ve dreamed.”

  “I’ve had the same dreams. Love me, Cesare.” Her voice shook.

  “As if you need to ask me.” He carried her to the bed and followed her down. They started to kiss, one after another until there was no beginning and no end. “I’m so hungry for you, I’m afraid I’ll eat you alive.”

  “I’m afraid you won’t,” she cried, feverish with longing.

  “Amata. You’re so beautiful I can hardly breathe. My adorable, precious, beloved wife.”

  Those words were still part of her euphoria when she woke up during the night. They’d made love for hours, only to fall asleep, then start the whole heavenly process over again when they came awake.

  She’d tried to imagine what it would be like to really love a man. But nothing could have prepared her for the kind of love showered on her by her new husband. There were no words to describe the ecstasy that had her clinging to him throughout the night.
>
  At one point her rapture was so great she wept.

  “What is it?” he cried.

  “I was just thinking. What if I hadn’t run away? What if your mother hadn’t let me stay overnight? I might have missed you.” She moaned.

  He buried his face in her neck. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m too happy, Cesare. No woman could ever be as happy as I am.”

  “You’re supposed to be when you’ve found the right person to love. Ti amo, Tuccia. This is only the beginning.”

  Two years later, the Castello di Lombardi

  Tuccia followed little Cesare around on the grass behind the castello near the ruins of the fourteenth-century church. Their little brown-haired son had just turned a year old, but was still unsteady on his feet. Filippa and Dimi’s little dark-haired boy, Dizo, was just two months older, but handled himself with amazing agility. Her gaze followed two year-old Nico around. He was Vincenzo’s clone.

  Cesare came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. “It’s hilarious out here with all the children running around on the grass. Look how Nico runs after Zoe. She’s the image of her mother.”

  “Lys is a beauty, and I can tell Zoe is going to be a heartbreaker, too, when she grows up,” Tuccia said, eyeing the two-year-old with a smile.

  “I think she has already stolen Nico’s heart.”

  Tuccia turned around and gave her husband a long, passionate kiss. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if they grew up loving each other?”

  “You mean like Gemma and Vincenzo? It wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “I love having a birthday picnic for all of them. Maurice and Ciro have really outdone themselves for this celebration.”

  “He doesn’t make pastry as good as yours, my love.”

  “Of course he does, Cesare. Doesn’t Gemma have the best ideas? This is so fun! Uh-oh. Cesare fell down.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I’ll go get him.”

  Tuccia joined the women sitting on the blanket while she watched her gorgeous husband run after their son. As far as she was concerned, this was heaven.

  The men were tending the children to give the women a break. All the women except Tuccia were pregnant again. Gemma was seven months along with a girl this time.

  “Is Vincenzo as freaked out this time around?” Lys wanted to know.

  “He’s not nearly as bad as he was the first time.”

  “Thank heaven,” Filippa exclaimed. They all laughed.

  Gemma raised herself up on one elbow. “Do you know what’s really strange? To be out here on the same grass where I played as a little girl with Vincenzo and Dimi. Sometimes they had sword fights.”

  “Who won?” Filippa wanted to know.

  “They were both pretty fierce and equally matched. One time when it was Vincenzo’s birthday, my mother made a little cake for him and I brought it out to him.”

  Tuccia smiled. “Did you always love him?”

  “Always.”

  “And soon you were making cakes.”

  “And then I met Filippa at cooking school.”

  Tuccia stretched out. “I can’t believe how lucky I was to meet Cesare. I fell so hard for him I actually learned how to make his mother’s pastry in order to be near him.”

  “Are you taking my name in vain again?” a deep familiar voice sounded behind her. The girls chuckled.

  She rolled over and looked up at him holding their son. “Afraid so. We were just saying how lucky we are to be married to such remarkable men.”

  Cesare’s smile melted her on the spot. “Funny. The guys and I were just having the same conversation about the superb women in our lives. It all happened one morning in Vincenzo’s New York apartment when he asked if Takis and I wanted to go into business with him and Dimi across the water.” He stared into her eyes. “And here we are. Life truly is more fantastic and wonderful than fiction.”

  “I agree, Cesare.” I love you, Tuccia mouthed the words before getting to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel room and put little Cesare down for a nap. I want some alone time with my husband.”

  They hurried inside the castello to the private wing on the second floor. After putting their sleepy boy down, they went in their bedroom. Tuccia started to take off her clothes, unable to wait until she held Cesare in her arms.

  He removed his faster and within seconds he pulled her down on the bed. “Bellissima?” he whispered against her lips. “Do you still love me as much as you did when we got married?”

  She heard a hint of anxiety his voice.

  “My darling husband, how can you even ask me that?” Except that she did know why. His mother had confided in her about his father. “Listen to me.” She leaned over him, cupping his face in her hands.

  “You’re stuck with me forever. I’m never going anywhere. You’re my whole life! It began the moment you crushed me in your arms. I’ve never told you this before, but I’m telling you now. That magical night, I felt like you’d imprinted yourself on my heart and soul. When you turned on the lights, there stood the most gorgeous man my eyes had ever beheld.”

  Cesare kissed her until they were both out of breath. “It was a magical night. You looked like an enchanted princess escaping her bottle.”

  “That’s how it felt, and there you were. I love you, Cesare. Never doubt it for an instant.”

  “Never again, amorada. Never again.”

  * * * * *

  If you missed the first two books,

  check out the rest of

  THE BILLIONAIRE'S CLUB trilogy!

  RETURN OF HER ITALIAN DUKE

  BOUND TO HER GREEK BILLIONAIRE

  And if you enjoyed this story,

  check out these other great reads

  from Rebecca Winters

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S PRIZE

  THE BILLIONAIRE WHO SAW HER BEAUTY

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S BABY SWAP

  HIS PRINCESS OF CONVENIENCE

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE SHEIKH’S PREGNANT BRIDE by Jessica Gilmore.

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  The Sheikh’s Pregnant Bride

  by Jessica Gilmore

  CHAPTER ONE

  HE’D SAID HE’D be there in twelve hours, b
ut in the end it was barely eight hours after he’d received the earth-shattering phone call when Idris Delacour strode into the cool, dark Council Chamber, his eyes still shielded against the harsh sun that had greeted him at the airport despite the still early hour. Grimly he stood by the empty seat at the end of the long table and, taking off his sunglasses, regarded the four sombre men who had stood at his entrance. They were all dressed in the customary long white robes and headdresses worn by traditionalists in Dalmaya and Idris’s dark trousers and grey shirt looked both drab and shockingly modern by contrast.

  He nodded at the men and waited until they took their seats before seating himself in the ornately carved wooden chair. He was aware of every curve, every bump in the ancient seat. A seat that should never have been his. A seat he was all too willing to relinquish. He cleared his throat. ‘Salam.’

  They repeated the greeting back to him, the words barely uttered before he continued, ‘There can be no mistake?’

  ‘None, Your Highness.’

  He flinched at the title but there was more pressing business than his own unwanted and tenuous claim to the Dalmayan throne. ‘They are both dead?’

  ‘The King and Her Majesty, yes.’

  ‘Terrorism?’ Idris already knew the answers. He had asked the same question during the shock call that had shaken the entire chateau just eight hours before and had been extensively briefed and updated both whilst travelling to the airport and again once on the private jet that had awaited him there.

  ‘We’ll have to investigate further obviously,’ the grey-faced man to his right answered. Idris recognised him as Sheikh Ibrahim Al Kouri, Dalmaya’s Head of Security. ‘But it doesn’t seem so. It looks like it was simply a tragic accident.’

  Simply? Such an odd way to describe the annihilation of an entire family. The better half of Idris’s own family. ‘And what? The car simply ran off the road?’