Billionaire Brides: An Anthology

by Connelly, Clare

  And now? It was time to face the music. The certainty that she was about to see Sabato and tell him this life changing news had unsettled her. Her pulse was pounding so fast and loud through her body that she could hear it in in her ears. She scanned the crowd, her fingers fidgeting around the stem of the champagne flute.

  The man she’d met in the hotel suite caught her eye first. He saw her at the exact same moment, and shot her a quizzical look. It quickly turned into a broad smile, as he began to weave his way through the crowd. “So, bella Emilia, we meet again.”

  He gripped her elbows and kissed her on both cheeks, then moved to stand beside her. “I see my brother has yet again beaten me to the punch.”

  She arched a brow and turned to face him. She had taken care with her appearance, but she still felt very average in the group of glamorous guests. In reality, she was anything but. She’d braided her red hair around her head, like a crown, and it showed off the swan-like elegance of her neck. Her dress was both modest and desperately alluring, drawing attention to her neat curves, and her face was a study in youthful beauty.

  Rafaelo lifted his champagne flute to hers in a silent salute. She chipped hers against it, then returned it to cradle in her palms. “Uh uh,” he tutted. “It is bad luck not to drink after you’ve said cheers.”

  “Is it?” She stalled, her heart racing. “I haven’t heard that.”

  “Try again?” He invited, lifting his glass.

  The arrival of Sabato saved her in more ways than one. “Emily,” he greeted quietly. At the sound of his voice, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She turned, slowly, bracing herself for the sight of him.

  And it still caused a shiver to dance down her spine. She sucked in a shaking breath, as the full impact of his nearness assaulted her with all the strength of a physical force. From the tip of his raven dark head, to his perfect, shaved face, to the warrior’s body contained in a crisp tuxedo, he was heaven in human form.

  “Sabato,” she responded, her voice a breathy husk. If she was devouring him, then he was performing the same desperate scrutiny of her. His dark eyes were black chips as they drifted the length of her body with slow purpose. The look simmered against her skin; it was a promise of what he wanted, and what he knew she needed.

  “How are you?” The simple question flicked goose bumps over her skin.

  Her smile was tentative. “Good. I’m well. And you?” Oh, such polite small talk! It was a ritual that had to be endured, but what she wanted was to be alone with him. To speak openly and honestly, to walk into his arms and put her head on his chest, so that he could hold her tight and tell her everything was going to be okay.

  The party swirled around them, a tangle of noise and laughter, and all Emily could see was Sabato. Powerful, dynamic, darkly intense Sabato. “Maria, this is Emily. She works for Sabato in London,” Rafaelo drew the other woman into the conversation, and Emily turned to her, seeing her for the first time. She smiled, and then noticed the way Maria’s hand was tucked into the crook of Sabato’s arm. Her bright red nails were possessively splayed against the black fabric of his suit.

  “Oh?” Maria’s smile was stunning on her perfectly made up face. “Fancy that.”

  The other woman’s curiosity was obvious. Rafaelo turned to Emily. “Maria grew up with us.”

  “Like a sister?” Emily murmured hopefully.

  “Hardly!” Maria laughed, her nails stroking Sabato’s arm. “Wouldn’t that be odd?” She beamed her enormous eyes at Sabato. He straightened his arm, dropping her hand from the nook.

  “May I speak with you privately?” He addressed Emily, putting an arm around her waist before she could respond. He steered her away from his brother and old friend, and towards a private corner of the party.

  “It feels like the first night we met,” she remarked quietly, when they were finally alone.

  He wanted, more than anything, to kiss her. His eyes roamed her face, landing on her pouted lips. Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Her body pressed forward, seeking his.

  “You are … stunning,” he remarked, unable to resist putting his hands on her hips.

  She exhaled slowly. “So are you.”

  His laugh was raw. “I’ve missed you.”

  Emily raised her brows. “Have you now, sir?”

  “It’s been a month.” He breathed out slowly.

  “A month,” she agreed, lifting a hand to his chest. Sabato, we need to speak. She’d rehearsed a small speech on the private jet he’d had her flown to Florence on. She had it all worked out. But standing so close to him now, the words were blurring in her memory.

  The party was enormous. Perhaps she was better to wait? After all, it was his mother’s birthday, and the last thing Sabato needed was to be distracted by the news she had to break to him.

  “Are you settling in well to the apartment?”

  She nodded. Her mouth was dry. The enormity of the secret she held was making her body sag. She nodded, unable to put into words how ill at ease she felt in such a plush residence.

  “And Andrew?”

  His interest in her brother made her heart swell. “He thinks he’s living in a dream,” she admitted. “He uses the spare bedroom upstairs as his studio. He’s quite the musician.”

  “Two creative souls then,” Sabato said with a smile. His hands were warm on her body. “Dance with me?”

  “I can hardly hear the music.”

  “Can’t you?” He murmured, stroking her gently.

  She bit her lip and then nodded; she had no idea what she was agreeing to. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to his frame. She fit perfectly against him. Her arms lifted to curve behind his neck, and her fingers sought the hair at the base of his neck. The very distant strains of a slow jazz song filtered through the blooming vines and reached their ears. They moved in time to it, and the pulsing beat that drummed between them.

  “I have to be in London next week,” he said casually. As though it weren’t music to her ears.

  “Oh?” Her heart was hammering quickly against her ribs.

  “I’m meeting with the architects of the Docklands project.”

  “I see.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’d like to see you. To take you for dinner.”

  Emily’s eyes lifted to his. The emotional dance they were engaged in was fraught with dangerous drops at every turn. She wanted nothing more than to agree to what he was suggesting.

  But it was no longer so simple. Had it ever been simple? She shook her head sadly. The disparity in their situations had caused her doubts initially. Him, a billionaire raised by a wealthy and aristocratic family, and she an orphaned artist who had barely been able to make rent before meeting him.

  And now?

  Now, there was another life to consider. They couldn’t afford to make mistakes. And what if they were? What if she told him she loved him, and he didn’t return those feelings? What if he resented her for being stupid enough to fall pregnant after all their conversations and precautions? She wanted to see him for dinner. She wanted the world from him. But she was too smart to ask for it. Not when she knew what was at stake. Their baby was the size of a tiny little pea, and yet she put its needs ahead of her own with an instinctive ease. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  His expression showed exasperation. “Are you kidding me?”

  Emily’s sense of disappointment was a physical pain in her chest. “It’s just better to avoid that complication. Believe me.”

  “Why do I feel like I am forever convincing you, Emily?”

  Her cheeks drained of colour. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing is ever easy with you.” His words were clipped. He pulled himself away from her, dropping his hands to his side. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, and yet the one woman he wanted with a desperate passion seemed resolute on keeping him at arm’s length. Pride strengthened his resolve. “Nothing is easy.” He slashed an angry hand thro
ugh the air, slicing it with his frustration. “I like you.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not saying I love you. I’m not asking you for anything more than a casual dinner. And yes, maybe we sleep together every now and again. What is so wrong with that? Why can’t you just have some fun, Emily? Why must you always think about every single, tiny detail of your life?”

  He was cutting through her being. His words were an agony of proportions he couldn’t imagine. They were acid pouring over her soft soul.

  “Casual?” She repeated quietly, gripping her hands behind her back so that he wouldn’t see the way they were shaking.

  Sabato nodded, and his lopsided smile made her heart stammer. “Look at the fun we had that first weekend. Why can we not explore that side further? You act as though I am asking you to tether yourself to me for the rest of your life.”

  Oh, the irony, she thought with anguish. They were tethered together for life, regardless of what either of them wanted.

  “Fun?” She repeated, her heart exploding into aching chunks.

  “Yes.” He ran his hands up and down her back. “You have a habit of over-thinking things. Look around you.” He nodded towards the sky. “You are the one who loves dawn, and dusk. What about this? A blanket of stars above us, beautiful music, food and wine.”

  Her heart dipped. But the baby… she bit down on her lip. Indecision made her miserable. She wanted to tell him, because she needed someone else to know. Someone else to help her make the necessary plans. But it would change everything. Fun would be out the window. Would it be so wrong to have one more night before they faced the music?

  She smiled up at him, the worry she felt finally fading away from her eyes. The moment their gazes locked, all the doubt came flooding back. Of course it would be wrong to spend a night together. To further complicate the matter at hand. They were having a baby together. He was her boss. And she’d fallen in love with him. They could never be about casual sex. She shook her head wistfully, and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you introduce me to your mother?”

  “My mother?” A frown tugged at his lips.

  “Yes. So that she knows who I am when I arrive to begin work tomorrow.”

  “Right. The portrait.” He nodded distractedly, his dark eyes glued to her delicate features.

  “The reason I’m here,” Emily reminded him, putting more emotional distance between them.

  Sabato ground his teeth together. Her stubborn determination to block him out of her life was becoming infuriating. “Emily,” he said on a sigh. “It is not the only reason you are here.”

  “It isn’t?” Hope flared in her chest, hot and comforting. She let it fan through her, while she waited for him to speak.

  He lifted a hand to her cheek, and stroked it softly. “I want you here. I like being with you. You must know this by now.”

  She fanned her eyes shut; her mind was sparking with electricity. “I … like being with you too.”

  “I know.” He grinned, and kissed her forehead lightly. “So come and meet my mother. But not as someone I’ve commissioned to do her painting. Let me introduce you as someone who’s in my life.”

  God, he felt like a nervous teenager asking a girl to go on a date. Only he’d never been a nervous teenager. Self-confidence had always come naturally to Sabato Montepulciano. Except in that moment.

  In his life. The words muddied everything she felt. In his life. Yes, they were in each other’s lives. Her feelings were a knotty ache in her gut. If he was frustrated with her prevaricating, then she was even more so. Why couldn’t she get past the disparagement in their finances and backgrounds? Why was she so obsessed with it when he wasn’t?

  “This is where you grew up?”

  His smile was bemused. “Si.” He linked his fingers with hers and guided her to the low brick wall. She sat beside him, careful not to get too close. “Quite the difference from the orphanage I spent the first three years of my life in.”

  “Orphanage?” Her eyes flared to his. Curiosity overrode every other emotion. “I didn’t know.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “Didn’t you?”

  “You never said. How would I?”

  He frowned, and ran his fingers across his stubbled jaw. “It’s a matter of public record. I have never hidden the fact.”

  She swallowed. “I didn’t know anything about you before we … met.”

  His smile was tight. “And you haven’t done your own research since then.” He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. That it hadn’t occurred to Emily to run an internet search on him or his family was fascinating to him. He lived and breathed knowledge. When he was looking to invest in a property, he became an expert on it, and every building or piece of land in the vicinity. Even with women, he did the basic fact checking before getting too involved.

  “I … No.” She shook her head. “Should I have?”

  His laugh was soft, carried away quickly by the evening breeze. “I don’t know,” he conceded finally. “You didn’t want to know more about me?”

  Emily toyed with her fingers in her lap. “If I didn’t know you better, Sabato, I’d say you were insecure.”

  His eyes lanced through her. It was time to stop pretending. Where Emily was concerned, he was as lost as a lamb. He reached for her hand and held it in his.

  Emily took strength from the gesture. “In answer to your question, yes. I wanted to know more about you.” She had wanted to know everything about him. “But I would never google you. Not when I can just … ask.”

  His smile was rich with surprise. “You know, I’ve never known someone as genuine as you, cara. It is refreshing to spend time with you.”

  Hardly a declaration of love, but she’d take it. “Sabato, there’s something I need to speak to you about.” A small frown marred her expression.

  “Of course, Emily. What is it?” He would do whatever he could to take that little line on her forehead away. His phone began to ring, shrilly punctuating the air. He pulled it out, intending to decline the call. Only his best friend’s face came up on the screen. He shot her a look of apology. “My friend Andre. More like a brother, than a friend. I’m sorry, cara, I will be only a moment.”

  Anxiety had made her heart stutter in her chest. “Of course.” She lifted her champagne simply for something to do. She ran her finger around the condensation, wondering if everything would always feel super-charged when she was with Sabato.

  He was speaking in Italian, but his tone had become fast. His expression was sombre. “Si, subito,” he disconnected the call and looked at Emily with consternation.

  “What is it?” She knew, instantly, that something was very wrong.

  “Andre’s father was in a car accident. He’s in a coma.” He was conscious, when he spoke, that it must be invoking memories of her own mother’s loss.

  But Emily was too sympathetic to think of herself at such a worrying time. “Oh, Sab. I’m so sorry.” She put a hand on his shoulder, stroking his warmth through the fabric of his jacket.

  His dark eyes looked down at her with regret. “I have to go to him. He’s in Rome.”

  Emily nodded. “Of course you do.”

  “Come with me.”

  Her lips were tight on her face; she wore a mask of determination that he was becoming frustratingly familiar with. “I’m here to do a job, Sabato.” She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. We need to talk.”

  “Yes, we do,” she said stoically. “But it can wait. Go to your friend.”

  He nodded and hugged her quickly, before stalking away from her. Leaving her alone. Pregnant, alone and surrounded by the upper echelons of European society.

  Great.

  Chapter 9

  Two days later and Emily had experienced just about as much birthday fun as she could muster. Nausea had come upon her suddenly, and was now her constant companion. The
fragrance of perfume that the women were wearing made her wretch. Fortunately, she had been able to escape often enough, to work on her sketches.

  And at least Sabato’s mother was a breath of fresh air. Spending time with her, sketching her portrait, was proving to be a very pleasant way to pass the weekend. For her part, Corinna had delighted in relaying story after story of Sabato’s childhood. Perhaps she identified Emily as someone with a keen interest in the subject matter, or perhaps the birthday was simply turning her reflective, but she detailed years of Sabato’s life and Emily drank it all in thirstily.

  Emily had sketched Corinna, and in her mind, Sabato’s character had been coloured in. She loved him, and all the more so for the way his adoptive mother described him. “The affair was very hard on him,” she surprised Emily by confiding during their final sitting.

  Emily didn’t bother to feign ignorance. Instead, she nodded. “On everyone, I imagine.”

  “Yes, but particularly Sabato.”

  Emily swallowed. “Why do you think that is?”

  Corinna’s smile was wistful. “Most children are raised with the certainty that their parents love them. It’s biology.” Emily thought of the baby snuggling inside of her, growing and becoming a part of the world with every day that passed. Yes, she loved it already. “But for Sabato, it’s not that way. His parents gave him up for adoption. And we chose to love him.”

  “Yes,” Emily nodded, not quite understanding where Corinna was going.

  The older woman smiled gently. “Well, dear, if you can choose to love someone, then surely you can choose, one day, not to love them. As he feared Nico was doing to me, when he had an affair.”

  Emily’s heart turned over with pain for the man she loved. “So you think he felt he might lose his father, or you, or his brother, because he was adopted.”

  Corinna shrugged her slender shoulders. “It is my fear and my guess. Only a guess, min you. Hi is a proud man, and he is naturally filled with the confidence of Kings. But deep down, at the very centre of his being, is the fear that comes from having been rejected once, by the people who were supposed to love him for all time.”