by Trish Morey
‘Do you remember, a long time ago, you once told me I didn’t actually make anything?’
‘No, Dominic!’ One hand went to her mouth. ‘I was wrong—so wrong. I was looking for reasons not to like you. I was clutching at straws.’
He pulled her hand away, shaking his head. ‘You were right. I was so busy making money, I’d forgotten how to actually make things. Real things. My poppa once taught me to carve. You inspired me to pick up those tools—’
‘Hardly inspired!’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Okay, so you goaded me into picking up his tools. And it was harder than I remembered—much harder, and nothing worked. But one night I saw you coming out of the pool and standing there, wringing out your hair, your belly ripening with my child, and I knew I had to capture you. You brought me home, Angelina. You made me realise what was real again.’
Moisture made her lashes thick and heavy. ‘It’s beautiful, Dominic, just beautiful.’
‘You’re beautiful, Angelina. You will always be beautiful to me. Do you like it?’
‘Like it? I love it.’ And she looked up at him. ‘Nearly as much as I love you.’
And he dipped his head to kiss her. ‘Hold that thought.’
EPILOGUE
ANGELA CARLA PIRELLI, or AC-DC as she’d become fondly known, a reference to both her first two initials and to her high octane energy levels, attended her first wedding aged six and a half months.
According to her, this party was all about her, and given the way she was passed from guest to guest, made to chuckle endlessly with tickles and funny faces and peekaboo, and generally clucked, oohed and aahed over, it was no wonder she assumed she was the star of the show.
Dominic knew differently.
He loved his tiny daughter immensely. Would gladly give his life for her.
But in his eyes, there was only one star on this day of days and his eyes drank in the vision of her as she approached, everyone in between wanting to congratulate her after their wedding in the gazebo, everyone wanting to compliment her on the way she looked. He could understand why. In that Grecian-inspired gown falling in folds around her perfect body and with her hair pinned up in sections leaving coiling trails around her face and throat, she looked like a goddess. Already he could feel another stint in the garage coming on.
Mind you, the next one would take a while. He didn’t intend spending too much time down there at night in the foreseeable future.
Dominic was momentarily distracted as he heard his daughter’s chuckling laugh ringing out in delight. Rosa had her on her hip, he saw, bouncing her up and down in time to the music.
‘I do believe that daughter of yours is going to be a handful in a few years’ time.’
He turned to her as his new wife slipped a slender arm through his and he almost wanted to growl with pleasure that she was his. ‘So now she’s my daughter,’ he said, raising a questioning brow. ‘I thought we were equals in this role.’
‘Most of the time,’ she said as he handed her a glass of champagne from a passing tray.
‘Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean?’
And Angie just smiled as Rosa passed the child to the man alongside her, who clearly hadn’t expected an infant to land in his arms. For a second he looked shocked, as if he didn’t know what to do with her, but then she batted her dark eyes at him and smiled a baby-toothed smile and he warmed to her, suddenly laughing and jigging her up and down, her squeals of delight ringing out.
‘There you go,’ she said, ‘exactly my point. Unexpected woman meets unwelcoming man, falls in love with him and wins his heart. That is definitely my daughter out there.’
He smiled, pulling her close to him. ‘What do you think a son of ours would be like?’
‘Dangerous,’ she said without thinking. ‘A heart stopper. Likes fast cars and sleek women and knows how to use them both.’
‘Ouch, I think.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘It’s not all bad. Because he’s a keeper, this son of ours. And some lucky girl will get to keep him for ever.’
He pulled her into his embrace, wanting more than anything for her to open the tiny half-joking wedding gift he’d left under her pillow, the lace-edged pinny he was hanging out for her to wear so they could go to work on that upcoming son, forgetting for a moment his child and the crowd and the music and lights all around them. ‘Will you keep me for ever, Mrs Pirelli?’
And she gazed up into his dark-as-night eyes. ‘Only if they won’t let me keep you longer. I love you, Dominic, for ever.’
And as he kissed his brand-new wife, the mother of his child, he knew forever would never be long enough.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
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First published in Great Britain 2011
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Trish Morey 2011
ISBN: 978-1-408-92547-8