A Marriage Fit for a Sinner

by Maya Blake

  ‘How very noble of you to think of me. But I don’t need a family.’

  Shock widened her eyes. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I don’t need a family, il mio cuore. I don’t need anything, or anyone, if I have you.’ She was all he wanted. He’d prostrate himself at her feet if that was what it took.

  She stared at him for so long, Zaccheo felt as if he’d turned to stone. He knew that any movement would see him shatter into useless pieces.

  But he had to take the leap. The same leap she’d taken on the island, when she’d shared something deeply private and heartbreaking with him.

  ‘If you have me?’

  He risked taking a breath. ‘Yes. I love you, Eva. I’ve been racking my brain for weeks, trying to find a way to make you stay, convince you to stay my wife—’

  ‘You didn’t think to just ask me?’

  ‘After walking away from you like a coward?’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve no idea how many times I picked up the phone, how many times I summoned my pilot to bring me back to you. But I couldn’t face the possibility of you saying no.’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Believe it or not, I convinced myself I’d rather spend the rest of my life living in another country but still married to you, than face the prospect of never having even the tiniest piece of you.’

  Her face crumbled and he nearly roared in pain. ‘That’s no life at all, Zaccheo.’

  ‘It was a reason for me to breathe. A selfish but necessary reason for me to keep functioning, knowing I had a piece of you even if it was your name next to mine on a marriage certificate.’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Tears filled her eyes and he cursed. He wanted to take her in his arms. But he had no right. He’d lost all rights when he’d forced her into marriage and then condemned her for trying to protect herself from his monstrous actions.

  He clenched his fists against the agony ripping through him. ‘But that’s no life for you. If you wish for a divorce, then I’ll grant you one.’

  ‘What?’ Her face lost all colour. She started to reach for him, but faltered. ‘Zaccheo...’

  A different sort of fear scythed through him as she started to crumple.

  ‘Eva!’

  By the time he caught her she was unconscious.

  * * *

  Muted voices pulled her back to consciousness. The blinds in the strange room were drawn but there was enough light to work out that she was no longer in Zaccheo’s penthouse. The drip in her right arm confirmed her worst fears.

  ‘What...happened?’ she croaked.

  Shadowy figures turned, and Sophie rushed to her side.

  ‘You fainted. Zaccheo brought you to the hospital,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Zaccheo...’ Memory rushed back. Zaccheo telling her he loved her. Then telling her he would divorce her...

  No!

  She tried to sit up.

  The nurse stopped her. ‘The doctors are running tests. We should have the results back shortly. In the meantime, you’re on a rehydrating drip.’

  Eva touched her throbbing head, wishing she’d stop talking for a moment so she could—

  She stared at her bare fingers in horror. ‘Where are my rings?’ she cried.

  The nurse frowned. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘No...please. I need...’ She couldn’t catch her breath. Or take her eyes off her bare fingers. Had Zaccheo done it so quickly? While she’d been unconscious?

  But he’d said he loved her. Did he not love her enough? Tears brimmed her eyes and fell down her cheeks.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll go and find out.’ The nurse hurried out.

  Sophie approached. Eva forced her pain back and looked at her.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me being here? You didn’t call when you got back so I assume you don’t want to speak to me, but when Zaccheo called—’

  Eva shook her head, her thoughts racing, her insides shredding all over again. ‘You’re my family, Sophie. It may take a while to get back to where we were before, but I don’t hate you. I’ve just been a little...preoccupied.’ Her gaze went to the empty doorway. ‘Is...Zaccheo still here?’

  Sophie smiled wryly. ‘He was enraged that you didn’t have a team of doctors monitoring your every breath. He went to find the head of the trauma unit.’

  Zaccheo walked into the room at that moment, and Sophie hastily excused herself. The gunmetal shade of his eyes and the self-loathing on his face made Eva’s heart thud slowly as she waited for the death blow.

  He walked forward like a man facing his worst nightmare.

  Just before she’d fainted, she’d told herself she would fight for him, as she’d fought for her sister and father. Seeing the look on his face, she accepted that nothing she did would change things. Her bare fingers spoke their own truth.

  ‘Zaccheo, I know you said...you loved me, but if it’s not enough for you—’

  Astonishment transformed his face. ‘Not enough for me?’

  ‘You agreed to divorce me...’

  Anguish twisted his face. ‘Only because it was what you wanted.’

  She sucked in a breath when he perched on the edge of the bed. His fingers lightly brushed the back of her hand, over and over, as if he couldn’t help himself.

  ‘You know what I did last night before I came home?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I went to see your father. I had no idea where I was headed until I landed on the lawn at Pennington Manor. Somewhere along the line, I entertained the idea that I would sway your feelings if I smoothed my relationship with your father. Instead I asked him for your hand in marriage.’

  ‘You did what?’

  He grimaced. ‘Our wedding was a pompous exhibition from start to finish. I wanted to show everyone who’d dared to look down on me how high I’d risen.’

  Her heart lurched. ‘Because of what your mother and stepfather did?’

  He sighed. ‘I hated my mother for choosing her aristocrat husband over me. Like you, I didn’t understand why it had to be an either-or choice. Why couldn’t she love me and her husband? Then I began to hate everything he stood for. The need to understand why consumed me. My stepfather was easy to break. Your father was a little more cunning. He used you. From the moment we met, I couldn’t see beyond you. He saw that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive that, but he brought us together.’ He breathed deep and shoved a hand through his short hair. ‘Possessing you blinded me to what he was doing. And I blamed you for it, right along with him when the blame lay with me and my obsession to get back at you when I should’ve directed my anger elsewhere.’

  ‘You were trying to understand why you’d been rejected. I tried for years to understand why my father couldn’t be satisfied with what he had. Why he pushed his family obsession onto his children. He fought with my mother over it, and it ripped us apart. Everything stopped when she got sick. Perversely, I hoped her illness would change things for the better. For a while it did. But after she died, he reverted to type, and I couldn’t take it any more.’ She glanced at him. ‘Hearing you tell that newspaper tycoon that I was merely a means to an end brought everything back to me.’

  Zaccheo shut his eyes in regret. He lifted her hand and pressed it against his cheek. ‘He was drunk, prying into my feelings towards you. I was grappling with them myself and said the first idiotic thing that popped into my head. I don’t deny that it was probably what I’d been telling myself.’

  ‘But afterwards, when I asked you...’

  ‘I’d just found out about the charges. I knew your father was behind it. You were right there, his flesh and blood, a target for my wrath. I regretted it the moment I said it, but you were gone before I got the chance to take it back.’ He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, then her palm before laying it over his heart. ‘Mi dispiace molto
, il mio cuore.’

  His heart beat steady beneath her hand. But her fingers were bare.

  ‘Zaccheo, what you said before I fainted...’

  Pain ravaged his face before he nodded solemnly. ‘I meant it. I’ll let you go if that’s what you want. Your happiness means everything to me. Even if it’s without me.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not that. What you said before.’

  He looked deep into her eyes, his gaze steady and true. ‘I love you, Eva. More than my life, more than everything I’ve ever dared to dream of. You helped me redeem my soul when I thought it was lost.’

  ‘You touched mine, made me love deeper, purer. You taught me to take a risk again instead of living in fear of rejection.’

  He took a sharp breath. ‘Eva, what are you saying?’

  ‘That I love you too. And it tears me apart that I won’t be able to give you children—’

  His kiss stopped her words. ‘Prison was hell, I won’t deny it. In my lowest times, I thought having children would be the answer. But you’re the only family I need, amore mio.’

  Zaccheo was rocking her, crooning softly to comfort her when the doctor walked in.

  ‘Right, Mrs Giordano. You’ll be happy to hear we’ve got to the bottom of your fainting spell. There’s nothing to worry about besides—’

  ‘Dehydration and the need to eat better?’ she asked with a sniff.

  ‘Well, yes, there’s that.’

  ‘Okay, I promise I will.’

  ‘I’ll make sure she keeps to it,’ Zaccheo added with a mock frown. He settled her back in the bed and stood. ‘I’ll go get the car.’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid you can’t leave yet. You need to rest for at least twenty-four hours while we monitor you and make sure everything’s fine.’

  Zaccheo tensed and caught her hand in his. ‘What do you mean? Didn’t you say you’d got to the bottom of what ails her?’ His eyes met hers, and Eva read the anxiety there.

  ‘Zaccheo...’

  ‘Mr Giordano, no need to panic. The only thing that should ail your wife is a short bout of morning sickness and perhaps a little bed rest towards the end.’

  Zaccheo paled and visibly trembled. ‘The end?’

  Eva’s heart stopped. ‘Doctor, what are you saying?’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m saying you’re pregnant. With twins.’

  EPILOGUE

  ZACCHEO EMERGED FROM the bedroom where he’d gone to change his shirt—the second of the day due to his eldest son throwing up on him—to find Eva cross-legged on the floor before the coffee table, their children cradled in her arms as she crooned Italian nursery rhymes she’d insisted he teach her.

  On the screen via a video channel, Romeo leaned in closer to get a better look at the babies.

  Zaccheo skirted the sofa and sat behind his wife, cradling her and their children in his arms.

  ‘Do you think you’ll make it for Christmas?’ she asked Romeo. Zaccheo didn’t need to lean over to see that his wife was giving his friend her best puppy-dog look.

  ‘Sì, I’ll do my best to be there tomorrow.’

  Eva shook her head. ‘That’s not good enough, Romeo. I know Brunetti International is a huge company, and you’re a super busy tycoon, but it’s your godsons’ first Christmas. They picked out your present all by themselves. The least you can do is turn up and open it.’

  Zaccheo laughed silently and watched his friend squirm until he realised denying his wife anything her heart desired was a futile exercise.

  ‘If that’s what you wish, principessa, then I’ll be there.’

  Eva beamed. Zaccheo spread his fingers through her hair, resisting the urge to smother her cheek and mouth in kisses because she thought it made Romeo uncomfortable.

  The moment Romeo signed off, Zaccheo claimed his kiss, not lifting his head until he was marginally satisfied.

  ‘What was that for?’ she murmured in that dazed voice that was like a drug to his blood.

  ‘Because you’re my heart, dolcezza. I cannot go long without it. Without you.’

  Eva’s heart melted as Zaccheo relieved her of their youngest son, Rafa, and tucked his tiny body against his shoulder. Then he held out his hand and helped her up with Carlo, their eldest by four minutes.

  Zaccheo pulled them close until they stood in a loose circle, his arms around her. Then, as he’d taken to doing, he started swaying to the soft Christmas carols playing in the background.

  Eva closed her eyes to stem the happy tears forming. She’d said a prayer every day of her pregnancy as they’d faced hurdles because of her endometriosis. When the doctors had prescribed bed rest at five months, Zaccheo had immediately stepped back from GWI and handed over the day-to-day running of the company to his new second-in-command.

  Their sons had still arrived two weeks early but had both been completely healthy, much to the joy and relief of their parents. Relations were still a little strained with her father and sister, but Oscar doted on his grandsons, and Sophie had fallen in love with her nephews at first sight. But no one loved their gorgeous boys more than Zaccheo. The love and adoration in his eyes when he cradled his sons often made her cry.

  And knowing that love ran just as deep for her filled her heart with so much happiness, she feared she would burst from it.

  ‘You’ve stopped dancing,’ he murmured.

  She began to sway again, her free hand rising to his chest. She caught sight of her new rings—the engagement ring belonging to his grandmother, which he’d kept but not given her because the circumstances hadn’t been right, and the new wedding band he’d let her pick out for their second, family-only wedding—and her thoughts turned pensive. ‘I was thinking about your mother.’

  Zaccheo tensed slightly. She caressed her hand over his heart until the tension eased out of him. ‘What were you thinking?’ he asked grudgingly.

  ‘I sent her pictures of the boys yesterday.’

  A noise rumbled from Zaccheo’s chest. ‘She’s been asking for one since the day they were born.’

  She leaned back and looked into her husband’s eyes. ‘I know. I also know you’ve agreed to see her at Easter after my first album comes out.’

  Tension remained between mother and son, but when his mother had reached out, Zaccheo hadn’t turned her away.

  Standing on tiptoe, Eva caressed the stubble she insisted he grow again, and kissed him. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

  ‘No, Eva. Everything good in my life is because of you.’ He sealed her lips with another kiss. A deeper, more demanding kiss.

  By mutual agreement, they pulled away and headed for the nursery. After bestowing kisses on their sleeping sons, Zaccheo took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

  Their lovemaking was slow, worshipful, with loving words blanketing them as they reached fulfilment and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  When midnight and Christmas rolled around, Zaccheo woke her and made love to her all over again. Afterwards, sated and happy, he spread his fingers through her hair and brought her face to his.

  ‘Buon Natale, amore mio,’ he said. ‘You’re the only thing I want under my Christmas tree, from now until eternity.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Zaccheo. You make my heart sing every day and my soul soar every night. You’re everything I ever wished for.’

  He touched his forehead to hers and breathed deep. ‘Ti amero per sempre, dolcezza mia.’

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss Romeo’s story in BRUNETTI’S SECRET SON available December 2015.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from LARENZO’S CHRISTMAS BABY by Kate Hewitt.

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  Larenzo’s Christmas Baby

  by Kate Hewitt

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE SOUND OF the car door slamming echoed through the still night. Emma Leighton looked up from the book she’d been reading in surprise; as housekeeper of Larenzo Cavelli’s isolated retreat in the mountains of Sicily, she hadn’t been expecting anyone. Larenzo was in Rome on business, and no one came to the villa perched high above Sicily’s dusty hill towns and villages. Her employer liked his privacy.

  She heard brisk footsteps on the stone path that led to the villa’s front door, an enormous thing of solid oak banded with iron. She tensed, waiting for a knock; the villa had an elaborate security system with a numbered code that was only known by her and Larenzo, and the door was locked, as Larenzo always insisted.

  She held her breath as she heard the creak of the door opening and then the beep of buttons being pressed, followed by a longer beeping indicating the security system had been deactivated. As her heart did a queasy little flip, Emma tossed her book aside and rose from her chair. Larenzo never came back early or unexpectedly. He always texted her, to make sure she had everything ready for his arrival: his bed made with freshly ironed sheets, the fridge stocked, the pool heated. But if it wasn’t him...who was it?

  She heard footsteps coming closer, a heavy, deliberate tread, and then a figure, tall and rangy, appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Larenzo—’ Emma pressed one hand to her chest as she let out a shaky laugh of relief. ‘You scared me. I wasn’t expecting you.’