She slipped from the bed, her limbs still aching from the hours of wonderful sex with Dante. How could she, an innocent woman who’d had no experience of men before she’d met Dante, have become such a different woman? One who matched his expertise and skill as a lover? Without even touching her he’d had her yearning for him. And she’d responded with eagerness, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he gave her.
Even though her body belonged to him she couldn’t give him her heart, couldn’t allow herself to fall for him. Whatever it was between them, it had to stay as lust—although if she was brave enough to admit it she’d acknowledge that her emotions had long since passed that point. Something she had to conceal from him. The deal they’d struck was just that. A deal.
She pushed back a wave of nausea and strengthened her resolve to put aside her emotions as she made her way to the doors leading onto the terrace. She’d quickly realised he favoured the outdoors in the mornings, even though winter had brought a chill to the air.
‘Good morning,’ she said.
‘I had not expected you to be up yet.’
He strode over from where he’d been standing, looking out over the city, moving back inside, and as he passed she caught his freshly showered scent and aftershave. He poured coffee and she tried hard to regain her assaulted senses from the strong aroma. For a moment, as dizziness and nausea took charge and she clung to the doorframe, she wasn’t aware that he was talking to her.
‘Are you well?’
‘I...’ Her head spun and words refused to form. She reached for the back of a chair in a desperate attempt to remain standing as her stomach turned over and blackness threatened to claim her.
She heard Dante’s angry words as she closed her eyes. She wanted to fight it, but couldn’t, and she let herself slip into the calm oblivion of darkness. Then she felt his arms around her, her body pressed against the safety and strength of his, and forced her eyes open, forced her head to stop spinning.
He looked down at her as he lifted her into his arms. ‘You are going back to bed to wait for the doctor.’
She wanted to fight him, wanted to tell him that most women felt faint and suffered sickness in pregnancy, but she was scared. She’d never felt so ill in her life, so weak and defeated. Surely this wasn’t right? But she had nobody to ask for reassurance—nobody but Dante. She was completely at his mercy.
She closed her eyes as another wave of dizziness hurtled over her.
‘The fact that you are unable to argue with me is worrying,’ he said, and she opened her eyes again, allowing the deep tones of his voice to drag her back from the dark oblivion her body so desperately sought.
She fought the hurt which spiked through her at the angry tone of his words. Where was the tender and gentle man she’d made love with yesterday morning as the sun had risen over the Tuscan hills? What had happened to the man who’d opened up to her, pulling down his barriers to let her into his world?
He’d shared things with her she suspected he hadn’t shared for a long time. If he’d kept those barriers lowered for long enough would she have found a warm and loving man who was hurting and blaming himself for something which wasn’t his fault? A man who needed love? Could she love the man she’d seen that day in Tuscany?
Yes, she could.
The realisation hit her as his hold on her tightened, but she couldn’t allow herself to love this man. He looked down at her, fierce hardness etched on his handsome face as he negotiated the furniture and took her back to the bedroom she’d just left.
He laid her on the bed, his arms lingering around her, keeping her close and reminding her of the passion they’d shared over the weekend. Her gaze met his and the caramel-brown of his eyes darkened, the emotion within them unreadable. She drew in a breath which sounded as ragged as if he’d just kissed her and he pulled himself away, pressing his palm briefly against her forehead before standing tall at the bedside. For a moment she thought she saw genuine concern in his eyes, but quickly it was chased away by hard anger.
‘I wanted to talk about our need to do more to create a love affair real enough to silence the gossips of the world, But not now. You need to rest.’
A tremor of sickness and disappointment washed over Piper. The only thing he was concerned about was his stupid deal. ‘Very well,’ she said as he looked down at her, feeling the warmth of his touch still on her forehead. ‘Our charade will continue until there isn’t a shred of doubt that you are a reformed man.’
She couldn’t keep the spike of anger from her voice as panic rushed over her. What if he backed out of the deal now? What if he refused to have anything to do with their child?
‘Not until you are well. Think of the baby, Piper, and do as I say. Just for once.’ Exasperation entwined with anger, making each word short and sharp.
So he cared about the baby, did he? Suddenly she felt very scared—for herself and for the baby. She turned away from him as tears began to slip down her cheeks. This wasn’t what she’d come to Rome for. A fake engagement to further his business was not worth risking her baby over, and that was what she was doing now. Risking her baby.
Tears cascaded down her face, but she kept her face hidden from him, not wanting to see the anger in those eyes or the harsh lines of annoyance on his face. Finally she heard him leave, and his fluid Italian curse could not be mistaken as his footsteps receded.
* * *
Guilt hung over Dante as he waited for the doctor to come out of Piper’s room. He’d done it again. Let down someone who was relying on him. He hadn’t cared for Piper as he should have, had thought of nothing but himself, and now she was ill. Worse than that, his selfish need to get the deal of a lifetime had put his baby at risk.
He closed his eyes against such dark thoughts, against the past mingling menacingly with the present. What if she lost the baby—his baby? It would be his fault. Just as Alessio leaving home had been.
With alarming clarity he realised he wanted this child, his son or daughter, but that didn’t alter the fact that the woman who carried his child had agreed to his suggested deal, creating her own terms. Neither did it change the fact that after the way he’d handled things with Alessio he wasn’t fit to be a father.
The click of the door as the doctor came out jolted him from that dark and painful thought. He wanted to ask if she was going to be okay, if the baby was well, but his mouth had become dry and words refused to form.
‘Your fiancée and your baby need rest, Signor Mancini, and love and care.’ The old man’s smile was in total contrast to the warning tone of his voice. Or was that guilt, making him imagine the doctor’s disapproval?
‘Then rest is what she will have,’ he said, firmly putting aside the option of love and care. He couldn’t do either. Piper would be better without him in her life, but what of his child—his flesh and blood? Could he allow the past to chase him away from his own child? Even if it was a child he’d never intended to have...never wanted?
‘I will call again tomorrow.’
‘Grazie.’
He couldn’t say anything else and for a moment stood looking at the door of the bedroom, terrified of the future that lay within. Already he’d hurt Piper, pushed her too hard in creating their fake love affair, insisting on changing her and parading her around Rome. Once they’d arrived in Tuscany their time at the villa had been so different, so unexpected. He’d gone back on his self-made promise and had lost control. As if he’d wanted to see what he could have if only he opened himself up to feeling emotion. Had he caused this? Had his selfish desire for her made her ill?
He walked slowly into the bedroom, the accusations of the past walking alongside him like dark shadows. He wanted to protect and care for Piper, but how could he when his heart was stone-cold? How could he when he’d already proved he wasn’t fit to be a father?
‘I’m sorry to be a nuisance,’ she said as she propped herself up against the pillows, tears still shining in her eyes. Tears he was responsible for.
Something clutched at his heart, squeezing it hard, but all he could feel was guilt. ‘It is me who should apologise,’ he said crisply, averting his gaze from her still pale face to look out through the window over the rooftops of Rome. ‘I expected too much.’
‘But what about the party this evening? How can we convince everyone if I am not with you?’
A tremor of panic wobbled in her voice, ratcheting up his guilt.
‘There will be other parties. You must rest for the baby’s sake.’ He turned to look at her and the worried frown on her face cut deep into his heart, proving he wasn’t as cold and detached as he’d thought.
‘I just want all this over, Dante.’
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, and he looked into her eyes, where beneath the tiredness he saw fierce determination.
‘There is nothing we can do about the deal but wait.’
Compelled to go to her, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. What was it about this woman that made rational and sensible thought almost impossible? She’d changed him, made him yearn for things that were impossible. Was it that hint of what might have been if his past hadn’t blocked the way what made her so alluring, so very tempting and irresistible?
* * *
‘Is that all that’s important to you, Dante? The deal?’
Piper couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. After everything they’d shared at the weekend, all the barriers which had been broken down, he still only wanted the deal.
She held her breath as Dante moved back towards the bed and sat down on the edge, taking her hand in his. She looked at her pale skin against his tanned hands and as his fingers tightened around hers couldn’t ignore how safe it made her feel. His hand was warm and large and very comforting.
‘All I want is for you to get well.’
Dante’s voice, soft and alarmingly sexy, drew her gaze up and to his face. Something new and unreadable was in his eyes, making her breath catch audibly in her throat.
‘You wouldn’t have become ill if things had been different, had gone as planned.’
Piper watched as his free hand closed over the top of hers, making pulling her hand away impossible—just as pulling back her emotions was becoming so difficult. The only thing which hadn’t gone according to the terms of the deal they’d agreed was their time in Tuscany. Their weekend of being lovers. Did he regret it?
‘What things?’ she asked, needing to know what was going on. She was falling deeper and harder for him and she had to know how he felt. He was such a closed-off man, this might be her only chance.
‘We agreed that not being intimate was part of the deal. “A marriage on paper” was, I think, the term you used.’
His fingers were caressing her hand, distracting her from thinking too deeply about what she’d said and what she’d allowed to happen. She was about to tell him that when he spoke again.
‘I should have had more control.’
‘Dante, you mustn’t blame yourself all the time.’ Her voice was a whisper as he looked directly into her eyes as if searching for the truth. For a brief moment she thought he might lean forward and kiss her. Instead he spoke firmly, and the moment of reflection was over.
‘We are both responsible for what happened in Tuscany.’
How could she tell him she’d been so desperate for his touch, his kiss, that she would have sold her soul to the devil if it had meant she could be his once more? What would he think of her if she did?
‘It won’t happen again. You have my word.’
He withdrew his hands, leaving hers feeling cold. She pulled away, clutching both hands against her to deflect the pain those words had caused. She didn’t want his word. She wanted it to happen again. She wanted to be loved by him. Truly loved.
‘Then we still have a deal.’ The words shot from her before she had time to consider their meaning.
He stood up, a hardened glint in his eyes, the softness of moments ago gone. ‘Va bene. As soon as you are rested we shall resume our act of lovers. There are many more events in coming days where our appearance together will set the tongues of gossip wagging.’
Inside, the weakness which had washed over her that morning slipped away and a steely determination to finish this once and for all replaced it. Reassured by the doctor that she’d just been doing too much, and the baby wasn’t in any danger, she was now determined to achieve her part of the deal. All she had to keep telling herself was that this was for her baby, to keep its father in their lives.
‘As I said, I just want to get this over with. So please make whatever arrangements you want for tomorrow night.’ Her voice was hard, but it didn’t appear to affect him at all.
‘There is an opera tomorrow night I’d like us to attend. If the doctor assures me everything is as it should be we shall attend.’ Any hint of concern had left his face and his voice. The mercenary man who’d put the deal to her was back—and firmly in control.
‘Everything is fine, Dante. It is normal for a woman to feel unwell early in her pregnancy.’ She tried to keep her voice light, but couldn’t look at him.
‘That may be so, but I will not take any risks.’
Piper’s heart thumped ever harder. Was he trying to say he cared about her—or more? Did this mean what they’d shared in Tuscany had been real and not just a moment of lust?
Before she could say anything, or allow those thoughts to grow, his firm words cut down any hope. ‘The baby is vital to this deal.’
With those cruel words lingering in the air, he left, unaware of just how much emotional pain she was in after stupidly believing there was the hope of something more between them—something they could build on for their child’s future happiness.
CHAPTER TEN
THE FOLLOWING EVENING Dante waited on the terrace as the lights of Rome sparkled around him. He felt free out here, free to think—or at least that was how it had been until he’d let Piper into his life. Now she filled his every thought, sneaking in where no woman had ever been, making everything complicated. On top of that, his mother had heard of their engagement and despite his denial that he’d fallen in love, despite his telling her that it was purely for business, she was pushing to meet his fiancée. Guilt had sliced into him at the obvious hope in her voice that it was really something more.
‘I wasn’t sure what an evening at the opera required.’
Piper’s now familiar accent cut him off from his thoughts and he turned to see her standing in front of the open doors which led back into his apartment. The light from within filtered around her, showcasing her curves and making him want things he had no right to want. He’d never seen her look so beautiful—or desirable. The red dress she wore was moulded to her body, and the way the fabric crossed over her breasts to form straps caught his attention, infusing him with the kind of need he’d been valiantly denying since their time in Tuscany.
‘Red is perfect,’ he snapped ungraciously as he fought down memories of their time together over the weekend—time that could not be repeated.
He’d thought that by giving in to the lust he’d still had for her since London the desire would go. That was all it usually took for his interest in a woman to wane. But then he’d never met a woman like Piper—a woman who made him feel different, made him long for things the likes of which he had no right to want. Not when he’d messed up his brother’s and his mother’s life. The reality of it was that he wasn’t any better than his father, and that was something he’d promised himself as a young man that he would be.
‘In that case I’m ready to leave.’
She clutched a silver purse and as she turned, lifting the skirt of her dress to step back into the apartment, he noticed silver sandals, the straps around her ankles suddenly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Did they have to go out this evening? The thought of staying in filled his mind, stoking the embers of passion which had burned bright in Tuscany. The thought of relaxing in P
iper’s company before taking her to bed—his bed, not the damned spare room.
He cursed under his breath. No. The charade of their engagement had to be played out. He had to remember why he’d even agreed to it in the first place.
Benjamin Carter’s words came unbidden from the back of his mind where he’d relegated them. ‘We need to find women who are happy to marry quickly and conveniently. Women we can trust, who will be discreet. Loyal.’
Piper turned as he entered the apartment. ‘Sorry, did you say something?’
‘It’s time we left. The idea of going to the opera is not for enjoyment but to make our engagement known—alert the press and offset that article.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’ Her green eyes speared him with their sudden frostiness.
‘Va bene.’ He opened the door to his apartment and waited for her to walk through. ‘If we get noticed this evening only one or two more dates will be needed, and then hopefully the deal with D’Antonio will be concluded in my favour.’
‘Then let’s give everyone something to talk about.’
She flounced out and stood in stony silence as the elevator took them down to his waiting car. The silence settled between them as they sat in the back of his car for the short drive to the opera house.
As they entered the grand building he was pleased to see Piper taking her role in his life seriously. She smiled, posing for photographs with him as if she’d been born to a life of high celebrity. She wore the designer clothes with effortless ease, and was so far removed from the redhead who’d sat in his office wearing jeans and a jumper it was unbelievable that it had been little over a week ago.
Even after they’d entered the building and the press had moved their attention to other rich and famous faces Piper kept up the show. He watched her as she spoke with an older couple and knew he should be pleased she’d settled into this new role, but he found it unsettling just how easily she had. She’d moved from being an ordinary girl to one with wealth at her disposal. Playing the role of his fiancée was one she enjoyed, and she seemed determined to sample as much of the lifestyle as she could.
Married for the Italian's Heir Page 12