A Deal for the Di Sione Ring

by Jennifer Hayward

  Her heart throbbed. He had been rejected not once, but twice, by the Di Siones.

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t Alex’s fault. Giovanni had put us in an awkward position, vaulting me forward in the company and leaving Alex to climb the ranks. Alex felt guilty for keeping my existence a secret. There were a lot of layers to our relationship.”

  “But I should not have pushed you when I didn’t know the whole story.”

  “You were right to push me. I called Alex. We had a drink. It’s far from perfect, but it’s a start.”

  A wet heat stung the backs of her eyes. Nate brushed his thumb across her cheek, his eyes softening. “I have been running away from this thing between us because you made me want what I had told myself was impossible—you, a relationship with my siblings, everything I’d accepted I could never have. You were willing to be a gladiator—to fight for what you wanted—but I was not.”

  A tear slipped down her face. “You’re the one who gave me that.”

  “No,” he said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. “The strength you have comes from inside you. You are a survivor. You have chosen to rise above your past. All I did was show you how to use it. Whereas I,” he said, his mouth twisting, “used my past as an excuse to withdraw. I refused to believe in the concept of love because to me loving, making yourself vulnerable, has only meant pain in my life.

  “I convinced myself what I felt for you was all about the protective instincts I had,” he continued, “because admitting I cared for you, admitting I loved you, meant letting you in. Allowing you to see the broken, empty part of me I have never shown to anyone. The part,” he said, his eyes on hers, “I was afraid you would reject.”

  Her vision blurred, tears running down her cheeks in a steady stream now. “We’re all broken, Nate. Every single one of us. It’s what we do once we acknowledge it that matters.”

  He nodded. “I went to talk to Alex because I’m scared to death of being a father. I had no example set for me. Had no idea even what kind of a father my own was. Which didn’t help matters, because he was, apparently, no kind of a father. But what I do know,” he said, a determined glitter in his eyes, “is that I want to be a father to our baby. To do the best job I can.”

  She swallowed hard, thinking how badly she’d misinterpreted his fear. “You don’t think I’m frightened? That I don’t wonder the same thing with a mother like mine?”

  He reached for her and gathered her onto his lap. “You will be a great mother because of your past, not in spite of it. You’ve used the challenges in your life to make you stronger, not weaker. And you will give that strength of spirit to our child.”

  She traced the hard line of his jaw with her fingers. “What about your need for freedom? What if you end up resenting me and the baby and want your life back?”

  His gaze darkened. “It won’t happen. I haven’t slept this week. Haven’t eaten. Because you weren’t there. I need you in my life, Mina.”

  She ran her finger down the front of his shirt. “I noticed you missed a button. You’re looking a little disheveled.”

  He ignored the tease, lifting her chin with his finger. “So,” he said roughly, “you have the unvarnished truth now. Your human connection project is complete. Tell me if you still want me, Mina, because if you say yes now, it’s forever.”

  “Do you have to ask?” she said softly. “Your human side only makes you more attractive, Nate Brunswick. And I was already falling over myself for you the first time I met you.”

  The tension in his face eased. “You were ridiculously sexy in your maid outfit.”

  “And you were very, very improper.”

  He brought his mouth down to hers. “You loved every minute of it.”

  “Sì. I did.”

  He kissed her then, a long, slow kiss that cemented the promises they’d made to each other under a clear, star-strewn Paris sky. That they would rise above their pasts and grasp this chance at happiness with both hands. Two survivors who’d learned that destiny was not a foregone conclusion—it was all in the choices they made.

  She hadn’t been wrong, Mina thought, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck and kissing him back. She had been so very, very right.

  She was a gladiator, after all. Faith was a prerequisite.

  EPILOGUE

  New York—nine months later

  THE HISTORIC THIRTEENTH-CENTURY Gothic cathedral on Manhattan’s west side glimmered with an almost ethereal light as the late-afternoon sun pressed against its elaborate, showstopping stained glass windows.

  It was almost enough to match the incandescent glow filling Mina as Nate slid a diamond-studded eternity band on her finger to join the ring he’d placed there a year ago on that tumultuous, emotion-filled day in Palermo which had changed their lives.

  This time as she stepped toward him and lifted her face for his kiss, the reconfirming of their vows complete, there were no nerves involved, no questions about her future, only the butterflies in her stomach that came with a kiss from her husband, butterflies she suspected would never go away.

  “Enough sunshine and rainbows for you?” Nate murmured against her lips.

  “Sì,” she returned huskily, curving her fingers around his jaw and lifting up on tiptoe for his kiss.

  The priest coughed as the expression of affection went on a fraction too long. Laughter danced in Nate’s eyes as he lifted his head. “Have to up my game.”

  Mina stepped back, the glow inside of her almost too much to contain. The ceremony concluded, she collected two-month-old Giovanni Vincenzo Brunswick from Natalia to make their walk down the aisle.

  The Di Sione clan looked on approvingly on their left, a miraculous feat to have them all in one place. Mina’s mother, her nonna, a handful of her cousins and Celia sat on the right, the intimate, private ceremony to cement their vows what she and Nate had both wanted.

  A reception followed at the Brunswicks’ Westchester estate, which did not feature a white picket fence, but did include lavish gardens little Giovanni could someday play in, and a koi pond Mina loved. Much wine was consumed and a great deal of laughter filled the fairy-tale gardens as the Di Siones and Mastrantinos mixed, her mother thankfully on her best behavior.

  It warmed Mina’s heart to watch her husband with his half siblings. He was gradually letting his guard down—forging deeper relationships with all of them, particularly Alex, who did seem so much in character like Nate. The party lasted into the wee hours, until finally, her husband gave the guests some pointed glances, everyone headed for their cars and they went inside to relieve the nanny from her duties.

  Giovanni, so very tiny Mina had been terrified to touch him at first, was sound asleep, his fist shoved in his mouth. Nate ran a finger down the baby’s cheek, the glitter in his eyes saying everything he found it hard to verbalize. He had fallen instantly in love with their son, would sometimes stand there fascinated, watching him until Mina had to call him to bed.

  But not tonight. “I thought they were never going to leave,” he growled, switching off the light and propelling her from the room.

  “They were having fun.”

  She toed off her shoes in their room, her heartbeat kicking up at the look of primal hunger on her husband’s face. Stepping toward him, she presented him with her back so he could unzip her dress.

  His fingers dispensed with the zipper, his mouth consuming a mouthful of her bare shoulder. “Are you exhausted?”

  Usually she was. She’d wanted to be a hands-on mother despite the permanent position she’d taken in the Brunswick Developments marketing department, which had meant collapsing into bed at night for the last few weeks since she’d been back to work—weeks in which the doctor had finally cleared her and Nate to be intimate again. Not ideal when Nate’s primary strength wasn’t patience.

&
nbsp; She turned around and met her husband’s hungry gaze. “No.”

  “Good,” he said roughly as he pushed the dress off her shoulders to pool in a puddle of silk at her feet. “Because I am definitely on edge.”

  A fire lit her belly. “Is that a request?”

  “Not this time.” He brought his palm between her thighs, seeking out her most intimate flesh. Mina threw back her head as he caressed her in that way that made her crazy.

  “It’s been too long,” she moaned.

  “An understatement.” He swung her up in his arms, carried her to the bed and brought her down to straddle his thighs. His eyes on hers, he captured her hand and brought it to the zipper that covered the hard bulge beneath his pants, his directive clear.

  “Nate—” she breathed, absorbing the pulsing, urgent power of him.

  “Shocking—I know,” he murmured in her ear. “Do it, anyway.”

  She did, releasing him and taking him deep inside of her, her fingers curling in his shirt as she rode him to completion, her husband still fully clothed.

  “I love you,” he murmured against her lips when they finally came up for air. “Even more than I did before.”

  Her heart dissolved. “Well, that’s good,” she returned huskily. “Because you promised me forever.”

  He caught her hand in his, pressing the back of her knuckles to his mouth. “I always follow through on my promises, Signora Brunswick.”

  So he did. She curled her arms around his neck. “Take me to bed, Signor Brunswick. Before your son wakes me up at some ungodly hour.”

  He did. Not that he had sleep on his mind.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this book, look out for the last installment of THE BILLIONAIRE’S LEGACY:

  THE LAST DI SIONE CLAIMS HIS PRIZE

  by Maisey Yates

  Coming next month.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A DANGEROUS TASTE OF PASSION by Anne Mather.

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  A Dangerous Taste of Passion

  by Anne Mather

  CHAPTER ONE

  HE WAS STANDING on the cliff that rose steeply at the end of the cove.

  Was he watching her? Lily didn’t know. But she didn’t need her intuition to realise who he was. Dee-Dee had told her; had warned her actually. And Dee-Dee seemed to know everything.

  But then, Dee-Dee also claimed she had the sight, and no one on the small Caribbean island of Orchid Cay would argue with her. And it was true, the old woman had foretold Lily’s mother’s illness, and last season’s hurricane that had almost destroyed the marina in town.

  Lily’s father didn’t agree that Dee-Dee knew everything. He regarded their housekeeper’s visions as just mumbo-jumbo. But Lily supposed that as an Anglican priest he couldn’t be seen to have anything to do with the ‘black magic’ he declared Dee-Dee’s claims to be.

  Still, right now, Lily was less concerned with Dee-Dee’s abilities than with her desire for the man to go away. She didn’t like thinking he was watching her and she wondered again what he was doing on the island.

  According to Dee-Dee, his name was Raphael Oliveira and he was from New York. The old housekeeper had speculated that he’d got in trouble in the city and had bought one of the most expensive properties on the island to escape from justice.

  But even Dee-Dee’s speculations couldn’t always be relied upon and no one had even known that the house at Orchid Point was for sale.

  Whatever, Lily wished he would just turn around and go away. This was the time she usually took her evening swim, but she had no intention of taking her clothes off in front of him—even if he was more than a hundred feet away.

  Folding her towel over her arm, she started back towards the rectory. She only permitted herself a surreptitious glance in his direction when she was almost home.

  And discovered, to her chagrin, that he was gone.

  * * *

  A week later, Lily was sitting at her desk, entering the details of the previous season’s charters into the computer, when someone came into the agency.

  She’d worked for Cartagena Charters ever since she’d left the university she’d attended in Florida. It wasn’t a particularly demanding job, but Orchid Cay was a small town and there weren’t that many jobs that her father would approve of.

  Her working area, such as it was, was behind a screen that separated the counter from the office. Usually her boss, Ray Myers, attended to all enquiries himself. But today Ray was away in Miami, taking delivery of a new two-masted schooner. He’d told Lily there probably wouldn’t be any new customers until the weekend, but she was nominally in charge.

  Sighing, as much at being interrupted as at the prospect of having to deal with an enquiry herself, Lily slid out of her seat and rounded the Perspex screen into the business area.

  A man was there, standing with his back to her, staring out of the plate glass windows at the masts of yachts bobbing in the marina beyond.

  He was tall and very tanned, with overly long dark hair, broad shoulders encased in a leather jacket. His thumbs were pushed into the back pockets of tight-fitting jeans, accentuating the fact that they clung to narrow hips and long powerful legs.

  Lily swallowed. She knew who he was instantly; had sensed it, she realised, before she’d actually walked round the screen and seen him. It was the same man who’d watched her from the cliff a week ago, the man Dee-Dee had warned her might be dangerous to know.

  He’d heard her footsteps and turned almost before she’d had a chance to school her expression. She saw dark brown eyes, long-lashed, above hollow cheekbones, a prominent nose and a thin, yet sensual mouth. Not handsome, she thought, but endlessly fascinating. For the first time she allowed the thought that Dee-Dee might just be right.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, his voice as rich and dark as black coffee. If he recognised her, he gave no sign of it. ‘Is Myers about?’

  Lily hesitated. So he knew Ray, she thought. She hadn’t sensed that. Although he spoke in English, he had a faint but distinct accent, as if it wasn’t his first language.

  ‘Um... Mr Myers isn’t here,’ she said, realising he was waiting for an answer. ‘Are you a friend of his?’

  Oliveira looked as if he doubted the innocence of that question, but he didn’t take her up on it. ‘Not a friend,’ he said. ‘But we a
re acquainted. My name is Rafe Oliveira. He would remember me, I think.’

  Lily thought that as far as she was concerned he was virtually unforgettable, but of course she didn’t say that. Did he know of his notoriety amongst the island’s inhabitants?

  And he called himself Rafe, she mused, liking it better than Raphael.

  Shaking her head at her thoughts, she said, ‘Well, I’m afraid Mr Myers is in Miami at present.’ Then, subconsciously checking the fact that the hem of her vest had pulled free of her shorts as she got up, she added quickly, ‘Can I help you?’

  The man regarded her and Lily was instantly aware that the precarious knot she’d made of her tawny hair that morning was beginning to tumble about her ears. Add to that the fact that she was wearing little make-up, and she probably looked hot and bothered.

  What an image!

  ‘I think not,’ Oliveira said now, lifting his shoulders in a gesture of dismissal, and once again Lily was struck by his harsh attraction.

  Though it was not something she wished to dwell on. Her father would have kittens if he thought she was entertaining such thoughts about a man who had created such a stir amongst the island’s population.

  ‘When will Myers be back?’

  His words interrupted her musings, and Lily arched brows that were several shades darker than her hair. He’d called Ray ‘Myers’ again, she thought. Which was hardly friendly. Maybe even assuming Ray was an acquaintance was pushing it.

  His eyes had drifted towards the marina again and, taking the opportunity to tug her vest down over the wedge of tanned skin she’d exposed, Lily said, ‘He should be back the day after tomorrow. Can I give him a message?’

  The night-dark eyes turned back in her direction and she was suddenly sure he’d noticed her efforts to cover herself. Not because she could read his mind, however, but because of the faintly mocking expression that had taken the place of his earlier detachment.