by Amy Ayers
“Mila, this is, it’s…”
“Disappointing?”
“Incredibly excessive.”
Mila laughed. “Oh, I like you. You’re amusing.”
Senna backed out of the closet and landed on a delicate satin-covered bench. What I wouldn’t do for a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt.
“Here, let me help. I’ll pick something out and leave it on the bed while you get ready. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?”
“Sure, but I need to feed Max.”
“No problem, I’ll meet you back here in forty-five minutes. Does that work?”
Mila was turning out to be quite the little dictator about going down for breakfast.
“There are lots of products and cosmetics at the vanity.” Mila disappeared into the closet and began muttering to herself. “Now where did I hang that green Marc Jacobs sheath?”
What am I doing here?
…
“Senna? Where are you?” Marco’s Latin timbre floated through the air and reached her deep in the depths of her hiding spot. It also affected other specific body parts, but Senna tried to ignore that fact.
“In here.”
Marco entered the closet with measured steps, like he was unsure what he would find inside. “Are you all right, princesa?”
Am I? Not entirely. She didn’t bother answering.
He lowered himself slowly to the floor next to Max. Senna almost laughed. She doubted he’d ever sat down on the floor of a closet. He looked out of place. But Max was thrilled with his presence. He immediately flipped over onto his front and tried to scoot himself closer.
“And how’s my petit rei?”
“How come he gets to be your little king when I’m only a princess? That doesn’t seem quite fair.”
“Male privilege?”
Senna snorted. “No such thing. Any son of mine will learn quickly that moms make the rules.”
“It is true, son, they do. Even when you are old and decrepit like Daddy.” Max blew a spit bubble at him and stretched to grab his nose.
Marco laughed. It was a deep rolling chuckle that was effortlessly sexy. She’d gotten to know Marco while cloaked in his mysterious and intriguing CEO persona. But this Marco, this relaxed, funny, casual Marco, was new to her. No custom suit and Prada loafers—he came wearing low-slung jeans and a lightweight black sweater, hinting at the powerful body underneath.
Maybe it was because she felt so misplaced, maybe it was because she had gone so long without touching a man, but she had to fight a strong and sudden urge to crawl over to where he sat idly playing with Max and put her head in his lap.
“You know there are other rooms in this house. You don’t have to hide out in the closet.”
“I like it in here. I like the scale of it. If I close my eyes and ignore all the fancy clothes, I can pretend it’s my apartment.”
“You are a funny woman. You are staying in a fourteenth-century estate, and instead of resting in your oversized bedroom or installing yourself in the conservatory or the gardens, you have holed up in a closet.”
“I’m a simple woman. And all of this is a little overwhelming.”
He simply nodded in understanding.
“So, my mother is expecting us at dinner tonight. Do you feel up to that?”
What was yet another terrifying experience to add to her already exciting day? She’d spent breakfast surrounded by two of Marco’s fast-talking siblings, trying to keep up with the conversation and the passing platters. “Sure. But only if I can wear these.” Senna lifted a stiletto from one of the many shoeboxes littering the ground around her. The magenta pump had a bright yellow pompon accenting the top of the shoe.
She continued. “Mila outdid herself filling this closet. She assured me they were all the rage in Milan. I think they look like someone tried to design sexy clown shoes and failed miserably.”
A wry smile stole over his features. “I think you are correct in your assessment. But wear what you like. You will look beautiful whatever you choose.”
Senna sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Who will be at dinner?”
“Mila, of course. Marcellus is in town, so he will be there. Matteo is back from the jungles of Africa. Mace is still in Miami.”
“I met Matteo at breakfast with Mila. Gosh, you have a lot of brothers. Mila must feel completely outnumbered.”
“I think that’s one of the reasons she’s so happy you’re here. You help balance out all of the testosterone.” Marco gently stroked Max’s mussed hair. “It’s usually just her. Well, and my mother, of course.”
Senna had never heard Marco speak of his parents in any kind of detail. His brothers had always been around Medina Enterprises when she worked there so they weren’t complete mysteries. “What’s your mother like?”
“She is…strong. Opinionated.” He looked up and trained his honey hazel eyes on her. “She will love Max.” Senna was rattled by the hint of uncertainty in his words.
But hearing the word “love” fall from his lips so easily sent an unexpected thrill through her body. The air around them felt charged, pregnant with expectations, even desire.
If she dared, she could easily reach over Max and touch Marco’s broad, muscled chest, exploring the flat planes and deep ridges his thin sweater barely concealed. And she wanted to. She wanted nothing more.
Marco seemed to have a similar idea. He reached out and ran his hand down her jaw where it came to rest near her chin. Her eyes closed. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed his physical touch. If the gentle caresses of his hand and thumb on her face caused this much delicious want inside her, she shuddered to think what it would feel like to kiss him again.
Suddenly, Marco retracted his hand and began rubbing Max’s back, much to the baby’s delight. It was just as well. She didn’t need to fall under his spell again. She was still trying to deal with the aftermath of the last time she’d let that happen.
They were quiet for a moment with only the occasional squeal from Max to pierce the quiet of the huge closet. Senna took a deep breath. “Marco, I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your family.”
“Then I suggest you don’t wear the clown shoes.” He nodded to the colorful footwear behind her.
She laughed. It felt validating that he acknowledged the absurdity of her situation.
“Seriously, you’ll be fine.” Marco was once again all business. “Dinner is at nine. You have time to take a nap if you wish.”
He stood and then reached back down scooping up Max and Lambie. Senna pushed herself back to standing as well.
“I think I’ll take Max out to the stables and introduce him to the horses.”
“Okay. But I should change him before you go.”
“I’ve got it, don’t worry. Well, Madame Marchande may need to assist, but I have to learn sometime.”
“Just…be careful. He’s never been around horses.”
“Of course.” He walked to the doors of the closet. “I won’t let him ride without a helmet and chaps.”
“Marco Medina—”
“Kidding, princesa. But we’ll be careful.”
She wasn’t used to someone else having the right to take Max out of her sight. He’s his father, he has that right. Shaking her head she found herself wandering toward the bathroom. I need about six Tylenol and a nap.
…
Walking from the main residence down to the stables proved a time-consuming task thanks to the dark-haired, chubby-legged charmer of a son he held firmly in his arms. Staff deftly dropped their tasks to steal a glance at the Medina heir. Max was playing his role to perfection, tossing smiles and happy shrieks to anyone they met. And Marco was happy to let Max be the star.
Max’s hands gripped at Marco’s arms and his little legs kicked excitedly. At one point Max nestled his head into the hollow of his shoulder, and the love he felt for his son hit him like a tsunami. It was primal, far more powerful than anything he could have imagined. He
and Senna had created this perfect combination of the two of them. And he was perfect. Even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. He was his. He was a Medina.
When he learned about Max, he was sure Senna was trying to hide him away. So like any Medina would do, he immediately began planning how to get what he wanted—his son. He would honor his betrothal and marry Brynn, but Max would be raised as a Medina with direct access to the best education, caregivers, tutors, anything and everything he needed. To do this, he’d pay off Senna, and he and Brynn would raise the boy as their own.
The plan had made so much sense a few weeks ago when he was plotting it all out with his advisors and drawing up the terribly one-sided custody agreement for Senna to sign. He’d make sure she never wanted for anything financially ever again. What woman could turn that down? With Max halfway around the world, she could do whatever she wanted. She could go back to school or get a job in her field. Marco wouldn’t care if she spent the rest of her life sunbathing on Miami’s glorious beaches as long as he could secure Max as his heir and have him for himself.
He hadn’t always looked on his time with Senna as business that needed to be managed. There was a reason Senna was the only employee he’d ever crossed the line with. No one was more surprised than he was when his longing for her went from the flicker of a flame to raging conflagration. Before he could stop it, thoughts of Senna consumed him. She turned him on in every possible way. Her body, her sensuality, the way her mind worked—she flipped on every switch and button he had, and checked boxes he didn’t know existed.
But then his father suffered a massive stroke, and things changed.
Marco entered the stables and was greeted by his equine manager, Gerard, a jockey-sized older man with weathered features and a spring in his step that belied his advanced years. Gerard’s family had been masters of the Medina horses for generations, and he wasn’t entirely sure whose company Gerard preferred—humans or horses. But on this particular afternoon, Max took center stage.
“Ah, hello there, Mr. Medina. And who is this beautiful nado? Is this our new little master come to review the guard?” Gerard swept his arms toward the horse stalls as if presenting the horses for competition. The horses either slept or munched on their feed, completely nonplussed by their arrival.
Marco laughed, and Max squealed.
“Mr. Medina, I’ve wanted to tell you that we need to reshoe Romulus—”
“Hello, Marco,” the familiar melodious voice interrupted.
Gerard stepped aside, and there was Brynn Vandermere, Medina Enterprises’ communications liaison, daughter of his father’s best friend, and, he supposed, technically, his fiancée. They weren’t in a relationship, had never been on a single date, but his family had arranged their marriage when they were both children, and in anticipation of the two names joining to build an even more massive empire, their marriage was considered all but done.
He hadn’t anticipated seeing her just yet, but she usually did visit the Medina horses when she was staying at her family’s nearby home.
“Brynn,” Marco acknowledged her with a nod.
Gerard silently left them.
“So, you not only brought the baby but his mother as a bonus?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Mila told me.”
Why am I not surprised? Brynn made it her business to know his every move. Admittedly, it made her good at her job at Medina Enterprises. She was expert at being informed on his schedule as well as being apprised of current and breaking business matters.
“Yes, I brought her,” he said.
She stopped an arm’s length from where Marco stood with Max. “This is already difficult enough. I assume there was a reason she had to tag along.”
“It doesn’t change anything, Brynn. Her presence here actually may make everything easier.”
Marco couldn’t help but admire Brynn’s beauty, but it was hard and cold. Tall and lean, she drew attention when she entered a room. Her long blond hair was carefully coiffed, her icy blue eyes noticed the smallest details. She could have the attention of anyone in the room with the slightest tilt of her head or a purposeful flicker of her thick lashes. If she stood still long enough, she could almost pass for one of the sensual Grecian marble statues that dotted the Medina estate.
But their relationship was complex. He had general affection for her, but that was it. He would marry her out of duty to his family, nothing more. It would be so much easier if I loved her.
“How is Massimo?”
He shifted his weight, moving Max to his other arm so he had a different view of the horses. “The same. Some days are better than others.”
“Well, the wedding isn’t too far off now. I know he’s looking forward to it.”
That was an understatement. Massimo was obsessed with seeing Marco and Brynn wed. When Marco told him about Senna and Max, he was taken aback. Ultimately, he had agreed that securing the next Medina heir would be a great joy. And a well-timed one at that. As long as Senna knew her place was in the background. Far in the background. But the more time he spent with the mother and child, the more concerned Marco became that it might be difficult to convince Senna that was the best plan.
When he and Brynn were only toddlers, Massimo and Jakob Vandermere, Brynn’s father, had arranged the marriage of their children in order to merge their two vast corporations and ensure wealth and stability for future generations. It’s what was done in families such as theirs, families steeped with stalwart traditions, whose members resolved themselves early in life to accept and honor the wishes of generations past.
Brynn embraced the role as betrothed Medina wife-to-be. Early in life, she’d grabbed hold of the promise and held on like a wild animal. Marco knew that, for her, the arrangement at least gave her certainty. He’d seen firsthand the expectations Jakob placed on his daughter, and it unnerved him that their marriage arrangement was a source of stress on Jakob and Brynn’s relationship. Massimo wanted them to marry because it was tradition, it was expected. He wasn’t so sure that Jakob’s motivations were purely honorable.
But even so, Marco battled a faint tremor in his resolve to honor his father’s wishes. The older he got, the more violent the tremor became. He’d known Brynn since they were small children. She was like a sister to him. How could he marry her? Shouldn’t he be able to choose his own wife? Trying to convince his father of that had not gone well.
“Maybe you should take advantage of Max’s presence. You could use this time to get to know your future stepson.”
Marco watched as her bravado fell away, revealing her features etched with fear.
She recovered quickly and said, “One major life-altering event at a time, Marco.”
Maybe it wasn’t fair of him to expect her to fall all over Max. She didn’t sign up for this, either. Like him, she was engaged to someone she didn’t love, forced to marry someone for what really boiled down to a business transaction. Of course, now she was also tasked with parenting a child who wasn’t her own.
Max laid his head on Marco’s shoulder. He loved that it took him no time at all to trust him. To know that if he was tired, he could rest on his father’s shoulder.
“I still can’t believe you kept Senna from contacting me about Max.”
Brynn’s head whipped around to face him. Marco knew she didn’t like to be challenged, especially by him.
Her voice held an authoritative quality that was unnerving. “My team is tasked with making sure only the most important of business reaches you. Didn’t you tell me that yourself? No unnecessary distractions? ‘Be the gatekeeper’ you said. I did what you told me to do. I made sure those communications never reached you.”
Marco had never brought his arrangement with Brynn into the workplace. It was her idea to work for Medina Enterprises, and their fathers had given their blessings saying it would continue to foster their future business merger. But Marco knew Brynn just wanted to keep an eye on him and ensure he didn’t develop any serious female entangleme
nts. In an odd way, he saw where she was coming from. She, too, felt bound to honor their families’ wishes. And now Senna and Max were here, the most potent threat to the future she’d counted on.
She took a step closer, firmly encroaching on his personal space. Marco felt nothing—no heat, no desire. “I mean really, Marco. Her story was a little too pat. You spent one drunken night together and then she’s having your baby? Please. It’s not even original. I told you. I thought she was trying to cash in on your indiscretion.”
Marco used his height to lean in and take control of the conversation. “Brynn, I’m going to stop you right there. Senna is here to help facilitate Max meeting his family. With her here physically it will be that much easier to settle things. I would think you would be happy about that.”
“Happy?” Brynn scoffed, her shoulders drooping, and for the first time he saw a crack in her confident facade. “I may want the security of being a Medina wife, but you can be sure that none of this makes me happy.”
Marco didn’t miss Brynn’s pointed glance at Max. A moment of heavy silence passed between them.
“And she’ll sign the agreement?” Brynn asked, her voice lowered to a whisper.
“Of course she will,” Marco replied sounding more sure than he felt.
…
Mila arrived at eight fifteen p.m. to help Senna select something to wear. She couldn’t help but be intimidated by the thought of having to be dressed and presentable for every meal. She was far too comfortable with eating takeout on the couch with Abby. All of this formality was exhausting.
Meeting Marco’s mother and his other brothers was terrifying, but she kept reminding herself that these people shared the same blood as Max. That made them important to her, and she wanted to make a good first impression.
Mila had her try on five different outfits before deciding on the silk sleeveless blouse with a deep neckline and strategically placed ruffles. She paired it with a matching blush pencil skirt with a finely detailed black lace overlay and added a matching wide belt that made the effect feminine, not provocative.