A Dangerous Infatuation

by Chantelle Shaw

  What good would it do to admit that her marriage had been far from ideal? she thought dully. It would simply show what a gullible fool she had been. Jack was dead and no longer had the power to hurt her. But his parents and Holly would be hurt if she ever revealed that he had not been the perfect husband everyone believed.

  ‘I’m not prepared to discuss my marriage,’ she said stiffly.

  He studied her intently for several moments, but to her relief did not pursue the subject. ‘That is, of course, your prerogative.’ He walked across to the door and this time opened it before glancing back at her. ‘I have a series of business meetings scheduled in various European cities and I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. If you have any concerns about my grandmother while I’m away you can contact me on my mobile phone.’

  Emma’s heart lurched at the news that he was leaving the villa. She wanted to ask him when he would be back.

  Did he have a mistress—more than one—who he intended to visit while he was away?

  She masked her disappointment with a cool smile. ‘Fine, but I don’t suppose I’ll need you.’

  Rocco’s eyes glittered. He was tempted to haul her into his arms and prove that her need to assuage the sexual frustration which simmered between them was as great as his. He did not doubt that she would respond to him. After a week of stolen glances and intense awareness smouldering below the surface of their polite exchanges, their desire for each other was at combustion point. One spark would set it aflame. But would it be fair to light the fuse, knowing that for him the beginning of an affair always signalled its end?

  For the first time in his life he found that his desire to protect Emma was stronger than his urgent need to take her to bed. Even more astonishingly, he was actually contemplating a relationship with her that he could envisage lasting longer than a few weeks. Dio, how had an averagely pretty English nurse brought him to the point where he was considering abandoning his long-held principles of never getting emotionally involved with any woman?

  He tore his eyes from her. ‘Buonanotte,’ he bade her harshly before he strode out of the door.

  ‘I’m going to stay with Nanna and Grandpa,’ Holly told Rocco, her big grey eyes glowing with excitement.

  ‘That sounds like fun, piccola.’ He smiled at the little girl and glanced enquiringly at her mother.

  ‘Jack’s parents have a holiday home in Nice and have invited Holly to spend a few days with them,’ Emma explained, relieved that her voice sounded normal and did not give away the fact that her heart was thumping.

  The past week that Rocco had been away had seemed interminable. She’d had no idea when he would return, and although he had phoned her twice, their conversations had been stilted and exclusively about his grandmother. The unexpected sight of him at the breakfast table this morning had sent the air rushing from her lungs. ‘Peter and Alison are flying into Genoa tomorrow. They plan to hire a car, collect Holly and drive along the coast into France.’

  ‘Can I go and tell Bobbo?’ Holly asked, seeing the dog run across the lawn.

  At Emma’s nod the little girl slipped off her chair and ran out into the garden. ‘How do you feel about her being away from you?’ Rocco murmured, noting the faintly wistful expression on her face.

  ‘Fine.’ She smiled ruefully when he arched his brows disbelievingly. ‘It’s only for a few days, and she’ll have a wonderful time. Jack’s parents dote on her, and I know they’ll take good care of her.’

  A necessary part of motherhood was learning to let go. She had no doubt that Holly would love spending time with her grandparents, but being parted from her little daughter was going to be a wrench, Emma acknowledged with a sigh.

  ‘Cordelia tells me she is going to spend today with Barbara and Andrew Harris.’

  ‘Yes, she’s upstairs getting ready, and I’m going to drive her there.’

  ‘How about we take Holly to the beach? We’ll take Cordelia to Rapallo and on the way back stop off at Santa Margherita. It’s a pretty seaside resort, and she’ll be able to make sandcastles to her heart’s content.’

  Emma’s first instinct was to refuse. The wild burst of pleasure she had felt when she had walked into the dining room and discovered that Rocco was home was ample proof that he affected her way too much. While he’d been away she had made the decision that she could not risk becoming involved with him. But his lazy smile undermined her defences. In faded jeans and a cream shirt open at the throat to reveal an expanse of olive gold skin and a sprinkling of dark chest hairs, he was irresistibly sexy. What harm would it do to spend one day with him? she argued with herself. After all, it would be purely for Holly’s benefit.

  She set down her coffee cup and gave him a composed smile. ‘That sounds nice. Holly will love it.’

  So cool, Rocco mused, his amusement mixed with an unexpected feeling of tenderness. The pulse beating erratically at the base of her throat told him she was not sure of herself, or of him, and once again her tangible vulnerability tugged on his insides.

  Palm trees stood at regular intervals along the esplanade at Santa Margherita Ligure, which was lined with bars, restaurants and gelaterie, shaded by colourful striped awnings. The sea was crystal-clear beneath a cloudless blue sky, but Holly was more interested in the long sandy beach, and could barely contain her impatience as Rocco parked the car and lifted her out of her child seat.

  Emma opened the boot and gathered up a plastic bucket and spade, a rug to sit on, towels and a bag containing all the paraphernalia required for one small child.

  Her lips twitched when Rocco murmured, ‘I thought we were spending the day here, not a week.’

  Their eyes met and held, before she quickly glanced away and took hold of Holly’s hand.

  ‘You go and set up camp, and I’ll get coffees for us.’

  She watched him stride away, his height making him easy to spot among the crowd ambling along the esplanade, enjoying a leisurely Saturday. Dragging her gaze from his broad shoulders, she smiled at her excited daughter. ‘Let’s get building castles.’

  Holly needed no persuading, and played happily in the sand while Emma spread out the rug. The sun was warm enough for her to remove her jacket. Rocco had been right; she would have been uncomfortably hot in the jeans and sweatshirts she had brought from England. The white pedal-pushers and blue-and-white checked shirt she had chosen from the selection of clothes he had bought her were stylish and elegant, and had no doubt cost a fortune, she thought ruefully.

  ‘Mummy—a shell.’ Holly held out her hand to reveal her find. ‘I’m going to look for more.’

  ‘Stay close,’ Emma instructed. She kept her eyes on her daughter, but Holly did not wander far before she started to dig a hole in the sand.

  A gull soared overhead, mewing plaintively, and gentle waves lapped rhythmically on the shore. Heavenly, Emma mused, lifting her face to the sun. It was hard to believe that only a couple of weeks ago she’d had to dress in umpteen layers to keep warm in the wintry conditions affecting Northumberland.

  She glanced down the beach and squinted against the sunshine when she did not immediately see Holly. A bright pink bucket and spade were lying on the sand, but the little girl was no longer digging. Frowning, Emma looked along the beach to the left and right, sure she would spot Holly’s distinctive yellow T-shirt. But there was no sign of her.

  ‘Holly?’ Feeling a faint flutter of concern, Emma stared towards the sea. A group of children were playing on the shoreline, but her daughter was not with them. ‘Holly!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  She swung round at the sound of Rocco’s voice. ‘I can’t see Holly. She was here a minute ago …’ Once again she scanned the horizon, panic edging towards fear when there was no sight of the child.

  ‘I’ll look for her. She can’t have gone far.’ Rocco took his mobile from his pocket. ‘Keep your phone to hand and I’ll ring you as soon as I find her.’

  Emma continued to scan along the beach, gnawin
g on her lip until she tasted blood. With every second that passed her tension went up a notch, but she forced herself to keep calm. Any minute now Rocco would walk back along the sand with Holly on his shoulders, she assured herself.

  She spotted him striding towards her—alone. Terror swept through her and she ran across the beach to meet him

  ‘I can’t see her,’ he revealed tautly.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Her legs felt like jelly, and she clung to him when he slid a supporting arm around her waist. ‘She must be here. I only took my eyes off her for a moment.’ Guilt surged through her and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand, as if to hold back the anguished cry building inside her. ‘Rocco …’ She stared at him wildly as he activated his phone. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Calling the police.’

  ‘The police!’ A cold hand of dread squeezed her heart as the seriousness of the situation hit her hard. ‘She must be on the beach somewhere,’ she cried frantically. ‘She must be.’ Tears burned her eyes and she brushed them away impatiently. She needed to think, to stay calm in a crisis. But she wasn’t dealing with an accident in the A&E unit; her precious daughter had disappeared and a multitude of terrible scenarios were swirling in her mind.

  ‘We need to report that Holly is missing,’ Rocco told her.

  The quiet authority in his voice and the way he firmly assumed control calmed Emma a little, and she took a shuddering breath.

  ‘Of course she’s here somewhere,’ he reassured her. ‘But the more people we have looking for her, the quicker we’ll find her.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘IT’S my fault. I didn’t watch her properly.’ Tears streamed down Emma’s face as her tight control on her emotions gave way. ‘What if something’s happened to her?’ She glanced fearfully towards the sea. ‘Or someone has taken her?’ she could barely voice her worst nightmare.

  The utter devastation in her eyes caused Rocco’s heart to clench. He, better than most, understood what she must be feeling, he acknowledged grimly. The realisation that a child was missing, the desperate search … It was twenty years since his brother had disappeared in the grounds of Nunstead Hall, but the memory of the sick fear he’d felt as he had searched for Gio would always haunt him. Madre de Dio, please make the outcome be different this time, he prayed.

  He cradled Emma’s head between his hands and stared into her eyes. ‘Stop blaming yourself—you are the most devoted mother I have ever met. We’ll find Holly, I promise you, cara.’

  The following forty minutes were the worst of Emma’s life. Not even when she had been told of Jack’s death, or learned from his mistress how he had betrayed her, had she felt such raw anguish. Waiting for news was sheer torture. But all she could do was stay on the beach, in case Holly wandered back to the place where they had been sitting.

  Meanwhile, Rocco had called the staff from the Villa Lucia to join the search as they would easily recognise the little girl.

  Every tragic story she had read in the newspapers about missing children circled in Emma’s mind. The idea that she might never see her daughter again was too unbearable to contemplate, and she dropped her head in her hands and gave a keening moan.

  ‘Emma …’

  Rocco’s voice sounded from some distance away. But something in his tone … She lowered her hands—and felt as though her heart had exploded in her chest when she saw him striding along the esplanade, holding Holly in his arms.

  ‘Thank God—thank God!’ Tears blinded her and her legs would barely support her, but she forced them to move as she stumbled up the beach.

  That evening, Rocco knocked on the door of Emma’s room. ‘Is she asleep?’ he murmured as she emerged from Holly’s bedroom and quietly closed the interconnecting door.

  ‘Yes. I’m not surprised she’s worn out after chasing Bobbo round the garden all afternoon,’ she replied, forcing a bright tone. ‘And she’s excited about seeing her grandparents tomorrow.’

  She could not bring herself to refer to what had happened at the beach. Holly had eventually been found down by the harbour, where she had fallen asleep on a pile of fishing nets. Emma went cold at the thought that her daughter might have fallen into the deep water of the port and drowned. Thankfully, the little girl seemed unaffected by the drama of the morning, but they had cut short their beach trip and returned to the villa, where Emma had determinedly hidden the after-effects of her own shock and kept to Holly’s normal routine.

  ‘Are you still going to allow her to go to Nice with your in-laws?’

  She nodded. ‘I’d prefer not to let her out of my sight ever again, but it wouldn’t be fair to disappoint her by cancelling the trip, and I’ve no doubt that Jack’s parents will take great care of her.’

  Without warning, her eyes filled with tears. All afternoon she had pushed thoughts of Holly’s disappearance firmly to the back of her mind, but now agonising memories returned of the crippling fear and desperation she had felt. Earlier, a long soak in the bath had eased some of her tension, but the horror of losing her daughter was something she would never forget, and she sank down onto the bed, her shoulders shaking as sobs racked her.

  ‘Cara.’

  Rocco’s deep voice sounded close to her ear. She felt his arms around her, felt him lift her, and she had no strength—either physically or mentally—to fight him.

  It was some while before she finally brought her emotions under control. Feeling horribly self-conscious, she scrubbed her eyes with the tissues Rocco had pushed into her hand and lifted her head—to discover that he had carried her along the hall to his suite of rooms. They were in his private sitting room, a spacious room decorated in modern shades of taupe and cream. A door standing ajar led to his bedroom, where Emma could see a vast bed draped in burgundy silk.

  ‘I thought you would not want to risk waking Holly,’ he explained, correctly interpreting her questioning look.

  Colour stained her cheeks at the thought of how she had broken down in front of him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, only now realising how close he was sitting next to her on the sofa. His arm was stretched along the back, and she had a horrible feeling that she had rested her head on his shoulder while she had been crying. She grimaced. ‘I’m sure you have better things to do than put up with me snivelling all over you.’

  ‘You’ve been through hell,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s better not to bottle up your emotions.’

  Something in his voice drew her gaze to his face, and her heart turned over at the haunted expression in his eyes. ‘Is that what you did after your brother died?’ she asked softly. ‘Cordelia told me about Giovanni’s accident.’

  ‘Did my grandmother tell you that if I had looked after Gio properly there wouldn’t have been an accident?’ Rocco’s jaw clenched. ‘I can never escape the fact that my resentment at my mother leaving me to babysit yet again resulted in my brother’s death. I failed Gio,’ he said harshly. ‘He wasn’t an easy child, and he had a wild streak, but I loved him. He looked up to me and depended on me to look out for him. I will always live with the knowledge that I let him down.’

  ‘You were a teenager—just a boy.’ Her heart aching at his undisguised pain, Emma acted instinctively, leaning towards him and clasping his hand. ‘Cordelia said that your parents should have taken more responsibility for Gio. You almost lost your life trying to save him all those years ago. And as for today …’ Her voice broke. ‘When I realised Holly was missing, I was so scared. I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to do. But you took charge and organised the search. While I was stupidly panicking, you did everything you could to find her, and I …’ She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave him a wobbly smile. ‘I’m so glad you were there.’

  Emotions were hell, she thought ruefully as tears once again blurred her vision. The terror of losing Holly had stripped away her protective shell, leaving her feeling painfully vulnerable. For the past three years she had brought up her daughter on her own, and even though it had been hard som
etimes she felt proud that she had not needed help from anyone. But today she had needed Rocco. He had been her rock, she acknowledged, her heart swelling with the intensity of her feelings.

  ‘What happened to your brother was a tragic accident,’ she told him softly. ‘You didn’t fail him, and today you didn’t fail Holly or me.’

  Her words were like healing balm on a wound that was still raw so many years after Gio’s death. For the first time since he was fifteen Rocco felt a sense of release from the guilt that had weighed heavily on him. Since the day he had cradled his brother’s lifeless body in his arms he had felt frozen inside. He had avoided relationships where his emotions might be involved. It was easier that way—safer not to care.

  But with Emma it was different. She had crept under his guard, and without knowing how or when it had happened he found that he was concerned for her well-being. When her daughter had gone missing he had felt her agony, and he would have moved heaven and earth to reunite her with Holly.

  Emma caught her breath when Rocco curled his fingers around hers and lifted her hand to his mouth, to graze his lips across her knuckles. His golden tiger’s eyes burned into hers and she became conscious of the subtle shift in the atmosphere between them. Moments before he had provided comfort and a sense of security, but now the tiny hairs on her body stood on end as she felt the tangible quiver of their mutual sexual awareness.

  He moved his hand from the back of the sofa to her shoulder and gently propelled her towards him. In the thick silence she was sure he would hear her thudding heart, just as she heard the sudden quickening of his breath as he slanted his mouth over hers.

  There was no thought in her head to deny him, and her lips trembled a little with the intensity of emotions unfurling inside her. Trust—something she had been certain she could never feel again—enfolded her as Rocco tightened his arms around her. His kiss was tender, evocative and it tugged on her heart. She felt safe with him—confident to relax her guard and allow him to discover the innately sensual nature that she had tried so hard to hide.