Claiming His Wedding Night Consequence

by Abby Green

  ‘Everything is all right with the baby, if you must know. I was seeing a very nice doctor in Dublin.’

  Nico made a non-committal sound. ‘We’ll still see a specialist here, and I’ll make sure we have the best doctors available on stand-by in Sicily.’

  They reached their table and Nico pulled a chair out for Chiara. ‘I’m not due for another four months,’ she pointed out as she sat down.

  Then she noticed that Nico was walking away and a spurt of panic gripped her. Wasn’t he meant to be sitting beside her? He took a seat directly opposite, but as the table was about six feet wide he might as well have been on the moon.

  She noticed that he was in between two very beautiful women, a blonde and a redhead, who both seemed to be vying for his attention. She felt a spurt of dark emotion. Something she’d never experienced before—jealousy.

  He looked across at her and raised a brow. She forced a smile, determined not to let him see how affected she was.

  She felt very exposed and gauche, and at that moment a tall and very regal-looking woman took the chair on Chiara’s right-hand side, while an ancient-looking man took the seat on her left.

  To say Chiara was dreading the ordeal ahead was an understatement, and when the scary-looking woman asked, ‘Well, then—who are you and what do you do?’ Chiara’s stomach fell to the floor.

  She said truthfully, ‘I’m no one important at all. I’m here with my husband—Nicolo Santo Domenico.’

  The woman immediately perked up and looked Chiara up and down, taking in her protruding belly. ‘Very interesting. First of all, never tell anyone you’re not important—because it’s simply not true. Now, you must tell me all about yourself because if you’re Santo Domenico’s wife then I’m sure you have an interesting story... You know everyone used to call him “the man who can’t be tamed”?’

  The woman glanced across the table to where Nico sat and then winked at Chiara, saying, ‘I’d say you’ve put the cat among the pigeons this evening, my dear.’

  * * *

  ‘What did Princess Milena say to you?’

  Chiara looked at Nico, sitting in the back of the car in shock. ‘She was a princess?’

  He nodded. ‘Princess Milena of Genoa. One of the oldest royal lines in Italy.’

  Chiara absorbed this. ‘But she was lovely...we had such a nice conversation.’

  Nico sounded sceptical. ‘She’s famously taciturn and intolerant of people, and yet every time I looked over at you she was laughing.’

  Chiara shrugged. ‘We were talking about everything and anything.’

  ‘Did she ask about me?’

  Chiara raised a brow, intrigued by this glimpse of a less arrogant Nico. ‘Paranoid?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘I went to her looking for investment once and she refused to see me.’

  ‘She was curious as to how we met.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘The truth...that it was through the castello. I see no point in hiding the facts. Obviously I didn’t elaborate on the business end of our arrangement, but I don’t think she believes it’s a romantic match.’

  ‘No marriage in that world is a romantic match. It’s so rare you’d be more likely to see a unicorn at one of those functions.’

  ‘I don’t believe that. Why are you so cynical?’

  ‘Because in my experience love is a myth peddled by writers, poets and artists to distract from the reality of life—which is that inevitably you’re on your own.’

  ‘What happened with your mother?’

  Nico turned his face towards her. It felt as if they were in a cocoon as Rome flashed past them outside, its lights winking and fading.

  ‘What’s my mother got to do with this?’

  Chiara heard the warning in his voice but ignored it. She was carrying this man’s child. She needed to know who he was. ‘A lot. She was your mother.’

  ‘No, she wasn’t. She gave birth to me, but that’s about it. She left when I was only a few days old. Abandoned me and my father.’ He sounded harsh and he turned away, presenting her with his profile.

  Chiara’s heart squeezed. She could hear the hurt in Nico’s voice even though she knew he probably wasn’t even aware of it. ‘You never saw her again?’

  He was silent for so long she thought he was going to ignore her question, and then he said, ‘She turned up at my office here in Rome a few years ago, asking to see me. I refused.’

  Carefully Chiara said, ‘I can understand why you reacted like that...but she might have had something important to say...wanted to explain why she did what she did.’

  He turned to look at her again and Chiara almost shrank back at the harsh expression on his face, lit up by the neon lights outside. ‘I have no interest in her explanations, whatever they might be. She is dead to me. This subject is closed.’

  She might have had something important to say.

  Chiara’s words scored at Nico’s insides like blunt knives. He hated it that he’d felt compelled to respond. To say something. He hated it that he was now thinking of that day when his assistant had come into his office, frowning and saying, ‘There’s a Signora Santo Domenico here to see you—she says she’s your mother.’

  At first Nico had been too shocked to respond, and then a sense of sheer anger and hatred had rushed through his system so strong that he’d shaken with it.

  He’d stood up and said, ‘Tell her I’m not available and tell her never to return.’

  He hadn’t slept properly for a couple of months afterwards, and part of the reason was the guilt he’d had no control over. Exactly the emotion Chiara was provoking now. If anyone should be feeling guilty it was his mother, not him.

  They arrived back at Nico’s apartment and he felt wound up in a way that only one or two things could alleviate. Physical exercise or sex. He stood beside Chiara in the lift and saw how she was avoiding looking at her reflection in the mirrored doors.

  ‘Why won’t you look at yourself?’

  She met his eye and he could see her blush. How could she blush? Because she is still little more than a virgin. That thought did not help Nico’s levels of tension. Nor did the confined space, the scent of Chiara’s evocative perfume or her lush body just inches from touching his.

  ‘I’ve never liked looking at myself. And now... I don’t feel like myself.’ She gestured with a hand to the dress and styling. ‘This isn’t me.’

  Tension made Nico’s voice harsh. ‘You’re my wife—this is you now. You’ll just have to get used to it.’

  He saw how she paled when the doors opened. Nico felt dangerously close to losing the veneer of civility he’d grown over the years; dangerously close to the raw uneducated teenager he’d once been. All he wanted to do now was to lift Chiara into his arms, strip off that flowing provocative dress and lay her down, bare, on his bed, and then sink into her hot tight body and lose himself in oblivion until he felt focused again.

  But she was pregnant. She was out of bounds. He had given her a separate bedroom. He didn’t know if they could make love without harming the baby—this was uncharted territory for him. The fact that he found her even more attractive now was something he had not expected and didn’t know how to navigate. He wasn’t used to holding back.

  She turned to face him in the marbled hallway, avoiding his eye. ‘Goodnight, then.’

  She turned to leave and Nico said, ‘Wait.’

  She stopped and turned around.

  Gruffly, he said, ‘You had Princess Milena eating out of the palm of your hand and she’s one of the toughest nuts to crack. You looked beautiful this evening.’

  A little flare of pink came back into her cheeks and Nico felt ridiculously light for a second.

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned around again and left, and Nico stood watching the empty space for a long moment. Then he went
to his bedroom, found some sweats and went to the gym and exercised until he couldn’t breathe. Then he took a cold shower.

  Only then, when he was utterly exhausted, did he feel some of the tension leave his body.

  * * *

  ‘You looked beautiful this evening.’

  Chiara lay awake for some time. She blamed the baby for starting its nightly Samba routine, but really it was due to everything that had happened that day.

  That morning, waking up in the overcrowded room she’d shared with all those girls, she’d never have guessed she’d be ensconced in Nico’s luxury apartment in Rome by midnight. After having attended her first high-profile social event as a married woman.

  In a way, she could admit that she was relieved Nico had found her, because telling him about the baby had been weighing on her mind more and more. And now it was done. The only thing she had to come to terms with now was how her life would fit in with his.

  Did they have any kind of a future at all? Would Nico ever make love to her again? A shiver went through her, just remembering what it had felt like to stand next to him in the confined space of the lift. She was so aware of him. Would it ever diminish?

  But as much as she craved his touch again she also feared it, because their wedding night had broken her apart—so much so that she’d had to put thousands of miles between them. If he touched her again, how would she be able to hide what she was feeling?

  Her pregnancy didn’t help matters. She felt as if a layer of skin had been removed, baring her emotions even more.

  Chiara put her hand on her belly and felt the baby kick. She couldn’t stop a smile, even though she didn’t feel like smiling. She hoped for their baby’s sake that there was some kind of a future for them.

  She just couldn’t fall for him... Because if she did making a life with Nico would be excruciating. He was not a man who would ever love her back.

  His attitude to his mother was chilling, even if she could understand how resentful and hurt he must have been after being abandoned by her. When Chiara had heard the pain in his voice earlier she’d wanted to soothe it. And that scared her because she should be remaining detached.

  Then the baby kicked again and Chiara cursed herself for being selfish. As long as Nico loved their child, that was all that really mattered. She didn’t want her child to experience what she had—feeling less than, or not enough. And that would be her priority—this baby. Bringing it safely into the world and ensuring that he or she felt loved and wanted, no matter what was going on between her and Nico.

  * * *

  ‘Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?’

  The doctor looked from her to Nico and Chiara held her breath. She was flat on her back on a table, her belly exposed and smeared with cold jelly. They’d just been reassured that everything was fine with the baby. And now there was this question.

  Chiara said, ‘I don’t care as long as it’s healthy.’

  She looked at Nico, who had been transfixed by the image on the screen ever since it had appeared. He looked pale. Then he said, ‘I’d like to know.’

  He looked at her. ‘If that’s okay?’

  Chiara figured that for a man who ran a huge global enterprise, comprising myriad businesses and thousands of employees, it made sense for him to leave little to chance.

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’

  The doctor pressed down again on Chiara’s belly and then she said, ‘Okay, I just wanted to be sure... I’m delighted to tell you that you’re having a baby girl.’

  An instant sob of emotion came out of Chiara’s mouth before she could stop it as she looked at the screen and saw the tiny heartbeat pounding away. Her daughter. She put a hand to her mouth.

  It took her a second to realise that Nico hadn’t said anything, and when she looked at him his expression was shuttered. Instantly she felt trepidation.

  The doctor seemed to sense their need to absorb this alone and wiped the gel off Chiara’s belly and pulled her robe down. ‘I’ll be outside when you’re ready, but be reassured that all is well. Congratulations.’

  The doctor left and silence filled the small room. Chiara pulled the robe down over her belly a little more and sat up. Nico was still standing beside the bed, dwarfing the small space.

  Chiara forced herself to look at him. His expression was still a little shell-shocked.

  A bitter sense of disappointment made her belly sink. ‘You don’t want a daughter.’

  He seemed to come out of the reverie he’d been in and he looked at Chiara. He frowned. ‘No... I mean...yes. I just hadn’t really thought about it in terms of a he or a she yet. And now...’

  He sat down on the chair looking a little bewildered. It was the first time Chiara had seen any kind of chink in his indomitability.

  ‘Are you disappointed? Would you have preferred a boy?’

  Of course he would, crowed an inner voice, he’s an Alpha male!

  But Nico shook his head slowly. ‘No... I want the baby to be healthy, like you. It’s just hard to get my head around. I think I’d just assumed it would be a boy.’

  His honesty eased something inside Chiara. After all, neither of them had been prepared for this or expected it. Or planned for it.

  She plucked nervously at the bedcover. ‘My father wanted a boy. I mean, he would have been perfectly happy with a daughter as long as he had a son too, but then...when my mother couldn’t have any more children...he was left with me. I felt the weight of his disappointment my whole life.’ She looked at Nico. ‘I don’t want that for our daughter.’

  He met her eyes. ‘I will be the first to admit that my experience at the hands of women hasn’t always been positive, but I’m not going to punish my daughter for other people’s actions.’

  There was something fiery in his eyes, and for a moment Chiara had a vision of him with a small dark-haired girl squealing with laughter on his shoulders. In a bid to stop him seeing the emotion she felt, she said, ‘You said “women” and “other people”...what did you mean?’

  Nico got up and paced in the small space. He’d taken off his overcoat and wore a dark suit with an open-neck white shirt. He oozed confidence and virility. Chiara hadn’t been unaware of the lingering looks from the female staff of the private clinic, and it was probably only the fact that her doctor was close to retirement age that made her somewhat immune to Nico’s charms.

  Chiara wondered a little desperately how any woman could ever come to terms with being with a man like this, who would be in constant demand and the object of women’s lust?

  He turned around and looked supremely reluctant to speak. She sensed he wouldn’t. So she said, ‘Nico, we’re about to become parents. I deserve to know who you are.’

  He ran a hand through his hair, making it messy. It only enhanced his appeal. Damn him.

  ‘There was a woman...when I was much younger. I thought I was in love with her.’

  Chiara’s heart clenched. He had believed in love. Once. ‘What happened?’

  Nico’s voice was harsh. ‘I found her in bed with my best friend and business partner. She’d encouraged him to betray me by doing a deal with a client behind my back and cutting me out. She overestimated his ability and severely underestimated mine. I cut them loose and went to America, and I never looked back.’

  And now he was King of the World.

  Chiara was realising that Nico might put on a cool, emotionless front but he was far from being that. He’d been hurt by his mother and then this woman and it had affected him. A lot. The fact that he’d once let a woman close enough to hurt him crushed something inside Chiara—the seed of hope that he would one day let her get close.

  Quietly Chiara said, ‘Not all women are like that...greedy and duplicitous. Our daughter certainly won’t be.’

  ‘If I hadn’t met you I might still believe the wor
st of people, but maybe you’re right.’

  He came to the end of the bed and wrapped his hands around the frame. Chiara was acutely aware of his long fingers, recalling all too easily how they’d felt on her skin...inside her. Her breathing got faster.

  Just then there was a knock on the door and a nurse popped her head around, her eyes gravitating naturally to Nico and then widening comically. ‘Your doctor has another appointment scheduled but she’d like to chat to you before you leave.’

  Chiara felt like saying something tart and snappy, to get the girl’s attention away from Nico, but he just said thank you and barely glanced at her. He was oblivious to his effect on women, or else just so used to it he didn’t notice any more.

  He looked at her and she must have had an odd expression on her face because he said, ‘What? What did I do?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘My plane is ready and waiting at the airport. It’s time to go back to Sicily.’

  He left the room so she could get dressed and Chiara felt alternately excited and full of trepidation about seeing her home again, never having expected to be returning like this.

  * * *

  The first thing Chiara noticed was that there were new gates—steel and reinforced. They opened automatically when Nico pressed a button in his sports car, which had been waiting for them at the airport.

  As they drove up the driveway she saw gardeners working on the gardens. They’d been cleared and new plants put in. She immediately wanted to get out and inspect what they were doing, as her mother had used to love gardening before she’d got ill and the gardens had run wild. They’d even had a herb and vegetable garden outside the kitchen.

  But then they rounded the last corner and Chiara’s favourite view appeared—the castello, perched on the edge of the world, with nothing but the sparkling sea behind it.

  She gasped. ‘What’s all that?’

  ‘Scaffolding. The builders are almost finished doing the exterior refurbishment work.’

  Chiara could see gleaming new tiles. For years they’d had leaks in various parts of the castello, but it had been way beyond their financial reach to try and fix them.