Claiming His Wedding Night Consequence

by Abby Green

  He reached down and picked it up. The Collected Poems of William Wordsworth. Nico put it down on the table beside the chair, and when Chiara showed no signs of stirring he reached down, slid his arms under her and lifted her up into his arms.

  Chiara was wide awake—she’d been awake from the moment Nico had come into the room, albeit dozing. She’d actually sensed him before he’d appeared, the tiny hairs going up on her arms. Her body the traitor.

  Now he was carrying her up the stairs with that awesome ease and strength. It took immense effort not to turn her head into his neck and breathe in his scent, reach out her tongue and taste his skin. But she was still feeling raw and insecure, and she knew if Nico seduced her again she wouldn’t have the strength to say no, and then he would have chipped away a little more at the walls she had left around her.

  So when he laid her down on the bed and pulled a cover over her she kept pretending to be asleep, and only opened her eyes when he’d left the room...like a coward.

  * * *

  The following morning when Chiara woke she was alone. She saw a sleek-looking mobile phone and a charger by the bed on the table with a note on top.

  She picked it up.

  Call me when you wake, Nico.

  Chiara dialled the number that was on the note, and it connected straight away—almost as if he’d been waiting. A silly idea.

  ‘Morning, cara.’

  Chiara wished he wouldn’t call her cara—it felt like a lie. She sat up and made her voice brisk. ‘Good morning. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at the airport, about to fly to Rome for some meetings. But I’ll be back this evening. There’s a charity function we’ve been invited to in Syracuse. We’ll leave at seven p.m. One of my assistants will meet you at the castello this morning to go over hiring staff, and also an interior decorator.’

  Chiara desisted from saying Aye-aye, sir, and just responded, ‘Fine, I’ll see you later.’

  She cut the connection and lay back on the bed for a moment. This was her new reality and she would just have to get used to it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘THANK YOU SO MUCH, Carmela.’

  The young girl smiled prettily. ‘No problem. It’s good for me to have someone to practise on!’

  Maria’s daughter was training to be a beautician, and she had helped Chiara to get ready for the function this evening.

  She stood back now. ‘You look beautiful, Signora Santo Domenico.’

  Chiara grimaced, ‘Please, call me Chiara.’

  The girl gathered her things and left and Chiara sucked in a deep breath. She still wasn’t used to seeing herself like this. Dressed up. The only time she could really remember dressing up had been on her twenty-first birthday, when her parents had taken her for dinner in Catania, just a few months before they’d died. Her mother had been so ill, but she’d insisted on going.

  Thinking of the dress she’d worn made her cringe now. It had been so old-fashioned and unflattering. She could still remember the sniggers from a crowd of girls they’d passed.

  This evening’s dress was dark green, with a sweetheart neckline and a high waist just under her breasts. The top of the dress was lace, with a short lace sleeves. It was elegant and classic and it skimmed over Chiara’s bump, which seemed to be getting bigger by the day now. Carmela had pulled Chiara’s hair back into a low, sleek bun, and make-up made her eyes look huge.

  She was just stepping into matching shoes when there was a knock in the door connecting the dressing room with the bedroom.

  Nico came in, adjusting his cufflinks. He wore a white tuxedo jacket and a black bow tie, black trousers. And he was breathtaking. Hair still damp from the shower...

  He looked at her and stopped moving, an arrested expression on his face. Chiara’s whole body tingled with awareness. That black gaze raked her up and down, and then he met her eyes. She could see the heat in his gaze and it echoed the building heat inside her.

  ‘You look...stunning, Chiara.’

  Unused to compliments, she said, ‘I... Thank you.’

  And then he came closer and took a box out of his jacket pocket. A small navy velvet box. She looked from it to him, not understanding.

  He made a small grimace. ‘I know this was never a traditional marriage, but I should have given you an engagement ring. I’d like to rectify that now.’

  He opened the box and Chiara looked inside and gasped. It was a beautiful emerald, baguette cut, with smaller diamonds either side.

  He took it out and held it up. ‘Shall we see if it fits?’

  Feeling a prickle of superstition, and almost hoping it wouldn’t fit because that might mean something and it was too beautiful, Chiara held her hand out. Nico took it and slid the ring down her finger so it nestled alongside her wedding band. Her heart clenched. It fitted perfectly.

  Weakly she said, ‘You shouldn’t have bought this. It must have cost a fortune.’

  Nico’s hand tightened on hers and she looked up at him. He was shaking his head.

  ‘Seriously? Most women would be asking for a bigger gem.’

  Chiara felt gauche. Stiffly she said, ‘I’m not most women.’

  ‘No,’ Nico said, ‘you’re not.’

  Chiara pulled her hand back, avoiding Nico’s dark eyes that seemed to see too much. ‘It matches my dress.’

  ‘It matches your eyes.’

  Chiara looked at Nico again and the electricity flowed between them. A delicious coil of tension knotted deep down inside her.

  Nico took a step towards Chiara and she saw the intent in his eyes. She could feel herself softening, moving towards him almost helplessly, as if he were a magnet. But she put her hands up to his chest, saw the emerald glinting in her peripheral vision like a beacon. A reminder not to let him get too close.

  ‘Wait...my make-up...’ she said half jokily. ‘I’ll never be able to re-do it on my own.’

  Nico’s jaw clenched. ‘You don’t need make-up. But you’re right—we should leave.’

  Chiara followed him out, feeling wobbly in the high heels after what Nico had said. Did he mean she didn’t need make-up in a good way? Or because it didn’t make any difference? But then she thought of how he’d just looked at her and her heart skipped a beat. Maybe he meant it in a good way.

  A driver was waiting to chauffeur them the short distance to Syracuse, and as Chiara slid into the luxurious confines of the back of the car she realised that she couldn’t keep pushing Nico back for ever. She would have to learn how to disguise the way she felt when he touched her or she wouldn’t survive this marriage.

  * * *

  ‘Don’t touch me. You disgust me.’

  Chiara tried not to let her jaw drop as the very tall, very glamorous woman they’d just been talking to, with her husband, stalked away and into the crowd. She and her husband had just had a very brief but vitriolic row, sparked off by him making a snide remark about her shopping habits.

  Her husband, an equally tall, grey-haired gentleman, didn’t even look surprised. He said lightly, ‘Excuse my wife. She likes to air our grievances in public—it adds an extra dimension to the torture that is our marriage.’

  He walked away, leaving Nico and Chiara staring after him. Chiara was in shock. When she looked at Nico, though, he didn’t appear to be too perturbed.

  ‘That was...horrible.’

  The whole time they’d been talking there had been a brittle tension between the couple. And the wife had flirted outrageously with Nico, precipitating her husband’s snide remark.

  Nico looked down at her. ‘Was it? Maybe they were just being more honest than most of the people here who can’t stand each other. They’re probably already re-enacting that exact scenario they just played out with us. Couples like that get off on public displays of aggression.’

  Chiara shivered. She felt
cold all of a sudden. And disheartened by Nico’s persistent cynicism. The room was too hot and Chiara saw open French doors nearby. Muttering something about needing air, she put her glass of water down and made her way through the glitterati of Syracuse.

  When she got outside the terrace was mercifully empty and a cool breeze was coming in off the ocean in the distance. It was dusk and lights were twinkling on, lighting up the stunning Syracuse cathedral nearby. It was magical. Romantic.

  Chiara put her hands on the stone wall and looked down at her ring, glittering as brilliantly as the rest of the jewels she’d seen in the room. Was that why Nico had given it to her? To keep up with his peers? Had he noticed that Chiara wasn’t adorned enough?

  Here she was, married, with a beautiful engagement ring and pregnant. She’d always imagined in this scenario that she’d be with someone she loved. Who loved her. She’d seen the lack of love between her parents and had always yearned for something more. That was why she’d devoured romances all her life, stuffing them behind other books in the library so her father wouldn’t find them.

  Was it really asking too much to love and be loved in return? She hated it that the world Nico moved in seemed to be populated by cynical people.

  She sensed him behind her and tensed, not ready to see him. But when was she ever ready?

  ‘Are you okay?’

  There was concern in his voice and Chiara turned around. She waved a hand. ‘I’m fine—it was getting stuffy in there.’

  His eyes dropped to the swell of her belly. ‘We need to set you up with a doctor—we’ll do it tomorrow.’

  She put a hand on her belly. ‘I’m fine.’

  The baby gave a vigorous kick at that precise moment and Chiara let out a little oof.

  Immediately Nico put his hands on her arms. ‘What is it? The baby?’

  Chiara shook her head, something quivering inside her at the concern in his voice, even if it was only for the baby.

  ‘She’s moving.’ Acting on instinct, Chiara reached for Nico’s hand and placed it firmly on her belly, with her own hand on top. ‘She’ll do it again...just wait.’

  It seemed very important to Chiara right then that Nico should experience this moment, amidst all the cynicism, and feel something very un-cynical and pure. His daughter.

  For a heart-stopping moment nothing happened. Chiara was about to apologise but then the baby kicked again, even harder. As if she knew.

  Chiara held her breath as a look of pure wonder came over Nico’s face and his eyes widened on hers. Her chest swelled and she felt a swooping sensation. He was getting it. The baby kicked again and Chiara couldn’t help a small laugh escaping. Pure joy in the moment. In new life. In hope that maybe, just maybe—

  ‘Well, well, isn’t this a cosy scene.’

  Nico’s whole body went rigid and he lifted his hand off Chiara’s bump. Chiara looked to her right, to see one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen in her life. Flawless bone structure, enviably smooth olive skin, full pouting lips and long sleek black hair. She was poured into a midnight-blue glittering gown that was slashed all the way to her navel, displaying the perfect globes of her breasts.

  Her dark and dramatically kohled eyes were on Chiara—specifically on her bump. ‘Ingenious...’ she purred. ‘To trap Nico by getting pregnant. Maybe I should have thought of that myself.’

  And suddenly Chiara knew who this was. The woman who had broken Nico’s heart. How could she not have? She was perfection.

  ‘That’s enough, Alexandra. Chiara does not deserve your spite.’

  Nico’s voice was taut with anger, but that did little to assuage Chiara’s growing sense of insecurity.

  The woman wouldn’t stop looking at Chiara, her dark eyes raking her up and down. ‘Are you seriously telling me that you chose to be with this woman? I can’t believe you could bring yourself to—’

  ‘Enough!’

  Nico’s voice rang out like a pistol shot. But Chiara put up her hand when she thought he was about to say something else. His ex-lover’s words were cutting far too close to the bone for Chiara’s liking, but she wasn’t going to stand meekly by and let Nico defend her.

  She was blisteringly angry that a precious moment had been ruined—infected by the cynicism she hated so much.

  Chiara walked up to the woman—so close that her belly was almost touching her. She had to look up because she was so much smaller, and some part of her delighted in seeing the woman swallow nervously.

  ‘My marriage to Nico is none of your business. You gave up any right to know anything about my husband when you slept with his best friend. You are not a nice person. And yet I wish you well, because everyone deserves a chance.’

  Before Chiara could lose her nerve, she turned and walked back into the party, through the throng and all the way down to the foyer, which was empty. She paced there for a few moments, sucking in deep breaths to try and diminish the rush of adrenalin.

  Nico appeared at the top of the stairs and Chiara watched him come down. His face was expressionless, but then when he got closer she saw that there was a small smile playing around his mouth.

  ‘Well, I think you handled Alexandra pretty well. But you didn’t really need to jump to my defence.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to jump to my defence. I’m not sorry about what I said.’

  Nico’s smile faded. ‘You shouldn’t be. She owes you an apology. She was unbelievably rude.’

  Chiara looked at the wide marble stairs behind him. ‘Do we have to go back in there?’

  Nico almost shuddered. ‘God, no. I’m done.’ He surprised her by taking her hand. ‘Are you tired?’

  There was still too much adrenalin pumping around Chiara’s body. She shook her head.

  ‘Good. I’d like to show you somewhere—it’s not far.’

  * * *

  Chiara groaned appreciatively. ‘This is amazing.’

  ‘I know. Have you ever tasted better gelato than this?’

  She shook her head, then said with a rueful smile, ‘But I haven’t exactly travelled a lot.’

  ‘You’ll have plenty of opportunities to travel with me.’

  Chiara looked at him. ‘We’ll have to see how that works with the baby... I’m not leaving her for any length of time, Nico.’

  He took a sip of his espresso and inclined his head. ‘I know, and I have to commend you for it. I haven’t had the benefit of selfless maternal love, so I’ll have to trust your judgement.’

  ‘I’m sorry that you didn’t know your mother.’

  Nico shrugged. ‘You can’t miss what you don’t know.’

  Chiara did not agree, but she didn’t want to shatter the peace so she took another piece of ice cream, relishing its tart lemon taste as it slipped down her throat. The gelato parlour was right on the seafront and very busy, mainly with groups of laughing joking teenagers.

  Nico had given Chiara his jacket against the breeze coming in off the sea, so she sat there now under the fluorescent lights in his jacket and her evening dress. She loved it. And she loved it that he had brought her here, away from that stuffy party. Away from her.

  ‘How did you know about this place?’

  Nico looked around. ‘My father told me about it. He used to come here on boat trips from Calabria with his father when he was small.’

  They sat in silence for a moment as the gang of teenagers moved off down the seafront. Chiara envied them their light-hearted ease and friendship.

  Nico put down his small espresso cup and leaned forward. He had undone his bow tie and opened the top button of his shirt. He looked rakish and sexy.

  ‘I know you want more, Chiara.’

  Chiara looked at him, shocked. Had he seen into her mind?

  ‘I saw your collection of romance novels, hidden behind other books in the library. Unless they we
re your mother’s?’

  Chiara knew she could laugh breezily and lie, but she didn’t want to. ‘Yes, they’re mine. What do you mean by knowing I want more?’

  ‘Just that I think you were hoping for love...and romance. Not a marriage of convenience.’

  Chiara shrugged and played with her ice cream spoon. She was terrified he’d make the link between her running away after their wedding night and her deepest most secret dreams. Nonchalantly she said, ‘I’m not a total fantasist, Nico. I know life doesn’t always turn out how you expect it to.’

  He sighed. ‘I just wanted to say that while I can’t give you everything you want, I promise to do my utmost to make you as happy as I can.’

  Chiara looked at him, and the little flame of hope that had sprung up when he’d felt the baby kicking withered a little inside her.

  ‘I appreciate that.’

  ‘I like you, Chiara. I respect you... You helped me to achieve a long-held ambition and dream—to restore the castello to the Santo Domenico name. You’re giving me a child. We have insane chemistry, and we want each other—which is more than can be said for a lot of those couples we saw at the party this evening. I think we have a lot going for us. I think we can be happy.’

  Chiara sucked in a deep breath. She hadn’t been expecting Nico to be so honest. It was heartening and also quietly devastating. He was telling her not to get her hopes up. Not to wish for more.

  That woman Alexandra had hurt him a long time ago, and maybe seeing her again this evening had reinforced his own walls of defence. They were impenetrable.

  What could she say? Except, ‘Okay...we’ll do our best to make it work.’

  Nico reached across the table and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. In spite of the heaviness in her heart Chiara felt the familiar burn of desire and saw it in his eyes too. She knew that no matter what he said, or how hard she tried, that little flame of hope wouldn’t die out completely...not yet.

  Her emerald engagement ring glinted at her mockingly and Chiara turned her hand away so she couldn’t see it.

  * * *