Claiming His Wedding Night Consequence

by Abby Green

  ‘Chiara...’

  She looked at Nico reluctantly. He was still in his sweats, hair messy.

  ‘You should go home, Nico.’ Her conscience pricked. ‘Thank you for what you did—you were amazing. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.’

  His face darkened. ‘I’m your husband, dammit, you don’t have to thank me. It was the most profound experience of my life.’

  Chiara’s heart clenched. She could still recall seeing the awestruck look on Nico’s face just before she’d lost consciousness. She’d never seen that look before.

  ‘Chiara, we need to talk.’

  She shook her head, not at all ready for their inevitable conversation. ‘I’m tired, Nico. Go home. We can talk another time...’

  He looked obstinate for a moment, as if he was going to refuse, but then he sighed and said, ‘Fine, I’ll come back later.’

  Chiara wanted to tell him not to, but he was already walking out of the room. When he was gone she turned her head away from the door and let a tired tear slip out of her eye.

  These last few hours had been a rollercoaster, and she needed to conserve her strength if she was going to do battle with a man who wanted to insist they stay together even though he didn’t love her, and who would use his seductive wiles to manipulate her.

  She turned her attention to their daughter and let a rush of maternal love and gratitude for her healthy baby distract from everything.

  * * *

  When Chiara woke later that day she opened her eyes and automatically checked the cot beside the bed—but it was empty. She lifted her head, panic gripping her for a moment.

  But then she saw where her daughter was and blinked. And blinked again. She was cradled in Nico’s arms, and one of his fingers was clutched in a tiny fist. He’d obviously gone home and showered and changed. His hair was still damp and he wore jeans and a polo shirt, and he looked gorgeous.

  There was a look of such naked wonder and awe on his face that Chiara almost felt like a voyeur. Still raw after the birth, she had no defence for seeing Nico like this, with their baby. No defence for the evidence that he could feel emotion. Clearly he was in love. Just not with Chiara. And it shamed her that she felt jealous.

  She wondered if perhaps she’d been too hasty. Surely if he could love their daughter then she had a duty to try and make their marriage work?

  He must have heard her move because he looked up and caught her eye. Immediately his expression blanked. And Chiara knew in that moment that she wasn’t strong enough to do it. To spend a lifetime with a man who didn’t love her. No matter how much he might love their daughter.

  All Nico could see was Chiara’s bright green gaze. It left him nowhere to hide, and he wondered if she had witnessed the moment when his heart had swelled so much he’d almost been afraid it would burst, as he looked down at the fragile perfection of his daughter.

  Catching her tiny slithery fragile body in his hands when she’d been born had been a truly magical experience—which had turned to one of sheer horror when he’d realised that Chiara wasn’t conscious.

  He never wanted to go through that stomach-curdling feeling of terror again. He’d lived and died a hundred deaths in those moments as he’d knelt there, holding the exquisite miracle of his daughter, while also contemplating the bone-numbing terror of Chiara’s unmoving body.

  All the emotions he’d shut off for years had come bursting out of his heart, cracking it open and blasting down the walls he’d erected around it to keep himself safe for years. He’d been an idiot to think he could hold back the dam which had been building inside him from the moment he’d laid eyes on Chiara Caruso.

  A God he hadn’t acknowledged for a long time had kept Chiara safe. And his daughter. And had answered his fevered prayers.

  Feeling more raw than he had ever felt in his life, Nico stood up with Sofia and took her over to Chiara. He desperately felt the need to articulate what was inside him, but didn’t know where to start.

  As he handed Sofia into Chiara’s arms he said, ‘Chiara...’

  But she looked up at him and said, ‘I need to feed her and then change her.’ She looked down again, dismissing him.

  Her words were like a slap. It reminded him painfully of the day when he’d come to the castello to proposition her. When she’d held his card in her hand and refused to meet his eye. He could see now that that had been the moment when she’d touched something much deeper inside him than mere intrigue. He’d been fooling himself all along.

  He tried again. ‘Chiara...’

  She looked up. Her face was expressionless. ‘We’re fine. You should go. It’s late.’

  Nico felt a very uncharacteristic sense of defeat. He’d met his equal in Chiara, there was no doubt about that. But he also felt a sense of renewed purpose. Now came the most difficult part. Convincing Chiara to listen to him. And, more, to believe him.

  * * *

  The next day Chiara was let out of hospital with Sofia. Nico took them home in a brand-new family-friendly car, with a newly installed baby seat in the back, where Chiara sat beside Sofia to keep an eye on her.

  She knew that sooner or later they’d have to talk. When she felt stronger, she told herself weakly.

  When they returned to the castello Chiara felt ridiculously emotional to see all the staff lined up to greet them. Maria was beaming and clucked over Sofia, and even the gardeners looked suspiciously dewy-eyed.

  Spiro, faithful as ever, just came up and nudged Chiara’s thigh, telling her he was there. She had noticed that he would invariably gravitate to Nico’s study if she wasn’t around, and she’d often find him there curled up under the table.

  Chiara took Sofia up to the nursery they’d set up directly across the hall from the master bedroom. It was a beautiful sunny room, with brightly coloured furniture and murals on the walls. She stopped in the doorway when she saw the new additions. Stuffed toys of every description were dotted around the room and in the cot, and there was a gorgeous upholstered rocking chair with a foot-rest and wide arms, perfect for nursing.

  She could sense Nico behind her and asked faintly, ‘Did you do this?’

  He sounded wary. ‘I just got a few extra things.’

  His thoughtfulness made her feel vulnerable, and she knew she wasn’t strong enough to look at him, so she half turned and said, ‘Thank you, they’re lovely. I’m going to change Sofia and feed her now—can you give us some privacy?’

  There was a taut moment, and Chiara almost lost her nerve, but then Nico said, ‘Sure,’ and shut the door.

  Chiara felt awful, and hated herself for feeling awful. But she had to shut Nico out of these tender, vulnerable moments or she would break completely.

  * * *

  ‘Chiara...wake up.’

  Chiara’s eyes flew open and she sat up. The chair rocked, pitching her forward.

  Nico caught her, holding her by the arms. ‘You were asleep. Maria will have dinner ready in half an hour, and I’ve run you a bath.’

  Chiara looked over to the cot to see Sofia sleeping peacefully. ‘Sofia—’

  ‘Is fine,’ Nico said firmly. ‘I burped her and changed her.’

  Chiara was suddenly wide awake. ‘You did all that?’

  ‘Maria showed me how.’ He held up a baby monitor. ‘We’ll hear her if she needs anything.’

  Chiara felt a pang. She should have been the one to show Nico how to care for Sofia and she couldn’t believe she’d slept through it. She realised she was still in the clothes she’d worn home from the hospital, and also that she was starving. She felt thoroughly dishevelled.

  Assuring herself that Sofia was fine, she followed Nico into the master bathroom, where a fragrant steaming bath was waiting. Chiara wanted to dive in and never come out again.

  He closed the door and Chiara saw that he had
laid out clean clothes—soft leggings, a long, loose cashmere top and underwear. Comfortable clothes. Thoughtful.

  She sank into the bath, groaning in appreciation as the warm water soothed the parts of her that were still tender after giving birth.

  She would have fallen asleep again if it hadn’t been for Nico knocking on the door a short time later.

  After washing, she got out and changed, not wanting to admit that she felt like a new woman. She avoided Nico’s eye and tried not to notice how gorgeous he looked dressed in dark trousers and a long-sleeved top.

  He led her downstairs after she’d checked again on Sofia, who was still sleeping soundly, her rosebud mouth in a little moue. Her lashes were long and dark. Taking after her father.

  Maria served up a delicious hearty Sicilian stew, and it was only when Chiara sat back, replete and relaxed, that she saw the calculating gleam in Nico’s eye and realised how cunningly he’d manipulated her.

  ‘Chiara...we have to talk.’

  She immediately tensed. ‘We have nothing to talk about.’

  He fixed her with those dark eyes so like his daughter’s. ‘We have everything to talk about.’

  Chiara felt panic rise. She stood up and put down her napkin. ‘I don’t want to do this now.’

  He put out a hand. ‘Okay, let me just tell you about my mother, can I? I couldn’t tell you that night because it was a lot to process, and in all honesty I had trouble articulating it even to myself...’

  Chiara sat down again, reluctant but curious. She hadn’t expected him to mention his mother. ‘Okay...’

  Nico sighed. ‘She told me that night at the party about why she left. She had suffered from a mild form of bipolar disorder since her teens. When she got pregnant with me it exacerbated the condition and she couldn’t take her medication. My father was unsympathetic, not understanding mental illness. By the time my mother gave birth she was terrified she was going to do something drastic, like run away with me. She knew enough to know she couldn’t do that to me, so she left—and left me behind. She told me that she came back a couple of years later, when she was stable again, but my father refused to hear her explanation. He said she had shamed him and he told her to leave and never come back.’

  Chiara couldn’t stop her heart aching for Nico and his mother. ‘I’m so sorry...’

  Nico shook his head. ‘I always blamed her, but it was my father who refused to give her a chance. She had no money, no resources to try and mount a legal battle—and anyway, they would have made mincemeat of her in a court once they knew about her illness. So she left and got on with her life... But she told me she never forgot about me. She sent me letters but they never reached me—my father must have destroyed them.’

  Chiara curled her hand into a fist to stop herself from reaching out to touch Nico. ‘I’m glad you know now. Are you going to see her again?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, at some stage. But it’s thanks to you, for pushing me to listen to her...otherwise I would have cut her off again.’

  Chiara shook her head. ‘I’m sure you would have listened to her eventually.’

  Feeling even more vulnerable after hearing about Nico’s mother, Chiara put down her napkin. She was about to make her excuses and leave when Nico said, ‘Wait, I need to say something else.’

  She stopped, her heart pounding. She desperately wanted to escape Nico’s inexorable pull, but she forced herself to ask. ‘What?’

  ‘I love you.’

  He was looking directly at her, his eyes never darker or more intense.

  Chiara couldn’t breathe. ‘What did you say?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘I said, I love you.’

  A surge of hope so strong that it made her tremble, galvanised Chiara to move up and away from the table. Out of Nico’s orbit.

  She hugged herself. She couldn’t believe this...the risk was too great. He’d told her about his mother just to play on her emotions. He had too much to lose now if she insisted on divorcing him. He loved his daughter. Of course he was going to do his utmost to convince her otherwise.

  ‘You don’t have to say this just because I said it to you, Nico.’

  He stood up. ‘I’m not. I mean it.’

  Chiara shook her head, refusing to allow herself to believe. ‘What we went through the night Sofia was born... You delivered her into your own hands. It’s natural to associate strong emotions with an intense experience like that.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me, Chiara. I know what I feel.’

  She desisted from reminding him that he’d said more or less the same thing to her about losing her virginity.

  ‘Then it’s very convenient that you had this revelation after I told you I want a divorce and after the birth of your daughter—which is perhaps making you realise more than ever that you want to promote a united family front to your peers.’

  He shook his head. ‘You didn’t used to be cynical.’

  Chiara responded tartly, ‘I wasn’t, until I met you.’

  She stopped and bit her lip. He was right, damn him. This wasn’t like her.

  ‘I’m tired, Nico. I’m going to bed. Sofia will be awake again for a feed shortly.’ She stopped at the door and looked back. ‘I’d appreciate it if I could sleep alone. I’ll take Sofia into the bedroom in her Moses basket...’

  Nico’s jaw clenched visibly, but then he said, ‘Of course. I’ll sleep in a guest suite.’

  As she went upstairs she told herself she was doing the right thing. Nico was ruthless—she’d seen it at first-hand. He wasn’t above doing whatever it took to get what he wanted...even telling her he loved her.

  * * *

  When Chiara woke at dawn the next morning she found a note on the pillow beside hers. She picked it up, recognising the slashing writing instantly.

  Chiara,

  I have to go to Rome on business for a couple of days. We will talk again when I get back.

  Nico

  An incredible sense of disappointment flooded her. She’d refused to believe Nico last night, but she’d woken with that eternal flame of hope inside her, and before she’d seen the note she’d thought to herself that if he said it again...tried to convince her...she might just believe him.

  But she’d been right. Evidently he’d given up the pretence and gone back to work. Maybe he was with his solicitors right now, drawing up papers for their divorce?

  Just then Sofia awoke, making small mewling sounds, and Chiara reached over and plucked her out of the Moses basket, plumping up the pillows behind her so she could get comfortable for feeding. As Sofia latched on to Chiara’s breast with unerring accuracy and suckled strongly Chiara once again reminded herself that the most important thing was this small baby, and protecting her from whatever fallout lay ahead.

  * * *

  Nico looked across the lawn to where Chiara was lying in the shade on a sunbed, with Sofia in a pram beside her and another umbrella shading her. She was wearing a strapless swimsuit and she’d never looked more beautiful.

  He felt an incredible sense of vulnerability and trepidation. It this didn’t work he truly didn’t know what he would do—for the first time in his life.

  Chiara was drowsing in the late-afternoon sun when she sensed Nico’s presence. Just like that. For the first time since she’d given birth there was a stirring deep inside her, and the small hairs stood up on her arms. She opened her eyes and saw he was approaching where she lay, looking fiercely determined.

  She scrambled up to a sitting position, pulling a shawl across her bare shoulders.

  ‘Nico. You’re back.’ He must have been back for a while, because he was dressed in worn jeans and a loose shirt. Rolled-up sleeves. Hair damp from the shower.

  He sat down on the lounger beside hers. Too close. Chiara couldn’t breathe for a moment. She wasn’t ready to see him. He’d caught her unawar
es.

  ‘I said we’d talk when I got back.’

  Chiara scooted back nervously. ‘Sofia is due a feed...she’ll wake in a minute.’

  ‘Stop using our daughter as a defence, Chiara. I’m just asking you to listen to me for a few minutes—is that too much to ask?’

  There was a bleak tone to Nico’s voice that she hadn’t heard before and she went still. ‘No, of course not.’

  He relaxed marginally and Chiara realised how tense he was.

  He ran a hand through his hair and muttered something like, ‘God, this is hard.’ Then he looked at her. ‘I told you I loved you the other evening. And I meant it.’

  Chiara opened her mouth but he put up a hand.

  ‘No. Let me finish. I can appreciate that you might not believe me, given the nature of why and how we married. Given the fact that I’ve done my best to keep you at a distance... But the truth is that I didn’t know how to let you get close. And every time you did it repelled me—because that’s how I deal with any kind of intimacy. My father never showed me affection. My relationship with Alexandra was immature and incredibly selfish. I thought I loved her, so I associated being betrayed with being in love. It took seeing her again—next to you—for me to realise that I’d felt nothing for her. She wounded my ego, nothing else.

  ‘I think that’s when I fell in love with you—not that I was ready to admit that then. No one had ever defended me before, until you literally stepped in front of me and confronted her. But I wasn’t ready to admit to any feelings other than like and respect. That’s what I told myself when I laid out the reasons why I thought this marriage could work.

  ‘I knew you wanted more, Chiara, and on some level I think I knew you were in love with me. But in my arrogance I thought that was a good thing—you feeling more for me than I did for you. Which was a joke, because while I was telling myself you loved me I was falling for you and not even aware of it. All I knew was that if I left here for more than two days I had to get back. I couldn’t contemplate desiring another woman ever again. I couldn’t understand how my desire for you got stronger and stronger...why I was falling deeper and deeper.