by Dani Collins
Now her cheeks just burned with humiliation. For Leo had not wanted her. Despite her best efforts to play the part of his new bride, she had got it all wrong. As had been clearly demonstrated during the silent ride home, the curt nod of goodnight as the doors of the villa had closed behind them. The sight of his broad back striding away from her.
Alone in her bedroom she had stripped naked, balling the offensive underwear to hurl it into the corner of the room, hot tears pricking the backs of her eyes.
But a new day had brought a new perspective. Giving herself a stern talking to, Emma had thrown back the curtains, determined to face facts as they were. In short, she had to get real. Leo had only married her because of the baby. There was no secret about that. But she had married him for the same reason. In that regard they were quits. She just had to keep her head straight, swallow down the humiliation of that night and focus on what was important. Their baby. The baby was all that mattered.
Which was why this latest rejection was such a slap in the face. Leo might not be interested in her, but his lack of interest in the baby hurt—really hurt. And like a mother lion Emma felt her protective instincts rising up, heating her blood. She opened her mouth to tell him just what she thought of him, then stopped. What was the point? It would be like attacking a lump of granite with a rubber hammer. Exposing nothing but her own deeply held insecurities.
Instead she turned on her heel, marching off in the opposite direction as fast as she could, her sandals snapping on the pavement, hair flying. If she put enough space between them, she might just be able to control the turmoil that was threatening to engulf her. The hurt that was threatening to crack her apart.
But Leo was beside her in a second, his hand on her arm, turning her to face him. His shadow fell across her, his face a tight mask of annoyance. ‘Where do you think you are going?’
‘Anywhere as long as it’s away from you.’ Emma forced the words through a choking throat.
A muscle spasmed in Leo’s cheek, his famous control slipping very slightly. ‘Explain yourself.’
Just that. Cold, imperious. Emma tried for a dismissive stare, tried to start walking again but Leo blocked her way, waiting.
‘How about you work it out for yourself?’ Her breath heaved in her chest.
‘I will do no such thing.’ A dark scowl marred his face. ‘You are coming back to the car and I am taking you home.’
‘No.’ Emma stood firm, although the quake in her voice was getting harder and harder to control. ‘I will find my own way back, thank you very much. And it’s not my home, anyway. I don’t have a home.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Leo’s fierce gaze scorched over her face. ‘Of course you have a home. Several homes, in fact.’
‘They are not my homes, they’re yours. Everything is yours—the cars, the houses, even the clothes I am wearing were bought by you.’ Her words rushed out, trying to beat the tears she knew weren’t far behind. ‘All I have is a baby you don’t want.’
The air between them stilled.
‘Now you are being ridiculous.’
‘Am I?’ Her voice finally cracked and she stifled a sob. ‘Or am I just spelling out the truth?’
‘Look, Emma...’ She could see the effort it was taking to try and be reasonable in the set of his jaw, the grit in his voice. His hands found her arms, lightly running over her skin, leaving it prickling beneath his touch. Reaching her wrists, he pressed his thumbs against her ragged pulse. ‘I can only assume this unreasonable behaviour is due to your condition.’
Emma took in a breath of scorched air. Shaking his hands from her wrists, she was ready to fly at him, but a woman was coming along the narrow street behind them, walking a tiny dog on a lead.
‘It has nothing to do with my condition.’ She hissed the words through clenched teeth. The woman was alongside them now, looking at them curiously. Even the little dog seemed interested. Fighting to compose herself, Emma waited for them to pass. ‘And everything to do with your arrogant, overbearing attitude.’
‘Is that so?’ Leo shoved his hands into his pockets, his casual pose fooling neither of them. ‘You are very quick to point out my failings, Emma.’
‘It’s not difficult.’ Her eyes blazed.
‘Then I am only sorry that I am not the man you want me to be.’
‘No, you’re not sorry.’ Her words came out in a rush of hurt and fury and sheer frustrated impotence. ‘You couldn’t care less. You intend to carry on with your life exactly as you always have—working and travelling and doing deals and, and...bedding beautiful women too, for all I know.’
Silence fell between them like a held breath. Emma looked away, heat suffusing her body, sticking her hair to the back of her neck, constricting her throat. She heard Leo shift his position.
‘No, Emma.’ His voice was pulled taut. ‘There will be no more women. I am married to you now. I have made my vows, and I will respect them. Always.’
‘You say that now, but—’
‘No buts.’ Cupping her jaw with one warm, strong hand, he lifted her chin until she had no choice but to fall into the drugging intimacy of his gaze. ‘I will be totally faithful, in the same way as I expect you to be to me.’
Emma blinked hard. The idea of her ever being unfaithful to Leo was so ludicrous it was almost funny. She knew in her heart that she would never want another man. No one could ever match up to Leo. He would be her one and only lover. She could already picture herself, old and alone, Miss-Havisham-like, pining for the man she could never have. Maybe minus the wedding dress...
And yet Leo’s declaration, the sheer intensity of his grey stare, did not match her bleak, chaste vision. It was controlled and commanding, as always, but provocative too, searching for some sort of confirmation.
‘Well, of course,’ she mumbled beneath her breath. ‘That goes without saying.’
‘Then we have a starting point to work from.’ Like a switch flicked, Leo’s mood changed to one of quiet intent. With his head on one side, he raised his hand, his thumb and forefinger tracing along her jawline with a caress so soft it was almost not there. But Emma’s eyelids still flickered with the unwanted tremor, her skin blazing in the wake of his touch. ‘It is incumbent on us both to try and make this commitment to one another work.’
‘As long as it’s all on your terms?’ Emma dug around for the last of her defiance, which was being seriously undermined by a dangerous heat that was creeping over her every nerve.
The effect this man had on her was astonishing.
‘Terms to be arranged.’ The words were businesslike but his swift, assessing gaze anything but. ‘Now...’ All brisk authority again, he dropped his hand, shoving it into the pocket of his trousers to retrieve the car key. ‘Are you going to accompany me back to the car, or am I going to have to carry you kicking and screaming?’
Emma screwed up her eyes, refusing to let that image permeate her brain.
She felt Leo slip his arm around her shoulder, taking advantage of her confusion, shepherding her forward. And as she found herself obediently sliding into the seat beside him, studiously avoiding his imperious profile as he started the car, she wondered for the umpteenth time how on earth she had ended up in this crazy situation. And, more importantly, how was she going to find the fight to survive living alongside this man?
* * *
Leo took the scan photograph out of his pocket and laid it flat on his desk. Only now he was alone in his office could he trust himself to look at it properly. Being in that claustrophobic consulting room had him shut down. The shock of seeing the beating heart of his baby punching emotion right through him. Hard and deep. Raw. Stealing his breath in a way he had never experienced before.
Something about the look of expectation on Emma’s face had been the final straw, pushing him over the edge. His only option had been to get out, take some time
to process what was happening. Deal with it.
Now he studied the row of images in meticulous detail, his finger tracing the baby’s skull, its profile, the tiny jut of its nose. His son or daughter. He felt the muscles in his gut knot in response.
Once upon a time, having a child had been part of his life plan. Back when he’d assumed he would be the next Conte di Ravenino, when he had agreed to marry Cordelia Moretti, he had seen producing an heir as part of the job, a duty he would have performed with due diligence, like any other task necessary for the good of his family.
Fool that he was, even after the title had been so cruelly snatched away from him, a misguided sense of honour had seen him prepared to go ahead with their marriage. Leonardo Ravenino was a man of his word after all. He didn’t let people down.
What an idiot!
He still squirmed with horror at the look on Cordelia’s face when he had gone to see her with his noble reassurance. Surprise, panic even, quickly masked by a cool detachment. That wouldn’t be necessary, she had briskly informed him. Different plans had been made. After a respectful period of separation she would, in fact, be marrying his brother Taddeo, the true Conte di Ravenino. Had no one told him?
No, no one had. Because he hadn’t mattered any more.
Betrayed by his mother, let down by his fiancée, Leo had resolved there and then never to trust a woman again. Cordelia may have hurt his pride more than his heart, but he refused to ever be manipulated by the fairer sex again. From now on he would remain firmly single. No more engagements. No emotional ties or complications. And definitely no children. He had been adamant about that.
Now look at him. Once again, the course of his life had been changed by a woman. But this time the consequences were far more serious than hurt pride. More serious even than losing the principality. This was momentous.
Leo tore his eyes away from the images of his child, roughly raking a hand through his hair. His mind went back to Emma’s furious outburst in the street earlier, tensing his muscles. The first time he had seen her temper, felt the flash of its fire. It had had a strange effect on him. Irritation, yes, but a sort of triumph, like her display of emotion had unlocked something between them, banishing his brooding mood. And arousal too—though that was never far from the surface with this woman.
But he would not allow Emma to think that having public tantrums meant getting her way. Or private ones, for that matter. He’d seen too many of them these past few years—accusations hurled at him from spurned lovers, women with quivering lips and flashing talons declaring what a bastard he was. Maybe they were right. Technically, they definitely were.
Emma’s no-holds-barred article had certainly painted an ugly picture of him. Describing him like some modern-day Casanova, a philandering, heart-breaking womaniser, she hadn’t held back with colourful adjectives, all delivered in that sanctimonious way that suggested she herself would never be taken in by such a man. That she was far too clever for that. Except of course she wasn’t. Emma may have chosen to leave out the night they had spent together, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. She couldn’t erase the twist of their limbs, the collision of heated skin, the sweet deep shudders that had racked her body, culminating in the screaming of his name. No matter how much she wanted to. And she certainly couldn’t erase the baby growing in her womb.
Then there were the toxic references to his background, her veiled suppositions about the Principality of Ravenino. That he had been stripped of his title because of some sort of infidelity, betrayed his fiancée, embarrassed his father, deemed unfit to rule because of his debauched behaviour. She had got it all wrong, of course, but that was no consolation.
He had had no choice but to pick up the phone and demand that Emma Quinn be fired from her position at the Paladin with immediate effect. He had been perfectly within his rights. Had he chosen to he could have brought the whole damned newspaper to its knees. But the dark truth was it was Emma alone he had wanted to punish. For holding a mirror up to his hedonistic lifestyle, reflecting an image he didn’t want to see.
But even more so for having the audacity to poke about in his past, for trying to uncover what he’d been so determined to leave behind. Just the thought of her picking over the bones of his life felt like the worst sort of betrayal. Gleefully piecing together all the snippets of information she could find, the more heartbreaking, the more tragic the better, so she could cobble together that nasty piece of salacious trash.
At the time fury had overridden any other emotion. But time had turned that fury into a small, hard ball. It still sat within him, but no longer carried the same weight. Events had overtaken them. Other emotions had crept in. And one of them was guilt. For the way he had treated Emma that fateful night, and the way he was treating her now. An unwelcome visitor, it took Leo by surprise every time it sank its claws into him. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. It made him feel weak. Exposed. It meant he had to redouble his efforts to hold her at bay.
Which was why he had had to shut her down earlier, silence her chatter. His new wife had to learn that the more something mattered, the less he was going to talk about it. Circumstances had brought them together, but that did not give her the right to get inside his head. He would provide every possible comfort for Emma and the baby. Complete security. And complete faithfulness. But that was it.
Leo sat back in his chair, swinging it to one side, staring unseeing at the sprawling city of Milan far below. Everything had happened so fast he had never even considered the moral implications of his marriage. But he’d meant what he’d said. He would be totally faithful. Judging by the crazy way his body reacted to her, Emma was more than enough to fulfil his needs. When the time came, he would make damned sure he fulfilled hers. It would be his pleasure. Literally.
Physically he didn’t doubt they could make this work. But emotionally Emma had to realise what she was working with. A man who didn’t do feelings and who certainly didn’t do love. She only needed to go back to her own article to find the truth. Leo Ravenino was a man with a heart of stone.
And the sooner she realised that the better.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS LATE by the time Leo arrived back at the villa. Work, when he had finally been able to put his mind to it, had provided temporary relief from the roar in his head.
There was no sign of Emma when he walked into the salon. Neither was she in the library or out on the terrace. A creeping sense of unease flooded over him as he paced from one empty room to the next. Where the hell was she?
Impatient feet took him in search of Maria, who informed him she had seen the signora less than an hour ago when she had returned her supper tray to the kitchen. Apparently, she had told the cook she was going to take a walk around the grounds before dark.
Leo slowly let the air out of his lungs. He needed to calm down, stop overreacting. Stop letting his wife’s slender hands from metaphorically grabbing him round the neck.
He found her down by the lake, sitting on a bench that was catching the last amber rays of sunshine. Speaking into her phone, she hadn’t heard Leo approaching and he paused, listening. It seemed to be an intense conversation, judging by the way Emma was twisting her legs around each other, her head bowed so that her hair fell forward, obscuring her face.
‘Well, it’s not as if you would have come to the wedding.’
Leo edged closer.
‘But that’s just it, I didn’t want to be talked out of it. Leo and I both agreed we wanted to marry before the baby was born.’
She twisted a strand of hair tightly around her finger.
‘I know that, Mum. I know there are alternatives. I’ve lived with the alternatives all my life. But I needed to do what was right for me. And for the baby.’
The catch in her voice carried on the air, stiffening Leo’s spine.
‘I’m not asking you to understand. I’m just telling you
because I thought you’d want to know.’
Leo had heard enough. Throwing back his shoulders, he stepped out of the shadows.
Emma jumped, the phone almost falling from her hand. Glaring at Leo, she ended the call with a rushed goodbye.
‘Has no one ever told you it’s rude to listen in to other people’s conversations?’ She pushed back her shoulders.
Leo ignored her comment, sitting down beside her, making her edge further away.
‘Your mother, I take it?’
‘Yes.’ Emma looked down at her fingernails.
‘Passing on her congratulations, no doubt.’ Sarcasm masked the vitriol he felt for that woman. Emma’s account of the way she had treated her still burned a hole inside him.
‘Not exactly. She doesn’t believe in marriage. Especially to capitalist billionaires.’
Leo made a dismissive noise in his throat. He didn’t give a damn what this hateful woman thought of him and his way of life, but the fact that she couldn’t support her daughter really got under his skin.
There was a beat of silence.
‘Why do you do it?’ Leo turned to look at his wife. Wearing a bright yellow cotton dress, she made him think of sunshine. But her mood was grey.
‘Do what?’
‘Why do you let your mother get to you like this?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes, you do, Emma, you know exactly what I mean.’
Emma shrugged. ‘Because she’s my mother, I guess.’
‘And that’s enough, is it? That gives her the right to treat you like dirt for the rest of her life and for you to accept it?’
‘No, of course not.’ Flustered, Emma looked down at her lap. ‘And I never said she treated me like dirt.’
She hadn’t had to, it was obvious. Leo glowered into the fading light, his gaze travelling across the lake, at the golden rays rippling across the water, the darting shapes of the low swooping swifts.