Triplet Babies for My Billionaire Boss

by Lia Lee

  "Shh, let me," he murmured.

  He came down to straddle her lower thigh, lifting the upper one to rest on his shoulder. After a moment of surprise, Briony realized what he meant to do. She blushed from her hairline down to her breasts, and Marco laughed.

  "Trust me, this will feel so very good."

  She held her breath as he pressed himself between her legs, up against the very core of her. She was grateful for the stretches she did every day, because they allowed her to open her legs for him fully. She could feel the hard ridge of his knuckles against her inner thigh for a moment as he guided his cock into her, and then they both cried out as he sheathed himself inside her.

  There was no discomfort, no pain at all. Instead, there was only a deep and full pressure as he filled her, pressing in so deep that they were joined. She glanced up to see that his eyes were wide and focused on her, completely enraptured by her and what they were doing together.

  Marco said a few words in Italian, but then shook his head slightly.

  "Beautiful," he said. "So very perfect..."

  He steadied himself for a moment, and then he started to move. Briony could feel her body wanting to move with him, but she realized in this position that she was pinioned. She only had a small range of motion, and she was nearly helpless as he thrust in and out of her body, each stroke raising her higher.

  "Oh, Marco, Marco," she groaned, her eyes falling shut. All she was aware of was the powerful rhythm of the two of them together, the gorgeous way they were matched with one another. She might have lost herself just like that, but then Marco reached down with one hand to caress her clit with the pad of his thumb. It was as if he had shot electricity clear through her, and she cried out so loudly that it echoed through the castle.

  He pushed into her, timing his thrusts with the strokes of his thumb, and before Briony thought possible, her body was shuddering, every muscle tensed as she sought the climax she knew waited just beyond.

  "Reach for it, baby," Marco murmured. "Let me give it to you..."

  He leaned down to nip her earlobe with his sharp white teeth, and for some reason, that was all it took. Her body felt as if it had been lit on fire, and now she was burning in the flames. One hand reached up to claw at Marco's shoulder, and the other clenched on thin air. Her orgasm had absolutely no mercy, tearing at her with a vicious power that seemed to want to savage her.

  Even before her body was done trembling with the force of her climax, Marco pushed into her one last time, spilling into her with a deep growl. It felt primal and perfect, his essence mingling with her, and she knew deep in her heart that some part of her would always belong to this man. Perhaps she would be afraid of this later, but right now, a deep sense of wellness poured through her.

  Marco was still for a long moment after he had taken his pleasure, and then he pulled away slightly, falling down to lie on the blanket next to her. Their legs were still tangled, and a light breeze came up to cool their warm bodies.

  There were no words that needed to be said in this ancient and beautiful place. All that mattered was that they were here with each other.

  ***

  "Two weeks? That's how long they're going to take to rebuild the set?" Seanan asked. When the producer nodded, she sighed. "Do we have to stay here?"

  "Nah, that's a solid two weeks, and it might stretch into three if the local builders aren't available. Get out of town, just for the love of God, don't break a leg or anything, all right?"

  Seanan considered her options, but in the end, there was really only one choice. She had of course been keeping up with her sister and her darling niece, but Skype and texts were never enough.

  Plus, I need to go to Italy to check out the prince himself, she thought.

  Briony had been restrained about what she was even willing to say to her sister, but reading between the lines, Seanan could see that there were some deeper emotions at play. That meant she wanted to really assess this guy, find out if he was as wonderful as Briony said.

  Her motives weren't entirely pure, however, and Seanan grinned with mischief. There was, after all, a certain very good-looking Italian movie star currently staying in Florence for a period movie he was shooting. They had connected at an industry event, quite memorably, and he had told her to contact him the next time they were in the same time zone, so...

  Nope, long past time I get to check in on my baby sister, Seanan decided, booking her tickets.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Life fell into a rhythm that was incredibly sweet. It was so sweet that Briony occasionally had to pinch herself, thinking that it was all a dream.

  She got to spend as much time as she liked with Eva, but thanks to Paz's dedicated efforts, she wasn't drained by the childcare the way she would have been at home. Eva was flourishing in Italy, growing every day, it seemed, and reaching for the entire world with her chubby hands. She could see glimpses of the brave and wild girl her daughter would become in Italy, and it warmed Briony's heart.

  Of course, she would be remiss if she left Marco out of that sweetness. The man was a revelation, and every time she looked at him, or every time he touched her, she felt a warmth reach deep inside her.

  They were building a history together, moment by moment. It was a foundation that they could stand on, and one day, Briony knew, it would take them to the stars. There was no more shuttling between bedrooms at night. Instead, they put Eva to bed together, and then the long hours between night and dawn were all theirs. Marco moved her to a kind of pleasure that she had never contemplated before. There was no fear or shame or pain in their bed, and their lovemaking was just a new way for them to get to know each other. Sometimes, they didn't fall asleep until dawn, still hanging on to each other. It was nearly dawn one day, almost three weeks after they had gone to the castle, when Briony turned to Marco.

  "Do you still believe what you said a year ago?" she asked softly. "That women can't be people of character, that they can't have the integrity that men do?"

  Marco turned to look at her in the dimness of the bedroom, and his smile was rueful.

  "God, I feel as if I've shed the person I was like an unpleasant shell," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I ever truly believed it, and even if I did, you have cured me of it."

  Briony felt as if a great weight rolled off of her shoulders, and when she drifted off to sleep in Marco's arms that night, her dreams were almost unspeakably sweet. That was the last thing that had bothered her, that she was raising Eva with a man who thought she could never be as brave or righteous as a boy. Now with that doubt gone, she felt as if she could give herself fully to Marco.

  After all, she knew his secret.

  Sometimes, late at night when he thought she was asleep, Marco propped himself up on his elbow to watch her. Sometimes she drifted off into true slumber under his watchful eye. Other times, he broke the silence to say, "I love you."

  There was still something fearsomely secret about the way he said it, as if he were waiting for the perfect time or the perfect way of saying those words. To interrupt him would have been, not disastrous, but perhaps a disappointment to Marco, and the last thing she wanted was to disappoint him.

  So she would wait, and be content to wait, at least for a little while longer, because at the end of the day, the same words sang in her heart, just waiting for the perfect time to come out.

  The night before had been one such night, moonlight filling the room, and Marco's soft voice repeating those words like a prayer. She had fallen asleep to him swearing his love, and Briony only hoped he would openly tell her soon.

  In the morning, however, she was awakened to the smell of buttery, perfect croissants and an apologetic Marco, fully dressed and kissing her goodbye.

  "I'm sorry," he said with chagrin. "I need to be in Venice today, and no one told me until the last minute, more's the pity."

  "Oh, Venice, what a trial for you," Briony said, unable to keep a wistful sigh out of her voice.

 
He chuckled. "It's the off-season anyway. Next time, I'll take you and Eva, and we'll make a weekend of it. Right now, though, I'm on my way out, and I might be gone for two, even three days. Why don't you take Eva to the city if you're bored? Do some shopping, buy her some clothes."

  "She's a baby," she said, slightly scandalized. "There's already plenty of clothes that you ordered before we got here, and they certainly still fit."

  "A man likes his girls turned out nicely," Marco said with a grin that told her he wasn't serious. "Go, have some fun. I'll be back to you as soon as I can."

  Briony figured she was just going to stay around the palace honestly, spending time with Eva and perhaps exploring the grounds, but that was when Seanan called.

  "Darling, I've missed you so," her sister trilled. "Come to the city! Let me see my favorite niece, and let's catch up on everything!"

  Then of course, she had to pack things up and head for the city, driven by Marco's faithful driver. She was excited to see her sister, and maybe the days without Marco wouldn't be so bad after all.

  Of course, three days later, everything changed.

  ***

  Marco did his due diligence as the prince of Florence, but it was obvious to him that at the moment his heart wasn't in it. He loved his city, but the truth was that he simply loved Briony more.

  There was no question about it in his mind, absolutely none. He loved Briony, and every moment he spent with her, he could barely stop himself from saying the words. It was a good thing that soon enough, he wouldn't have to stop himself.

  The men of his family had always had a tradition of presenting their women with showstopper rings, ones that were devastatingly beautiful and rare. The jewelry maker in Florence had been working for weeks, and the ring would finally be ready when he came back through Florence on his way home.

  The jeweler's shop was on an obscure corner in the city, a place frequented only by the rich and the famous. The jewelry maker's family had served the popes and dukes of Italy, and when she handed him the engagement ring, he could see why. It was a stunning, pigeon blood ruby set in rose gold, surrounded by a halo of pale green diamonds. It was a work of art, and Marco knew that when he saw Briony next, it would be time.

  Of course, he didn't expect to find her in the streets of Florence, kissing another man.

  He had barely stepped out of the jewelry shop when he saw a familiar flash of chestnut hair. He slowed, stunned by recognition, and watched from several houses away as Briony got out of the taxi cab and mount the stairs to one of the fashionable townhouses nearby.

  It was hard to see her face; there was no way to read her expression. She kept glancing around, as if she was afraid of being caught, and Marco's first instinct was to comfort her, to swoop in and protect her from whatever was making her so anxious.

  As soon as she gained the top step, however, he realized the source of her fear. The door swept open, and a handsome blond man stepped out. Marco recognized him immediately, Paolo Olivetti, Hollywood's new Italian sensation.

  Marco's mind kept ticking along like a machine, marking who the man was, how he tugged the woman into his grasp, kissed her with savagely tender need, and crushed her against his body. It kept going even as his heart seemed to shatter in his chest.

  A dozen different urges seemed to seize him. He wanted to go tear Briony out of the man's arms. He wanted to shake her. He wanted her to explain how it was all a mistake.

  Instead, Marco got into his car and started to drive. The ring box was a hard lump in his pocket. It had cost more than a well-off man might make in a year, but suddenly he wanted to fling it down a well.

  He didn't do that.

  Instead, he turned his car towards one of the clubs he used to frequent years ago, a place that loved his wealth and his fame more than any other. As he paid for the first round, he could feel something hot and grieved well up inside him, but he knew that if he kept drinking, he wouldn't have to feel it at all.

  ***

  Briony had sent Paz away for the day, jostling Eva on her hip as she checked her phone again. When Marco was late returning from his business in Venice, she had contacted him, but ever since then, his responses had been short and curt to the point of rudeness. She only knew he was coming back tonight because one of the maids had mentioned turning out his bed.

  While he had been gone, it was too difficult to keep sleeping in the big bed alone, so she had moved back to her own quarters. Now that he was on his way home, she was relieved to have things return to where they used to be.

  She was still in her own quarters when she heard his familiar step in the hall.

  "Papa's home," she told her daughter sleeping against her shoulder, and she grinned to see her daughter rouse briefly at the words before settling into sleep again.

  Was there a pause before he opened the door? She had just enough time to wonder about it before Marco opened it. There was a happy greeting on Briony's lips, but then she saw Marco's face and gasped.

  "Marco! What's the matter?"

  "You're here. Good.” His voice was as deadly as a saber. "Do not come to my quarters again."

  "Marco, what is it?"

  "You know very well what it is," he snapped. "Don't lie about your affairs, there's nothing worse than a woman caught in her lies and trying to escape it."

  The words struck her like a blow, making Briony gasp aloud. Her sound woke up Eva, who uttered a thin and fretful cry.

  Marco's eyes widened at their daughter's distress, and she saw him start forward before he forced himself back. Somehow, that was scarier than anything else.

  "Marco," she murmured, reaching for him, but he stepped back as if he was afraid her touch would somehow contaminate him.

  "Don't touch me," he spat. "You've lost the right."

  With no more words, he stormed out, leaving Briony alone and afraid with a crying baby.

  ***

  Briony slept poorly that night, but she was hopeful that the next day could bring about some kind of solution. Instead, she woke up to find Paz swabbing the inside of Eva's mouth with a cotton swab.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, though she had an idea.

  "Something His Highness asked me to do," Paz said, turning crimson. "He wanted this delivered to him as soon as possible.” She dropped the swab inside a sterile Zip-lock bag, and even if Paz had no idea what was going on, Briony did.

  He was investigating whether Eva was really his daughter.

  "Stay with Eva, I will be right back," Briony said, gathering her robe a little more tightly around her.

  She dashed down the hall to Marco's quarters, her chest a fearful turmoil of anger and fear. How dare he? How dare he come and make terrible accusations, how dare he imply that their beloved daughter wasn't his?

  She was so full of fire that she thought she might explode upon seeing him. His door was locked, but he had given her a key long ago. Briony entered his quarters full of fury, but quickly, she realized he wasn't there. She walked through the entire place, but it was echoingly empty.

  She started to leave, but then she saw a stack of papers piled haphazardly on the table. It was unlike Marco to leave papers out like that. He was usually meticulous about things like that.

  She drifted closer, a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, and then she realized what she was looking at. They were in both Italian and English, and her blood froze as she read.

  The words swam in front of her eyes.

  Custody arrangements.

  Full custody.

  Unfit.

  Paid an annuity to keep her distance from Eva Bianchi...

  Briony felt as if she was nailed to the floor, and then the savage anger that had been building up in her exploded. She swept the papers off the table, and she stormed back to her apartment, where she dismissed Paz.

  The girl went with wide eyes, but Briony had no time to waste. If Marco wasn't in his quarters, he wasn't in the palace. That would work to her advantage. He wasn't going to sus
pect her of moving so fast. He might not think she was able to do so.

  He was a fool.

  If Marco thought he could take her daughter away from her, he was wrong, and now she would prove exactly how wrong he was.

  She had money, and after packing a few things into a diaper bag, she put on a simple, clean dress and lifted Eva onto her hip. She found her way down to the stables where she had gone often after it was discovered that Eva loved horses, and she smiled her sweetest at the oldest groom.

  "I was just thinking how nice it would be to go to town today, and Eva would love a ride on the truck, don't you think?"

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marco blinked when he realized there was someone pounding on the door. For a moment, he was content to simply let the pounding go until it stopped, but after a few moments, he realized it was going to do no such thing.

  The pounding continued, echoing the pounding in his head until his choices were either to suffer or stop it. He staggered out of bed wearing only a pair of jeans. He was faintly surprised at how clearheaded he had been, given how much he had drunk the night before.

  He made his way to the door, kicking aside the custody papers that he had left there. It had been four days since Eva and Briony had disappeared.

  Marco knew it was his duty to go after them, to at least retrieve the girl who was meant to be his successor to the throne of Florence, but there was nothing in him except a boiling rage at Briony. He didn't want to know what he would do if he saw her again.

  Other men might have been afraid of violence, but for Marco, he was more afraid of his heart. He was afraid of falling down onto his knees in front of her and begging, demanding to know why she had done such a thing. If she would come back.

  His pride refused, and so now he was staggering towards whatever damn fool was behind the door and who would not stop knocking.