Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

This was really weird, Rosie thought. She’d agreed to speak to Janine and had been looking forward to giving her a hard time for old times sake. But Bronte was right. There was a story here. Janine indeed looked as if she’d been to hell and back. Rosie wasn’t finding guilt a comfortable feeling. When had Janine been humble? When had Janine been nice?

  ‘The Grange needs a lot of work. I drove by it a few weeks ago and the roof didn’t look in good repair,’ Rosie said now, concerned at the idea of Janine living alone so far out of town with a baby.

  Janine nodded.

  ‘We’re living in the south wing. It’s going to take months of work to fix up the place. I’ve been thinking of turning it into two properties and renting one to give me a steady income. The rental market is high.’

  Bronte nodded.

  ‘That’s a good idea.’

  ‘The property market’s flat at the moment, but there’s always a demand for a good family home to rent,’ Rosie said. After a quick nod to Bronte, she added, ‘When can you start?’

  After Janine left, Bronte sat back in her chair and let out a long breath.

  ‘I’m worried about her.’

  Rosie knew exactly how she felt.

  ‘I’d never have recognised her if I passed her in the street. What the hell happened?’

  Bronte shook her head.

  ‘I don’t know the whole story. But after the whirlwind romance, the wedding and moving to the Middle East, things went bad in the relationship pretty fast.’

  Rosie had met the late Connor Faulkner once and hadn’t been impressed. The man had been too good looking, too smooth and too cold for her taste.

  For some reason she shivered.

  ‘She looks haunted.’

  ‘She looks as if she’s been badly hurt, Rosie.’

  ‘Why isn’t she living with her father?’

  Bronte shook her head. ‘No idea. They don’t appear to be speaking.’

  Rosie frowned, remembering how Janine’s father behaved whenever he’d visited her at boarding school.

  ‘Do you remember how he always used to dress her like a little doll? And call her ‘daddy’s Princess?’

  ‘And the way he inspected her room at bedtime to make sure all her toys were put away in the correct boxes? The man was a nightmare.’

  ‘Thank goodness her grandmother died and left her The Grange,’ Rosie said, then blinked a couple of times. ‘That didn’t come out right.’

  Bronte just grinned.

  ‘I knew what you meant,’ she said and then stared hard at her. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? I’m worried about you too, Miss Rosie.’

  Rosie gave her big eyes.

  ‘Me? I’m fine. Never better.’

  She’d lied.

  And that was a first, Bronte reflected as she drove home.

  After showering at Sweet Sensations she’d changed from her chef whites into a strappy top and flirty mini skirt of ivory silk that was snug on the hips and flared around her thighs.

  The air conditioning in the car was a blessed release, blowing cool air over her bare legs and arms, helping her think.

  She knew Rosie inside out.

  They never kept secrets. But she’d seen the hurt in her eyes when she’d spun her the line about Simon. If it wasn’t so serious, Bronte would have laughed in her face. The truth was that it was a man who was the problem and he’d hurt her.

  Rosie did not want to leave Sweet Sensations, Bronte would bet her life on it. Yes, she’d been working too hard. Probably to stop thinking about whoever had broken her heart. Well she could hardly blame Rosie for that since she’d done the same stupid thing herself.

  Oh, her friend had tried to hide the fact she’d lied about his identity under her Oscar winning performance.

  But Rosie Gordon would need to get up very early indeed to put one over on Bronte Ferranti.

  So who the hell was he?

  It had to be someone Bronte knew if Rosie couldn’t tell her about it.

  Anxiety danced with fear in her gut.

  Was he married or did he have a significant other in his life?

  She understood Rosie’s need to move on, but it was Bronte’s duty as her best friend to get to the bottom of it. Someone had hurt her and that someone had better get ready for Bronte Ferranti to kick their ass.

  Chapter Six

  Bronte entered The Dower House expecting to hear the sound of tired children preparing for bed.

  The weather was playing havoc with her babies’ sleeping patterns the heat making it difficult for them to settle.

  Nico was due back from Rome later tonight, so she was pleasantly surprised to find him still in his bespoke suit lounging on a couch scrolling through messages on his cell phone.

  ‘Hi, did you send the nanny home?’

  Distracted, still worrying about Rosie, Bronte didn’t wait for a response and sailed past him heading for the fridge and a cold drink.

  ‘I’ll check the kids,’ she said absently. ‘I didn’t expect to see you until late this evening.’

  It wasn’t until her foot was on the bottom step of the staircase her intuition pinged.

  He hadn’t said a single a word.

  She headed back to the kitchen to find her husband resting his head on the back of the couch.

  His eyes were tightly closed.

  Concerned now, Bronte crouched in front of him, laid a hand on his knee.

  ‘What is it?’

  Nico opened his eyes to gaze at the love of his life.

  Big green eyes filled with concern stared into his.

  She could read him, he thought, his beautiful English wife and the mother of his children.

  ‘My father died this morning,’ he began and she gripped his hand.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my darling.’

  He squeezed her fingers.

  ‘It makes me wonder what my life might have been like if you had not come into it,’ his throat ached in a way that made it difficult to even breathe. ‘He looked like me.’

  Her eyes misted.

  ‘He did indeed.’

  ‘Si, I made something of myself without him. He told me he was proud to have me as his son.’

  She slipped onto his knee, wound slim arms around his neck, pressed soft lips to his cheek.

  ‘I’m incredibly proud of you too. And our children are so lucky to have you as their father. You are a good man, Nico Ferranti.’

  She kissed him.

  He rested his forehead on hers.

  ‘I am nothing without you, cara.’

  He couldn’t help it, he shuddered and felt her hold on him tighten.

  ‘We’re good together,’ she said.

  He looked into her beautiful face with the wide eyes and smiled.

  How was it possible that when his heart was too heavy, his libido spiked?

  ‘Very good. I need you.’

  By her smile he got the message that she felt his physical need of her.

  ‘I’m all yours.’

  He took a long breath, let his fingertips skim over her bare legs.

  ‘I like you in a skirt. Makes accessing the good bits easy.’

  She kissed him. A long slow meeting of lips and tongues.

  ‘Whatever you need, I’m here for you.’

  He wanted to strip, plunge into her. Make sure she was real and that everything that had happened to him until he’d met her didn’t matter.

  He’d remade, reconstructed himself. But the little boy who’d lived on the streets, seen things he’d lay down his life to make sure his children never had to endure, rose through the man.

  ‘Hold me,’ he begged.

  Bronte held her husband tight.

  She’d always known this moment would come.

  The time when Nico had to say goodbye to his father. A father who’d never been there for him thanks to a maternal grandfather who had abandoned his only daughter and grandson to the streets of Rome. Nico’s mother had died in poverty, sick and alone.

  His gr
andfather might have taken him in after his mother’s death. But he’d bullied and done his best to break the boy. Nico Ferranti was tougher than that. He’d endured a harsh Jesuit education, found his way in life in spite of his grandfather and his lies.

  He’d come to learn and accept the truth about his father and his brother. The relationship, Bronte knew, was not an easy happy-ever-after coming together of a father and a sibling kept apart for too long.

  But Bronte and her American sister-in-law, Julia, worked together to ensure their children came to know each other. Gabriel Ferranti and Nico Ferranti were slowly and carefully building a relationship. They were like chalk and cheese. Gabriel wore his heart on his sleeve, utterly adored his father, his family and was desperate to include his brother in his love.

  But Nico only had room in his heart for Bronte and his children. He’d held himself back from giving or trusting his brother and his father. Now it was too late, his father was gone. And her big husband was hurting.

  Her voice was a mere whisper, ‘You helped him rally, gave him two years. He lived to see that he would continue to live on in you and Gabriel and in Carmen, Gianfranco, Luca and Sophia.’

  Nico buried his face in her neck and she felt moisture there. The only time she’d seen Nico Ferranti cry was when his children were born.

  Bronte took his gorgeous face between her hands and stared into those drenched dark eyes.

  ‘What is it?’

  He closed his eyes tight as his hands stroked her back.

  ‘I could not find it in my heart to forgive him for my mother.’

  She still held his face.

  ‘Look at me.’

  His eyes opened.

  ‘I still cannot forgive.’

  Bronte nodded, some things never changed. Nico was not a man who easily forgave. That part of his self development was still a work in progress.

  ‘Then do not live with regret. You are entitled to your feelings. Your father was a married man when he seduced your mother. But she is just as responsible for bringing you into the world, Nico.’ When he flinched, she went on, ‘Yes, she was. Neither of them were saints and neither of them were truly sinners. They fell madly in love in a different time and place in the world and they paid a dreadful price for it. The time for pain is over. Honour both of them and yourself by being the best person you can be.’

  He gave her a smile that warmed her heart.

  ‘What the hell did I do to deserve you?’

  She kissed him.

  ‘It has nothing to do with deserving me. You came, you saw and you conquered. I didn’t stand a chance.’

  Moving, she straddled him.

  With exquisite care she slid off his jacket and started on his tie.

  ‘Aren’t you too hot?’ she asked.

  His erection growing ever harder made her bite down hard on her bottom lip and give him big eyes.

  Nico’s eyes narrowed fractionally as his fingertips slid under her skirt and stroked her flesh from knee to hip.

  At the same time, he toed off his shoes.

  ‘I have been thinking we need time alone, without the babies. Maybe Rosie would move in for a couple of days along with the nanny?’

  Sliding out each shirt button, she tilted her pelvis back and forth and saw those eyes go even darker with desire as she peeled off his shirt.

  With a little purr of pure lust, she smoothed her hands over his wide shoulders, raked her nails down his torso between his pectoral muscles and down over his abs. His stomach muscles quivered as she unbuckled his belt, slid it through trouser loops.

  ‘Sounds like a good idea. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Arms up.’

  She did as she was told.

  He whipped off her top and simply stared at her breasts.

  Then she found herself on her back on the couch with his arms on either side of her head.

  ‘I could do with a nibble,’ he said and crushed his mouth to hers.

  Her blood went too hot in an instant. Bronte could feel every logical thought simply disappear as his mouth plundered and ravaged hers with a wild need that thrilled and intoxicated. Even as she gripped his shoulders, he was doing amazing things to her body with those skilled and talented hands.

  She gasped in air and simply gave herself to the frantic and feral moment. And as always, to the man she adored.

  The taste of that soft sweet mouth incited another tsunami of hunger through him.

  She unzipped his trousers and tugged them and his Calvin's over his hips as he ripped her silk panties.

  Then she pressed wantonly against him, aching flesh to aching flesh.

  Her green eyes were too dark now, and for one exquisite moment went opaque as with no finesse he entered her.

  And God help him, she kept up with his frantic pace as he rode her hard and rode her fast with a brutal thrill. He pinned her arms over her head as his hips took them both on a wild ride over the last storm-tossed wave to beach them on a shore of utter contentment.

  Bronte’s breath wheezed in and out of her lungs as Nico rested his cheek on hers and found his own. He pressed his mouth softly to her throat, her nose, her forehead.

  Since he still lay on top her his deep voice rumbled through her body.

  ‘I can never get enough of you, cara. Did I hurt you?’

  She lifted his head to focus on his face and shook her head.

  ‘Nope. Feeling better?’

  ‘Much, grazie.’

  ‘I have chicken or fillet steak for dinner.’

  His mouth met hers in a long, lingering kiss.

  He lifted his head and smiled.

  ‘I am Italian, red meat.’

  Later, Nico topped up her wine.

  Cradled in his father’s lap her son dozed.

  Luca looked as if he was running another fever and had woken up fractious and snarky. She’d given him water and Calpol. He’d finally cooled. All he wanted was his daddy.

  ‘Want me to take him?’ she asked.

  Nico shook his head, ran a gentle hand over Luca’s dark curls.

  ‘No, I will put him down. I think he will settle now the evening is cooler.’

  Watching him as he walked out with their son, how he was so gentle and patient with their children always surprised Bronte. She just wished he wasn’t so hard on himself.

  She picked up her glass, took a sip, all the while thinking about how she’d never, ever, take this happiness for granted. Life with Nico Ferranti wasn’t always plain sailing. He was a demanding lover and husband but never selfish. He took care of her and their children. They came first in his life and how amazing was that?

  As Nico strolled over to join her on the couch, her gaze took a lazy stroll over his ancient jeans and white thermal which showcased his lean frame, his tan and that silky black hair.

  ‘Everything organised in Rome?’

  Nico sat, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

  ‘Si, for Friday. Gabriel has everything under control. He has been preparing for this day for many months.’

  ‘We’ll take Luca and Sophia.’

  He cocked his head to stare into her eyes and she read the relief there.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘We’re family. Of course I’m sure. Carmen will be thrilled to bits, she loves playing mummy with her cousins.’

  ‘What about the business? Rosie’s busy.’

  Bronte nodded.

  ‘She is, but we’ve been preparing for this too. We’re well ahead of schedule. Janine has agreed to join Sweet Sensations to take over the technical side and the paper work.’

  Nico’s brows rose into his hairline.

  ‘And Rosie is happy with the plan?’

  She heaved a deep sigh and her eyes found his.

  ‘Rosie resigned today.’

  At that he sat up straight.

  ‘What? Why?”

  Bronte rose and moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. With a hand that wasn’t quite st
eady she unscrewed the top, tipped water into a glass.

  ‘She’s not got a life and wants to spend time with her parents and mentioned New York, a job, a fresh start.’

  He blew out a long whistle.

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’

  ‘Gutted to be honest.’ She took a sip and eyed him. ‘I don’t buy it, either.’

  Thoughtfully Nico sipped his wine.

  ‘She is lonely.’

  Bronte opened her mouth then closed it.

  He was right, damn it.

  ‘There’s something else going on. Somebody’s hurt her.’

  Now Nico’s brows drew together.

  ‘A man?’ he growled.

  She sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder as his arm came around her again and squeezed.

  ‘I can’t think of anyone. She’s hurting so bad, Nico, and she can’t tell me about it. I think her heart’s broken and whoever is responsible is in deep trouble when I get hold of them.’

  ‘Maybe she is not ready to tell you. She never keeps secrets from you and I think Rosie is more than capable of kicking ass.’

  ‘It’s all a front. She talks big but deep inside she’s a marshmallow. A bit like you.’

  She felt his big body shake with laughter.

  ‘Cara, are you calling me soft?’ he asked in a silky voice.

  He placed his glass on the table.

  Lifting her head she gave him big eyes and a wide smile.

  ‘Parts of you are soft. Especially here.’

  She pressed the flat of her hand on his chest, felt his heart beat strong and steady.

  He took her water, placed it next to his wine and pounced.

  For the second time in the one day Bronte found herself on her back under her husband. And by what she felt pressing against her hip one of her favourite parts of him was rock hard.

  ‘How about I prove just how hard I can be.’

  She grinned up into his face, wound her arms around his neck and wiggled her hips.

  ‘Why don’t you?’

  Chapter Seven

  Rosie strolled through her garden in the annex of Sweet Sensations and sipped a chilled white wine enjoying the first moments of down time for weeks.

  Since the garden faced south west it was the perfect place to relax in the evening.