by Penny Jordan
‘Why not? Would you prefer it not to be true?’
His expression was guarded again, and Gemma acknowledged with compassion that deep down inside Luke would always have a certain vulnerability about his past. But he need never fear that vulnerability as far as she was concerned, and she would spend the rest of her life proving it to him.
‘Would you prefer me to be as sexually experienced as Samantha?’ she countered.
A slow smile curled his mouth. ‘No way. You can’t imagine what it does to me to know that I’m the first and only man to show you the meaning of physical pleasure.’
‘Oh yes, I can,’ Gemma countered softly. ‘I feel very much the same way, knowing that you love me … that you’ve always loved me. Tell me again, Luke. I still can’t believe that I’m not dreaming.’
‘Only if you promise to marry me.’
‘Just as soon as it can be arranged. That way I get to keep my job, and the men’s respect,’ she teased him smugly.
‘And that’s the only reason you’re marrying me?’
‘Mmm … well, there are certain other considerations.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as the fact that I’m utterly and obsessively in love with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’
There was a long, satisfying pause while Luke showed her how much her feelings were reciprocated, and then he released her and settled her comfortably against his shoulder and said softly,
‘You know, when I brought you out here, all I wanted was to get you into my bed. I told myself that once I had I could exorcise the past, put you out of my life for ever, but even before I touched you I knew it wasn’t going to work … that simply making love to you would only make me want you more, and not less.
‘There was a moment before when I almost hated you. When I thought that you were just using me as a means of gaining sexual experience.’ His mouth twisted bitterly. ‘That has to have been the very worst moment of my life. I’m sorry if I … if I hurt you when we made love,’ he added gruffly.
Gemma shook her head, touching his face. ‘No, you didn’t hurt me.’
‘But you were crying.’
‘With pleasure,’ she told him simply. ‘I never ever thought I would experience that sort of pleasure, Luke. That was why I was crying. Even now I can hardly believe that I have.’
‘If it wasn’t for the fact that the steward is likely to arrive at any moment with your breakfast, I’d prove to you that you have and you can again.’
‘Mmm. Do you suppose Captain Ericson can perform marriages?’ Gemma asked dreamily.
Luke grinned. ‘I don’t know. But the Governor can.’
* * *
In the breakfast-room, Susan Parish picked up the blue airmail letter from Gemma. She was supposed to wear glasses for reading, but vanity prevented her, and so it was several minutes before she was able to read her daughter’s brief message. When she had, she read it again, her face going first pale and then unbecomingly flushed as she handed the letter to her husband and said in a tight angry voice, ‘Well, if that isn’t just like Gemma.’
‘What’s that, m’dear?’
Hugh Parish lifted his eyes briefly from The Times and frowned at his wife. He hated being interrupted before he had read the leader.
‘Gemma’s got married … to that dreadful Luke O’Rourke. I can imagine just what everyone is going to think. If she had to marry the man, why couldn’t she have married him here in a proper fashion, instead of in such a hole-in-the-corner way?’
‘Gemma’s married Luke O’Rourke?’
‘Haven’t I just said so, Hugh?’
To her astonishment, far from being shocked, her husband just frowned for a moment and then said, ‘Oh, well, I suppose it’s not as bad as it might have been. They do say that he could get a knighthood, you know. All this welfare work he does for his employees, and the man’s already a millionaire.’
‘Maybe so, but he isn’t really our sort, Hugh. You’ll have to write to Gemma.’
‘What for? She’s O’Rourke’s responsibility now, thank God.’
He rustled the paper meaningfully to show that the subject was closed.
* * *
They were only having a week’s honeymoon; that was all the time Luke could spare from the site. He had hired a villa on Antigua, set in its own grounds and completely private.
Gemma was happier than she had ever been in her life, and this was just the beginning. There were long years ahead of them to be enjoyed both as friends and lovers. They spent hours talking to one another just as they had done all those long years ago, but now the difference was that they didn’t part to go to their separate beds. Now they were truly united.
She looked up as Luke crossed the small patio and deposited a cool drink beside her.
‘Still love me?’ he teased knowingly, bending his head to kiss her before she could reply, her lips giving him the answer to his question.
Yes, she loved him. Now and for ever, just as she knew that he loved her, and always would.
* * * * *
Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of USA Today bestselling author Carol Marinelli’s next book,
BOUND BY THE SULTAN’S BABY
The second in her Billionaires & One-Night Heirs trilogy!
Sultan Alim spent one forbidden night with Gabi—when he encounters her again, she refuses to name her child’s father. Alim will seduce the truth out of Gabi, even if he has to lure her under false pretenses. Alim knows he craves her, but does he desire her as his mistress or bride?
Read on to get a glimpse of
BOUND BY THE SULTAN’S BABY
CHAPTER ONE
GABI DERAMO HAD never been a bridesmaid, let alone a bride.
However, weddings were her life and she thought about them during most of the minutes of her day.
From way back she had lived and breathed weddings.
Gabi was a dreamer.
As a little girl, her dolls would regularly be lined up in a bridal procession. Once, to her mother’s fury, Gabi had poured two whole bags of sugar and one of flour over them to create a winter wedding effect.
‘Essere nerre nuvole,’ her mother, Carmel, had scolded, telling her that she lived in the clouds.
What Gabi didn’t tell her was that at each wedding she made with her dolls, she pretended it was her mother. As if somehow she could conjure her father’s presence and make it so that he had not left a pregnant Carmel to struggle alone.
And while Gabi had never been so much as kissed, as an assistant wedding planner she had played her part in many a romantic escape.
She dreamt of the same most nights.
And she dreamt of Alim.
Now Gabi sat, flicking through the to-do list on her tablet and curling her long black hair around her finger, trying to work out how on earth she could possibly organise, from scratch, an extremely rushed but very exclusive winter wedding in Rome.
Mona, the bride-to-be, stepped out of the changing area on her third attempt at trying on a gown not of Gabi’s choice.
It didn’t suit Mona in the least—the antique lace made her olive skin look sallow and the heavy fabric did nothing to accentuate her delicate frame.
‘What do you think?’ Mona asked Gabi as she turned around to look in the mirror and examined herself from behind.
Gabi knew from experience how to deal with a bride who stood in completely the wrong choice of gown. ‘What do you think, Mona?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mona sighed. ‘I quite like it.’
‘Then it isn’t the gown for you,’ Gabi said. ‘Because you have to love it.’
Mona had resisted the boutique owner’s guidance and had completely dismissed Gabi’s suggestion for a bright, white, column gown with subtle embroidery. In fact, Mona hadn’t even tried it on.
Gabi’s suggestions were dismissed rather a lot.
She was curvy and dressed in the severe, shapeless dark suit that her boss, Bernadetta,
insisted she wear, so brides-to-be tended to assume that Gabi had no clue where fashion was concerned.
Oh, but she did.
Not for herself, of course, but Gabi could pick out the right wedding gown for a bride at fifty paces.
And they needed this to be sorted today!
Bernadetta was on leave and so it had fallen to Gabi to sort.
It always did.
The bigger the budget, the trickier the brief, the more likely it was to have been put into the ‘Too Hard’ basket and left for Gabi to pick up.
They were in the lull between Christmas and New Year. The wedding boutique was, in fact, closed today, but Gabi had many contacts and had called in a favour from Rosa, the owner, who had opened up just for them.
Rosa would not push them out, but they had to meet Marianna, the functions co-ordinator, at the Grande Lucia at four.
‘Why don’t you try Gabi’s suggestion?’ Fleur, the mother of the groom, said.
It was a little odd.
Usually this trip would be taken with the mother of the bride or her sister or friends, but it would seem that it was Fleur who had first and last say in things.
Fleur was also English, which meant that, in order to be polite, Gabi and Mona did not speak in Italian.
Yes, it was proving to be a long, tiring day.
And they would be back tomorrow with the bridesmaids!
Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Mona agreed to try on Gabi’s suggestion and then disappeared with the dresser.
As Rosa hung up the failed gown she saw that Gabi was looking at another dress.
Silver-grey, it was elegant and simple and in a larger size, and when Gabi held it up she saw the luxurious fall of the fabric. Rosa was a talented seamstress indeed.
‘It would fit you,’ Rosa said.
‘I doubt it.’ Gabi sighed wistfully. ‘It’s beautiful, though.’
‘The order was cancelled,’ Rosa said. ‘Why don’t you go and try it on? It would look stunning, I am sure.’
‘Not while I’m working.’ Gabi shook her head. ‘Anyway, even if it did fit, when would I get a chance to wear it?’ Her question went unanswered as the curtains parted and a smiling Mona walked out.
‘Oh, Mona!’ Gabi breathed.
The dress was perfect.
It showed off Mona’s slender figure, and the bright white was indeed the perfect shade against her olive skin.
‘If only she had listened to you in the first place,’ Fleur muttered. ‘We are going to be late for the hotel.’
‘It’s all taken care of,’ Gabi assured her, checking her list on her tablet. ‘We’re right on schedule.’
Ahead of it, in fact, because now that the dress had been chosen, everything else, Gabi knew, would fall more easily into place.
Measurements had already been taken but fitting dates could not yet be made. Gabi assured Rosa she would call her just as soon as they had finalised the wedding date.
They climbed back into the car and were driven through the wet streets of Rome towards the Grande Lucia but, again, Mona wasn’t happy. ‘I went to a wedding at the Grande Lucia a few years ago and it was so…’ Mona faltered for a moment as she struggled with a word to describe it. ‘Tired-looking.’
‘Not now it isn’t.’ Gabi shook her head. ‘It’s under new management, well, Alim has been…’ It was Gabi who now faltered but she quickly recovered. ‘Alim has been the owner for a couple of years and there have been considerable renovations; the hotel is looking magnificent.’
Even saying his name made her stumble a little and blush.
Gabi saw Alim only occasionally but she thought about him a lot.
Their paths rarely crossed but if Gabi was organising a wedding at the Grande Lucia and Alim happened to be in residence at the time then her heart would get a rare treat, and she was secretly hoping for one today.
‘Let’s just see how you feel once you’ve actually seen the Grande Lucia for yourself.’ Gabi suggested. ‘Remember, though, that it’s terribly hard to get a booking there, especially at such short notice.’
‘Fleur doesn’t seem to think it will be a problem,’ Mona said with a distinct edge to her voice, and Gabi watched as she shot a look towards the mother of the groom. From all Gabi had gleaned, Fleur had agreed to finance the wedding on the condition that it was held there.
‘It won’t be,’ Fleur responded.
Gabi wasn’t so sure.
Marianna, the co-ordinator, was rather inflexible at the best of times and they wanted this wedding to be held in just over two weeks!
They made good time as the streets were comparatively empty. The rush of Christmas was over and even the Colosseum was closed to visitors.
Gabi stifled a yawn, wishing that she could put up her own Do not disturb sign to the world for a while.
She had hoped to spend the Christmas break going over the plans for starting her own business. Instead, she had again been called in to work through her leave. She was tired.
Almost too tired to keep alive the dream of one day owning her own business.
She had started working for Matrimoni di Bernadetta when she was eighteen and had hoped that it would provide the experience she needed to one day go it alone.
Six years later, at the age of twenty-four, that prospect seemed no brighter.
Bernadetta had made very sure of that—there was barely time to think, let alone act on her own dreams.
Still, she truly loved her job.
Gabi looked up as the gorgeous old building came into view and they soon pulled up at the entrance.
The car door was opened for them by the doorman, Ronaldo.
‘Ben tornato,’ Ronaldo said, and Gabi realised that it was Fleur and not she he was welcoming back.
Fleur must be a guest. And a favoured one too from the attention that Ronaldo gave her.
As Gabi got out there was a flutter of excitement at the thought that she might soon see Alim.
He was always polite, even if he was somewhat aloof. She didn’t take it personally. Alim was the same with everyone and maintained a certain distance. There was just an air of mystery to him that had Gabi entranced. An entire floor of the Grande Lucia served as Alim’s residence when he was in Rome, and so, through the hotel industry grapevine, Gabi knew more than a little of his reputation. He loved beautiful women and dated as many of them as he could—though one night with him was all they would ever get.
Breakfast was definitely not included in this particular package. In fact, according to Sophie, a friend of Gabi’s and a maid at the Grande Lucia, cold and callous were the most frequent words used to describe him by his lovers after they had been discarded.
That didn’t seem right to Gabi for she always felt warm in his gaze, and when it came to business, his professionalism was never in doubt.
Still, Sophie had told her, for all the tears there were perks for, rumour had it the reward for time spent in Alim’s arms came in the shape of a diamond.
It sounded crass.
Until you saw Alim.
He was completely out of her league, of course, and that was not her being self-effacing. He veered towards slender blondes of the supermodel kind, and women who definitely knew the ropes in the bedroom.
Apparently he had no inclination to teach.
Gabi didn’t mind in the least that Alim was utterly unattainable, for it made it safe for her to dream of him.
There was no sign that he was there when she walked through the brass revolving doors and into the magnificent foyer of the Grande Lucia.
It was almost perfection.
Stunning crimson carpet and silk walls were elegant—even sensual, perhaps—and worked well against the dark wooden furnishings. The space was vast and the ceilings high, yet there was an intimate feel from the moment you walked in, alongside the lovely buzz of a busy hotel.
As a centrepiece, there was a huge, crimson floral display.
Yes, almost perfect.
Gabi had an eye
for detail and this arrangement irked her. It never varied, or moved with the times. Instead, there was a perpetual display of deep red roses and carnations and it had become a slight bone of contention when Gabi had negotiated on behalf of her brides.
Marianna came to greet them and took the trio for coffee at one of several intimate lounges just off the foyer.
There they went through a few details and though Marianna was delighted to announce that there was an opening in just over two weeks, she was not going to make it easy for the bride.
‘I do need to verify dates with the owner,’ Marianna said. ‘We’re expecting some VIP guests at the hotel in January so security will be particularly tight. I’m not sure we’ll be able to accommodate you then. Alim has asked to be informed before any dates are locked in…’ She paused and looked up. ‘Oh, there he—’
Marianna halted, causing Gabi to glance up. Alim had just entered the foyer with the requisite stunning blonde.
Gabi guessed, and rightly so, that Alim did not like to be disturbed with minor details every time he made an appearance so Marianna did not alert Mona and Fleur to his presence.
Yet such was his charisma, both women looked over.
And while Marianna might be doing her best not to disrupt Alim’s day, Gabi’s had just been turned on its head.
In the nicest of ways.
He wore a slim dark coat and there was such an air of magnificence about him that he simply turned heads.
Not just for his dark looks—there was more to him than that—but they were rather wonderful to dwell on. His hair was black and glossy and swept back. He stood tall and his posture was so upright he always made Gabi want to pull back her own shoulders.
There was a shift that ran through her body whenever he was near, an awareness that made it difficult to focus on anything other than him, for all else seemed to move to the periphery of her consciousness to allow Alim centre stage.
‘Quanti ospiti?’
Marianna’s voice was coming from a distance and as she asked how many guests for the wedding, it was Mona who answered instead of Gabi.
For Alim had looked over and met her gaze.
He was beautiful.
Always.