by Abby Green
Sam went after him, her heart twisting. ‘Milo, it won’t be him...’
She pulled him back from the door and opened it, fully expecting to see just a neighbour or a door-to-door religious tout. But it wasn’t either of those.
‘Daddy!’ Milo’s small clear voice declared exactly who it was.
He was jumping up and down, endearingly still too shy to throw himself at the man who had only so recently come into his life. But when Rafaele bent down and opened his arms Milo ran straight into them and Sam’s heart squeezed so tight it hurt. She heard Bridie behind her exclaim and usher Rafaele in.
Sam could see that he was holding something in his hand, and when he put Milo down he handed it to him. It was a mechanical car.
Milo seized it with inelegant haste. ‘Wow!’
Sam chided him automatically through a fog of shock. ‘Milo, what do you say?’
‘Thank you!’
Sam was so tense she could crack. She avoided looking at Rafaele, dreading seeing that ice-cold green again.
Bridie was taking Milo by the hand and saying, ‘Come on, you promised you’d help me to find my spectacles in my flat earlier—’
Milo started protesting, and Sam felt like doing the same, but Bridie had lifted Milo up and was quelling his protests by promising him a DVD. And then they were gone before Sam could get a word out, and she was alone in the hall with Rafaele.
She still hadn’t really looked him in the eye as he reached out and pushed the front door closed. Finally she looked at him and her eyes widened. He looked terrible. Well, as terrible as a gorgeous Italian alpha male could look—which was not terrible at all. But Rafaele looked tired, drawn, pale. Older. Somehow diminished.
Immediately Sam was concerned and said, ‘What is it? Your father?’
Rafaele shook his head. ‘No, it’s not my father. He is fine. Asking after you all.’
‘Well...what is it, then? You look...’ As bad as I feel.
Rafaele smiled, but it was tight, and then it faded again and he’d never looked more serious.
Sam crossed her arms and started babbling out of nervousness. ‘Are you here ahead of your team of lawyers? Because if you are you could have saved yourself the bother, Rafaele...’
He shook his head and looked pained. For an awful moment Sam thought there might be something wrong with him and she felt weak.
‘No. I should never have said that to you. I’m sorry. Of course there won’t be a team of lawyers...’
Sam wanted to sit down. Relief swept through her like a cleansing balm. ‘But why did you say it then?’
Rafaele gave out a curt laugh. ‘Because you threaten me on so many levels and I thought I could control it...control you.’
His words sank in. You threaten me. And then, as if feeling constricted, Rafaele took off his battered leather jacket and draped it over the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing a light sweater and worn jeans and Sam could feel her blood heating. Already.
Suddenly Rafaele asked, ‘Do you mind if I have a drink?’
Sam shook her head and stood back. He walked into the front room and, bemused, she uncrossed her arms and followed him. Rafaele was at the sideboard, pouring himself a shot of her father’s whisky. He looked around and held up a glass in a question but she shook her head. She stood tensely inside the door. Half ready to flee.
Her voice felt rusty, unused. ‘Rafaele, why are you here?’
He turned around to face her. ‘Because we need to talk. Properly talk.’
Sam tensed even more, and as if sensing she was about to say something Rafaele put up a hand to quell her.
‘I told you that I was about Milo’s age when my mother left my father and took me with her?’ he began.
Sam nodded carefully.
Rafaele’s mouth became a thin line. ‘Unfortunately that day I was subjected to a vision of my father prostrating himself at my mother’s feet...begging her not to go. Crying, snivelling. I saw a broken man that day...and I believed for a long time—erroneously—that it had been my mother’s fault, that she had done it to him. When, of course, it was much more complicated than that... It didn’t help that he blamed her for most of his life, refusing to acknowledge his own part in his downfall.’
Sam took a breath. ‘Your father told me a bit...’
Even now her heart ached, because she thought of Milo’s pain and distress if he were to witness something like that. How would a scene like that affect a vulnerable, impressionable three-year-old?
But Rafaele didn’t seem to hear her. He was looking at the liquid in the glass, swirling it gently. ‘And then my stepfather... He was another piece of work. I’d gone from the example of a broken man who had lost everything to living with a man who had everything. What they had in common was my mother. They were both obsessed with her, wanted her above all. And she...?’ Rafaele smiled grimly. ‘She was aloof with them both, but she chose my stepfather over my father because he could provide her with the status and security she’d come to enjoy...’
Rafaele looked at her and his smile became bleak.
‘For a long time I never wanted to think about why she did those things...but since I’ve discovered my older brother and learned she abandoned him I have to realise that perhaps for her, security had become the thing she needed most—above warmth and emotion. Above anything. God knows what happened with her first husband to make her do such a drastic thing as to leave her son, leave his father...’
His mouth twisted.
‘From an early age I believed instinctively that women could ruin you even if you had money and success. I believed that to succeed I had to hold women at the same distance my mother had always done with the men around her. I wouldn’t ever be weak like my father or stepfather, and never lose control.’
Rafaele smiled again but it was impossibly bleak.
‘And then you came along and slid so deeply under my skin that I didn’t realise I’d lost all that precious control until it was too late.’
Sam’s heart was beating like a drum now. She felt light-headed. ‘I don’t... What are you saying, Rafaele?’
He looked at her and his gaze seemed to bore into her. ‘I still want us to get married, Sam...’
Something cold settled into her belly. He wasn’t going to let this go. He’d basically just told her how he viewed the women in his life and that only the fact that she’d proved herself to be completely different had merited her this place in his life. She backed away to the door and saw him put down his glass and frown...
‘Sam?’
Sam walked out through the door and went to the front door and opened it. Rafaele appeared in the hallway, still frowning.
She shook her head. ‘Rafaele, I’m really sorry that you had to see so much at a young age, and that it skewed your views of women... And I can see how Milo is at an age where he must have pushed your buttons... But I can’t marry you.’
She forced herself to keep looking at him even though she felt as if a knife was lacerating her insides. ‘I want more, Rafaele... Despite what I told you about my views on marriage I’ve always secretly hoped I’d meet someone and fall in love. I thought I could protect myself too, but I can’t...none of us can.’
* * *
Rafaele saw Sam backlit in her porch and even in such a domestic banal setting she’d never looked more beautiful. His heart splintered apart into pieces and he knew that he had no choice now but to step out and into the chasm of nothing—and possibly everything.
He walked into the middle of the hall and looked at Sam. And then very deliberately he got down on his knees in front of her. For a terrifying moment Rafaele felt the surge of the past threatening to rise up and strangle him, heard voices about to hound him, tell him he was no better than his father... But it didn’t happen. What he did feel was a he
ady feeling of peace for the first time in a long time.
Sam was looking at him, horrified. She quickly shut the door again and leant against it. ‘Rafaele, get up... What are you doing?’
Somehow Rafaele found the ability to speak. ‘This has been my nightmare scenario for so long, Sam, and I’m tired of it. The truth is that I want more too. I want it all. And I am willing to beg for it—just like my father. Except I know that this is different. I’m not him.’
Sam shook her head and Rafaele could see her eyes grow suspiciously bright.
Her voice sounded thick. ‘You don’t have to do this just to prove a point. Get up, Rafaele...’
He shook his head. The view from down here wasn’t bad at all, Rafaele realised. Prostrating himself in front of the woman he loved was something he’d do over and over again if he had to.
Almost gently now, he said, ‘Sam...don’t you realise it yet?’
She shook her head faintly. ‘Realise what?’
Rafaele took a deep breath. ‘That I am so madly and deeply and crazily in love with you that I’ve made a complete mess of everything...’
He looked down for a moment and then back up, steeling himself.
‘I know you don’t feel the same way...how could you when I’ve treated you so badly in the past? But... I truly hope that we might have enough to work with...and in time you might feel something. We have Milo...’
Sam just looked at him for a long moment, and then she whispered, ‘Did you just say you love me?’
Rafaele nodded, sensing her shock, feeling icicles of pain start to settle around his heart despite his brave words. Humiliation started to make his skin prickle. The demons weren’t so far away after all.
Sam closed her eyes and he heard her long, shuddering breath. When she opened them again they overflowed with tears.
‘Sam...’ he said hoarsely, and went to stand up.
But before he could move she’d launched herself at him and they landed in a tangle of limbs on the floor. The breath was knocked out of Rafaele’s chest for a second, and then he saw Sam’s face above his own, felt her tears splash onto his cheeks. And he couldn’t resist pulling her head down so that he could kiss her. Even in the midst of not knowing, he had to touch her.
The kiss was desperate and salty and wet, and then Sam drew back, breathing hard. She put her hands around his face and said again, ‘You love me?’
She was lying on his body, they touched at every point, and Rafaele could feel himself stirring to life. He nodded. ‘Yes. I love you, Sam. I want you in my life for ever...you and Milo. I want us to be a family. I can’t live without you. When you left last week...I died inside.’
A sob escaped Sam’s mouth and Rafaele felt her chest heaving against his.
Finally she managed to get out, ‘I love you, Rafaele. I fell for you four years ago, and when you let me go I thought I’d die...but then there was Milo...and I thought I’d stopped loving you and started hating you. But I hadn’t. I’ve always loved you and I will always love you.’
Rafaele sat up and Sam spread her legs around his hips so they faced each other. She sat in the cradle of his lap, where his erection was distractingly full, but he forced himself to look at her, sinking willingly into those grey depths and wondering how on earth he’d not let himself do this before now. It was the easiest thing.
His chest expanded as her words sank in and he felt a very fledgling burgeoning sense of trust take root within him and hold...
‘I fell for you too...but it was so terrifying that I ran. You got too close, Sam—closer than I’d ever let anyone get—and when I realised it I couldn’t handle it. Like a coward I left you alone to deal with your trauma...’
Sam smoothed his jaw with a tender hand. She looked at him, her eyes wounded. ‘I punished you...in the most heinous way. You were right. I was hurt and upset, heartbroken that you didn’t want me... I kept Milo from you, and you didn’t deserve that.’
Rafaele tucked some hair behind Sam’s ear. He was very serious. ‘I understand why you did it. You sensed my reluctance, Sam, my need to escape. But it wasn’t from you, it was from myself... You never really left me. You haunted me.’
Sam’s eyes flashed. ‘Not enough to stop you going to bed with another woman almost immediately.’
Rafaele struggled to comprehend, and then he recalled her accusing him of being with another woman a week after he’d left. He shook his head and smiled wryly, knowing that she was going to demand every inch of him for the rest of his life and not wanting it any other way.
‘Would it help you to know that, despite appearances to the contrary I didn’t sleep with anyone for a year after you left?’ He grimaced. ‘I couldn’t...perform.’
Sam’s eyes widened with obvious feminine satisfaction. ‘You were impotent?’
Rafaele scowled. ‘I’m not impotent.’
Sam wriggled on his lap, feeling for herself just how potent he was. ‘You’re not impotent with me.’
Rafaele groaned softly, his hands touching her face, thumb pressing her lower lip. ‘I could never be impotent with you. I just have to look at you and I’m turned on.’
Sounding serious, Sam said, ‘Me too...’
‘Sam...that night when I tied you up...’
A dark flush highlighted those cheekbones and something inside Sam melted anew at seeing him so unlike his usual confident, cocky self. He was avoiding her eye and she tipped his chin towards her.
‘I liked it...’ she whispered, blushing.
‘But you cried afterwards...’
Her eyes softened. ‘Because I had just realised how much I still loved you. I felt so vulnerable, and I thought you were still punishing me for Milo.’
Rafaele groaned. ‘I was angry, but it was because you were under my skin again and I didn’t want you there. You brought up too many feelings, made me feel out of control...so I needed to control you.’
A wicked glint came into Sam’s eyes. ‘We can call it quits if you let me tie you up next time.’
Sam felt Rafaele’s body jerk underneath hers.
He quirked a brow at her. ‘Bridie has Milo...’
Needing no further encouragement, Sam scrambled inelegantly off Rafaele’s lap and stood up. She looked down at him and held out a hand. Rafaele felt his heart squeeze so much that it hurt. The symbolism of the moment was huge as he put his hand in Sam’s to let her help him up, but just before he came up all the way, he stopped on one knee.
‘Wait...there’s one more thing.’
Rafaele’s heart beat fast at the way Sam bit her lip. He gripped her hand like a lifeline and with his other hand pulled out the small but precious cargo from his pocket.
He held up the vintage diamond ring and looked at her. ‘Samantha, will you marry me? Because I love you more than life itself—you and Milo.’
She looked at the ring and her eyes glittered again with the onset of fresh tears. ‘It’s beautiful...’
He could see the final struggle in her face, the fear of believing that this was real...but then she smiled and it bathed him in a warmth he’d never known before.
‘Yes, I’ll marry you, Rafaele.’
She held out her hand and it trembled.
With a none too steady hand himself, Rafaele pushed the sparkling ring onto her finger. And then, with his other hand still in her firm grip, she pulled him up out of the painful past and into a brighter future.
A month later...
Sam took a deep breath and started her walk down the aisle of the small church in the grounds of Rafaele’s Milan palazzo. Umberto was giving her away and he wasn’t even using his cane. He was walking taller and stronger almost every day...especially on the days when Bridie was around...
Milo walked ahead of them in a suit, throwing rose petals with chaotic random a
bandon. He’d look back every now and then with a huge smile and Sam would have to prompt him to keep going. The small church was filled with people, but Sam was oblivious. She saw only the tall figure of the man waiting for her at the top of the aisle. And then he turned around, as if unable to help himself, and he smiled. Sam smiled back.
Umberto handed her over with due deference and then Rafaele was claiming her, pulling her into him. The priest’s words washed over and through Sam. She would never have said she was a religious person, but something in the ritual seemed to complete the process she and Rafaele had embarked on a month before, cleansing away any vague residual painful pieces of the past.
There was only now and the future, and the heavy weight of the wedding band on her finger, and Rafaele bending to kiss her with such a look of reverence on his face that she could have wept. In fact she did weep, and he wiped her tears away with his fingers.
Later, as they danced at their reception, which had been set up in a marquee in the grounds of the palazzo, Rafaele said, ‘Have I told you yet how beautiful you look?’
Sam smiled. ‘About a hundred times, but I don’t mind.’
And Sam felt beautiful, truly, for the first time in her life. Even though her dress was simple and her hair hadn’t been styled by a professional and she’d done her own make-up. She felt confident, and sexy, and most importantly loved.
Milo appeared at their feet and Rafaele lifted him up and that was how they finished their wedding dance—in a circle of love, the three of them.
Over in a corner of the marquee stood Alexio Christakos, Rafaele’s half-brother. He’d been best man, done his duty and given his speech, made everyone laugh. Made the women giggle and look at him covetously. Even now they surrounded him, waiting for their moment to strike, for the slightest gesture of encouragement.
Alexio grimaced. He was starting to feel claustrophobic. Hell. Who was he kidding? He’d been feeling claustrophobic on his brother’s behalf ever since Rafaele had told him that he was getting married and had a son!
He shook his head again and grimaced when he saw Rafaele kiss his bride for the umpteenth time. Alexio looked at her. He guessed she was pretty enough, in a subtle and unassuming way, but he couldn’t see how she made Rafaele turn almost feral whenever another man came close. Even Alexio had been sent none too subtle hands-off signals from the moment he’d met her.