Her Wedding Night Negotiation

by Chantelle Shaw

  Cursing her inexplicable fascination with Marco, who was the absolute opposite of safe, she spun away from the mirror and forced her mind from the dangerous path it seemed intent on following.

  Although her dress wasn’t a bridal gown, it was made of white silk, with lace detailing on the bodice, and had narrow shoulder straps and a short skirt. With it she wore high-heeled satin shoes. She left her hair loose and clipped back the sides with diamante slides. On impulse, she broke off the long stem of the white rose on her breakfast tray and tucked the flower into her hair.

  Her heart was thumping when she walked into the lounge. The floor-to-ceiling windows ran the length of the room, to make the most of the stunning view over Manhattan, clearly visible now that the storm had passed, leaving a cloudless blue sky, but it wasn’t the view that captivated Leah.

  Marco must have heard her, although her footsteps had seemed to make no sound on the plush carpet. He turned away from the window and her eyes roamed over his dark suit, crisp white shirt and silver-grey tie. His thick hair was more groomed than usual, and the sexy stubble on his jaw had been trimmed. The scar running down his cheek gave him a piratical look, and the ache inside Leah expanded until the air was forced from her lungs in a ragged sigh.

  ‘Tesoro.’

  His voice was dark and rich like bittersweet chocolate. As he strode towards her he subjected her to a scorching appraisal; from the silky curls tumbling around her shoulders to the swell of her breasts visible above the neckline of her dress. Finally he moved his eyes down the length of her slender legs to her pretty but impractical stiletto heels.

  When he looked up again Leah glimpsed an indefinable expression in his eyes, and oddly she found herself wishing this was real—that they were in love and about to promise themselves to each other for eternity.

  He captured her hand and lifted it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her fingers. ‘You take my breath away,’ he murmured.

  A bolt of electricity shot through her fingers and up her arm, and she recalled that she had experienced the same fierce awareness of Marco when he’d stood in for James at the wedding rehearsal. Had it been only a few days ago? It felt like a lifetime since she had fled from Nancarrow Hall.

  But this wasn’t real, she reminded herself. The admiration in Marco’s eyes, just like the tenderness in his voice, was there to convince other people that their relationship was genuine.

  ‘Come and meet my friends,’ he said, slipping his arm around her waist and drawing her forward.

  Leah had only had eyes for him. But now she realised that they were not alone as a dark-haired man and an ice-cool blonde woman stood up from the sofa.

  Marco introduced the couple. ‘This is Paolo Bonucci and his wife Ashlyn. They live in Connecticut and flew down to New York this morning to be witnesses at our wedding.’

  ‘It’s good to meet you, Leah,’ Paolo greeted her. ‘I’ve been friends with Marco since we were at school together, but he still throws up surprises. Ashlyn and I couldn’t believe it when he called us yesterday and said he was getting married again. We thought after Karin...’ His voice trailed away.

  Beneath his friendly tone Leah detected unease, and she saw the quick glance that passed between Paolo and his wife.

  ‘As soon as I met Leah I knew I wanted to marry her,’ Marco said smoothly. ‘Neither of us could wait—could we cara?’

  He met her startled gaze with an urbane smile. If he ever wanted a change of career he could star on Broadway, she thought wryly. Why, he almost had her convinced that she was the love of his life, instead of a woman who had used his traumatised young son to emotionally blackmail him into marriage.

  ‘We are both very happy for you.’ Ashlyn smiled warmly at Leah. ‘Your dress is beautiful, and I’d give anything for Titian hair like yours.’

  The wedding officiant arrived, and everything felt surreal to Leah as she and Marco stood in front of her at the window, with the Manhattan skyscrapers providing a stunning backdrop.

  The civil ceremony was surprisingly brief. Marco said his vows, and the slight huskiness of his voice sent a quiver through her, but she knew the words meant nothing to him and the promises he made were meaningless.

  And then it was her turn. Her heart leapt into her throat when the officiant spoke to her.

  ‘Leah, will you take Marco to be your wedded husband, to share your life with him, to love, support and comfort him whatever the future may bring?’

  Leah’s voice was trapped in her throat. In her mind she was a child again and she heard Grandma Grace’s voice. ‘Nothing good ever comes from a lie.’ But if she did not marry to claim her inheritance and replace the money her mother had stolen there was a strong chance that Tori would be sent to prison.

  She could not let that happen.

  Leah’s eyes were drawn involuntarily to Marco’s chiselled features and she took a deep breath. ‘I will.’

  No emotion showed in his cool stare, and when the marriage officiant announced that they were man and wife he bent his head and brushed his lips over Leah’s in a perfunctory kiss.

  Afterwards, they went with Paolo and Ashlyn to an exclusive restaurant for a champagne brunch. Paolo explained to her that he ran his family’s banking business, but that when he was younger he had been a fashion photographer and had met Ashlyn, who had then been a model.

  ‘I was glad to give up modelling and the lifestyle associated with it,’ Ashlyn admitted when she and Leah slipped away to the restroom. ‘Now, I feel I should apologise for my husband’s lack of tact earlier, when he mentioned Marco’s first wife. We both knew her. In fact Karin was a friend of mine in our modelling days, but she was much more sociable and loved to party. It was me who introduced her to Marco.’ Ashlyn hesitated. ‘I suppose he has told you about Karin?’

  ‘A little,’ Leah murmured.

  But all she really knew was that Marco and his wife had divorced a few years before her untimely death, and she was curious to learn more.

  ‘Marco doesn’t like to talk about what happened. He was devastated when Karin went off the way she did—’

  Ashlyn broke off as a group of teenage girls entered the restroom, talking and giggling loudly. Leah felt frustrated as she followed the American woman back to the table to join the men and knew there would be no further opportunity to discover more about Nicky’s mother.

  She felt unsettled by Ashlyn’s revelation that Marco had been devastated by the break-up with his wife. She couldn’t imagine him devastated. He was so enigmatic and guarded in his emotions. Was that because he’d been hurt in the past and had vowed never to risk his heart again?

  Leah stared at the gold wedding band on her finger. Her heart missed a beat when Marco leaned across the table and covered her hand with his.

  ‘I see you decided to wear the rose. I’m glad you like it,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Was it from you?’ She touched the white rose in her hair, and a feeling she could not explain unfurled inside her when he smiled. She tried to remind herself that the rose, like the tourmaline engagement ring, were just props to make their marriage seem believable.

  ‘Your eyes are the colour of the ocean and just as mysterious. What are you thinking, I wonder?’ he asked.

  The deep melody of his voice felt like a caress over her ultra-sensitive nerve-endings. She couldn’t admit to herself, let alone to Marco, that she was jealous of the ghost of his first wife.

  ‘I’m thinking of practicalities,’ she told him coolly. ‘I need to send a copy of the marriage certificate to the solicitors who are executors of my grandmother’s will as soon as possible, so that they will release my inheritance.’

  His withdrew his hand and leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing on her face. ‘How very sensible of you,’ he drawled. ‘It would not do for either of us to forget the reasons for our marriage.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT


  IT WAS LATE afternoon when the De Valle private jet took off from Teterboro Airport in New Jersey en route to Italy. Nicky fell asleep almost as soon as they were in the air. He was worn out from his trip to the zoo the previous day and the sleepover—during which, according to Marco’s cousin Chiara, none of the children had got much sleep.

  Marco carried the little boy into the smaller of the two bedrooms at the rear of the plane and covered him with a blanket before returning to the main cabin, where Leah was sitting on one of the cream leather sofas.

  She had slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her. He paused in the doorway and studied her. The sharp tug of desire in his groin made him catch his breath. His virgin bride was still wearing the sexy dress she’d married him in. Her mix of innocence and sensuality filled Marco with a restlessness which promised that the flight to Naples would be hellishly frustrating.

  With any other woman he would have suggested making use of the plane’s master bedroom to create their own in-flight entertainment. But he had vowed that he would resist the chemistry which had simmered between them when they’d been in New York. Presumably Leah had remained a virgin into her twenties because she was looking for something in a relationship—something that he was damned sure he couldn’t give her, Marco brooded.

  It did not help that he was certain she wanted him too. The hungry looks she darted at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice would tempt a saint—and he was far from saintly, he acknowledged with a grimace. He had spent the previous evening alone in a bar, and hadn’t dared return to the hotel until late, when he’d been sure she had gone to bed.

  Leah shifted position, causing her dress to ride up her leg and expose a smooth, toned thigh. Marco imagined pushing the dress up to her waist and slipping his hand into her panties... He cursed silently when his arousal was instant and uncomfortably hard. Dio, she made him feel like a teenager with a surfeit of hormones.

  He sat down on the sofa opposite her, fascinated by the soft pink stain that ran under her skin as she quickly averted her gaze from him. The stewardess came and served him his customary whisky and soda before retreating to the staff cabin at the front of the plane.

  He stretched his long legs out in front of him and took a sip of his drink. ‘You have gone to extreme lengths to claim your inheritance,’ he murmured. ‘What are you planning to do with the money?’

  Emotion flickered across Leah’s face but was gone before Marco could decipher it.

  ‘I want to buy a house. It’s impossible to get on the housing ladder without a decent deposit. My teaching salary isn’t huge, and by the time I’ve paid rent and bills it’s hard to save much each month.’ She gave a faintly wistful smile. ‘I’d like a house with roses growing around the front door.’

  ‘I would have thought you would be more concerned about the location of a property and the number of bedrooms?’

  ‘I don’t mind about those things. When I was child I used to look at pictures of houses like that in magazines and pretend that I lived there.’

  ‘You told my aunt that you spent some of your childhood in Italy and can speak the language?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Marco felt curious at her reluctance to talk about her childhood. ‘You sound as though you did not like living away from England?’

  She sighed. ‘I had a nomadic childhood.’

  ‘Tell me more,’ he said softly when she fell silent.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you are my wife and we are going to spend a year together. I’d like to get to know you better, cara.’

  It was the truth, Marco realised. Leah intrigued him more than any woman had ever done.

  She looked away from him and Marco sensed that trust was an issue for her—as it was for him, he acknowledged.

  After a few moments she gave another sigh. ‘When my dad died, I think my mum must have struggled with depression—although I was far too young at the time to realise it. Maybe she wanted to get away from her memories of him, but for whatever reason we moved constantly around Europe, staying with other artists for a few months before moving on to the next place. Eventually we settled at the commune in Tuscany. But even then we didn’t have a proper home. The commune members all shared various spaces for sleeping and eating. Eventually we moved back to England and I went to the local comprehensive school, but I found it hard to fit in,’ she said ruefully.

  Marco pictured Leah as a little girl who longed to call one place home. His own childhood had been very different—structured around term time as a boarder at prep school and then a top English public school. In the holidays he’d stayed at Nancarrow Hall, or with his father’s relatives in Capri. But, like Leah, he had wanted to feel a sense of belonging.

  Her desire to buy a house that she could call home was understandable, but he couldn’t shake off the idea that she was not being completely honest about why she was so desperate for her inheritance.

  ‘Why did you and your mother return to England?’

  ‘My brother was very ill.’

  She drew her legs up and hugged her knees. Marco noticed that her toenails were painted a bright coral colour that he found surprising, considering her penchant for all things beige.

  ‘Sammy was two when he was diagnosed with a degenerative neurological disorder which meant that he gradually lost the ability to walk, talk and feed himself. His father—my stepdad—didn’t stick around for long, and then there was just me and mum to look after Sammy.’

  Marco heard the bite in Leah’s voice and guessed she was making a point. She believed he had not tried to keep in contact with Nicky. It wasn’t true, he thought bitterly. He had employed private detectives to search for his ex-wife and his son, but Karin had changed her surname in a deliberate ploy to hide Nicky from him.

  What a fool he had been, Marco thought savagely, to believe she’d had a change of heart and become willing to allow him to share custody of his son. He’d immediately gone to Mexico to meet Karin, but she had dashed his hopes.

  In his mind he heard her sharp voice.

  ‘You can take Nicky to Italy, but you’ll have to pay. I’ll let you have him for ten million dollars.’

  Marco forced his mind away from painful memories as Leah spoke again.

  ‘We moved back to England so that Sammy could receive specialist care, but children with the illness he suffered from rarely live to be teenagers, and he died when he was six.’ Her face softened. ‘Despite all his problems he was a happy, delightful little boy, and his smile lit up the room.’

  ‘It must have been a difficult time for you and your mother.’ Marco knew his words were inadequate. He understood the pain of loss, but at least he had been reunited with his son. ‘You had a huge amount of responsibility put upon you when most girls of your age would have been experimenting with make-up and boyfriends.’

  Leah gave a rueful smile. ‘Yes, I was too busy helping with Sammy and trying to take care of Mum to have time for the normal teenage stuff. I felt older than other people of my age, and I suppose that created a distance between me and my peers.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Marco murmured. ‘From the age of seven I knew my destiny was to be CEO of De Valle Caffè—the company my great-grandfather had started, which my grandfather and father had built into a hugely successful brand. When other boys at school were flunking their exams and going out drinking I was studying hard and hoping I could live up to the expectations of my family.’

  She nodded. ‘I think my brother’s illness gave me a different perspective on life. I was thirteen when he died. I decided that I wanted to teach, and Sammy was my inspiration to qualify as a special educational needs teacher.’

  Marco’s eyes met Leah’s and they fell silent in a moment of shared empathy. They’d both had to grow up quickly.

  ‘How is your mother now?’ he asked. ‘Has she been abl
e to come to terms with the tragedies in her life?’

  He wondered why Leah suddenly seemed tense, and knew the rapport between them had disappeared.

  ‘Mum has never got over losing Sammy. I’ll never give up on her, though,’ she said in a low voice.

  There was a mystery there, Marco brooded, but Leah clearly was not going to explain.

  She picked up a magazine from the coffee table and flicked through it. He opened his laptop and tried to concentrate on a financial report, but his awareness of Leah was an unwelcome distraction.

  Some time later Marco looked up from his screen and saw that she had fallen asleep. His eyes were drawn to the steady rise and fall of her breasts, framed by the white lace dress. Her cheek was resting on her hand and her lips were slightly parted. She looked as pure as driven snow, and yet at the same time incredibly sexy, with her vibrant hair spilling in silky curls around her shoulders.

  Cursing beneath his breath, he stood up and lifted her into his arms. She stirred, but did not wake as he carried her to the double bedroom and laid her on the bed.

  He knew the sensible thing to do would be to leave her to sleep and return to the main cabin, to continue working. But right now ‘sensible’ had never seemed less inviting.

  Marco ran his hand around the back of his neck and felt a knot of tension. He’d hardly slept last night—although it had been the knowledge that he was alone in the penthouse with Leah rather than the thunderstorm which had kept him awake. The different time zones between the US and Europe meant that they would land in Naples at around eight o’clock tomorrow morning, and he knew he should try and get some sleep.