The Terms of the Sicilian's Marriage

by Louise Fuller

  Imma bit her lip and, reaching out, placed her hands against his chest, feeling his heart beating into her fingertips. ‘Did you tell her about what my father did?’

  He pulled her closer. ‘A bit.’

  ‘Is that why you threatened him? For your mamma?’

  ‘No. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be cornered and helpless.’ He gave her a small crooked smile. ‘And then I made him donate a lot of money to my mother’s favourite charity. Weirdly, it was the difference between what he paid my father and what I paid him.’

  She smiled. ‘That won’t have helped his heart.’

  ‘What heart?’

  He gazed down into her eyes and she felt her own heart flutter inside her chest.

  ‘I thought I wasn’t worthy of your love, cara. Probably I’m not. But I’m going to do whatever it takes to be worthy.’

  ‘So you don’t want a divorce?’ she asked softly.

  ‘No.’ He stared down at her, his arms tensing around her. ‘Do you?’

  She shook her head and, breathing out unsteadily, he buried his face in her hair.

  ‘In that case, I have something for you.’ Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a small square box. ‘You never had an engagement ring, so I thought I’d get you an eternity ring instead.’ His eyes were bright. ‘That’s how long I want to be with you. For eternity.’

  Tears slid down her cheeks as he opened the box and slipped a beautiful emerald ring onto her finger. ‘Oh, Vicè...’

  Laughing softly, he wiped her tears away with his thumbs. ‘I had some change left over...it was that or blow it all in a high-stakes poker game—’

  ‘Change from what?’ She looked up at him in confusion.

  He hesitated, and she felt the muscles in his arms tighten.

  ‘I sold the Dolce.’

  She gaped at him. ‘You sold it? But why?’

  ‘I needed the money to buy the business back. It was that or go to Ciro.’ He grimaced. ‘So, as I say, I needed the money.’

  ‘But you love the Dolce.’

  ‘I did—I do. And I’ve kept a stake in it. But I don’t need it any more.’

  His gaze rested on her face, and his love was there for anyone to see.

  ‘You’re the sweetness in my life, cara.’ His eyes dropped to the ring sparkling on her finger. ‘Now and for eternity.’

  EPILOGUE

  IT WAS A hot day in late September—one of the hottest on record, according to Manfredi, the Trapani estate’s longest-serving member of staff. But the weather was the last thing on Imma’s mind as she walked slowly through the olive trees.

  She had spoken to Claudia that morning, and her sister’s news had pushed every other thought out of her head.

  Almost every other thought.

  But right now that would have to wait.

  Breathing in the scent of warm earth and grass, she replayed her conversation with Claudia.

  Claudia and Ciro were together. They were in love. Both of them this time.

  It was a lot to take in—too much for one person on her own.

  A tremble of happiness ran over her skin.

  But she wasn’t on her own any more.

  Her eyes fixed on the group of men standing beneath the trees at the other side of the olive grove. Or rather on one particular man.

  Vicè was gesticulating energetically, his dark eyes moving over the other men’s faces as he spoke, and she felt a sharp, almost unbearable urge to push them all aside and drag him back to the villa and upstairs to their bedroom.

  ‘Imma!’

  She looked up at the sound of his voice, her heart leaping as it still did, maybe three, five, sometimes ten times a day, whenever she remembered that Vicè was her husband ‘for real’ and ‘forever’.

  Pulse jumping, she watched him excuse himself, and then he was walking towards her, his long legs making short work of the uneven ground and a slow, curling smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

  She felt her stomach flutter. She had thought that he couldn’t look any more desirable than he did in a suit, but she’d been wrong. In scuffed work boots, faded chinos, and with the sleeves of his denim shirt rolled up he looked impossibly sexy.

  ‘Signora Trapani...’

  He pulled her against him, his mouth seeking hers with an urgency that made her whole body twitch with desire.

  Behind them, a cacophony of approving whistles and shouts filled the air.

  ‘Vicè, everyone is watching us,’ she whispered.

  ‘So let them watch. I’m just saying good morning to my wife.’

  His voice was warm, and she felt an answering warmth across her skin.

  Her eyes met his. ‘You did that already.’

  The corner of his mouth tugged upward. ‘I’m thinking that was more of a ciao than a buongiorno.’ His dark gaze drifted slowly over her face. ‘How do you feel about going back to the villa and brushing up on our greetings?’

  ‘It wouldn’t hurt,’ she said softly. ‘I mean, just because we’re married it doesn’t mean we should take each other for granted...’

  * * *

  Watching the flush of colour suffuse her cheeks, Vicè felt his body harden. That she should want him at all still felt like a miracle, but that she loved him...

  There were no words that could adequately capture how that made him feel. All he knew was that he was the luckiest man in the world.

  The doubts and regrets of the past were forgotten now. Imma loved him, and he knew that her love and the efforts he’d made to deserve it would have earned his father’s respect.

  Life had never been sweeter.

  Uncurling his arm from around her waist, he took her hand and led her back across the field.

  ‘I like this dress.’ His eyes ran over the curve of her breast. ‘Although I think it will look even better once you’ve taken it off.’

  She smiled, hesitated, then said, ‘Claudia called.’

  Cavolo. He swore silently.

  ‘Yeah, Ciro called me too.’ He’d been so caught up in this morning’s meeting he’d actually momentarily forgotten about his brother’s call. ‘He sounded pretty happy. Is that how Claudia sounded?’

  She nodded. ‘It’s all she’s ever wanted, but—’

  ‘But what?’ Turning towards her, he caught her chin. ‘What is it, cara?’

  Her green eyes were so open, so unguarded, and he felt a sudden urge to tell her how much he loved her, how necessary she was for his own happiness. But he didn’t need to say anything. She already knew, and that made him love her even more.

  ‘You can tell me.’

  She bit her lip. ‘It is real, isn’t it? This time? He does love her? I mean, he’s not just saying it because your mamma—’

  He hated seeing her so worried—hated that he had something to do with her doubts.

  Pulling her closer, he shook his head. ‘Mamma didn’t speak to him until after he and Claudia had sorted it out between them. You don’t need to worry, cara. Honestly, I’ve never heard my brother sound like that before. He’s crazy about her.’

  Ciro had been so emotional. For once, he had actually felt like the big brother.

  His fingers tightened around hers. ‘I promise it’s real, cara. As real as you and I. All of what happened—it’s in the past for Ciro, for me.’

  It was a past that didn’t feel so much like another country to him as a different planet.

  ‘I feel the same way,’ she said.

  He stroked her cheek. ‘Have they told anyone else?’

  ‘Claudia told Papà.’ Her eyes met his. ‘But she agreed that the same rules I insisted on will apply.’

  Vicè nodded. Imma had gone to see Cesare the day after they had got back together. Glancing down at her beautiful face, he felt a rush of pride in his wife f
or facing up to the man who had once dominated her whole life.

  She’d given her father an ultimatum: change, or she and Claudia would cut him out of their lives forever.

  And Cesare had capitulated. In fact, he had blubbed like a child, apologised, and then made promises which, so far, he was keeping.

  ‘Why are you smiling like that?’ she asked slowly.

  ‘I was just thinking what a great aunt you’ll be, Zia Imma. Of course I’ll be the most fantastic uncle too.’

  She laughed. ‘That won’t be hard as you’ll be the only uncle.’ Her face softened. ‘Vicè, if you’re half as good at being an uncle as you are at being a husband and a boss, you’ll be better than fantastic.’

  ‘Let’s see if you still think that after the harvest,’ he said lightly.

  ‘I will.’ Her eyes met his. ‘I spoke to Manfredi this morning. He said that you have the same feel for the olives as your father.’

  He felt his heart contract.

  Stepping into his father’s shoes had been nerve-racking. He still had doubts about his ability to pull it off. But with Imma by his side...

  He felt a fierce, unpremeditated quiver of anticipation. She was his partner, his equal. Together they had already faced their fears. And together they would meet whatever happened in the future.

  * * *

  Watching the mix of sadness and pride in Vicè’s eyes, Imma felt her heart swell.

  She knew how much this estate meant to him. It was his father’s legacy and one day it would be his.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  ‘So, are you going to be Zio Vicenzu or Zio Vicè?’

  ‘Not Vicenzu.’ He shuddered. ‘Too serious. Vicè is what a cool uncle would be called, and I am definitely going to be a cool uncle.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I cannot wait until this baby is born. Hopefully he’s going to be just like me. That’ll keep Ciro on his toes.’

  ‘It might not be a boy.’

  ‘It is.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘And you know this how, exactly?’

  ‘Man’s intuition.’ He grinned. ‘It’s very rare—only the most impressive males of the species have it.’

  ‘Right... And I’m guessing it’s infallible?’

  He nodded, and keeping her expression innocent, she took his hand and rested it gently on her stomach. ‘So what are we having, then?’

  He stilled, his eyes widening with shock. ‘You’re pregnant?’

  She nodded. ‘I did a test after Claudia rang. Actually, I did two. Just to be sure.’

  ‘And it’s definite?’

  She drew a deep breath and nodded again. ‘I was going to wait for the perfect moment to tell you, but then I realised that every moment is perfect with you.’

  There was a shake in her voice that matched the tremble in his hands as they tightened around hers.

  Looking up, she bit her lip. ‘Are you pleased?’

  ‘Pleased?’ His eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m ecstatic.’

  He pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair, pressing her close to his heart, which was hammering as wildly as hers.

  ‘You’re having my baby.’

  He kissed her gently on the lips and she felt his mouth curve into a grin.

  ‘Of course, with my man’s intuition I already knew that—’

  She punched him lightly on the arm. ‘You are such a bad liar, Vicenzu Trapani.’

  ‘Thanks to you,’ he said softly.

  His smile sent a shiver of heat down her spine. ‘I love you, Vicè.’

  Tipping her mouth up to his, he kissed her again. ‘I love you too, Imma. That’s the truth and it’s going to stay true forever.’

  She felt her pulse twitch as he gazed down at her, his dark eyes gleaming.

  ‘That dress, though—that’s coming off right now.’

  And, scooping her up into arms, he carried her into the villa and upstairs to their bedroom.

  * * *

  Swept away by Louise Fuller’s The Terms of the Sicilian’s Marriage? Discover the first instalment in The Sicilian Marriage Pact duet A Baby to Bind His Innocent by Michelle Smart

  Available now!

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from Claiming His Out-of-Bounds Bride by Annie West.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘IT’S COMING TOGETHER.’ Sonia surveyed the fall of Olivia’s full-length dress while another seamstress knelt between them, adjusting the hem. ‘We’re almost there.’

  Olivia suppressed a sigh of relief. This was the last fitting and it seemed like she’d stood for hours being prodded, pinned and examined.

  But the dress had to be perfect.

  Next week Olivia would be here in Venice at the centre of a celebration that would spark worldwide attention. Her gown had to be one of a kind. It was expected by the public, the press and, above all, her family.

  More importantly, if all went as she hoped, this dress would be visible proof to her conservative family and a risk-averse company board that she, and her proposals, had merit. Public interest in this gown would spearhead the new venture she’d put so much effort into planning.

  She’d done everything her family required of her and more. Soon she’d have the opportunity to prove herself and fulfil her dreams. She’d actually have a say in running the company she’d worked so hard to be accepted into.

  Olivia glimpsed her reflection in the enormous gilt-framed mirror that caught the light from the Grand Canal spilling into the palazzo’s salon.

  The woman in the antique mirror didn’t look like Olivia Jennings. Even the Olivia Jennings who’d learned, eventually, how to hold her own amongst Europe’s wealthy elite. To look stylish and poised.

  This dress turned her into someone else.

  At a distance the chiffon and silk looked cream, but they held a warmth that came from the fact they were actually a pale blush colour. Fitted at the bodice and falling in soft folds to her feet, the dress was decorated with a multitude of tiny appliquéd chiffon flowers, each studded at the centre with a crystal. The bodice was encrusted with them and a few were sprinkled across the top of her skirt and sheer chiffon sleeves. When she moved miniature petals stirred and crystals caught the light from the windows and the antique Venetian chandelier.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ the seamstress said as she sat back on her heels, beaming. ‘You look like you’ve stepped out of a fairy tale.’

  ‘Which is exactly the effect we want.’ Sonia nodded. ‘Every woman wants to look like a fairy-tale princess at least once in her life.’

  Not every woman.

  It was a long time since Olivia had believed in fairy tales.

  Early tragedy had robbed her of a comfortable belief in happy endings. Then, in her eighteenth year, any lingering romantic fantasies had been snuffed out for good.

  But just because her hopes and dreams weren’t the traditional fantasies didn’t mean others didn’t have them.

  She looked in the mirror again, saw the delicate flowers rise and flutter with her deep breath and felt a strange tug of yearning.

  There’d been a man. Just one man in the last nine years,
who’d made her wonder for a few scant moments about instant attraction and soulmates.

  It had been a crazy aberration. A moment that had felt like recognition, like a lightning bolt soldering her feet to the floor and making her heart dance to a strange, wonderful new harmony.

  Of course it had led nowhere.

  He didn’t even like her.

  And she...well, she’d done what she’d learned to do so well. Olivia had buried her disappointment and moved on. Her grandparents were right. She was better off without fantasies of romance.

  The flowers on her dress danced as she dragged in a fortifying breath.

  Olivia smiled at both women. ‘You’ve done a fabulous job. The dress is gorgeous and we’ll have customers beating down the doors.’

  ‘If you can persuade the board,’ Sonia added, the hint of a frown at odds with the excitement in her eyes.

  Olivia nodded. ‘Leave that to me. I have my strategy worked out.’ In a couple of weeks, when she finally took her promotion and her promised place on the board, she’d have the chance she’d worked for all these years. She was fully prepared.

  ‘Twirl for me,’ the junior seamstress said, scrutinising the hem.

  Olivia pivoted on her handmade, crystal-trimmed high heels. Silk swished around her legs like a whisper. Hopefully there’d be lots of whispers from women eager to buy their own unique gown from the same source.

  The seamstress got up. ‘Perfect. You’re going to steal the groom’s breath when you walk down the aisle.’

  Olivia curved her lips into the expected smile. ‘Thank you.’ No point explaining how unlikely that was. She and Carlo were friends, not lovers. Theirs would be a marriage of convenience.

  It mightn’t be every woman’s dream, but, from what she knew of romance, Olivia was happy to avoid that trap. Mutual respect and friendship made a solid foundation for a good marriage.