Her Wedding Night Negotiation (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Chantelle Shaw

  For a moment she thought Marco wasn’t going to answer. He took a long sip of his drink and walked over to the window, standing facing away from her so that she had a view of his austere profile.

  ‘Karin took Nicky out in her car. She lost control and the car came off the road. It must have rolled over several times,’ he said tautly. ‘When I arrived a few minutes after the accident I could smell petrol. I managed to pull Nicky out of the wreckage, but the car exploded while Karin was trapped inside. Mercifully she was almost certainly already dead before it happened.’

  He ran his finger over the scar on his cheek.

  ‘I was hit by a shard of glass when the windscreen shattered in the explosion. The cut went down to the bone. If it had been an inch higher I would have lost my eye.’

  ‘My God! No wonder Nicky was traumatised,’ Leah said, shaken by what Marco had told her.

  ‘He was hospitalised with concussion, but thankfully he was otherwise physically unhurt.’

  She frowned. ‘So you were there in Mexico when the accident happened? I thought you didn’t have any contact with Nicky?’

  ‘It was his birthday, and Karin had allowed me to visit.’ Marco swung round and scowled at Leah. ‘Nicky was semi-conscious when I pulled him out of the car. I doubt he remembers anything about the accident. I see no point in you dragging up the past with him. He needs to move forward and your job is to build his self-confidence.’

  He swallowed the rest of his drink and slammed his glass down on the table before he strode out of the lounge. Moments later Leah heard the thud of his bedroom door being closed with barely restrained force.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MARCO HAD GIVEN Leah some insight into the terrible events of his ex-wife’s death, although she sensed that he had not told her everything. Knowing Nicky had lived abroad with his mother had also given her a better understanding of why he did not have a close relationship with his son.

  Perhaps he resented the change of lifestyle that being the single parent of a young child entailed?

  She dismissed the idea. Marco must love Nicky. He had agreed to marry her so that she could help the little boy.

  She wondered whether it had been him or his wife who had wanted a divorce. Maybe he’d still had feelings for Karin and was struggling to come to terms with her death.

  She heard his phone ring and saw that he’d left it on the coffee table. The ringtone stopped, but seconds later it started again. It was probably a work-related call, she guessed. De Valle Caffè was a global business, and as CEO Marco was obviously heavily involved in running the company.

  But she wondered if he used his work commitments as a form of escape from emotions he did not want to face in the same way that her mum masked her pain with alcohol. When she had first met Marco she’d thought he was cold and unfeeling, but now she was sure that wasn’t true. He cared for Nicky, but he seemed to find it difficult to show his feelings.

  His phone was still ringing.

  The call must be important.

  Leah’s heart lurched at the sudden thought that it might be Benedetta, trying to contact Marco because something had happened to Nicky.

  Grabbing the phone, she sped down the hallway and knocked on his door. He did not respond, and she opened the door and stepped into the room just as he strolled out of the en suite bathroom. A towel was draped low on his hips and droplets of water clung to his chest hair. He’d obviously just taken a shower.

  His brows rose as Leah stared at him. ‘You seem to be making a habit of entering my bedroom without an invitation,’ he murmured.

  She couldn’t drag her gaze from Marco’s almost naked body. Heat swept through her, spreading from her pink cheeks over her breasts and down to the molten place between her legs. His rampant masculinity made her feel weak as she moved her gaze over his broad chest, following the arrowing of dark hair that disappeared beneath the towel.

  As he walked towards her she noticed the powerful thigh muscles that she’d felt beneath her when she’d stretched out on top of him on that fated night at Nancarrow Hall. Her blush deepened as she recalled vividly the hardness of him pressing against her stomach...

  Belatedly, she remembered his phone in her hand, which had now gone silent. ‘Someone was ringing you,’ she mumbled, holding the phone out to him. ‘I thought the call might be urgent.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He glanced at the screen before dropping the phone onto the bed. ‘Was there anything else?’

  The gleam in his eyes told Leah that he had noticed her gaze flick towards the big bed.

  ‘I...um... I’ve decided to go out for a while.’

  ‘Shopping?’

  She shook her head. ‘I thought I’d do some sightseeing as I’ve never been to New York before. I hate shopping,’ she added with feeling.

  ‘It wasn’t a suggestion,’ Marco said drily. ‘We are going shopping. You need a new wardrobe. When we go to Capri there will be numerous social functions which you will attend with me as my wife. You’ll need suitable clothes.’

  She was irritated by his superior tone. ‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’ Her dress was smart and unfussy and, more importantly, it didn’t attract attention.

  ‘You need to ask when you are wearing a beige sack?’

  ‘It’s a tunic dress and the colour is ecru...or maybe taupe.’

  ‘I don’t care what it’s called. It’s coming off.’ Marco grinned when she gasped. ‘Not right now—although I won’t object if you want to take it off.’ He moved his hands to the edge of the towel around his waist.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked.

  ‘I’m about to get dressed.’

  His husky laughter followed her as she fled from his room.

  ‘I’ll be done in a couple of minutes. Wait for me.’

  No way! Leah thought as she grabbed her handbag on her way out of the penthouse.

  The lift whisked her down to the foyer, but when she emerged from the hotel and blinked in the bright sunlight a man appeared at her side.

  ‘Please come this way, Miss Ashbourne. My name is Aaron and I work for Mr De Valle.’

  A sleek, black car had pulled up next to the kerb and the man opened the rear door.

  ‘If you’d like to get into the car Marco will join you in a couple of minutes.’

  Leah found herself politely but firmly bundled onto the passenger seat, and when she looked to the front of the car the chauffeur smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

  ‘Good afternoon, ma’am.’

  Escape was impossible, she realised when she saw Aaron standing on the pavement in front of the car door. She wouldn’t be able to open the door on the other side of the car because of the steady stream of traffic on the road.

  Minutes later Aaron held the door open and Marco slid in beside her.

  ‘Do you always get your own way?’ she snapped.

  ‘Always, cara.’

  Amusement gleamed in his grey eyes as she shifted further along the seat away from him.

  ‘Is Aaron your PA?’

  ‘He’s one of my security team.’

  ‘You have a bodyguard?’

  Leah supposed she shouldn’t feel shocked. Out of curiosity she had checked Marco’s profile on the internet. There was very little information about his private life, but she’d discovered that he was one of the wealthiest men in Europe. He had only been a boy when he’d inherited his father’s coffee empire, and the company had been run by another member of the De Valle family until Marco had turned twenty-one and became executive chairman.

  He had been a very young man when he’d had so much responsibility thrust upon him, and from what he’d told her of his childhood it was not surprising that he’d learned to be self-reliant from an early age. Perhaps that was another reason why he kept an emotional distance from his son.

  Leah s
ighed as her eyes were drawn involuntarily back to Marco. He’d swapped the jeans and black polo he’d worn to the park for a light grey suit and white silk shirt. She noticed that his hair was still damp from his shower.

  She noticed way too much about him, she thought ruefully, tearing her gaze from the sexy black stubble on his jaw.

  ‘We’re on Fifth Avenue,’ he told her as the car crawled along in the queue of traffic. ‘Over there is the Empire State Building. But there won’t be time for you to do much sightseeing as we’ll be flying to Italy straight after our wedding.’

  Her heart missed at beat at the prospect of marrying him and her doubts must have shown on her face.

  ‘Are you having second thoughts?’

  Too many to count! But she wasn’t going to admit it to him.

  ‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ she told him firmly.

  He put his hand inside his jacket and withdrew a document which he unfolded and handed to her. ‘My lawyer has sent the marriage contract. Read through it and, if you are happy with it, sign it.’

  ‘What if I’m not happy with it?’ She bit her lip, thinking that she should ask a solicitor of her own to check the details of the contract before she signed her life away.

  ‘Without your signature there will be no marriage,’ Marco said implacably.

  Grimacing, she focused her attention on the document. It stated that she would live in Capri exclusively as Marco’s wife for one year and accompany him to social and business functions in support of his position as CEO of De Valle Caffè. She would fulfil the role of his son’s teacher and to the best of her ability help Nicky overcome the problems caused by the trauma he had suffered. She would not be entitled to receive any money as part of a divorce settlement when the marriage ended.

  ‘I told you I don’t want your money.’ She felt embarrassed that he might still suspect she was a fortune-hunter.

  ‘So you did. But I married my first wife without a pre-nup and I have no intention of repeating the mistake,’ he said sardonically as he handed Leah a pen.

  She was startled by the bitterness in his voice, and glanced at his hard features before taking a deep breath and signing her name at the bottom of the document.

  The car came to a halt outside an iconic designer store and the chauffeur jumped out and opened the door. Marco slid his hand beneath Leah’s elbow and escorted her into the shop. She was glad of his presence beside her as she looked around at mannequins draped in beautiful clothes that she knew, even without seeing their price tags, would be way beyond her budget.

  ‘I don’t know where to start,’ she muttered. ‘None of these clothes will suit me. They’re too colourful and too...’ she searched for the right word ‘...noticeable.’

  ‘You don’t like to be noticed?’

  She touched her hair. ‘This makes me stand out too much as it is. That’s why I prefer to wear neutral colours.’

  ‘I will not have a wife who wears beige,’ Marco growled as he steered her towards a private area at the back of the store, where an impossibly elegant woman was waiting for them.

  ‘Mr De Valle, Miss Ashbourne, may I offer my congratulations on your engagement? My name is Julia and I am a personal stylist. It will be my pleasure to help you choose a trousseau,’ the woman told Leah.

  Twenty minutes later Leah had stripped down to her knickers and had wrapped a robe around her while the stylist rifled through the racks of dresses that had been brought into the changing room.

  ‘This one will be perfect for formal evening wear.’ Julia held up a full-length ruby-red velvet gown.

  ‘I can’t wear red with my hair,’ Leah protested.

  ‘You’ll be surprised. Your complexion can take strong colours.’

  Against her better judgement Leah stepped into the dress and the stylist ran the zip up her spine. It had narrow shoulder straps and a plunging neckline. Clever boning in the bodice pushed her breasts high without the need for a bra. The clingy velvet moulded her figure like a second skin. There were shoes to match the dress, and the four-inch stilettos had the effect of making her hips sway when she walked.

  She certainly wouldn’t blend into the background in this dress, she thought wryly as she studied her reflection in the mirror.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Julia said in a satisfied voice. ‘But it’s not my opinion that counts.’

  She pulled back a curtain and indicated for Leah to step forward into the viewing area before she allowed the curtain to fall back.

  Marco was sprawled on one of the plush sofas with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked every inch the high-octane billionaire tycoon, with a hefty dose of sexual magnetism thrown in for good measure. As was inevitable, he was talking on his phone, but when he saw Leah he finished the call and sat up straight. The flare of heat in his eyes scorched her from across the room and a familiar weakness invaded her limbs.

  She ran her hand down the velvet dress. ‘I don’t think...’ she began uncertainly.

  ‘Dio, you look incredible.’

  His rough voice caused the tiny hairs on her body to stand on end, and the possessive gleam in his eyes evoked an ache of longing in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘You should not try to hide your beauty with unflattering clothes, cara. In that dress you will be the centre of attention.’

  That was what Leah was afraid of. At school she had been a misfit ginger-haired kid whose mum was a drunk, and she had done everything possible to avoid attracting the bullies’ attention.

  ‘Why are you shaking your head? Don’t you believe me?’ Marco stood up and prowled towards her like a jungle cat intent on capturing its prey. ‘See, bella?’ he murmured as he placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face the mirror. ‘You are gorgeous.’

  She stared at the mirror, but it was the naked desire stamped on his face rather than the dress that arrested her attention. She’d never had the confidence to wear clothes that flattered her figure, and she’d always downplayed her looks because she wanted to avoid attention from men. But Marco made her feel beautiful, and she noticed now how the fitted bodice of the dress made her waist seem tiny and her breasts more voluptuous.

  Her eyes met his intent gaze in the mirror and heat coiled through her, centring in her feminine core.

  The stylist put her head round the curtain. ‘I have many more outfits for you to try on...’

  But Leah had caught sight of the eye-watering figure on the price tag. Even when she converted it from US dollars to British pounds it was extortionate. Her credit card would have to take the hit. At least she would be able to pay it off when she received her inheritance.

  ‘I’ll just take this dress,’ she told Julia, thinking there must be other shops in Manhattan which stocked clothes that did not cost the earth.

  ‘My fiancée will need more than one dress,’ Marco assured the stylist, who looked much happier as she disappeared back into the changing room. ‘I expect you to choose daywear and evening gowns,’ he told Leah. ‘And I suggest you buy some new lingerie. Your bra looks as though it’s a remnant from your schooldays.’

  He took no notice of her angry gasp as he opened his wallet, removed a credit card and offered it to her.

  ‘When you have finished here, the chauffeur will drive you to your appointment at a beauty salon. I have decided to follow your suggestion that I need to spend more time with Nicky, and I have called Benedetta to tell her that I’ll meet them at the zoo.’

  Leah shook her head, refusing to take the card. ‘I won’t allow you to buy me clothes. I don’t want anything from you.’

  ‘Other than my name next to yours on a marriage certificate?’ he said drily.

  ‘We both want something from our marriage,’ she reminded him.

  He continued to hold out the credit card, so she plucked it from his fingers and slid it into the top pocket
of his jacket.

  ‘We made a deal and that’s as far as our relationship goes.’ She ignored the dangerous gleam in Marco’s eyes. ‘You can’t buy my clothes and you definitely can’t buy me.’

  A violent thunderstorm kept Leah awake for much of the night. Despite the air-conditioning in her room, the electrically charged atmosphere felt oppressive. She sat up in bed to watch the dramatic lightning that forked across a purple sky. In literature, storms were often a portent of disaster, and she could not shrug off the sense of foreboding that marrying Marco would change her fundamentally.

  But of course her life was about to change. She was going to live in Capri, and she was to start structured lessons with Nicky. He was a dear little boy, and she’d found that being with him helped to ease her sadness about Sammy’s death.

  The prospect of her public role as Marco’s wife was more daunting. Wearing designer dresses would not turn her into a sophisticated socialite, Leah thought ruefully. Besides, she had only bought a couple of new outfits, which she’d paid for herself.

  She fell asleep at last and was woken by the sound of someone knocking on her bedroom door. Her heart gave an annoying flip, as it always did whenever she thought of Marco. But after she’d hastily pulled on a robe and opened the door she was greeted by a waiter who wheeled a trolley into her room. The aroma of coffee from the cafetière assailed her, and she lifted a lid to reveal a dish of freshly baked croissants.

  A single white rose lay on the trolley. Leah picked it up and tears blurred her eyes as she inhaled the flower’s heady fragrance. Was the rose a peace offering from Marco? She hadn’t seen him since they’d argued the previous day, when he’d left her to continue shopping. If she’d been a millionaire, she would have loved to buy all the beautiful clothes she’d tried on. Instead she’d chosen only a few key pieces—what the personal stylist had called a ‘capsule wardrobe’. The bill had been more than she had ever spent on clothes in her life and she’d winced when she’d handed over her credit card.

  Her appointment at a hair and beauty salon had been more enjoyable than she’d expected. Her hair had looked amazingly glossy after the stylist had cut a few inches off the length and tamed her curls by adding some choppy layers. She’d even felt a flutter of excitement at the prospect of having dinner with Marco, but he’d sent her a text saying that after his trip to the zoo with Nicky he’d met up with a friend and did not know what time he would be back.