The Sicilian's Banished Bride (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Maya Blake

  Laser eyes latched onto her, tracking her. When she reached the French doors, he ended the call and strode towards her.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Ovviamente.’ Despite his assurance, she couldn’t mistake the terseness in his voice or his tense frame as he held out his arm to her. ‘Shall we?’

  She slid her arm through his, allowing him to lead her into the private lift and then downstairs to the restaurant where they were meeting their clients.

  Rocco slid effortlessly into host mode. But throughout dinner, she caught his gaze returning to her repeatedly, the expression in his eyes unreadable. Her unease heightened as the dinner drew to a close.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be able to rest until she got to the bottom of what was threatening their albeit new but shaky status, she smiled at the client as coffee was cleared away, ready to make her excuses. But it turned out Rocco had other ideas.

  ‘I’m eager to show Mia a slice of night life before we leave Macau. Would you care to join us?’

  Mia barely managed to keep the astonishment off her face. ‘You are?’

  On previous nights, Rocco had bristled with impatience to get her back to their suite, barely waiting for the door to shut behind them before divesting her of her clothes.

  Rocco smiled her way but it didn’t cause quiet chaos in her. Probably because the smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘We leave tomorrow, cara. We’ve done nothing but work for the past three days. I think you deserve to see something of Macau. After all, we have to report to Nonna when we get back, don’t we?’

  Of course. She’d forgotten that this was supposed to be a purported honeymoon as well as a business trip. Sure, the intimacy side of things had been thoroughly fulfilled, but she could hardly cite that, or recite the particulars of blueprints and steel samples when asked about her honeymoon, could she?

  She let herself be ushered out of the restaurant and into a gleaming limo. Easy conversation flowed as they were driven into the heart of Asia’s gaming capital. They alighted in front of a towering hotel, one of the many that had helped earn Macau the title of Vegas of the East.

  A personal welcome from the owner of the hotel and the presentation of a huge pile of chips later, Rocco took over the blackjack table in the VIP section of the casino.

  Mia tried not to gape in alarm as thousands of dollars changed hands at the careless throw of a dice. She would’ve been sickened by the sight but her husband defied the odds and, even in a game of chance, repeatedly emerged the winner. A performance that garnered a small crowd he seemed oblivious to, one possessive arm clasping her to him and the other tossing dice with reckless abandonment.

  It was only when he caught her trying to suppress a yawn for the dozenth time that Rocco finally stepped back from the table and brushed a kiss across her temple.

  ‘I think my lucky charm is done for the night,’ he drawled.

  Amidst good-humoured laughter, he took a hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

  Questions still teemed in her mind as they re-entered the limo, but this time, with just the two of them riding back to their hotel, Rocco had other ideas. The moment the doors locked behind them, he dragged her into his lap, sealing his lips to hers before she could utter a word.

  As if he was on a mission, he didn’t relent, drugging her with his kisses and greedy, fevered touch until they drew up in front of the hotel. Then he proceeded to slay her with passion, sweeping her off her feet, the moment they entered their suite.

  An hour later, too exhausted to speak, think or even breathe properly, she fell into a blissful sleep.

  Rocco stared down at his wife, guilt eating at him as he watched her sleep.

  The phone call he’d received from his lawyers just before they left for dinner still sent shock waves through his system.

  Alessandro had orchestrated everything.

  His cousin had systematically and cruelly worked to hide the existence of his son from him, while attempting to bury Mia in a fraudulent claim.

  Rocco could barely fathom it, had been reeling all through dinner at the thought that his own flesh and blood had gone to such deplorable lengths.

  For what?

  Power?

  Had he not given Alessandro every opportunity? How had he found Mia so threatening that he had done this? Questions chased through his mind until they drove him out of bed.

  Pacing the living room, he grappled with another decision.

  He couldn’t tell her.

  Not yet. He’d only just managed to secure his position in her life. Discovering what Alessandro had done to her, to their son, might tip the scales into him losing everything. Everything he hadn’t even known existed two weeks ago. He couldn’t let that happen.

  When the time was right, he would reveal everything to her. But not just yet.

  More than discovering how much he’d missed the physical aspect of his relationship with Mia was the reminder of how much he’d missed her brilliant mind and her ability to see his work in a new light. Within three short days, she’d impressed his clients and team, both effusive with the compliments of her.

  Far from having grown rusty, she’d delved back into a career that should never have been disrupted with an enthusiasm Rocco was nowhere near ready to lose.

  ‘All I want is for my name to be cleared so I can get on with my life.’

  Her words echoed in his head but he ruthlessly dismissed them.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Perhaps he was being underhanded and would pay when the time came, but that was a problem for another day. Hopefully a day when he’d reinforced the foundation beneath his feet with time and the promise of...

  Of what?

  A better future?

  Why not?

  His son was happy. Nonna was happy.

  And he...was he happy?

  Rocco couldn’t deny that he derived a wealth of satisfaction from having Mia back in his life and in his bed. So...sì, perhaps he was happy. Thanks to his parents, he only had a barometer of what dysfunction looked like. Only time would tell how it all shaped up and, accidenti, he was going to take that time.

  He crossed the living room to the liquor cabinet, and, despite it being the early hours of the morning, poured a cognac before returning to the bedroom. He slid in beside his wife, gratified when she rolled over and slipped effortlessly into his arms.

  This was where she belonged.

  This was where he would keep her. And when the time was right, he would come clean.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MIA STARED AROUND HER, the overload of glitz and glamour triggering a mild headache.

  Monaco during Formula One weekend wasn’t the arena for the faint-hearted. The billionaires per square metre was eye-watering. And with her husband easily part of the exalted club, the level of sycophancy was almost nauseating.

  Of course she would endure it all, and more, to keep basking in the smile that was plastered on Gianni’s face.

  Her son had been beside himself when his father had announced at the breakfast table that, as part of his—week-long and counting—birthday celebrations, he’d been granted VIP status to the renowned Paddock Club in Monte Carlo.

  But then in the months since his father entered his life, Gianni had been beside himself with joy on most days. True to his vow to be a different father than his parents had been to him, Rocco showered his son with his attention, their mutual love of fast cars only cementing their strong bond.

  ‘Papà, look!’ Gianni pointed to another sports car from his perch on his father’s shoulders, his eyes goggling in his chubby face.

  ‘I see, mio figlio, I see,’ Rocco responded with a grin, slanting a smile at Mia that, right on cue, set off fireworks in her belly.

  She’d believed that the time before Rocco had cut her off from his life three years ago had been
the most sublime of her life. She’d been wrong.

  On the morning of their departure from Macau, she’d woken to a seemingly changed man. In all the right ways. Power and prestige had been a given in a life with Rocco. But the attention he’d showered on her and Gianni, the steps he’d taken to ensure her transition back into Vitelli Construction and the corner office that had come with her return to work had been mind-boggling. She’d quickly returned to being a valued member of his team. And best of all, oversea trips without Gianni had become a thing of the past.

  To say her life had done a complete one-eighty was an understatement.

  The only fly in her ointment was the delay in figuring out just who had tanked her life three years ago. And, for a man who demanded answers in every corner of his life, Rocco’s seemingly relaxed stance in getting to the bottom of it didn’t sit well with her.

  Although...could she really blame him? Would she be in a hurry to discover if her own flesh and blood had betrayed him the way she still suspected Alessandro had if she were in Rocco’s shoes?

  Most likely not.

  Nevertheless, the need for closure had been eating at her the last few weeks. Their conversation on the plane to Macau replayed frequently in her head. As much as she wanted him to believe her, Rocco had stated plainly that he wouldn’t do so without solid evidence.

  And more and more, Mia had felt as if without that, her life was on hold.

  ‘Papà?’

  ‘Sì, caro?’

  ‘Can I have that racing car?’ Gianni pointed predictably at a bright red sports car with Ferrari emblazoned on the side.

  ‘Not that exact one, but maybe we can—’

  She cleared her throat, shooting Rocco a pointed look. His grin widened, and her heart did that crazy thing again.

  ‘We will discuss it when you’re older, mio figlio.’

  ‘Much, much older. Like when you’re in your eighties,’ she said under her breath, earning herself a low laugh from Rocco.

  It was getting ridiculous how she’d begun to live for that laugh. For those smiles. Hell, how she’d begun to live for him full stop.

  She didn’t need to search deep to know that she had far surpassed the infatuation she’d felt for him three years ago.

  Hell, who was she kidding? She’d fallen in love with Rocco somewhere over the Indian Ocean on the way back from Macau. So why did that make her heart twist each time she examined it?

  Because she had no clue what he felt for her. He was seemingly content with their life together. The sex was beyond world-class. Gianni was thriving. Caterina’s health had improved dramatically over the past few months.

  And yet, every now and then she caught that tension within Rocco. And for the life of her she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  Her thoughts were still darting about when they eventually made their way to the VIP lounge. While Rocco and Gianni remained at the balcony to watch the race get under way, Mia made her way to a quiet corner of the lounge with her glass of mineral water.

  From there, she watched, half bemused, as several women attempted to approach Rocco and were coolly rebuffed. Little did they know that no one came between Rocco Vitelli and his son. Did that commitment extend unconditionally to her? Or was she living on borrowed time until the verdict proved her guilt or innocence?

  Unable to stew in the questions that had been plaguing her for weeks, Mia rose and made her way to the ladies’ room. Exiting the cubicle, she stumbled to a halt when her gaze clashed with none other than Allegra Vitelli’s.

  Mia had been shocked when, on her return from Macau, she had been informed that Allegra had moved out. Rocco had seemed completely unconcerned by the development and, for a second, she’d wondered whether he’d orchestrated it.

  She hadn’t questioned it, had even been secretly relieved to be free of the woman who now glared at her with seething venom.

  ‘I thought that was you, practising your...what do you call it?...chapel mouse stance up there in the VIP lounge.’

  ‘It’s church mouse, and you should’ve stopped by to say hello. I don’t bite,’ Mia replied as she walked calmly to the sink, washed her hands and reapplied her lip gloss.

  The other woman’s fury visibly grew. ‘I don’t exchange pleasantries with peasants,’ she spat out, her eyes glittering like crystals.

  ‘Well, then, don’t let me stop you from leaving me alone.’

  ‘Trust me I will, right after I set you straight on a few things.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Did you not wonder why I left Palermo so suddenly?’

  Of course she had, but Mia wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of confirming it so she busied herself fixing her hair.

  ‘Not going to ask? Don’t worry, I’m feeling generous. You see, for starters, your husband paid me a lot of money. Three million euros, to be exact.’

  Mia’s heart hammered in her ears. ‘What for?’

  ‘To buy my silence. But you see, I no longer need Vitelli money.’ She flashed a diamond the size of a small country at Mia, her scarlet lips parting in a smug smile. ‘I’m engaged to a charming French count and in the process of moving to France. So really, I’ve nothing left to lose any more.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Mia asked, her stomach dipping wildly in alarm because all of a sudden she was one hundred per cent sure she didn’t want to hear what the woman was dying to spill.

  ‘It means you deserve to know the secret your husband is keeping from you. And you deserve to hurt the way your little reappearing act hurt me.’

  ‘I’m not aware I did anything of the—’

  ‘Oh, please, spare me the wide-eyed innocent act. You went digging in business that should’ve died with my Alessandro. And you turned up with your Poor Little Destitute act and stole Rocco from me.’

  Mia gasped. ‘You’re deluded!’

  Allegra shrugged. ‘Perhaps. I’ll never know now, will I?’

  Mia bit her lip, but the question tumbled out anyway. ‘What was the pay-off for?’

  The cruel smile returned. ‘To keep his little discovery a secret, of course. I heard the rumours and did a little digging of my own. So what if Alessandro took steps to keep Rocco from making a mistake with you? You were clearly sleeping your way to power. The child you claimed was Rocco’s could’ve been another man’s.’

  Shards of ice pierced Mia’s heart. ‘You really think you can justify your husband destroying my life? So what, he could land a better position at Vitelli Construction? I wasn’t his competition!’

  ‘Not yet, but you had Rocco’s ear.’

  ‘And that terrified him so much he committed fraud?’

  Allegra’s face twisted. ‘He did what he had to to protect his position and his family. You would do the same.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t. And what exactly do you hope to gain by telling me this if not to see another family destroyed?’

  Her eyes blazed with triumph before she shrugged coolly. ‘We all deserve to know who we lie down with. Your husband has been content to withhold this from you for weeks now. Maybe you should think about that?’

  With that, she sailed out, head held high, blissfully uncaring that she, like her late husband, had shattered Mia’s life.

  For a second time.

  Mia barely recalled making her way out of the ladies’ room and out of the Paddock Club. Only had a vague memory of typing a hurried text to Rocco, informing him she’d returned to the hotel.

  In the hotel room, she kicked off her shoes and paced, the ever-expanding pain in her heart demanding action. Rocco had known she was innocent all along and hadn’t told her.

  Why?

  As if summoned by the single question blazing in her head, the suite door opened and Rocco walked in.

  Gianni wasn’t with him.

  He pre-empted her question. �
�Sophia took him to get a gelato.’ His voice was heavy, his eyes intensely watchful. Sophia was part of the Palermo villa staff, who it turned out was specialising in childcare. A month ago, she’d been officially hired as Gianni’s nanny.

  ‘You know.’

  He gave a single, jerky nod. ‘I ran into Allegra. Or I should say, she ran into me. On purpose. Mia—’

  ‘Why?’

  He didn’t answer immediately. He paced before her, dragging his fingers repeatedly through his hair until it was a dishevelled mess. Not that it reduced his hotness by even an iota. Damn him.

  ‘You told me, repeatedly, that you wanted to put this behind you and move on with your life.’

  ‘And you found that objectionable?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t. Only that I couldn’t...take the risk that you’d move on...without me.’ The words seemed ripped from his throat, but Mia wasn’t in the mood to accommodate his discomfort.

  She laughed. ‘So you withheld the truth? Made me live with this hanging over my head?’

  He paced to the window, whirled about and returned to stand in front of her. ‘What would you have done if I’d told you on our last night in Macau?’

  She gasped. ‘That’s how long you’ve known?’

  He grimaced. Then nodded. ‘Sì.’

  Shock threatened to weaken her knees. She sank into one of the many chairs littering the room. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done. And I’ll never know because you didn’t tell me. You made me think that I had to prove myself to you. That I had to jump through hoops to earn your trust again.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that. I just didn’t want to lose you!’

  Her heart leapt, then dipped almost immediately. ‘You didn’t want to lose access to your son, you mean?’

  ‘Don’t tell me what I mean. You were what preoccupied my mind, not Gianni. You were the one I was afraid to lose. You are the one who has become as vital to me as breathing.’