Читать книгу A Deal To Carry The Italian's Heir / Christmas Contract For His Cinderella - Jane Porter - Страница 16

TWO AND A HALF hours into the party, Neha was glad she’d let Leo convince her to stick to his side.

There was a power high in being the woman that Leonardo Brunetti couldn’t keep his hands off. Oh, she knew that all the long, lingering looks and touches—she loved the feel of his palm against her lower back—were for the benefit of the couple of journalists he’d told her were present through the crowd.

It was about making a public statement without actually standing in front of a high-focus lens and admitting that yes, after years of platonic relationship, they were taking their relationship to the next level. But she couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the thrill of the moment.

The warm, male scent of him was both familiar and exciting. Every time he wrapped his arm around her waist, or squeezed her shoulders, or pulled her to his side, she felt a little tingle pulse up her spine, filling her veins with electric charge.

She loved hearing her name on his lips as he introduced her around to the extended Brunetti family, to the powerful board members of BFI. Clung to his every word, loved the secretive smile he sent her way when someone commented that the most untouchable bachelor had been finally caught.

But it wasn’t just the electricity arcing between them.

There was a sense of strength in his mere presence at her side. She’d been self-sufficient, emotionally and mentally, for so long that to have him at her back felt like a luxury. An echo of a need that had gone unanswered. She had someone in her corner finally to face Mario.

Even the sight of Mario’s scowl when his gaze landed on Leo’s arm around her waist, the way his sharp gaze followed them around, couldn’t dilute her enjoyment of the party.

The entire grounds around the villa had been lit up until it was reflected on the waters of the lake. Pristine white marquees caught the overflow of guests from the villa. Cream-colored circular lanterns hung from the ceilings while beautiful white lilies made up exquisite centerpieces on round tables. Strategic ground lights added nightly splendor to Leo’s gardens. With the backdrop of Lake Como’s lights, the estate glittered.

The only strange thing was Silvio Brunetti’s conspicuous absence from the celebrations, and Alessandra’s, too, who was close to Greta, even more than her own grandsons.

A small dais had been raised at the center of the marquee where the matriarch, Greta, came onto the dais and delivered a speech in Italian that was too fast for her to follow. She invited her family to join her. Neha sat stunned when Leo walked up to her and reached out a hand to her.

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, she could feel every single gaze trained on her, the silence deafening. Yes, they were putting on a show for a variety of reasons. Neha had never expected to be counted as one of the Brunetti family.

But even her hesitation hadn’t thrown off the resolute look in Leo’s eyes. Bending down from his great height, the broad sweep of his shoulders cutting off the entire world, his gorgeous, rugged face filled her vision. The focus of that gaze—all on her—was addictive. “I thought I had made this clear between us. Whatever happens in the future, or doesn’t happen—” a twinkle appeared in his eyes “—my child, and therefore you, will always be a part of this family.”

“You don’t understand,” she’d whispered, putting her slim hand in his huge one. Shivering at the abrasive slide of his palm. “They’ll think it a declaration neither of us intends.”

“I do not give a damn, as you say, bella.”

After that, she hadn’t even cared how Mario was taking the whole thing.

There was an exhilarating kind of freedom in letting Leonardo shoulder her burdens, at least for the evening. She danced with Massimo once and then twice with Leo, and tasted so many delicacies while laughing with Natalie.

After a long stretch of loneliness, life felt good, real.

Having just touched up her makeup, she walked out into the small sitting lounge with full-length mirrors and a soft white leather sofa when she realized she wasn’t alone.

Everything in her braced to face the vitriolic attack that would come from Mario. Instead, her mum stood inside the room, her delicate face pinched with worry and distress. Dressed in a cream pantsuit that set off perfectly against her fair skin and pearls at her throat, she looked exquisitely lovely in a frail way. When she’d been a teenager, Neha had wished she’d been more like her mum with her petite, feminine frame, the silky dark hair, the delicate, sharply set features.

But now... Neha was glad she’d inherited her dad’s build and his resilient nature.

“Hello, Mum,” she said, leaning down and kissing Padma’s cheek. A subtle scent of roses filled her nose, instantly plunging her into that twisty, minefield she’d been navigating for too long. “I was hoping we could have a quick catch-up before you left. Especially since I hadn’t seen you in a while. Sorry, I didn’t come sit by you tonight.” She hated this, this distance that came between them, all because of Mario. “Leo had all these people he wanted to introduce me to, and Natalie dragged me into the photoshoot—”

“I thought you were past this rebellious phase where you do things just to annoy your stepfather,” Padma said. Launching directly into attack.

No question about why Neha hadn’t come to see her in two weeks. No question about the sudden change in her relationship with Leo. That cold knot in her chest squeezed painfully even as that wet, helpless feeling filled her throat. “Mum, what are you talking about?”

“This...thing with that man.”

“What about it?”

“Leonardo Brunetti is your stepfather’s enemy. You know he causes all kinds of trouble for Mario. Of all the men in the world, Neha...have you no loyalty for Mario? After everything Mario’s done for us, after he made sure we didn’t wallow in poverty, after he built this empire with your face, after he’s treated you as if you were his own...” A long, rattling sigh shook her slender shoulders, and she reached for the wall behind her, her breathing shallow, her pretty face crumpled.

Panic filled Neha’s limbs. “Mum, please don’t stress yourself like this. You know it’s not good for you. You’ll have an asthma attack and I—”

Padma jerked away from her touch. “Then you should’ve thought of that before shacking up with a man Mario can’t stand.”

“Mum, listen to me. It’s not what you think. I’d never do anything to hurt you. This is something I needed to do for myself...” Neha pushed her shaking fingers through her hair, fighting for composure. Fighting the anger and helplessness rising through her, the selfish need to demand her mum’s support when she was weak already. “To build the life I—”

“You’ve chosen to go against the man who gave you everything. And when Mr. Brunetti breaks your heart, and Mario says he will, who do you think will pick you up again? Who do you think looks out for you in all this?

“Your stepfather, that’s who.” Her mum took her face in one hand, fingers tracing her jaw tenderly, her gaze taking in everything. “Walk away from this man, Neha.” Tears made her mum’s words a soft, beseeching whisper. “Come home with us, now, tonight. Mario’s generous. He’ll forgive you the simple mistake of falling into Leonardo’s trap.”

Of course he would. He’d riled up her mum to see only an enemy in Leonardo. A selfish woman in her own daughter, a naive fool who fell for a man’s sweet words. Still, Neha tried. “Mum, I haven’t done anything to be forgiven for. I’ve stayed all these years even though—”

“No, stop.” Padma took a deep, shuddering breath, her mouth trembling. Ignoring what Neha was saying. “It pains me to see you at such cross-purposes with him, darling.”

“Mum, I’m doing this for me. No one else. For my future.”

“Please stop this before you hurt yourself and us, too.”

“And if I don’t?”

Padma stepped back from Neha, a resolute look in her eyes. “Then I know that Mario’s right that you’ve never accepted him. That you’ve never forgiven me for choosing to marry again when your papa passed away. That all these years, you’ve resented the place he’s taken in my life.”

The dark midnight sky was a star-studded blanket as Leonardo made his way through the well-worn path to the greenhouse that had been abandoned for more than two decades.

He had engaged a crew to renovate the greenhouse, but apart from stepping in there with the architect for a quick inspection, he hadn’t been here again. He wanted the renovated greenhouse, not a desolate, haunting monument with memories that could steal his sleep.

Nothing but Massimo’s knock at his door, his face concerned, well past midnight, as he’d been getting ready for bed, could have brought Leo to this place. For years, he had ignored the presence of the abandoned structure, refusing to step foot even in its shadow.

But he’d realized that it was silly to let a child’s confusion dictate the rest of his life. An utter waste of time and energy having something new designed when a perfectly old structure was sitting right in his backyard.

He keyed in the security code that had been newly installed and pushed open the glass door. The rise in temperature was instant—a blast of warm, wet air hit him in the face.

Surprise filled him at the progress the team had made. Most of the overgrown shrubbery and vines had been cleared and new temperature-controlling tubing had been installed all over the ceiling. A huge industrial-size porcelain sink sat along one wall with gleaming granite counter space.

That, along with the perfectly placed overhead lights in a crisscrossing design through the center line of the high ceiling, made it eons different from the abandoned shell he’d discovered months ago.

There was one corner of the huge greenhouse where the overgrown, climbing vine had been left in place. The small area stood like a piece of the past he never seemed to let go of.

Cristo, he was in a strange mood tonight.

The lounger he’d ordered in a moment of self-indulgence stood like a throne in an abandoned castle. Her gray sweatshirt lay discarded on the lounger while Neha walked around the long aisles, drifting aimlessly, in deep thought. Even the ping of the door hadn’t disturbed her. Leo took the time to just watch her.

The rational part of him wanted to turn around and walk out, leave her to her midnight rambles. She’d made it clear before the party tonight that she was never going to cross that line that she had drawn around herself and let herself be vulnerable to anyone, much less him.

The loose, sleeveless T-shirt and cotton shorts she had on should have looked anything but sexy. But the slightly damp fabric stuck to the outline of her curves and the shorts—Cristo, her legs were long and lean, packed with muscle.

He’d never gone for the delicate, wispy, stick-thin kind of women. He liked curves, and from every glimpse he got of Neha’s, it felt like she was tailor-made to fit into his hands.

Her face scrubbed free of the makeup only highlighted the dewy silkiness of her skin. Her wild hair had been braided into submission into a single braid, already half undone and framing her face.

It was only when she raised her gaze to his and gave a soft gasp that he saw the wet tinge to her eyelashes. Cristo, she’d been crying?

He pushed away from the wall, all thoughts of leaving her to her own problems fleeing. “Neha?”

She scrubbed a hand over her face. “What’re you doing here?”

“That is for me to ask.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. She looked crumpled, a little broken, and the last thing she needed was for him to paw at her. “Massimo told me he found you walking out here. That he gave you the code.”

“Oh.” Her fingers played with the hem of her T-shirt. “I couldn’t sleep and was walking the grounds. I can’t come down from the high of the evening that quickly, y’know? Especially when... It was a lovely party, yeah?” He didn’t for one second believe the glassy, too-bright smile. She looked around herself self-consciously. “I’m sorry for intruding. Again.

“Massimo thought it was better if I wandered inside here. I gathered from what he said this greenhouse...is off-limits to guests. But he wouldn’t leave my side until I went in or returned to my bedroom.

“I didn’t want to lie down when my head’s spinning.”

“This apologizing of yours is becoming a bad habit, cara. You’re welcome to walk into any part of the estate.”

“I think I’ve done enough midnight meandering. I’ll wish you good night.”

“You are upset,” he said, reaching for her arm as she passed him. He kept his grip slack. She didn’t pull away and, this close, he could feel the tension emanating from her. All his protective instincts went into overdrive. “Did Mario get to you? I made sure he came nowhere near you. And when I was busy with Greta, I asked Massimo to keep an eye. What did he say? Did he scare you?”

“No, he didn’t. It’s not that,” she said, stepping back from him, trying to hide her face in the shadows.

Leo was in no mood to be fobbed off.

One hand on her shoulder, he gently tugged her toward him until the overhead lights illuminated her face. He clasped her chin. Her eyes were puffed, her nose slightly red at the top.

Dio, the woman gave new definition to self-sufficiency. Usually he was the one who maintained those boundaries in a relationship religiously.

“Keeping the lines between us separate is one thing. But this isn’t just about you anymore, even before a child comes into the picture. I dragged you into this battle against him, after you told me it’s been near impossible to decouple yourself from him.

“So tell me what happened. The last thing I think right now is that you’re weak. Infuriatingly stubborn, however, comes to mind.”

She bent her forehead to his shoulder, her body shuddering with shallow breaths. Running his palms over her bare arms up and down, he waited. In the damp air, the faint vanilla scent she used mingled with her skin to create a musky fragrance that filled his nostrils. Her warm breath coated his neck. He gritted his teeth, willing his body to not betray him.

“You’re right. I’ve got to talk about this.”

When she pulled back, she looked composed, strong again. And he realized how similar they were.

“Mario didn’t get to me,” she said, her long lashes looking thicker with wetness. “I saw his ugly scowl the moment they arrived and stayed well out of his way. The last thing I wanted was to make a spectacle at Greta’s celebration. Even when I saw your exchange with him, I ignored it. But Mario is nothing if not clever.”

Leo knew what she was made of, and he knew that the ache in her eyes had its origin a long time ago. He waited patiently, understanding in a way no one could how hard it was to show vulnerability when you spent most of your life making sure there wasn’t any.

It only made him respect her more.

“But he got to her.”

“Your mum?”

“Yep.” A smile that was nothing but a caricature of the usual loveliness twisted her mouth. She ran a hand through her hair, a violent physical energy vibrating from her frame. “Frankly, I’m a fool to be surprised by this. I know the kind of hold he has on her. I know how his mind works. But she...” She swallowed, and then looked up at him. “After a long time, today I realized how nice it is to have someone in your corner. I know it was all for show but still it felt good to belong with people who like and respect me, with whom I don’t have to walk on eggshells.

“And bam! She ruined everything.”

Leo wanted to tell her that it hadn’t been for show, that he did have her back in all this. That inviting her to be a part of his family’s celebration while the whole world watched had come naturally, easily. That with every deeper glimpse into her, he wanted her by his side. The strength of the urge was inexplicably overwhelming.

Physical attraction was one thing...this quite another.

“Mario constantly feeds her lies and she swallows it all. Apparently, the only reason you could be interested in me is to get at him. The only reason, after years of a purely platonic relationship, that you’re taking this to a new level.

“For so long, I tried to be strong for her. I let him manipulate me, twist me inside out. I let him run my life because I was afraid of hurting her. And the one step I take to build something for myself, to reach out for something I want...

“She actually asked me to leave with them tonight! She thinks I’d...tangle myself with you out of some petty need for rebellion? It’s like she doesn’t realize I have my own dreams and needs,” Neha finished. “She’ll never realize that I have my own life to live.”

There was anger in her voice now—anger that reverberated within him, a hundred times stronger, calling for action. And Leo knew she would come out of this fine. Anger led to action whereas grief just left one powerless. Under someone else’s control.

Like love.

Dio, how could Padma miss the ever-present shadows of anxiety in Neha’s eyes? How could she put Mario ahead of Neha?

“Then it’s time to remove that toxic presence from your life,” he said softly.

Her head jerked up. “What?”

“Mario’s not at the root of that grief in your eyes. Your mum is. So don’t give her that power anymore.”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t just cut her out.”

“No?”

She sat down on a cement bench, her bare legs stretched out in front of her. Her gaze turned thoughtful, her chin rising in that stubborn way. “What would’ve happened if Massimo had decided you should be cut out of his life all those years ago, just when you wanted to build a relationship with him? What if he’d decided you weren’t worth it?”

The question stopped him in his tracks.

If Massimo had refused his olive branch...

Leo’s isolation would’ve been complete. Silvio would have succeeded in turning him into a mirror image of the power-bloated monster he was. The idea disturbed him on so many levels that Leo couldn’t curb his harsh words. “I’m not the one questioning every choice I’ve made over the last decade.”

Neha fidgeted where she sat, the awkward silence building into something she couldn’t break through. His harsh tone shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. Because she’d never been on the receiving end of it.

Her question had disturbed him. And he had shut her inquiry down. Neither was she unaware that they were discussing her own family’s shortcomings...but instead of resentment, she felt a sense of kinship with him.

What kind of a man would Leo have been if hadn’t been tempered so harshly by the discovery of what kind of a man his father was? If he hadn’t had his fundamental beliefs shaken so early in life? If he hadn’t had to shut down a vital part to survive another day?

So many years of knowing him, learning him and wanting him...a lifetime of watching him like this, and she’d never have enough.

From the thick slashes of his brows to the deep-set eyes with long lashes he used to hide his expression, the deep scar on the left cheek and the thin-lipped mouth, combined with that weather-beaten quality of his skin—the gardens outside were clearly a labor of love—he was not classically handsome. But the ruggedly hewn features, that sense of calm confidence in his broad frame, the power of aura that radiated from him...the appeal he held had intensified as he grew older.

Where there had been a cocky, the-world-is-mine kind of arrogance to him when she’d met him all those years ago, the fierce discipline with which he ruled those around him, and himself, had entrenched into his features.

Her mum’s marriage to Mario had changed the course of Neha’s life, too. Carved away her choices bit by bit until this version of her remained. How much longer?

“I’ve lived almost fifteen years of my life walking the tightrope of wanting something and being afraid of the blowback to her. Afraid that Mario would use my actions to drive a wedge between us. I turned myself into something even I don’t recognize.”

Leo covered the distance between them, shaking his head. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat as he took her hands in his and squeezed tight. She’d been so lonely. But it was Leo’s touch that jump-started something that had been dormant inside her for too long. “Yeah?”

“You took the first step toward building the life you want despite knowing what the consequences will be. Not only did you approach me with your...request but you knew what to say to convince me. You didn’t let your mum frighten you off today.” His gaze searched hers, as if he was seeing her anew. “Despite the emotional toll it’s taking on you.” A lone tear tracked down her cheek, the tenderness in his words a balm to her soul, the sheer conviction in his voice a steely source of strength.

He pulled her up to face him, and Neha could have drowned in the emotions swirling in those blue depths. His grip on her hands was the only anchor in a collapsing world, the warmth radiating from his solid body the only reality she could hold on to while she built a new foundation for her future.

With infinite gentleness, he flicked away the tear. “Do you remember the heated arguments we used to have about my opinions of women?”

She nodded, wondering where he was going. “You were a budding sexist.”

He laughed and she watched that stark, serious face bloom into gorgeousness that shook her knees. “You’ve been the biggest, most positive influence in my life, Neha. Like a river carving away at the bedrock of a mountain, you cleared so much anger I’d harbored toward women, just because of what one woman did to me when I was a child. You helped me realize how irrational and hateful I could become if I didn’t let go of it. Watching you become this woman of grace and courage and beauty...helped me in ways you can’t imagine.

“So don’t you dare say you’re a coward because that’s my friend you’re trashing.”

A sob rising through her, Neha threw herself at him. And luckily for both of them, the giant of a man that he was, he caught her. The strength of his arms rocked her as she tried to curb the emotional storm unleashing within her.

She kissed his cheek and whispered a hundred thank-yous. The scent and warmth of him was a cocktail she felt drunk on, the muscled wall of his body a heavenly slide against her own. Her arms vined around his neck, she pulled back and looked at him.

Nostrils flaring, eyes shining with desire, he radiated the same kind of energy she could feel thrumming through her veins.

A ribbon of awareness whipped around them as her gaze fell to the languid curve of his mouth. It was a matter of seconds, maybe, but it felt like an eternity as Neha pulled herself closer. Their breaths were a harsh symphony around them. She moved her hands down to his chest, scrunching her fingers in his shirt.

She’d spent an eternity wanting this man...wanting one kiss, wanting to be the woman he needed. And now she couldn’t turn away even if her very next breath depended on it.

After years of living in a prison she’d made for herself, Neha stepped into her own life. And took Leonardo’s mouth in a kiss she’d needed for more than a decade.

Lips that were both firm and incredibly soft met hers. That first contact spread warmth through her, unraveling in spools through her limbs, leaving her trembling, stomach tightening with anticipation, standing on the cliff of something new and painfully exciting. He was unnaturally still, not rejecting her, but being a passive participant that was nothing like the man.

She flicked her tongue over his lips next, tracing the defined curve while the rhythmic in and out of his breath coated her skin in soft strokes. A continuous thrill thrummed through her veins as she fit her mouth this way and that, teasing and tasting, tugging on that lower lip with her teeth, licking her way into his mouth and touching the tip of his tongue with hers before she retreated and started all over again. And again gorging herself on him. Breathing him in.

And still, he held himself rigid, his hands not holding her but not pushing her away, either.

He tasted of whiskey and maleness and Neha reveled in the high of having him like this—hers to pet and play with, hers to ignite. Hers to rumple. When she dug her teeth hard into his lower lip, his chest rumbled. Her own need deepened at the utterly masculine sound drawn out of him despite his control.

Dampness bloomed at her sex, every part of her aching to be touched and stroked and possessed. She ran her palms down to his neck and pulled at the lapels of his shirt until the buttons popped and she could sink her hands inside.

Her groan was joined by his, creating a symphony of need and desire.

Defined pectorals and warm skin, the sensation of the springy hair under her palms, the tight points of his nipples—his chest was an endless delight to her questing hands. She touched him all over, loving the hard clench of his muscles, the feral sound that fell from his lips. This time, when she explored the moist cavern of his mouth, she tangled her tongue with his, sucking it into her mouth. Playing hide-and-seek with it. Digging her teeth into the soft inside of his lower lip.

Her breasts ached to be touched. Her hands roamed restlessly over his hard body, across his broad chest, back onto his rock-hard abdomen, her fingers digging into the waistband of his trousers. She dragged her mouth from his, trailing kisses over his rough jaw, down to his throat, and pressed her tongue against the hollow there.

Salt and sweat and incredibly male—he was heaven on her tongue.

The growl that fell from his mouth reverberated up from his broad chest, shaking her with its ferocity. Like an earthquake rearranging everything beneath the ground on which she stood. His powerful body shuddered around her, and then he was jerking her up to him, his fingers sinking deep into her hair, and his mouth crushed hers.

The kiss was raw, fiercely honest, and it whipped her into a frenzy of sensations. Not a single one of her dreams had done justice to what the man could do with his mouth.

There was no exploration in how he took her mouth, no tentative melding to see if it could be anything more than a pleasant experience. No gentle welcome or a soft landing. No initial awkwardness that came with two people kissing for the first time, no searching for rhythm, no place for anything that was remotely rational.

The savagery of the need between them...this need that had been building for a long time, it tossed him around just as it did her.

He devoured her lips with his. Hunger and heat and hardness... Neha drowned in a surfeit of sensations he seemed to evoke so easily with a masterful glide of his lips, or a sensuous nip with his teeth or a rough, needy dance with his tongue. Everything she’d done to him, he paid back a hundred times over—sometimes smooth and slow, sometimes hard and demanding. Leaving her mouth stinging, her nipples taut and needy, her body scandalously ready for his possession.

A needy groan fell from her mouth when his arousal—thick and hard—rubbed against her belly, sending sparks of renewed need. She stole her hands down his body, desperate to trace that, desperate to feel what she’d done to him. He grunted in denial, his fingers arresting her questing hand. “Basta, cara!”

Neha felt his soft whisper like a cold lash against her skin. Her body cooling off in a matter of seconds into a frigid cold despite the warm air currents, she stepped away from him. “I’m sorry.” She ran a hand through her hair and bit her lip. Which was swollen and tender. The memory of digging her teeth into his lower lip and his answering growl...it was a sound she’d never forget. “I’m... I’ve no excuse for attacking you—”

“You didn’t attack me!”

She looked at him and away, but not before noticing how devastatingly handsome he looked with his hair all rumpled up, by her fingers. The flaps of his shirt open and baring that magnificent chest covered in hair. “I’ve been so up and down tonight, and I—”

“Look at me, cara! I knew what you were doing, and I was a more than willing participant.”

“Still, I’m sorry, Leo. I’m—”

“Stop saying sorry. All you did was make the first move. One nanosecond later, I would have been all over you. Cristo, do you have any idea what watching you in that wet shirt sticking to your body is doing to me.” He thrust his hand roughly through his hair, his breaths harsh. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you? Dio mio, it seems wanting you has become a part of me. If not for the fact that you’re very important to me and my lovers don’t last long, I wouldn’t have mustered the sense to put a stop to it, cara.”

The raw emotion in his voice gave her the courage to stop lying. To herself and to him. To face what had been staring at her from the moment she’d gone into his office with her bold request.

Her gaze fell to the swollen curve of his lower lip and something fractured within her at the blazing passion of their kiss. The rightness of this moment between them. The reality of the future she wanted to build with him. Something that took wings and wanted to fly. “I want to do this the real way,” she blurted out, one of the biggest decisions of her life falling into place as easily as her next breath.

So easy, yes, but so, so right, too.

“What?” Leonardo looked at her with that penetrating gaze. Giving nothing away. Already retreating from that fracture in his impenetrable self-control.

Wanting you feels like...it has become a part of me.

A new sense of freedom ran through her limbs. There was a high in standing here, staring at him unabashedly, and glorying in it. In acknowledging her desire for this man.

His face one of those bulletproof masks that no one could break through. And that mask was doubled down right now. She was finally beginning to understand the real man beneath the larger than life figure she’d built in her head.

He’d been attentive and filled with concern from the moment she’d walked into his office. Playing the role of a man pursuing her perfectly for the public. At her back the whole evening tonight because he’d decided she needed protection from Mario. And she had no doubt he’d do the same for the rest of their lives with their child and, by extension, her.

Whatever she needed—physically, emotionally, mentally—he’d be there.

But to give her a part of him—to let down that guard that surrounded his mind and his heart, to show a little vulnerability—was unacceptable. To need her even in a small way was unacceptable. It would always remain a weakness.

That admission that he’d wanted her for a long time—had it been too much already?

She wondered if she’d have understood him so perfectly if she hadn’t built that same armor around herself for so long that she’d ended up choking herself within it.

The intense loneliness, the craving for connection, the long, silent nights blending into farcically busy days, always alone, even in crowds... She was finally breaking through those chains she’d bound herself with and she wasn’t going back into them willingly.

She wanted to live her life. She wanted this man. She wanted to create a child with him doing what would bring them both incredible pleasure.

There wasn’t a moment’s doubt in her mind that what she was starting tonight had a very definite endpoint. Having that endpoint made it easy to push away her fears. Leonardo and she were rational adults with very clear boundaries.

“I want to conceive our child the traditional way.”

When he stared back in mute silence, she huffed, “You. Me. Sex, Leonardo.”