Читать книгу Modern Romance January 2020 Books 1-4 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 22

MIA’S HEAD WAS SPINNING. Her lips were buzzing. And as she and Alessandro moved through the party, meeting and chatting to people, she wondered if she was falling yet again for the fairy tale. Just as before, she was Cinderella for a night, and yet so much more was at stake. Her whole life. Ella’s life. Their future together. It all felt as if it hung in the balance now; all she needed to do was say yes.

And for once, with the memory of Alessandro’s kiss on her lips, she didn’t want to wonder or doubt. She wanted to enjoy the fairy tale; she wanted, at least for tonight, to trust Alessandro’s tempting promises. To believe in them and let them sweep her along.

For once she wanted to resist not only Alessandro, but also her own negative history, her persistent belief and fear that keeping herself apart from Alessandro was the only way to stay strong. To feel independent. What if staying strong could mean something else? It could mean choosing him, rather than fighting him. Was it possible?

She pressed her fingers to her lips as she recalled yet again that heart-stopping, breath-stealing kiss. Alessandro had seemed as affected as she’d been. For a few moments, they’d shared something wonderful.

But was it—could it be—real?

Dared she let it be real in her own mind, never mind Alessandro’s?

Her thoughts tumbled and shifted in her mind in an ever-changing kaleidoscope that she struggled to make sense of. She felt as if she were teetering on a precipice, but she had no idea what lay ahead—or below.

Then Alessandro took her hand as he drew her towards him, his eyes the colour of smoke, his voice husky as he devoured her in a single glance.

‘Dance?’

Mia thought of their dance a year ago, when everything had heightened and changed between them. It had been magical…but it had also been dangerous. Where was the danger now? Was it real—or was she imagining it, because she was so afraid of losing herself the way her mother had? Could she let go of it for a night?

Could she let go of it for ever?

She nodded, her palm sliding across his, fingers twining and tightening as they moved onto the dance floor and began to sway to the sensuous music.

‘Are you enjoying tonight?’ Alessandro asked as he moved her slowly and languorously around the floor, their hips bumping, heat flaring.

‘Yes…’

‘You don’t sound entirely convinced.’ He spoke lightly but Mia saw the flash of concern and even hurt in his eyes, quickly masked.

‘I don’t know what to think, Alessandro,’ she confessed quietly. ‘So I’m trying not to think at all. I just want to…feel.’

‘Feeling is good,’ Alessandro murmured huskily. ‘Feeling is very good.’ His forehead crinkled in a frown. ‘But you don’t need to be so wary, Mia. So scared.’

‘I’m trying not to be.’

‘What exactly is it you are afraid of, cara?’ The endearment slipped easily from his tongue, caressing her with its intimacy, making her want even more to trust this and believe in it. In him.’

She hesitated, unsure what to say. How much to confess. Yet surely Alessandro deserved to know why she was the way she was, what experiences had formed and shaped her, and that she was becoming desperate to shed now? ‘I’m scared of losing myself,’ she admitted quietly.

Alessandro’s frown deepened, a deep line bisecting his brow. ‘Losing yourself?’

‘Yes. Losing my…my sense of self, I suppose. My ability to make decisions, to be my own person…’ She trailed off, realising how vague and really rather ridiculous she sounded. What did it even mean, to lose yourself? Could she even put what she was so frightened of into concrete ideas and absolutes? Or was it just this vague sense of dread, that life was spinning out of control, that she needed to leave behind her, finally and for ever?

‘I don’t understand,’ Alessandro said as he moved her around the dance floor, one hand warm and sure on her waist. ‘Please, will you explain it to me?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know if I can. I know it sounds silly and vague, formless, but…it’s what I grew up with. My mother and father…’ She faltered, her throat growing tight with memories.

‘Your mother and father?’ Alessandro prompted gently. ‘You mentioned you didn’t get along with your father…’

‘No, I didn’t. He was…very controlling. Mostly of my mother but, after she died, also of me.’ She shook her head, unwilling to explain just how cruel her father could be, how domineering. She didn’t want to explain about the memories that still tormented her—when he’d locked her in her room, or thrown the meal her mother had made in the bin, claiming it was inedible.

‘He’s just got high standards, Mia. That’s all it is.’

She couldn’t explain the choking frustration she’d felt with her mother, and then later the awful fear she’d felt for herself, knowing she had to get away before her father controlled her completely.

‘Controlling,’ Alessandro repeated in a neutral voice. ‘This is why you have this issue with control? Why you feel I am too controlling?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I suppose so. My father was…awful. He told me what I had to do, or say, or even wear. He enjoyed exerting that power, simply because he could.’

‘And so you think I am like this man?’ Alessandro asked. His voice was even, but Mia felt the hurt emanating from him, and a wave of sorrow and regret rushed through her.

Alessandro was nothing like her father. The realisation washed through her in a cleansing flood. Yes, he could be brutal in business, ruthless in his ambition, but he was never cruel. He’d already shown her how his hostile takeovers were, in essence, mercy missions. Although he could be autocratic, he never sneered or insulted or mocked simply to show his power, because he could. His kindness was genuine.

‘No,’ Mia said quietly. ‘I don’t think you’re like him, Alessandro.’ Another realisation was jolting through her, more powerful than the first. No, she didn’t think Alessandro was like her father, not really. Not at all.

But maybe she was like her mother.

That, Mia realised, had been her real fear all along. Not that she’d be beholden to a man like her father, but that she would act like her mother. She wouldn’t be able to help herself. She’d fall in love with Alessandro, just as her mother had with her father, and give up everything for him—willingly. That was what she was afraid of.

Yet how could she admit so much to him now? The last thing she wanted Alessandro to know was the hold he had over her, or that even now she was halfway to falling in love with him, and fighting it all the way.

‘I understand why you would be wary, Mia,’ Alessandro said. ‘Of course I do. But if you know I am not like that…’

Mia shook her head helplessly. The problem was her—her weakness, and her fear. Yet did loving someone have to mean losing yourself? If Alessandro wasn’t like her father, was there really any danger? Did she want to be so in thrall to her past and her own fears that she missed out on life, on love?

Yet Alessandro had never said anything about love.

‘Mia?’ Alessandro prompted gently. ‘What is going on inside that beautiful head of yours? Tell me, so I can help.’

‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘A million things. I’ve always believed I would never get married. I’d never…’ She hesitated, for she’d been about to say love, and she wasn’t ready for that. She was quite sure Alessandro wasn’t, either. ‘I’d never have that kind of relationship,’ she amended. ‘And I never wanted it. But now…’

‘Now?’

‘Now we have to have some kind of relationship, and yes, it scares me. But part of me…wants it, and that scares me, too.’

‘All this fear.’ The music had ended, and Alessandro stopped their swaying, raising her hand to his lips. He brushed a kiss across her knuckles as his gentle yet determined gaze met hers. ‘I will do my best to allay your fears, cara. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid—of me, of anyone or anything. I promise never to hurt you, never to take advantage of you, never to make you regret joining your life with mine.’

‘Those are big promises, Alessandro,’ she whispered shakily. Yet she knew he meant them.

‘Yes, they are.’ Her hand was still at his lips as he kept his gaze on her, now fierce and glittering. ‘Do you believe me, Mia? Will you trust me?’

Could she?

‘I want to,’ she whispered.

‘Then let yourself. See what can be between us, Mia. Discover how good—how wonderful—it could be, if you let yourself trust. Fall. I’ll catch you. I promise I will.’

His words were a siren song that she ached to listen to, and believe. If only it could be so easy. If only she could leave her fears behind and step into this bright, glittering future Alessandro promised. Why not? Why not at least try, for Ella’s sake, for her sake, for theirs?

‘All right,’ she whispered, and Alessandro smiled, victory lighting his eyes as he drew her towards him and kissed her right there on the dance floor, in front of the crowd, his lips on hers like a seal, branding her with his mouth just as he had with his words.

As they broke apart, Mia’s lips buzzed and her face flamed. She felt as if she’d just jumped off a cliff, and she couldn’t yet tell whether she was flying—or falling.

‘Shall we go?’ Alessandro murmured, and she knew what he was asking. They’d been on a dance floor before, in thrall to their shared desire, and he’d asked her the same question. And once again, she could agree, she could let herself be caught up in what was spinning out between them, let it sweep her along so she didn’t have to think or wonder—or fear.

‘Yes, let’s,’ she whispered, and Alessandro laced his fingers through hers once more as he led her through the crowd, the faceless blur barely registering as they left the ballroom and, just as they had once before, stepped out into the warm spring night.

They were both quiet during the limo ride to the private airport where they took a helicopter back to the villa. Mia’s heart thudded in her chest as she thought about what was ahead of them, what she’d agreed to.

No regrets…

The short helicopter ride seemed over in a moment, and then they were walking up towards the darkened villa, Mia achingly aware of Alessandro’s powerful body next to hers. With murmured thanks, he dismissed Alyssa, who assured Mia that Ella had gone to sleep with no problems, and was still sleeping soundly.

At the bottom of the sweeping staircase, Mia paused as Alessandro stood there, his eyes blazing silver as he looked at her, the villa dark and silent all around them.

What was he waiting for?

Why wasn’t he taking her in his arms, kissing away the last of her fears and objections? She was ready to be swept up in something bigger than herself, ready to let herself go. At least she hoped she was.

‘What now?’ she finally asked, when she could bear the silence no longer.

Alessandro met her gaze directly, his hands spread wide. ‘You tell me.’

She eyed him uncertainly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘This moment is yours, Mia. You choose it. You decide what you want now, how far you want this to go.’ He drew a shuddering breath. ‘Do you want me?’ Although his voice was assured, the question held a stark note of painful vulnerability that touched Mia deeply.

For the first time Alessandro was surrendering his control…and in this, the most important and elemental aspect of their relationship.

She’d been fully anticipating him to sweep her into a masterminded and smoothly thought out seduction, and she’d been willing to go along with it, to be caught up in it and, in a way, relieved of any real and active choice…even though that was what she’d been fighting for all along.

But Alessandro wasn’t giving her that option. He was making her choose now, making her fully own the decision she thought she’d already made, back in the ballroom. This could be no silent surrender, defeat by acquiescence, overwhelmed by his sheer force of personality and innate authority that she tried to resent and yet somehow craved. Alessandro wouldn’t let it be that. He was making this moment hers, making her choose it to be theirs.

He held her gaze, his eyes burning fiercely, his hands still spread open wide, his stance one of acceptance rather than aggression or authority. For once he was giving her all the power, all the control, all she’d said she wanted…so what was she going to do?

Alessandro waited, his body tense, his heart thudding. Everything in him resisted this moment, the utter, revealing weakness of it. He didn’t do this. He didn’t let someone else choose his fate, even if just for a night, although this was so much more than a night. He’d always, always been the architect of his own ambition.

But over the course of the evening, as he’d reflected on what Mia had shared about her family and her past, he’d realised that in this, of all things, she needed to have the control. He needed to surrender it, even if everything in him still fought against it. And so he waited.

Mia stared at him for a long moment, a thousand emotions chasing across her lovely face, making her eyes sparkle and her lips tremble. ‘Do I want you?’ she repeated slowly, her voice sliding over the syllables, testing them out, and Alessandro tensed even more, waiting, expectant. Afraid.

Then, to his deep disappointment and dread, she shook her head. ‘Not like that,’ she said, with a nod towards the bedroom waiting upstairs, with its sumptuous king-sized bed and all that it beckoned and promised. The sour taste of rejection flooded his mouth, overwhelmed his senses with the unwelcome acid of it.

She didn’t want him.

‘At least, not just that,’ Mia clarified, her voice trembling. ‘I don’t want another night with you, Alessandro, amazing as the last one was, with all of its repercussions.’

She smiled wryly, straightening her shoulders, and Alessandro raised his eyebrows, his stomach clenched hard with anxiety and uncertainty, both which he hated feeling. He’d never felt so vulnerable, so needy, so open to hurt and pain. ‘What, then?’ he demanded in a raw voice.

‘I came up here prepared to be…to be swept away,’ she began haltingly. ‘I was expecting you to do the sweeping. Then I wouldn’t have had to think or wonder or doubt. I could just let myself feel.’

Which sounded pretty good to Alessandro in this moment. Had he made a mistake, in surrendering his own agency? He had been taking a risk, but it was one he had hoped would turn in his favour. Now he wasn’t so sure.

‘And now?’ he made himself ask, although he half dreaded the answer.

‘And now I want something else. Something more.’

‘More…’

‘I don’t want a night. I want…’ She swallowed, more of a gulp, her eyes huge in her face as she looked at him resolutely, her chin tilted upwards in determination, her slender body trembling with emotion. ‘I want for ever.’

Surprise and a far greater relief rippled through him. She wasn’t rejecting him. Them. ‘For ever…’

Her smile trembled on her lips. ‘I know you’ve been hoping or even expecting me to marry you. But I want this to be on my terms, and amazingly you seem to want that, too. So now I’m the one proposing. The one choosing. Will you…will you marry me?’

He laughed, the sound one of shock but also admiration. He hadn’t expected that. ‘You know I will. In fact…’ Fumbling a little, he reached for the small box of black velvet that had nestled in his pocket all evening. ‘I was planning to make you a proper proposal tonight, but I didn’t want to seem as if I was pressuring you, or arranging things somehow…’ He held the box out in the palm of his hand. ‘But I can’t think of a better moment than this one.’

‘Nor can I.’ Smiling a little, she reached for it. Alessandro held his breath as she carefully opened the box, her eyes widening at the sight of the simple solitaire diamond nestled amidst its soft velvet folds. ‘It’s beautiful, Alessandro.’

The ring was stark in its simplicity, a single diamond on a band of white gold. Alessandro had looked at various rings, but they’d all seemed fussy and officious rather than the simple, pure statement of his intent he wanted. Their intent, for a life lived together. Mia lifted her face so her eyes, now luminous with the sheen of tears, met his once more. ‘Will you put it on me?’

‘Of course.’ His fingers trembled a little as he took the ring from the box and slid it on her finger, where it winked and sparkled, a promise they were making to each other. He clasped her hand with his own. ‘Do you mean this, Mia?’

‘Yes.’

‘You want this?’ he pressed, because somewhere along the way that had become important, too. This wasn’t just about winning any more, or getting what he wanted. He needed her to want it, as well. To want him.

‘Yes.’ Her voice quavered. ‘I’m scared, Alessandro. I can admit that. I don’t know what the future holds, but I also know I don’t want to be enslaved to my past. So yes, I want this. For Ella’s sake, and perhaps even for…for ours.’ Her worried gaze searched his face as she nibbled her lip. ‘I know we haven’t actually talked about what a marriage between us would look like, besides the obvious…’

No, they hadn’t. For a moment Alessandro couldn’t speak, as realisation caught up with him and he desperately tried to order his jumbled thoughts. He’d been so focused on Ella, on their being a family, that he hadn’t completely considered what their relationship—their marriage—would actually look like. What it would mean.

And he was conscious, incredibly so, that in accepting his proposal, or, rather, offering her own, Mia was giving herself to him. Her body, her mind, and yes, perhaps even her heart. Her life. Precious, fragile gifts. And he was even more conscious that in offering them, she’d, inadvertently or not, given him back the power she hated to relinquish, and which he’d always craved.

What if he hurt her?

What if she hurt him?

The second question, he told himself, wasn’t a consideration; he would not allow that to happen. He would honour his marriage vows, and give Mia respect and companionship and so much pleasure. Of that he was sure. But as for love? His heart? The ability to reach inside and hurt him?

No. He saw where that led. He’d seen and felt the pain and brokenness all through his childhood. His mother’s tears, anger, addictions, helplessness and grief. No. He could not offer Mia that kind of love.

But what he could offer…he’d make sure she’d be happy with. She’d want for nothing. He’d treat her like a queen.

‘We’ll figure it out as we go along,’ Alessandro told her, smiling to soften the prevarication of his words, and what they both knew he wasn’t saying. Wasn’t promising. He saw it in the cloudy flicker of her eyes, the slight downturn of her mouth before she made herself smile back. ‘This is going to work, Mia. I will do my best, my utmost, to give you everything. To never hurt you.’ Again he felt the weight of what he wasn’t saying.

To love you.

She nodded slowly. ‘I know you will, Alessandro.’

‘When shall we marry?’

‘There’s no real rush, is there?’

‘Why not make it official?’

‘We still could use the time to get to know each other,’ Mia protested. ‘The three months…’

‘It’s already been nearly three weeks,’ Alessandro returned. Why not marry sooner?’

‘At least give it a couple of weeks, so we can plan.’

‘Very well.’ He could wait that long. ‘Are there people you want to invite?’

She shook her head. ‘No, not really.’

‘Then it will be just us, and Ella, exactly as it should be.’ He smiled, liking the thought. ‘A family from the beginning.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled back, but he saw a tiny frown puckering the ivory smoothness of her brow, and he drew her towards him for a lingering kiss. ‘We will do this properly, and wait for our wedding night,’ he said, savouring the thought. ‘Trust me, Mia, our marriage will be the beginning of everything.’