Читать книгу Modern Romance February 2020 Books 5-8 - Мишель Смарт, Natalie Anderson - Страница 24

LATER THAT NIGHT, dressed only in Tonino’s shirt, which she’d adopted as her own, and replete in his arms, Orla made circles around his nipples. ‘Can I ask you something?’

He answered sleepily, ‘Anything.’

‘Did you have any feelings for Sophia?’

She had no idea how she was going to feel whatever answer he gave, but it was a question that had been bugging her since their earlier trip to the beach. It took such a long time for him to answer that she thought he’d fallen asleep, but then a hand burrowed into her hair.

‘I was attracted to her—Sophia is a beautiful woman—but that’s as far as my feelings towards her went.’ He sighed. ‘The chemistry was not there. Not for me. I assumed familiarity would breed desire but I was wrong—all it bred was contempt. We’d been childhood friends but the more I got to know the grown-up Sophia, the less I liked her.’ He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, his voice dropping to a murmur. ‘But it was only when a beautiful Irishwoman walked into my hotel that I knew I had to end the engagement.’

Her heart skipped.

Tonino kissed her head and tightened his hold around her. ‘You, dolcezza, were the most beautiful woman I had ever set eyes on. I spent the day organising the refurbishment of your room when I should have been in meetings with lawyers and accountants.’

He felt the heavy beats of her heart pressing against his stomach. He felt the stirrings of arousal.

‘I could not stop myself from fantasising about you. I fantasised about stripping you naked and making love to you.’ The stirrings grew stronger. ‘They were fantasies that told me I had to end things with Sophia—how could I marry her when I felt such intense desire for someone else? I did the honourable thing and ended the engagement immediately. I did not ask you out until after I’d spoken to her. When we made love, I was a free man.’ Moving smoothly, he manoeuvred her onto her back and covered her body with his. ‘And I am still a free man. Marry me and you will have me for ever.’

She stared up at him, her eyes like dazed orbs.

Cupping her cheeks, he pressed his nose to hers. ‘You, dolcezza, are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. There is no one like you in this world. I have never wanted anyone the way I want you. You are under my skin and in my blood. I want you there for ever.’

And then he kissed her.

Orla, hypnotised as much by his voice as his words, sank into the firmness of his mouth with a sigh, a throb deep inside her already singing its head off in anticipation.

He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted her?

Well, she’d never wanted anyone but him…

‘Finn can have a good life here,’ he murmured as he kissed her neck. ‘He will have family, cousins to play with, sunshine, ripe fruits…everything he needs to thrive.’ He captured a nipple over the cotton of the shirt covering her body and sucked it greedily. ‘If you won’t marry me, live with me. Move in…’ He moved lower, kissing her shirt-covered belly, taking hold of her thighs and gently spreading them. ‘You will be close to Aislin and Dante.’ He moved even lower and gently raised her bottom. ‘I know how much you miss them.’

‘You…don’t…play…fair,’ she groaned, stickily wet and aching for him.

‘I play to win.’ He pressed his thumb to her swollen clitoris.

She moaned and grabbed hold of the pillow.

‘Tell me this doesn’t feel like winning to you too.’ And then he replaced his thumb with his tongue and any semblance of coherent thought vanished as Orla was suffused in intense, hedonistic pleasure.

‘We’ll stay until the party. Save Finn having to do all that travelling.’

Orla’s whispered words cut through the sleep pulling Tonino under.

He kissed her shoulder and murmured, ‘If you move in he won’t have to do any travelling between our countries.’

‘I know.’

‘Think about it. For Finn’s sake.’

And, as Tonino finally fell into the oblivion of sleep, his last conscious thought was that it would be for his own sake too.

The next ten days passed with nothing more said about marriage or them living together. At first Orla had been glad of the reprieve but the longer time passed, the less she trusted it. Tonino was quite capable of bamboozling her with the subject when she least suspected it. She was supposed to be returning to Ireland tomorrow and was still no closer to making a decision.

The problem was, she admitted to herself, she was torn between her head and her heart. Her heart wanted Finn to have all the advantages living in Sicily would give him. Her head, however, kept pointing out that Tonino only wanted her for Finn. The sex between them was just a bonus—a free leg-over, as her grandmother would have primly called it.

But not for Orla. For Orla, the sex they shared… In the depths of her consciousness, she called it making love.

To make things worse, she missed him when he wasn’t there.

He’d been with her and Finn all the time during their first week in his home but then, during their second week, he’d had to work. Work for Tonino consisted of attending important meetings and travelling around Europe on business. At least, that was how it looked to Orla.

There was something incredibly sexy about watching this hunk of a man dress for work, tucking a crisply ironed shirt into his tailored trousers, doing the buttons of the waistcoat, fixing his cufflinks into place, tying the laces of his handmade shoes… The urge to leap out from under the bedsheets and pounce on him would hit her so hard that she would clench her fists and force her mind to think of non-sexy things, like dirty laundry.

How was it possible to ache for someone so badly? And how was it possible to miss someone so much that she kept her phone close at all times, hurrying to answer it whenever he called. Which was often.

He was considerate too. The nights he arrived back so late that she’d already fallen asleep, he would slip into bed and do nothing more than wrap his arms around her. He didn’t wake her for sex. He let her sleep, saving their lovemaking for the morning.

Then yesterday he’d arrived back at the chateau at lunchtime declaring his working week over, and she’d had to fight her legs again not to pounce on him with glee at having him back. Finn had been thrilled to see him too. He’d been so overjoyed to see his father that Orla’s happiness had dimmed and she’d found herself torn into pieces with contradictory emotions that shamed her.

She was ashamed too that the moment he’d left for work on Monday, she’d got straight onto the phone and video-called Aislin for advice, shamed that she called herself an adult when she couldn’t make a decision and shamed to be disturbing her sister’s honeymoon.

Aislin had listened carefully to Orla’s woe then her face had lit up. ‘I knew it! He’s nuts about you.’ She’d burst into peals of laughter. ‘If he still wants you after I made that threat to him, he’s nuts at the least.’

‘Are you drunk?’

‘On happiness!’

‘He isn’t nuts about me. He wants Finn. I’m just the mother of his son.’

Aislin had rolled her eyes. ‘You really need to get out more if you believe that. Look, missus, don’t rush into any hasty decisions but, from my perspective, it would be grand if you moved to Sicily. I miss you and Finn.’

‘You’re having your own baby.’

‘And my baby will want his aunty and cousin close by. I’m not telling you to marry him or even live with him, but if you could bring yourself to live in Sicily then we’ll all be happy.’

‘Why does it have to be my life that’s uprooted?’

‘Because you don’t have a life.’

That was a fact Orla could not argue with.

She’d had a life once. A long time ago. When she’d first met Tonino she’d been excited to embrace the newest chapter of it by starting her dream job. The pregnancy had seen the future she’d worked so hard for slip through her fingers. The accident and its aftermath meant it was unlikely she would ever work again. Even if she could, she didn’t think she’d be able to leave Finn. And if she couldn’t contemplate leaving him for a few hours a day for a job, then how would she cope letting him visit his father for weeks at a time?

Everything pointed to her agreeing to live with Tonino. Or she could do as Aislin suggested and just move to Sicily independently, but that would only cause additional issues.

Marriage was out of the question. Marriage was a commitment that should only be entered between two people who meant their vows. Her mother had been shamed into marrying Aislin’s father because her grandmother couldn’t bear the shame of her daughter having a second illegitimate child by a second man. The marriage had been a disaster and ended after two years.

Deep down was the painful peripheral wish that Tonino’s proposal meant more than a means to having their son living under his roof, but she would not let her mind go there.

She could smack her head with frustration at the choice she had to make.

Time was running out.

Tonino was expecting an answer that evening, when they returned from his parents’ party.

Keen to make a good first impression with his family for Finn’s sake, Orla left Finn with Tonino while she got ready. She went through her wardrobe half a dozen times before selecting a dark blue dress with chunky crystals running the length of its high neckline. It also had the requisite long sleeves and its mid-thigh-length skirt had a slight swing to it. All the sun she’d been living with these past few weeks had given her legs some colour, which was a nice bonus.

Before dressing, she put on matching lacy blue underwear then applied the topical lotion to her itching scars. The scars on her back were itching too and she slipped her robe on and, lotion in hand, knocked on the duty nurse’s bedroom door.

The nurse was halfway through administering it, with her usual lecture of letting the lotion sink into the skin before Orla dressed, when there was a loud rap on the door adjoining the nurse’s room with Finn’s. To Orla’s horror, the door couldn’t have been shut properly for the weight of the knock caused it to swing open.

Tonino stood in the doorway, his hand raised. When he saw the nurse, he immediately burst into a flurry of Sicilian that died on his tongue when he caught sight of a frozen Orla.

The nurse seemed to sense her horror and immediately stepped between them, acting as a barrier so Orla could wrap the robe back around herself and hurry out of the room, cheeks flaming with humiliation.

Tonino wished he’d chosen to drive. It would have given him something to concentrate on.

Instead he sat in the back of his limousine trying to forget that his lover had frozen in horror at him seeing her in her underwear.

It was the closest he’d come to seeing her naked in four years. She’d run from the room like a frightened rabbit.

So much for the progress he’d believed they were making.

Things had been good between them. For the first time in for ever he’d shunned staying at his hotels during his business travels, keen to return home to his son and his son’s mother.

Her frightened rabbit eyes had brought him crashing back to earth. There had been such fear in them that he’d barely registered her lack of clothing or looked at the scars she kept hidden from him.

Orla did not trust him.

She would allow the nurse to see her scars but allowing the man she shared a bed with every night to see them? Not a chance. They made love constantly, but she always kept her top half clothed.

‘Do your parents know Finn was conceived with the woman you ended things with Sophia for?’ she asked shortly after Finn fell asleep to the motion of the car.

He paused a moment before answering. Now was not the time for an argument. Not when they had to deal with his family. He needed to keep his anger contained. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t discussed it with them.’

‘What about when you met with your mother yesterday?’ After his early return home from work, he’d taken Finn out to meet his mother. It was the first time they had done anything without Orla and it had felt strange not having her with them.

‘It wasn’t mentioned.’ Their meeting in a beach café had been the warmest exchange between them in four years. His mother had taken one look at Finn’s huge brown eyes and visibly softened. Her unabashed delight at meeting her grandson had almost—almost—made Tonino soften too.

Orla’s words about forgiveness had played in his head. At first, he’d dismissed it out of hand but her comment about him having his father’s temper had played on his mind too. There was truth in it.

It had taken months for things to settle down into the semblance of normality between Tonino and his parents but, though they all went through the motions of being a family, things had never been the same. There had always been a frisson of ice between them. Embraces were perfunctory. Kisses did not connect with cheeks. For that, he had always blamed them.

Maybe it was time to look at his own actions and put himself in their shoes. He’d caused the end of a great friendship and, like it or not, he’d brought shame on them both.

He despised the selfishness of their reaction but for the first time he accepted Orla’s observation that it had been provoked by anger; a rush of blood to the head. When he’d effectively gone into hiding by practically chaining Orla to his bed and disconnecting his doorbell and turning his phone off, it had given his parents time for their fury to percolate. When he’d re-emerged, all their fury had blasted at him like a solar flare.

Shattered from Orla’s desertion, he’d fired back at them. All the pain her leaving had caused him, he’d thrown onto his parents’ shoulders.

He’d been an idiot, he acknowledged grimly.

‘Your family can do rudimentary maths.’ Orla’s lyrical brogue cut through his thoughts. ‘They will know Finn’s conception coincided with your engagement ending. What if they take against him for it?’

‘Why on earth would they do that?’ he asked, astonished she would even suggest such a thing.

She stared out of the window. ‘People have a habit of blaming children for the sins of their parents.’

‘Are you talking generally or from experience?’

‘Both. Dante was tarnished because of our father’s gambling problem and womanising. Those things were nothing to do with him and completely beyond his control, yet he almost lost a business deal because of it.’

‘And you? Have you had something similar happen?’

Turning her head to look at him, she said simply, ‘My conception is something that’s hung over me my entire life.’

Unsure if she was joking—hoping she was joking—he responded with a bemused, ‘It’s the twenty-first century.’

‘That doesn’t mean everyone has twenty-first-century ideals, especially in the village I grew up in. I was a walking reminder of my mother’s shame—or should I say, her lack of it?’ She gave a laugh that contained no humour at all.

‘Should she have felt shame?’ he asked curiously. He despised Orla’s mother for abandoning her daughters and grandson when they needed her most, but it wasn’t like Orla to be judgemental. ‘She wasn’t the married party in the affair. Salvatore was.’

‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged in a helpless fashion and sighed. ‘I used to know. It was all very cut and dried when I was a child. I had the mummy who went on holiday to Sicily and came home knocked up by a married man. Everyone knew I was the product of an affair.’ She sighed again and rested her head back. ‘I get it now, why you didn’t tell me who you really were. It was similar to my reasons for not telling you I was Salvatore Moncada’s illegitimate daughter. I didn’t want you having any preconceived thoughts about me or for you to think I was easy like my mother.’

‘I would never think that.’

‘I know that now.’ She caught his eye and smiled sadly. ‘I’m really glad your mother has been so kind to Finn and that she wants a relationship with him, and I know I’m being selfish but I can’t help worry about how your family will feel about me. I mean, you said the other week that reputation matters to them. Do they know who I am?’

‘Yes. Believe it or not, the fact you’re Dante Moncada’s sister and half Sicilian works in your favour.’

Her nose wrinkled. ‘Really?’

He gave a short burst of humourless laughter. ‘Really. You have the required pedigree.’

‘I’m not a dog,’ she said, visibly affronted.

‘Obviously,’ he answered wryly. ‘But trust me on this; you have nothing to worry about with my family. They’ve been so worried that I’ll never settle down and produce grandchildren that they wouldn’t care if you were part of the Cosa Nostra.’

‘Charming!’ she said with a roll of her eyes. ‘Is that why you never settled down after Sophia? To punish your family for not supporting you?’

Her question threw him.

Had he been punishing them? Punishing his parents for destroying his trust in the unconditional love he’d always taken for granted by not attempting to understand his feelings?

Didn’t he bear some responsibility for it too?

He remembered seeing his father’s face go red with fury when he’d broken the news and feeling his own anger rise in turn. They’d been like a pair of rutting bulls.

Whatever the truth, when his parents’ villa came into view, for the first time in four years the rancid curdle of acid he usually felt to be there was absent.