Читать книгу Modern Romance March 2017 Books 5 -8 - Дженнифер Хейворд, Natalie Anderson - Страница 18

CHAPTER NINE

“HOW ABOUT YOU come to Mallorca in a couple of weeks? I have to be at our flagship property for a few days. You can meet with the management team and we can go through the last few points face-to-face.”

Lorenzo blew out a breath. He’d spent two weeks anticipating Marc Bavaro’s return from South America and now he wanted him to gallivant off to Spain, Belmont’s global headquarters, to make this deal happen? He ran a global corporation, for God’s sake, three times the size of Bavaro’s. How the hell did he have time for that?

“As much as I’d love to,” he said in an even tone, “my schedule is insane. We can’t do it before then?”

“I’m headed to London as we speak. I’m not back to New York until mid-October.”

Too late, with the board meeting looming. “I’ll see what I can do,” Lorenzo conceded. “How long are you thinking?”

“Come for a couple of days. We can have dinner with my brother, Diego, the night you arrive, then we’ll do the management meeting the next morning. Oh—” the CEO’s voice dropped to an intimate purr “—and bring your beautiful wife...she can keep Penny company.”

He wasn’t sure Bavaro lusting after Angelina was going to go over so well in his current mood. “Angie is in her busy period. I’ll have to check her schedule.”

“Let me know.” The roar of a jet engine fired in the background. “I should go.”

He cut off the call. Turned the air blue. Gillian popped her head in his office and asked if he needed help. He told her to clear his schedule for the time in Mallorca, then turned his thoughts to his wife. How to get her to agree to go to Spain was the challenge. She was so busy with commissions after Faggini’s show she’d even hired a couple of part-time designers to help with the rush. She would balk at a trip, no doubt about it.

He sat back in his chair and contemplated a solution. Things had been better than good between them. They were learning to compromise, to manage their expectations of each other. They were communicating both in bed and out of it. His marriage was working. The last thing he needed was to rock the boat.

But this, he thought, tapping his fingers on the desk, was necessary.

A plan came to him. It was a good one. Satisfied, he picked up the phone.

* * *

“I have a proposal for you.”

Angelina cradled her mobile against her ear as she put down her pliers, the intimate, seductive edge to her husband’s voice unleashing a wave of heat beneath her skin. The huskiness, she knew, came from the inhuman working hours he was keeping.

“If it involves sleep for you, I’m all for it,” she said lightly. “What time were you up this morning?”

“Five. And, yes, it involves sleep for both of us,” he replied in a throaty tone that sent goose bumps to her heated skin. “Well,” he amended, “it involves a bed and us. Sleep not so much.”

Her heart beat a jagged rhythm. They hadn’t been able to get enough of each other since Alexander’s party, thus contributing to her sleeping deficit. Not that she was complaining. She was so happy she was afraid to blink, because history had taught her something would implode in her face if she did.

But she wasn’t thinking that way, she reminded herself. “What are you proposing?”

“The only way I can pin Marc Bavaro down is to hook up with him at his property in Mallorca in a couple of weeks’ time. Penny’s going. He wants you to come, too.”

She pressed a palm to her temple. “Lorenzo... I have so much work to do before Christmas.”

“That’s part of my proposal. You come with me to Spain and I will absolve you of any social obligations until the hotel opening in October.”

“What are you going to do? Go to them alone?”

“Sì.”

She didn’t like the idea of her gorgeous husband attending all those events alone the way women fell all over him. Leaving the country for a week was also an unwise idea given the work in front of her.

But how could she say no after everything Lorenzo had done for her? He had been her rock as she’d navigated her emotional visits with her mother, pushed her to hire a couple of assistants to keep her sanity with all the work pouring in. And when she was exhausted from managing them, he deposited her bodily into bed when she no longer recognized her limits. She wasn’t sure what she would have done without him.

“I will take you to Portofino for a couple of days afterward.” Her husband’s voice lowered to a sexy rasp. “We can do walks through the village. I’ll take you to that seafood restaurant you love...”

Her heart turned over. By far her most magical memories with Lorenzo were from that heavenly week they’d spent together in the tiny fishing village on the Italian Riviera on their honeymoon, the view from the Riccis’ villa perched in the hills spectacularly romantic. It had been impossibly perfect with their strolls through the cobblestone streets, leisurely, seaside dinners and long, uninhibited nights of lovemaking in which her husband had taught her wicked things, delicious things her innocent mind could only have dreamed of.

Going back would be like walking into a piece of the past she wasn’t sure she was ready for, but perhaps that was exactly what she needed to do.

“Well?” her husband prompted. “Say yes. It will be good for us, cara.”

She blew out a breath. “Okay. But I can’t be gone longer than a week. And I’m holding you to your promise.”

“Bene.” Satisfaction laced his tone. “I’ll get Gillian to work with you on the details. Grazie mille, bella. I should go.”

She hung up. Stared at all the pieces on her desk that needed to be finished. Thought of the massive influx of orders to be filled. She was a tiny operation—she wasn’t built for this.

Panic clawed at her insides. She couldn’t afford to mess up this chance she’d been given. The interest in her work following Alexander’s show was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make her name. But neither was she prepared to mess up her marriage.

She could do this. She just needed to lean on the designers she’d hired and make a plan.

* * *

Angie worked like a demon over the next two weeks, making a good dent in the list of commissions. Reserving the trickier pieces for when she got back, she handed the rest of the work over to her assistants and stepped on the jet for the trip to Mallorca with Lorenzo.

Shocked at how exhausted she was, she put the reclining seat back as soon as dinner had been served and slept while her machine of a husband worked.

When she woke, it was to the darkest of ebony eyes and a very seductive kiss from her husband. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. We’re about to land.”

She blinked. “We aren’t.”

“We are. A half hour tops. Go freshen up so you can have some breakfast before we land.”

She slid out of her seat and headed for the bedroom, where she changed her top, so she wouldn’t look so wrinkled when they met the driver, and freshened her hair and makeup. Breakfast, however, wasn’t to be. Her stomach still felt like it was 2:00 a.m. Coffee and orange juice would have to suffice.

The driver took them up into the lush green mountains of Mallorca’s peaceful northwest coast to the Belmont Mallorca, considered to be one of the world’s finest hotels. Nestled into a valley surrounded by soaring peaks, its two stone manor houses offered a spectacular view of a medieval village.

Still inordinately tired, she took a nap in the afternoon in their beautiful airy suite to arm her for a late dinner while Lorenzo spent the afternoon with Marc. But even after she woke and pulled herself out of the white-silk-draped canopy bed and showered, her limbs still felt as if they were weighted with lead.

She hadn’t felt this inexplicably tired since the first trimester of her pregnancy, she mused as she stood at the wardrobe selecting a dress to wear for dinner. Ice slid through her veins... No. There was no way. She couldn’t be. She was on the pill. She had been so careful.

Rationality, however, did not stop her from flying into the bedroom to find her purse, where she retrieved her birth control pills and found they were all accounted for. Slackening with relief, she saw the antibiotics she’d been taking following a dental procedure. Remembering she hadn’t taken one today, she popped one into her mouth, swallowed it with a gulp of water, then padded back to the wardrobe to choose her dress.

A cream-colored jersey sheath called to her. She pulled it off the hanger, then froze, her stomach bottoming out. Antibiotics and birth control pills... Hadn’t she heard somewhere...

* * *

Lorenzo watched Angelina in the mirror as he did up his shirt. Stunning in a knee-length ivory dress with a floral scarf draped around her neck, she was amazing to look at as always, but it was the preoccupied air about her that held his attention. He hadn’t seen it in weeks.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “Just tired. Sorry, I’m quiet I know.”

He did up the last button of his shirt and tucked it into his pants. “You don’t ever have to be sorry about being quiet. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” She turned back to the mirror and spritzed some perfume behind her ears.

“Is it work?”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll catch up when I get back.”

“Then what is it?”

She spun around, a frown creasing her brow. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Lorenzo. I’m fine.”

He lifted a brow. She expelled a breath. “I am a little stressed about work. And the time change kills me.”

He crossed over to her. “Try and put it out of your head and enjoy the week,” he murmured, tracing a thumb over her cheek. “It’s only a few days. You deserve a break.”

She nodded.

“There is no goal tonight, amore mio. Unless you count paying attention to me,” he added huskily, thumb sweeping over the lush fullness of her lips. “That is most definitely on the agenda.”

Color stained her cheeks. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her temple, breathing in the sexy, Oriental fragrance of her, her perfume the perfect match for his strong, sensual wife. They were intoxicating, both the scent and her.

For a moment, he just held her, drank her in. Knew, in that moment, he felt more for her than he would ever admit. More than he should.

Her head dropped against his chest. “We should go,” she said quietly, but she didn’t move.

His mouth curved. Sliding his fingers through hers, he moved his lips to her ear. “Hold that thought.”

* * *

Dinner with the Bavaro brothers took place in the Belmont’s famed terrace restaurant, with its spectacular view of the mountains, the live piano music lending a distinctly sophisticated atmosphere to the setting. Marc’s brother, Diego, the Belmont’s other controlling shareholder, joined them for dinner along with his wife, Ariana. With Penny to round out the table of six, it was an entertaining and lively dinner.

Diego, who had been a bit of a dark horse during the negotiations, content to let Marc take the lead, could have been a double for his brother with his swarthy, dark Mediterranean looks and lean build. But that was where the similarities ended. Whereas Marc was cagey, careful in what he revealed, Diego was an extrovert who liked to hear the sound of his own voice.

If Lorenzo got the younger Bavaro brother talking, he might make some progress. He waited until the fine Spanish wine had had a chance to mellow all of them, and an amiable, content atmosphere settled over the table. Sitting back in his chair, wineglass balanced on his thigh, he eyed Diego.

“I’m sensing some hesitation on your part. If the regulatory issues aren’t going to be a problem in most jurisdictions, perhaps you can tell me where the pause is coming from?”

Diego took a sip of his wine and set down the glass. “My father is concerned the Belmont legacy will cease to exist with the sale. That you will absorb what you desire of our marquee locations to fill the empty dots on the map, then dispose of the rest.”

A warning pulse rocketed through him. That was exactly what he intended to do—certainly the Bavaros had been smart enough to figure that out?

“We’ll have to see what our assessment says,” he said coolly. “But since I am offering to pay you a fortune for this chain, more than half again what it’s worth, I would think it would keep you from lying awake at night worrying about it.”

“It’s not always about money,” Diego responded. “It’s about family pride. National pride. Spaniards look up to Belmont as a symbol of international success. It is bad enough to have it eaten up by a foreign entity, but to have its name extinguished along with it? It negates a hundred-year-old legend.”

“It’s always about the money,” Lorenzo rejected. “Nothing lasts forever. You wait a few more years and you’ll get half what I’m offering.”

“Perhaps.” Diego lifted a shoulder. “You want to make my father happy? Put a clause in the deal that you will keep the name.”

Heat surged through him. He kept the fury off his face. Just. “What sense would that make?” he countered. “This deal will make Ricci the number one luxury hotel chain in the world. To split the brands would be counterproductive.”

Silence fell over the table. Lorenzo eyed the younger Bavaro brother. “May I ask why this is coming up at the eleventh hour?”

“My father’s feelings have grown stronger on the issue.” Diego pursed his lips. “I’m not saying it’s a deal breaker. I’m saying it’s a major twist in the road.”

Lorenzo’s brain buzzed. His own father would do the same, he knew—would refuse to see his legacy destroyed. He couldn’t necessarily blame the Bavaros. What infuriated him was that this hadn’t come up earlier. It changed the entire landscape of the deal.

“This acquisition needs to happen,” Lorenzo said evenly. “If this is the issue, you need to get your father onside. There will be no postsale conditions attached to it. It is what it is.”

Diego’s eyes flashed. “It was never our intention to sell, as you know.”

That was when Lorenzo knew he had a big, big problem on his hands.

* * *

Angie paced the suite while she waited for her husband, who was having an after-dinner cognac with the Bavaro brothers. After the tension-filled end to the meal, she was glad to have escaped, but now she had a much bigger issue on her hands than her combustible spouse.

Penny had driven her to the local pharmacy on the pretext of finding some allergy pills. She’d shoved two pregnancy tests on the counter instead, two positive pregnancy tests that now lay in the bathroom garbage can, irrefutable evidence that fate had once again taken a hold of her life in the most indelible way.

How could this possibly have happened? What were the odds? What was she going to do?

Unable to breathe, she crossed to the windows and stood looking out at the dark mass of the mountains. She knew this baby was a gift. Even as sure as she’d been at twenty-two she hadn’t been ready to have a child, as terrified as she’d been she wouldn’t be a good mother given her own history, she’d developed a bond with her unborn child, a wonder at the life she and Lorenzo had created together.

She felt the same way now. But she was also scared. Terrified. The timing was all wrong. There was no way she could run her business, be a mother and juggle her and Lorenzo’s busy social schedule all at the same time. And then there was the thought of losing another baby that sent panic skittering through her bones.

It was too soon. Too much.

Anxiety clawed at her throat, wanting, needing to escape. The click of the suite door brought her spinning around. The look on her husband’s face kept all the anxiety buried inside.

“What happened?”

He walked to the bar, threw ice in a glass and poured himself a drink. “Preserving the Belmont name is going to be an issue.”

“You don’t think they’ll give on it?”

He took a long gulp of the Scotch. Leaned back against the bar. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe you need to talk to the father? He seems to be the roadblock.”

“I’d have to go over Marc and Diego’s heads. It would be a last resort.”

She frowned. “They didn’t mention any of this before? Surely they knew it might be an issue?”

“I’m fairly sure I would remember if they had.”

The biting sarcasm in his voice straightened her spine. She absorbed the incendiary glow in his eyes, the flammable edge to him she remembered so well from the past. This was the old Lorenzo—the one who could transform into a remote stranger in the blink of an eye, focused only on the end goal and to hell with anyone in his path.

Tension knotted her insides, the need to know this wasn’t devolving into the old them burning a hole in her insides. Not now, not with the news she was holding inside.

She wrapped her arms around herself, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. “It was a rhetorical question,” she said quietly. “I know this deal is important to you, Lorenzo, but it either works or it doesn’t. You need to be able to find a way to walk away from these things and not let them get to you like this. Consume you.”

He gave her a scathing look. “It’s a fifteen-billion-dollar deal, Angelina. Ricci’s reputation rides on it.”

“And yours,” she said quietly. “Isn’t that the real issue here? You losing face? You becoming anything less than the unbeatable Lorenzo Ricci, king of the blockbuster deal?”

“This is not about me,” he growled, voice sharp as a blade. “It’s about my family’s reputation. Rumors about the deal are running rampant...investors are getting antsy. It is my responsibility to close this acquisition.”

“And if you don’t?” She shook her head. “One of these days you will lose. You are only human. Then what? Would it be the end of the world? You have fifty of these deals you have landed, Lorenzo. Isn’t that enough to command the confidence of your investors?”

His jaw turned to stone. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But I do know how I feel. You like this—I’ve seen it before. This always marks the beginning of one of your binges—it scares me where it will end.”

“I’m good,” he said harshly. “We are good. Stop trying to make problems where there aren’t any.”

Was she? The jet lag was killing her, her head too achy and full, her emotions all over the place. But now was not the time to tell Lorenzo about their baby. To make him understand why getting this right was so important to her.

“You wanted us to be an open book,” she said, lifting her gaze to his. “Here I am, telling you how I feel.”

He prowled over to her and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “And I’m telling you, you don’t need to worry. We are fine. I just need a few minutes to take the edge off.”

She sank her teeth into her lower lip. Nodded. He ran a finger down her cheek, his eyes softening. “You’re exhausted. You need rest. Go to bed. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“You should come, too. You didn’t sleep at all last night.”

He nodded, but it was an absentminded nod that told her he wouldn’t be coming for a while. She went to bed, but it was hard to sleep, empty in the beautiful bed without him, the intimacy that had wrapped itself around them the past few weeks missing, leaving her chilled and scared to the bone about what lay ahead.

* * *

Lorenzo went to bed at two. Extinguishing the lights, he slid into bed with his sleeping wife, no closer to a solution to his problem than he had been two hours before. The urge to wake his wife, to bury his agitation in her beautiful, irresistible body, was a powerful force. But she was so peaceful, so deeply asleep, he couldn’t do it.

He thought about how quiet she’d been earlier, his instincts telling him something was still off. He was so scared of missing something again, of not seeing what he should see.

Inhaling her scent, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, her back nestled to his chest. She murmured something in her sleep and cuddled closer.

A smile on his lips, he pressed his mouth to the sweet curve of her neck. To the silky soft skin of her cheek. The salt that flavored his lips caught him off guard. Levering himself up on his elbow, he studied her beautiful face in the moonlight. She had been crying.

His fingers curled, the urge to shake her awake and make her tell him what was wrong a furious current that sizzled his blood. They had promised to be open books with each other and still she was keeping things from him.

He forced himself to resist waking her, drawing her back against his side. Tomorrow in Portofino would be soon enough to discover what was eating his wife.