Italian Mavericks: Forbidden Nights With The Italian: The Forbidden Ferrara / Surrendering to the Italian's Command / The Unwanted Conti Bride. Sarah Morgan
spread across the room.
For a moment he wondered if she’d actually heard him.
Then she made a strange sound in her throat and took a step backwards.
‘Marry you?’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘You have to be joking.’
‘Relish the moment, tesoro. Up until now, women have waited in vain for a proposal of marriage from me.’
She looked as if she’d suffered a major shock. ‘You’re proposing.’
‘In a practical sense, yes. In a romantic sense, no,’ he drawled, ‘so if you’re expecting me to get down on one knee you can forget it.’
This, he thought, would be a real test of her devotion to their son.
She lifted her hand to her throat and looked at him as if he was mad. ‘Apart from the fact that we haven’t laid eyes on each other for three years and barely know each other, there is no way our families would accept this.’
‘I presume you are talking about your side of the family, because my side will support me in whatever decision I make. That’s what families do. The reaction of yours is of no interest to me.’ He gave an indifferent shrug. ‘And as for the fact that we barely know each other, that will be rectified quickly enough. You will get to know me fast enough because I don’t intend to let you out of my sight.’
She sleepwalked to the window. ‘I saw a picture of you just last week strolling along a red carpet with a woman on your arm—you have a million women chasing after you.’
‘Then it’s fortunate for you that I was waiting for that one special person and hadn’t yet made that commitment.’ His expectations mocked him. His brother and his sister both had strong, happy marriages. He’d had no reason to believe that his wouldn’t be the same. His hopes for the future were undergoing a transformation so rapid that it left him reeling.
‘I can’t accept your proposal.’ Her voice had lost some of its strength. ‘I don’t need to. I run a successful business and—’
‘This isn’t about you, it’s about Luca. Or does your streak of selflessness only emerge when it suits you? If you truly have Luca’s best interests at heart then you will do what is right for him.’ He came right back at her, offering no soft words of reassurance and she shook her head frantically.
‘It would be wrong for Luca, too.’
‘What’s “wrong” is my child growing up in a family that doesn’t know the meaning of the word,’ he said coldly. ‘He is a Ferrara and he is entitled to all the love and security that comes with being a Ferrara. And I am going to use every means at my disposal to make sure he is given that right.’
‘You’re doing this to punish me.’ Her eyes were horrified. She knew how much power he wielded. She knew exactly what he could achieve if he set his mind to it. He saw her mind going to all sorts of places and he let it happen because it suited his purpose to scare her.
‘Luca deserves to be raised in a strong, solid family, not that I expect you to understand that.’ Another low blow and to her credit she didn’t flinch from it.
‘I do understand that. I understand that an ideal family is a unit of people who love and support you unconditionally. I admit I didn’t have that, so I created it. I wanted Luca to be surrounded by people who would love him and support him and in reality I did need help because I wanted to be able to support us financially and not rely on my grandfather.’
‘That is the most convoluted justification for a nanny I’ve ever heard.’
‘You are very disparaging about nannies, but that is because you have aunts and cousins who all help each other with childcare. I don’t have that and so I found a warm, loving girl I trust. She’s been with us since Luca was born, and so has Ben because I wanted him to have a good male role model—’ She bit her lower lip. ‘I’m aware that my grandfather isn’t soft or tactile. He never hugs and I wanted Luca to be hugged. I wanted him surrounded by people who felt like I did. People who would give him affection. I didn’t have a family like yours, but I tried to create one for him.’
She’d created a family?
Santo thought about what he’d seen. About the amount of affection he’d witnessed in that short time with his son. ‘If that is true, then that is definitely a point in your favour, but it is no longer necessary. Luca doesn’t need a stand-in family. He can have the real thing.’
‘You’re not thinking straight.’ Her voice was remarkably strong. ‘My father married my mother because he made her pregnant. I was first-hand witness to the fact that approach doesn’t work. And now you are suggesting we do the same thing?’
‘Not the same thing.’ He heard the chill in his own voice. ‘Our marriage will be nothing like your parents’, I can assure you of that. They led separate lives and their children—you—were the casualties of their selfish, hubristic existence, not to mention the vicious Baracchi temper. Our marriage will not be like that.’
She rubbed her fingers over her brow and gave him a desperate look. ‘You are angry and I don’t blame you for that, but please, please think of Luca.’
‘I have thought of nothing but Luca since I walked into your kitchen last night.’
‘How can he possibly benefit from you and I being together? You are being hasty—’
‘Hasty?’ Just thinking about how much of his son’s life he’d missed made him want to punch his fist through something. ‘As far as I’m concerned we are long past “hasty”. Luca has an aunt and an uncle. Cousins to play with. He has a whole family he knows nothing about.’ Seeing the wistfulness in her eyes, he drove his point home. ‘As a Ferrara he will never feel lonely or unloved. He will never have to hide in an abandoned boathouse because his family is in crisis.’
‘You bastard—’ She whispered the words, her eyes two deep pools of pain, but Santo was impervious to any emotion but anger.
‘You hid my child from me. You robbed him of the right to a warm, loving family and you robbed me of something that can never be returned. Do I intend to dictate terms from now on? Yes, I do. And if that makes me a bastard I’ll happily live with that title. Think about it.’ He strode towards the door. ‘And while you’re thinking, I have work to do.’
‘You’re going to work?’
‘Of course. I have a company to run.’
She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I … I need some time to decide what is best for Luca.’
Holding on to his temper, Santo yanked open the door. ‘Having a father and joining the Ferrara family is what is best for Luca and even twisted Baracchi thinking will struggle to distort that fact. You have until tonight to see sense. And I suggest you tell your grandfather the truth, or I’ll do it for you.’
THERE was nothing quite so cruel as the distortion of a dream.
How many times had she stared across the bay and envied the family life of the close-knit Ferraras? How many times had she wished she were part of that? It was no coincidence that in times of trauma she’d chosen to hide in their boathouse, as if simply by being there she might soak up some residual warmth.
She’d crawled through the open window, grazing her leg on the rough wood of the window frame, covering herself in dust as she’d landed. Fia hadn’t cared about any of that.
With the sea lapping at the door that conveniently faced away from the bay, she had no fear that someone would find her. Who would look for her here, in the enemy camp? So sure had she been of the seclusion of her hiding place that when she’d seen