Italian Mavericks: Forbidden Nights With The Italian. Sarah Morgan
Startled, Fia looked at Dani, who looked right back. ‘Er … you didn’t know I was Santo’s sister?’
‘I didn’t recognise you.’ Fia’s voice was a croak and Dani’s eyes widened in contrition.
‘Oh, no! You must have thought—’ Looking at her brother, she gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘Nightmare. We’d kill each other in two minutes. I like to be in charge in my relationships. Talking of which, Raimondo is parking the car. We thought we’d take Luca back home with us because we have all Rosa’s toys there so it’s easier.’ She caught Fia’s anxious look and smiled. ‘You’re thinking you can’t let him go with a stranger, I know you are because I’d be thinking the same thing in your position. But honestly, he’s going to have a great time and better with us than in that vile hospital or here. Santo’s apartment is a deathtrap. You two can spend as long as you need to at the hospital and then go out to dinner or something. Don’t rush. Do something romantic.’
‘Cristo, you are like a one-woman talk show. Breathe, Dani!’ Santo cast his sister a look of raw exasperation. ‘Give someone else the opportunity to speak! You accuse me of being controlling and then you steamroller people with words. Conversation is supposed to be a two-way thing.’
‘Well, no one else is saying anything in this room!’ Dani bristled and Santo ground his teeth.
‘Was there an opportunity? Accidenti! I don’t know how Raimondo puts up with you. I would strangle you within two minutes of being alone together.’
‘I would have strangled you first.’ Dani turned to Fia. ‘Don’t let him bully you. Stand up to him; it’s the only way to handle Santo, especially when he does his threatening act. I used to see you sometimes on the beach but you’ve obviously forgotten me.’
No, she hadn’t forgotten. She just hadn’t recognised the other woman and now she didn’t know what to say. How much did Daniela know? What exactly had he told his family?
It should have been a horribly awkward moment but Dani clearly didn’t tolerate ‘awkward’ in her life. She said something in Italian to her little girl, who eyed up Luca, clearly decided he looked like someone she could play with and promptly dragged him off towards Santo’s living room, leaving the adults alone.
‘There. See? They’re friends already.’ Oblivious to her brother’s glowering disapproval, Dani followed them out of the room. ‘I’ll watch them. There is nothing you can teach me about intercepting toddler trouble.’ At the doorway of the kitchen, she glanced over her shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you two to discuss wedding details. And Santo, it doesn’t matter how rushed a wedding is, a woman still needs to look her best so you’d better take Fia shopping. Or, better still, give me your card and I’ll take her shopping because we all know you hate it.’
Santo’s expression went from irritated to dangerous. ‘Your help with Luca is welcomed. Your interference in any other aspect of my life is not.’
‘Just because you’ve done all this in the wrong order is no reason not to make it romantic,’ Dani said tartly. ‘A woman wants romance on her wedding day. Remember that.’
She vanished to supervise the children, leaving Fia with her face burning.
Romance?
Whatever was between them, it certainly wasn’t romance. What was romantic about a man being forced to marry a woman he didn’t even like?
Santo drained his coffee cup and thumped it down on the table. ‘I apologise for my sister,’ he breathed. ‘She still hasn’t learned the meaning of the word “boundary”. But if she will take Luca for us today, it will make everything a lot easier.’
Nothing, absolutely nothing, would make this situation easier.
The tension between them was like a dark storm brewing in the room. She couldn’t imagine ever being able to relax with him. She was wound so tight that every reaction and response was exaggerated. Her senses were heightened so that the slightest glance was all it took to set her heart pounding.
The look he sent her told her that he felt it too. ‘It is good that she has taken Luca because we need to talk. Properly.’
Fia thought about Luca being hugged and kissed by his father.
Santo clearly interpreted her silence as refusal. ‘You can throw as many obstacles as you like between us,’ he said softly, ‘and I will smash through all of them. Be sure of that. You can say no a thousand different ways and I will find a thousand different ways to tell you why you’re wrong.’
‘I’m not saying no.’
‘Scusi?’
‘I’m agreeing with you. You said that you thought marriage was the best thing for Luca, and I’m agreeing with you.’ Her voice wasn’t entirely steady. ‘Last night I was sure that marriage wasn’t in Luca’s best interests but this morning … well, I saw the two of you together and … and, yes, I think it would be the right thing for Luca.’ Oh, God, she’d said it. What if she were wrong?
Silence pulsed.
‘So you’re doing this because you think it’s the right thing “for Luca”?’
‘Of course. What else?’
He strode across the kitchen towards her.
Fia forced herself to stand still, expecting him to stop, but he didn’t stop until he had her with her back against the wall and nowhere to go.
Jaw tight, he slammed a hand either side of her to block her escape. She was boxed in by rock-hard muscle and testosterone and because she didn’t want to look at him, she looked at his bare chest and that was a mistake too because everything about him made her think of that night. She didn’t need a close-up of his physique to know how strong he was. She’d felt that strength. Why the hell hadn’t he pulled on a shirt? The world around her seemed to fade. She forgot she was in his kitchen. She forgot about her grandfather in the hospital and the cheerful sounds of her child playing in the next room. She forgot everything.
Her world became this man.
‘Look at me.’ His thickened command told her that if she didn’t, he’d make her and so she lifted her gaze and the look they shared unlocked something dark she’d buried deep inside herself. Something she hadn’t dared examine because she was so afraid of it.
The way she felt about him.
Breathing shallow, she stared into those burnished dark eyes that changed colour according to his mood.
‘This is not just about Luca and I need you to acknowledge that because I don’t want some martyr in my bed.’ He lowered his head, his mouth as close to hers as it was possible to be and yet not touch her. He spoke so softly that he couldn’t possibly be overheard and yet each word was delivered with such force and power that she knew they’d be forever embedded in her memory. ‘If we do this, then we do it properly.’
If she licked her lips now, she’d touch him. If she made that single move she’d be kissing him. And she knew how that would feel. Knew how he’d feel. Even after more than three years, she’d never forgotten it. ‘Yes. We do it properly. We … get to know each other.’
‘I already know a lot about you—’ That wicked, sensual mouth held hers hostage. ‘I may not know how you like your coffee, but I know other things about you. Want me to remind you?’
‘No.’ She didn’t need reminding. She’d forgotten nothing. Not the way he tasted nor the way he touched her. And now those memories were unlocked and she could feel herself melting—feel the heat of her own arousal spread through her body and the hard pressure of his.
His hand came up to cup her face, those same fingers that knew how to drive her wild, now firm and determined as they forced her to look at him. ‘Sure? Because if this is going to work for Luca, it has to work for