.
A less vigorous nod.
‘What about your daddy? Is he sharing it too?’ Having checked the room and suite allocation, he already knew the answer to this, but he wanted to see Finn’s reaction to the word ‘daddy’. Dante had been uncharacteristically evasive on the subject of Finn’s parentage when he’d tried to quiz him a short while ago. Tonino understood. Orla was Dante’s newfound sister. He had a sister himself. Blood protected blood. It had been Aislin’s reaction to his questions that had been the biggest giveaway. She’d reminded him of a cornered rabbit.
The blank stare returned.
A little voice piped up, the Irish brogue strong. ‘Finn doesn’t have a daddy.’
Tonino raised his head to look at Orla. She was clasping the handles of the wheelchair so tightly her knuckles had whitened.
The expression on her face along with the child’s unwitting answer was all the confirmation he needed.
Her green eyes held his, wide and pleading, before she gave a slight shake of her head and mouthed, Later. Please, and expertly pushed the wheelchair around him and aimed it towards the ballroom at a speed that would suggest she was being chased by a pack of rabid dogs.
Suddenly feeling in need of a large drink, he let her go.
The ballroom had been transformed into an even glitzier spectacle by the time Orla hurried through its doors. The main lights had dimmed so the only illumination came from the glittering chandeliers. The DJ had started playing music but the dance floor was empty.
The fear gripping her heart tightened when she saw her sister’s face.
‘Tonino Valente was asking questions about Finn’s father,’ Aislin whispered when she reached her.
Terrified she was going to cry, Orla blinked frantically.
Sympathy and understanding washed over her sister’s face. ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’
All she could do was nod.
‘He knows?’
Pulling her lips in tightly, she nodded again. Tonino had taken one look at Finn and recognised him as his own.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’ For three years she’d waited for the memories to return, assuming that, once she had them back, she would enlist her sister’s help and set off to find Finn’s father. She would have had time to prepare herself.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined a scenario like this.
Behind Aislin, Dante approached them.
His presence brought some much-needed sanity to Orla’s frazzled nerves.
Whatever happened, she mustn’t lose sight that this was their big day. If Aislin so much as suspected the fear in Orla’s heart then everything would be ruined. She wouldn’t hesitate to cancel the party or the honeymoon.
Flinging her arms around her, Orla held her sister tightly. ‘I need to settle my nerves but I’m going to be fine. I promise. Now stop worrying about me and enjoy your party.’
On cue, the DJ called for the bride and groom to take to the dance floor.
‘Go,’ Orla urged, kissing Aislin’s cheek. She was rewarded with a kiss in return.
While Dante led Aislin onto the dance floor, Orla took Finn out of his wheelchair and put him in his walker, a wonderful device Dante had bought for him that kept him secure and allowed him to use his legs to get himself about. She had to be careful with the amount of time he used it as he tired easily, but she knew he would want to get on the dance floor with the other children.
As soon as he was in it he started bouncing with glee. His ‘girlfriend’ the bridesmaid shot over to admire him in it.
Orla went with them to the edge of the dance floor with the other guests.
Tears she’d been holding back filled her eyes again to see the love shining between the two people she loved so much. She didn’t need to pray for their love to be eternal. Aislin and Dante were made for each other.
As the dance came to an end an arm brushed against hers. Her skin tingled.
A spicy scent filled her nostrils. Her pulses surged. Her lungs tightened. A memory of pressing her nose into a strong neck and inhaling this scent flashed through her.
‘I give them six months.’
She didn’t dare look at him. Somehow she managed to croak, ‘What?’
‘Their marriage. If Aislin has your blood in her veins then it won’t be long before her mask slips and Dante realises that beneath the pretty surface lies a black, deceitful heart.’ A huge hand closed on her wrist. ‘Dance with me.’
She thought her knees were about to collapse beneath her.
‘Dance with me or I make a scene. Do you want to be responsible for ruining your brother and sister’s special day?’
He gave her no further chance to answer. Before she knew it, Orla was being smoothly manhandled onto the dance floor and pulled against the hulking body of the only man she’d ever been intimate with.
DANCING WITH ORLA was like dancing with a lump of aged clay. Her arms hung limply by her sides; her movements stiff and resistant.
Taking her hands firmly and placing them on his waist, Tonino dipped his head to whisper into her ear. ‘Were you ever going to tell me?’
Somehow she managed to stiffen even further.
A loose strand of her hair brushed against his nose and suddenly he became aware of his sinews tightening and his veins thickening as her scent worked its magic in his senses.
Her magic had once thrilled him. Initially shy, she’d soon revealed herself to be sweet and funny, a woman who wore her intelligence lightly, unaware of her inherent sensual nature until he’d brought it out of her. That was what had made her abrupt disappearance so hard to comprehend. He could have understood if she’d been prickly and had the bitchy streak so many of the women in his world wore like a badge of honour, but she’d been nothing like them.
He could never have imagined she would turn out to be worse than all of them put together.
Disgust that he could still feel such a visceral response to her had him stepping back so their bodies no longer touched.
‘Orla, you have hidden my son from me for three years,’ he said tightly, loathing that he could feel anything other than loathing for this treacherous woman. ‘If you want me to keep hold of my temper and not make a scene, I suggest you answer my question. Were you ever going to tell me I have a child?’
A contortion of emotions crashed over her face. Frightened green eyes flickered. Soft, plump lips tightened.
Tonino’s self-loathing increased at the vivid remembrance of how good it had felt to have those soft lips crushed against his.
Never had he hated anyone as much as he hated Orla right then. That he could still desire her after everything she’d done stretched credulity to a whole new dimension.
He spun her round in his arms so she faced the socialising guests rather than the DJ. Ignoring the malevolent stares being thrown his way by Sophia and the rest of the Messinas, he said, ‘You see the table I was on?’
She gave a tiny nod.
‘That is my family. They have spent the day celebrating your brother and sister’s