Baby By Accident: International Billionaires III: The Italians (19 page)

“I was being stubborn and stupid.” She met his fierce frown with all the sincerity in her soul. “I was driving myself into the ground. That is the only reason why it happened.”

Her hand drifted over him in a soothing gesture. His breath lurched and the heat of his skin suddenly burned. Her gaze followed her movement, watching her fingers weave into the dark curls of his chest hair. She watched as they slipped to his tightening nipples.

“
Mia dolce
.” His deep rasp brought her gaze to meet his. His eyes blazed with fiery need. Still, the guilt lingered. “I can’t—”

“You can.” She leaned over and nipped at his mouth before he could object. “And you will.”

“No.” He twisted from her kiss, grimacing. “I won’t.”

Her fortitude flickered. Never had she thought he’d make it this hard. But how could she possibly walk away now? Grabbing the last shred of courage left in her, she bent farther in and nuzzled his ear. “You want me.”

“
Dio
.” His chest lifted against her breasts. “Definitely.”

Sweet relief poured through her courage, lifting and growing it into a powerful determination. “I want you, too.”

His grip was strong and yet, tender. However, the force with which he pushed her back flung her hair into her eyes. By the time she’d smoothed it away, he had the book on his lap like a shield. A bleak determination shone in his eyes. “I made a promise to myself, to you, and to our son that night in the hospital and I will not break it.”

“I absolve you of the promise.”

“But I do not absolve myself.”

Frustration bubbled. The man was as stubborn as she. A tug of respect slipped around in her. And also a bit of amusement. Here she was, ready to release the old Lise for good, ready to seduce a man for only the second time in her life. Ready to jump all the way in and what did she find? A man determined on keeping her on the pedestal, the pedestal she was determined to climb down from forever. The next move was hers and she wasn’t willing to walk away until she’d won. This time she would win a battle between them and make them both happy.

Her gaze slid down his chest to the book as she tried to decide her next move.

Il Libro di Padri.

Not much knowledge of Italian was needed to translate the title.

“
The Father’s Book
?” She focused on his face. Was it slightly red?

“
Si
.” He shrugged as if it were of no importance.

Her heart melted into a puddle. The last little piece of anger she held against him misted and disintegrated. Love filled the hole inside her she’d held since childhood and healed the wounds he’d inadvertently given her. Because now she knew him. Knew that behind the impetuous, reckless man lay a kind, gentle soul. A man who jumped into situations, true, but only for the love of life, the love itself.

A man who stayed awake at night preparing to be a good father for their son.

He stared back at her, hands tight on the book. “I need you to leave.”

What was she going to do? Jump on him? Force him to make love to her against his will? If it were any other time or any other person, she’d laugh.

Lise moved her hand across her tummy, buying some time, trying to find an answer to her dilemma.

Her son supplied her with one.

The kick was a hard one, the hardest ever. She gasped and pressed her hand on her stomach.

“What?” The book dropped to the floor as he lunged to her side and wrapped her in his warm arms. “What is it? Shall I call a doctor?”

The kicks had been her little secret, one she’d wanted to share with him, except he’d been so distant, so determined not to touch her that she’d balked. But now was the perfect time to share.

“No.” She laughed through another kick. “Give me your hand and I’ll show you.”

His hand was large and broad and hot. It poured warmth into her belly as they waited. Waited for their son.

The next kick was even stronger.

“Ho!” he exclaimed as his hand slid across the small bump the foot made. “Does this happen all the time?”

“Lately, yes.”

Another kick as the father leaned down to kiss his son and her belly.

When he lifted his head, he met her gaze. The gold melted in his eyes, giving the green a gild of glory. Without thinking, without planning, she slanted closer and placed her lips on his. The kiss was mellow at first while his hand drifted across her now-silent belly. Yet when she slipped her tongue along the closed crease of his mouth, he gasped and let her in. The duel of their tongues escalated into a panting need to take and give.

Pushing him down, she rolled her body over his, keeping the kiss going. Her hands pushed the duvet down, all the way down, and then she stroked back up.

He was naked. Completely naked.

How delightful. How provident. How lucky could a girl get?

“Lise,” he groaned. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t think,” she husked on his mouth. “Feel.”

He was hard and hot in her hand. Like heated silk covering stone. Just as before, just as always with this man, the wanton creature lurking inside herself exploded and took control. Rubbing her thumb on the tip of him, she reveled in his cry.

With a sudden twist, he had her on her back as he hovered above her. His face was contorted with need and desire. His big body trembled, the muscles clenching with want. “
Mia dolce.
You destroy me.”

Her busy hands ran across his hot body, tweaking his nipples, sliding across his shuddering chest and stomach. “Vico, have sex with me.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes held lingering doubt.

“Positive.” She pulled him down, loving the weight and heat of him on her breasts and tummy.

“No.” He rolled sideways.

For a moment, she thought she would scream with frustration, but when she turned to give him a piece of her mind she was met with a wicked grin. His arm still lay firmly across her body, pinning her to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I am making love to my wife,” he said simply.

Her breath caught as they stared into each other’s eyes for a long, hushed moment. Then the moment tripped off the stage, swallowed by his kiss.

“This time,” he murmured on her skin, “this time is going to be very slow and very thorough.”

This time we’re going to make love.

The silent words hovered over their bodies as they moved in the ancient dance.

“
H
e must have stolen
dozens of companies like ours in order to afford a place like this.”

Lise tried to focus on the late-October sun as it slanted across her face and shoulders. The warmth made her sleepy and happy. Unlike the voice beside her. The voice that hadn’t stopped complaining and harping for three days.

Her mother’s voice.

“Or he might be in the mafia. It would make sense since he’s a disgusting Italian.” Esther Helton’s irritated tone laced the words with malice. “He’s some kind of thief. I’m sure of it.”

She managed to hide a wry smile by leaning over from the lounge chair she lay on to take a sip of her lemonade. The thought of her sophisticated, intelligent, honorable husband in the mafia; she nearly snorted into her drink.

They’d come out to the terrace to catch the last of the afternoon sun and watch the boats glide across the blue waters of Lake Como. She’d hoped the enchanting view would soothe her mother’s mood. However, no matter what diversion Lise put in front of her, the conversation always came back to the same speculations, putdowns, complaints.

About Vico.

“There really should be some kind of investigation done on him.”

Esther Helton had arrived on the villa’s doorstep unannounced. Possibly she’d had a mother’s intuition that her daughter would have found some excuse to deny the visit. She had come, she announced in her usual stately manner, to check on her baby.

Her baby. Not her daughter’s.

Sliding her hand down her tummy, Lise consoled the child within. Because it was clear from her mother’s actions and words since she arrived that she’d never be a loving grandmother to this baby. Funny, she hadn’t noticed this attitude during the prelude to the wedding. Perhaps it had been the shock of all the changes in her life or the confusion of her emotions or the ever-present sickness that made her too distracted to notice. Maybe it had been because she’d been avoiding her mother and her scolds and rants. Whatever the reason, she’d missed this disgust.

Her mother’s disgust for her grandchild.

The realization had hurt. Still, not as much as she’d thought it would. The distance she’d always felt with her mother finally bore some dividends. The distance protected her from the disgust. She’d merely experienced a mild resignation.

“I will look into it when I get back to England.”

Which Lise fervently hoped would be soon. The hope was disloyal, she knew, yet her mother cast a shadow of anger and pain on her she’d shed during these last two months in Italy.

She wanted the joy back.

She wanted him back.

Though it was lucky he’d left on one of his infrequent business trips right before her mother had arrived. He’d been patient with Esther during the weeks before the wedding. But Lise highly doubted he’d want to share her company for three full days. Or longer.

He was due back tomorrow. She missed him. And as a bonus, maybe his arrival to his home would force her mother to leave for her own.

A girl could hope.

“I am sure there is something sleazy to find with all those businesses he owns.”

There was nothing sleazy about Vico or his business practices. None. During the last month, she’d seen more and more. Plus, he’d confided in her more and more. About this decision, or that decision. About HSF’s future and the future of many of his other businesses. The knowledge he valued her for her mind as well as her body added to the joy swimming inside her.

Did he value her heart too? Her love?

She moved restlessly, trying to ignore the niggling self-criticism lying in the back of her brain. Throughout this month, she’d reveled in the lovemaking, the delight, the happiness. In every area of her life, she’d embraced this new wonderful Lise she’d found with Vico’s help. The Lise who relished the nights in her husband’s bed and delighted in dancing in the moonlight with him as his family chuckled and applauded. The Lise who laughed and joked and dreamed and hoped. The Lise who cherished every look Vico gave her. Looks of tenderness, of contentment, of…

Only in one area of her new life had she still hid.

Hid her love, hid her confession of love.

The hiding wasn’t right. She knew it. He deserved the words. He deserved to know her heart.

He hasn’t admitted anything to you. He hasn’t spoken the words either.

She knew it was childish to think such things. Over and over, she chided herself for clinging to her confession. The new Lise was better than this.

She would tell him. Tell him as soon as he got home this time.

“Can you imagine the scandal that will erupt when one of his business secrets is revealed?” The older woman clucked. “The man breeds scandal wherever he goes.”

Not anymore. Not one tabloid picture in the entire time of their marriage. Pictures of their wedding had been released to the press, but after that, nothing. Without a doubt, they’d been in semi-seclusion, though she had noticed how his security shielded instead of courted tabloid coverage.

No pictures of him with other women.

No photos of him attending parties without her.

No images of the playboy in the tabloids.

No, it appeared Vico was totally satisfied with settling into private married life.

A budding trust had built inside her. A budding hope for something she’d dreamed about forever. The flower of trust and hope bloomed deep within her heart.

The three words she’d hid were definitely going to be said as soon as she set eyes on him.

“However, what can you expect from a man who was raised in such squalor?”

His family had been poor, that was true. Yet pride in their heritage and the love they held for each other told her very clearly Vico had strong roots and traditions that guided him in his life. His enormous drive to succeed came from more than a wish to pull his relatives from poverty. The drive also came from his honor as a man, his belief in himself, his innate skills and intelligence.

“That juvenile delinquent is in him, mark my words.” Her mother huffed. “Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel.”

Apparently, her mother had been doing some Googling and investigating of her own. Lise had run into a story reflecting badly on Vico during her search of his background, too. Some incident involving gangs and death. There hadn’t been much to work with, a few newspaper articles, a few mentions of jail time. Still, her vivid and vicious imagination had filled in the holes just as it appeared her mother’s had, too.

During the last two months, she had made her peace with whatever had happened. Childhood hijinks, not juvenile delinquency. Because the man who was her husband couldn’t have fallen that far from his honorable core.

His family never spoke of it. Neither did Vico.

She had wondered, but hadn’t wanted to poke into old pain. Not in these glorious months of pleasure. She’d wanted to wallow in the acceptance she received from her new family. She wanted to wade in the stream of bliss she experienced every time she saw her husband.

“I don’t understand why you welcome all of them hanging about.” Her mother wagged a finger. “A bunch of parasites, if you ask me.”

She missed them. She missed his momma’s smile and pats. She missed Chi’s laugh. She missed the kids and their shrieks and giggles. She wanted the joy of his relatives around her. The sunny, happy days in the embrace of her new clan.

The family who stayed away while her mother was here.

Esther had made it clear the first night after her arrival what she thought of her daughter's in-laws. The dinner had become uncomfortable within a few short minutes. The gathering had been the last the family had attended with her mother.

“It is good for you to have time alone with your own momma,” Vico’s mother had said, patting Lise’s arm as they watched the cars load with relatives.

“The thought of that mob of his enjoying such a beautiful place is sinful.”

Stifling a sigh, Lise tried to focus on the peaceful burr of the bees instead of the whiny buzz of her mother’s voice. Her mother droned on and on. The sun slipped down the blue sky. The low growl of a boat motor echoed off the lake.

“Taking money from that lout is disgusting.” The older woman’s voice crackled with distaste. “But I did need the second gardener.”

She hummed distractedly. Vico had been generous, more than generous with Taverwood Grange. He seemed to understand his wife’s bittersweet attachment to it and had instigated a variety of needed repairs and improvements that should have sent her mother into giddiness.

Apparently not.

She should tell her mother of her changed feelings. She should start the campaign to change Esther Helton’s opinion of Vico. Except the day was too warm, and she was too sleepy, and all she wanted to do was think about her husband and her baby and be happy. Eventually, she’d have to put her foot down and cut her mother’s tirades off. But not now. Not yet.

The doze crept over her, settling her deeper into the chair.

“Did you hear me, Elizabeth?”

The sharp question jerked her from her snooze. “What?”

“I said, I have this well in hand for you.”

Pushing herself up, she leaned over and sipped on her drink, trying to break free of the remnants of sleep.

“You were absolutely right not to sign a prenuptial agreement with that brute.”

Lise ran a hand through her tousled hair. Amusement at her mother returned. Her mother, who conveniently forgot she held the exact opposite opinion before the wedding. Then, suddenly, the words jarred her. “What are you talking about?”

“The agreement makes it much easier.”

“What’s easier?” Focusing her bleary eyes on her mother’s rigid face, she tried to concentrate.

“Don’t worry.” The older woman leaned closer and smiled a tight, gritted grimace. “I will make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Mother.” She frowned in confusion. “I’m perfectly fine. Vico takes good care—”

“He’s not worthy of my little girl.”

Okay. She’d been putting this confrontation off with her mother. Still, this went too far. “Listen, I think—”

“
Buon pomeriggio
.” The dark-accented words fell from behind them. “
La signora
Helton.
Che sorpresa
.”

The voice plainly conveyed the surprise was not a pleasant one, but Lise wasn’t focusing on that. She jerked her head around and a spontaneous smile bloomed when she spotted her husband. He stood, leaning negligently on the door-frame, his Versace silk suit dark, his white shirt light in contrast to his skin. The red power tie flipped in the breeze, as did his long hair.

Her mother muttered beside her, dire curses and spells in all likelihood.

She didn’t care one iota what Esther Helton was feeling right now.

“Vico!” She wanted to leap from the chair, but her pregnancy made this an impossibility. Finally, she managed to pull herself off the lounge and stumble up the steps to her husband. For a moment, it surprised her he hadn’t helped her as he usually did, but the joy at seeing him filled her to the full, pushing any other considerations out of the way.

“You’re back early.” Flinging herself into his arms, she lifted her face for the inevitable kiss.

The kiss didn’t come.

She opened her eyes and stared into her husband’s gaze. Was it her imagination? Were his eyes rather hard, like brown stones, not a gold glint in sight? She forced another smile. This must be her imagination. They’d separated so sweetly three days ago. “I’m happy to see you.”

At last, his arms went around her and he gave her a dry peck on the cheek.

Anxiety held her in its grip. “Has something happened? Is it business? The family?”

“No.” His gaze was wary as he lifted his head.

Stepping out of his lukewarm welcome, she frowned. “Then what is it?”

Esther Helton’s high heels clattered on the terrace stone. Her voice was acid with distaste and displeasure. “Vico.”

“Mrs. Helton.” His tone was dry.

That was what was wrong. Her mother’s presence. Lise gave him a wry smile before the older woman arrived at her side. Finally, a spark of gold lit his eyes.

She sighed with immediate relief. The only thing she had to do was get her mother out of his hair and everything would go back to the way it should be. Once her mother was gone, and Vico was back to his usual self, then she’d do what she should have done weeks ago.

Confess her love for him. Give him the gift of those three simple words.

Then everything would be completely right forever.

F
or a moment
, on the terrace, breathing had been very difficult.

Vico wrenched his tie off and carelessly tossed it on the carved teak armoire. He glanced into the mirror and stared at his image. His eyes were blank, his mouth sullen. Throughout the interminable dinner he’d managed to put on the charm, still, it had been tough.

Extremely tough. Very difficult.

He’s some kind of thief. I’m sure of it.

Wrenching off his silk shirt, he paced into the bathroom and turned the water to steaming hot. He chucked off his linen pants and stepped beneath the flow. Hands planted on the heated tile, he leaned over, nearly resting his head on the wall.

He took a deep breath in and then, out.

He had no fear of Esther Helton nosing around in his affairs. He had nothing to hide and, eventually, the harridan would be disappointed. The fear building inside him was of an entirely different nature.

The water burned his back, but Vico accepted it. Needed it. Maybe it would melt the ice-cold core inside of him. The core of cold squeezing his beating heart. His breathless lungs. His shivering soul.

Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel
.

Flinging his hair back over his wet shoulders, he thrust his head under the rush of water, trying to wash the accusation away. The steam covered his face and cheeks. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on what was really important.

These were Esther Helton’s words. Not his wife’s.

He sucked in another breath. Let it out.

Lise. Lise of the winsome grin that had greeted him hours ago. Lise of the round, lush figure creating the inevitable stir of lust in his body. Lise of the apparent happiness at his return.