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‘You find all of this funny, do you?’
A layer of humour left his face. ‘I’m attempting to repair the damage done to you by giving you back everything you lost with all its advantages, and more. I suggest you stop fighting me on every angle before I withdraw the offer.’
She lifted her chin, snatching in short breaths so she wouldn’t breathe in his intoxicating scent. ‘You’ve listed what you think I want but have you stopped to ask yourself whether you want this? You’ve known Gianni for a mere twenty-four hours. How do I know you won’t get bored a month from now?’
Affront, and some dark, anguished shadow she couldn’t quite name, drenched his features. ‘Because he’s not some accessory I intend to toy with and toss away when the novelty wears off. Make no mistake, Mia. I want my
son. And I mean full access. I want him embraced by his family, in Italy, where he belongs. For my grandmother not to fret over it and further damage her health. What I want is for those things to happen immediately and to stay that way for as long as possible until I deem it otherwise.’
She tilted her head, attempting to emulate his earlier humour. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer the ankle monitor? Because that sounds suspiciously like a prison sentence to me.’
He didn’t return her amusement. ‘Hardly, cara. I’m offering you everything you claimed you wanted when we were together three years ago. All I need from you is your agreement to live under my roof.’
‘Live under your roof?’ she echoed.
He stepped closer, until every corner of her vision was filled with him, her every sense infused with that illicit thrill he never failed to evoke in her, even when she knew deep in her bones that this kind of exposure was detrimental to her sanity. ‘Not just live under my roof, cara. You will do all the above, after you take my name. In short, Mia, I want you to marry me. Accept my marriage proposal or there is no deal.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
ROCCO WASN’T SURE whether to be insulted or amused when a look of horror chased across her face.
‘You want me to...to marry you?’
‘Sì.’
She grew paler, and the last trace of amusement departed.
Watching closely, he could’ve sworn she swayed beneath the heavy demand of his words. For a single, unbridled moment, Rocco wanted her to exhibit more emotion, perhaps something resembling the naked rapture that’d accompanied her ecstatic yes when he’d asked this very same question three years ago. Even the somewhat unnerving happy tears he’d dabbed away then, he would’ve tolerated now.
Anything but the pale apprehension she was showing so far.
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Which part of it do you disagree with, considering it was what you agreed to three years ago, minus the blessing of our son, of course?’
‘Oh, but you forget, I wasn’t in the position where I knew your true colours, was I? That enlightening moment came later. Thankfully before I made the mistake you’re suggesting I make again.’
A hard stone settled in his stomach. ‘You believe marriage to me would’ve been a mistake?’
‘When you’re so quick to believe the worst about me? Yes!’
He dragged in a slow breath, attempting to calm the frenzied emotion that threatened to spin out of control whenever he was within arm’s reach of this woman. ‘Let’s spell things out between us, then, so there’s no misunderstanding this time around. This isn’t a love match or some lofty declaration of devotion. This is simply a transaction. You regain your position in my company. I get my son under my roof and my grandmother’s health and well-being ensured.’
‘And if I say no?’
‘What is so wrong with attempting to strive for better where our son is concerned, Mia?’
‘I... What?’
‘Trust your instincts. Do you believe Gianni will come to any harm by being under my care?’
Her lashes swept down, veiling her expression from him. He shoved his hands in his pockets to prevent him from cupping her chin, tilting her gaze to his so he could read what she was hiding from him. ‘No,’ she murmured after an eternity.
His breath expelled in relief. ‘Then, is what I’m proposing so bad?’ he attempted to reason, although a very primitive, very masculine part of him simply wanted to throw her over his shoulder, find a dark cave to seal them both in to hash this out.
He clenched his gut against the sensation. It wasn’t one he particularly liked about himself but...hadn’t he experienced this...primitive possessiveness with Mia from the very time he’d spotted her? This need for exclusivity with her where he’d neither cared nor accommodated that in any of his previous liaisons?
‘Mia?’ His voice was hoarser, sharper than he’d intended.
