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‘Nonna tells me you’re struggling on where to settle on for our honeymoon.’
‘I thought it better to appear indecisive than to burst her bubble by telling her we weren’t going on honeymoon.’
A wicked smile curved the lips she could still taste on hers, causing her fist to spasm harder. ‘Oh, but we’ve come this far, amante. We can’t turn back now.’
Her heart did that crazy cartwheel again. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means, as of two days ago, I’ve officially signed on to build a performing arts centre in Macau. You’ll accompany me when I visit the site. Nonna can be rest assured our marriage is off to a great start while she babysits Gianni. And you can dip your toes back into your precious career.’
‘You expect me to leave Gianni behind?’ she asked in surprise.
‘We’ll only be gone a few days. Besides, I don’t think Gianni and Nonna are ready to be parted from one another so soon.’
It was true that her son and his great-grandmother had fallen head over heels for one another. But Mia had never been parted from him. ‘I thought the whole idea behind this was so you would also get to know him, not swan off at the first opportunity?’
His face tightened. ‘Like most working parents I accept it’s impossible to spend every waking moment with my child. How were you proposing to accomplish work and motherhood?’
She opened her mouth but no words emerged.
He sighed. ‘I don’t intend us to make a habit of it, Mia. And I will miss him too.’
She knew she needed to keep her guard up, but his words weirdly appeased her. She locked eyes with him for several heartbeats before she nodded. But when he reached out for her, she startled. His jaw clenched.
‘We’ve arrived back home, tesoro. And we have a considerable audience watching our every move, so I suggest you put your game face back on.’
Her game face stayed all throughout the small but elaborate reception in the villa’s lavish gold-themed ballroom—because Vitellis didn’t do things by half measures. Through a stream of cousins, uncles and aunts whose names all blended into one after the first dozen. Through a first dance with Rocco while a renowned concert pianist serenaded them, when he held her far too close, murmured thickly, ‘I think it would remiss of me not to mention you look breathtaking, mia moglie,’ then delivered that wicked smile telling her he knew his effect on her. Through another dance where Gianni joined them, held between them as they swayed on the dance floor and Mia fought a different emotion, one that threatened to rip her heart in two because of secret yearnings she could never reveal. A yearning for these circumstances to be different. For them to be enjoying their son as a true married couple, with no signed agreements or restraints or bartering between them.
A dream that was destined to be unfulfilled.
‘Mummy, Papà, dance!’ Gianni cried.
Mia realised she’d stopped moving. As had Rocco. That they were locked in place staring at one another, with their guests looking on. She blinked, hastily erasing whatever emotion was laid bare on her face before she gave herself away. Then spent what was left of the reception wondering what Rocco had seen to make that contemplative gleam in his eyes flare for a pulse-racing, untamed second.
A handful of hours later, she drew in another half-breath, this one of relief as she bent over Gianni’s bed to brush a goodnight kiss on his cheek.
‘Bella, Mummy,’ he murmured sleepily, stroking a chubby hand over the lace sleeve of her wedding dress.
For some reason, the words brought a tear to her eye. Or perhaps it was hearing him utter the Italian word. It wasn’t his first. All week, he’d been repeating words Rocco had taught him. ‘Thank you, my darling.’
‘I see you’re relentless with that charm offensive, mio figlio,’ Rocco’s deep voice murmured amusedly as he appeared beside her. ‘But it’s time to sleep now. Dormi bene, caro.’ He leaned down and dropped a kiss on his son’s head.
Another tear rose in Mia’s eyes. She stepped back, blinking them away. Then she hurried from the room.
A few yards from her suite, she heard Rocco’s footsteps behind her. She quickened her strides, eager to flee from him and from the cornucopia of sensation cascading through her.
Of course, he wasn’t going to let her get away that easily. He’d sensed weakness in that moment on the dance floor. And, like a typical alpha warrior, was out to capitalise on it.
She threw open the doors to her bedroom, then turned, forced herself to stand her ground when all she wanted to do was back away, flee from that ferocious intent in his eyes. ‘Did you want something?’
He smiled, lazily reached for his tie and tugged it off. He was the epitome of virile masculinity and suave assurance, and her already shortened breath strangled to nothing. ‘I want a great many things, tesoro mio, but I suspect you might be more in need than I.’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.’
He sauntered towards her, slowly winding the tie around his fingers before slipping it into his pocket. Then he nudged his chin at her dress. ‘Your stylists helped you into that sensational contraption but I’m wondering how you intend to get yourself out of it,’ he drawled.
Mia bit her inner lip. The corset was knotted in a profusion of ribbons at the back. It would take a contortionist act to free herself from it without help. But she didn’t need the kind of help her husband was offering. Not when she didn’t trust him. Or herself.
Rocco stopped in front of her. ‘No need for such turmoil, Mia. All I’m offering is my assistance.’
