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More than discovering how much he’d missed the physical aspect of his relationship with Mia was the reminder of how much he’d missed her brilliant mind and her ability to see his work in a new light. Within three short days, she’d impressed his clients and team, both effusive with the compliments of her.
Far from having grown rusty, she’d delved back into a career that should never have been disrupted with an enthusiasm Rocco was nowhere near ready to lose.
‘All I want is for my name to be cleared so I can get on with my life.’
Her words echoed in his head but he ruthlessly dismissed them.
He couldn’t let that happen. Perhaps he was being underhanded and would pay when the time came, but that was a problem for another day. Hopefully a day when he’d reinforced the foundation beneath his feet with time and the promise of...
Of what?
A better future?
Why not?
His son was happy. Nonna was happy.
And he...was he happy?
Rocco couldn’t deny that he derived a wealth of satisfaction from having Mia back in his life and in his bed. So...sì, perhaps he was happy. Thanks to his parents, he only had a barometer of what dysfunction looked like. Only time would tell how it all shaped up and, accidenti, he was going to take that time.
He crossed the living room to the liquor cabinet, and, despite it being the early hours of the morning, poured a cognac before returning to the bedroom. He slid in beside his wife, gratified when she rolled over and slipped effortlessly into his arms.
This was where she belonged.
This was where he would keep her. And when the time was right, he would come clean.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MIA STARED AROUND HER, the overload of glitz and glamour triggering a mild headache.
Monaco during Formula One weekend wasn’t the arena for the faint-hearted. The billionaires per square metre was eye-watering. And with her husband easily part of the exalted club, the level of sycophancy was almost nauseating.
Of course she would endure it all, and more, to keep basking in the smile that was plastered on Gianni’s face.
Her son had been beside himself when his father had announced at the breakfast table that, as part of his—week-long and counting—birthday celebrations, he’d been granted VIP status to the renowned Paddock Club in Monte Carlo.
But then in the months since his father entered his life, Gianni had been beside himself with joy on most days. True to his vow to be a different father than his parents had been to him, Rocco showered his son with his attention, their mutual love of fast cars only cementing their strong bond.
‘Papà, look!’ Gianni pointed to another sports car from his perch on his father’s shoulders, his eyes goggling in his chubby face.
‘I see, mio figlio, I see,’ Rocco responded with a grin, slanting a smile at Mia that, right on cue, set off fireworks in her belly.
She’d believed that the time before Rocco had cut her off from his life three years ago had been
the most sublime of her life. She’d been wrong.
On the morning of their departure from Macau, she’d woken to a seemingly changed man. In all the right ways. Power and prestige had been a given in a life with Rocco. But the attention he’d showered on her and Gianni, the steps he’d taken to ensure her transition back into Vitelli Construction and the corner office that had come with her return to work had been mind-boggling. She’d quickly returned to being a valued member of his team. And best of all, oversea trips without Gianni had become a thing of the past.
To say her life had done a complete one-eighty was an understatement.
The only fly in her ointment was the delay in figuring out just who had tanked her life three years ago. And, for a man who demanded answers in every corner of his life, Rocco’s seemingly relaxed stance in getting to the bottom of it didn’t sit well with her.
Although...could she really blame him? Would she be in a hurry to discover if her own flesh and blood had betrayed him the way she still suspected Alessandro had if she were in Rocco’s shoes?
Most likely not.
Nevertheless, the need for closure had been eating at her the last few weeks. Their conversation on the plane to Macau replayed frequently in her head. As much as she wanted him to believe her, Rocco had stated plainly that he wouldn’t do so without solid evidence.
