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Richard looked at her for a moment and then told her softly, ‘You don’t have to do that, you know. You’ve already made more than enough sacrifices for me … for us over the years …’
‘It isn’t a sacrifice,’ Elizabeth told him. ‘You’re my husband, Richard. I want to be with you … And I want to work as well, and in my world—a woman’s world—there’s room for both.’
‘Mmm … seems like a very good world to live in to me … a very good world indeed,’ Richard told her as he reached for her hand.
* * * * *
Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Michelle Smart’s next book,
CLAIMING HIS ONE-NIGHT BABY
The second book in her Bound to a Billionaire trilogy!
Natasha Pellegrini and Matteo Manaserro’s potently charged reunion leads to one night of explosive passion. When Matteo discovers Natasha’s pregnancy, he’s intent on claiming his baby. Except he hasn’t bargained on their insatiable chemistry binding them together so completely!
Keep reading to get a glimpse of
CLAIMING HIS ONE-NIGHT BABY
CHAPTER ONE
JAW CLENCHED, HIS heart pounding an irregular beat in his chest, Matteo Manaserro watched the coffin being lowered into the consecrated ground of Castello Miniato’s private cemetery.
Surrounding the open earth stood hundreds of Pieta Pellegrini’s loved ones, friends, family, colleagues, even some heads of state, with their security details standing back at a discreet distance, all there to say a final goodbye to a man who had been respected the world over for his philanthropic endeavours.
Vanessa Pellegrini, Pieta’s mother, who had buried her husband Fabio in the adjoining plot only a year ago, stepped forward, supported by her daughter Francesca. Both women clutched red roses. Francesca turned around to extend a hand to Natasha, Pieta’s widow, who was staring blankly at the wooden box like an ashen-faced statue. The breeze that had filled the early autumn air had dropped, magnifying the statue effect. Not a single strand of her tumbling honey-blonde hair moved.
She lifted her dry eyes and blinked, the motion seeming to clear her thoughts as she grabbed Francesca’s hand and joined the sobbing women.
Together, the three Pellegrini women threw their roses onto the coffin.
Matteo forced stale air from his lungs and focused his attention anywhere but on the widow.
This was a day to say goodbye, to mourn and then celebrate a man who deserved to be mourned and celebrated. This was not a day to stare at the widow and think how beautiful she looked even in grief. Or think how badly he wanted to take hold of her shoulders and…
Daniele, Pieta’s brother, shifted beside him. It was their turn.
Goodbye, Pieta, my cousin, my friend. Thank you for everything. I will miss you.
Once the immediate family—in which Matteo was included—had thrown their roses on the coffin, it was time for the other mourners to follow suit.
Striving to keep his features neutral, he watched his parents step forward to pay their last respects to their nephew. They didn’t look at him, their son, but he knew his father sensed him watching.
Matteo hadn’t exchanged a word with them since he’d legally changed his surname five years ago in the weeks that had followed the death of his own brother.
So much death.
So many funerals.
So much grief.
Too much pain.
When the burial was over and the priest led the mourners into the castello for the wake, Matteo hung back to visit a grave on the next row.
The marble headstone had a simple etching.
Roberto Pellegrini
