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‘So have you changed your mind about marriage?’ she asked, taken aback.
‘Not about marriage as an institution, no, but about being married, yes.’
‘Is there a difference?’
‘I think iftrue love,’he drawled contemptuously, ‘reallyexisted, then marriage would be redundant. Two people wouldn’t need a legal framework to trap them together.’
‘Trap...?’
‘Oh, I know divorce is relatively simple nowadays, but so many hang on in there when it’s obvious it’s beyond hope of saving. Marriage is just a contract, not some sort of magical spell that grants eternal happiness and joy. If it’s drawn up with both parties’ interests in mind, the duration of the contract is flexible and there are no unreasonable expectations like monogamy, then I see no reason why it couldn’t be successful.’
‘Successful maybe, but it’s not really marriage, is it?’ This cold-blooded description horrified her.
‘An open marriage.’
‘So not really marriage at all, then! Because marriage is about faith, trust...’ She couldn’t bring herself to sayloveor even think the word while she was in the same room as Samuele.
‘Marriage in this case is about securing the future security and happiness of my brother’s child.’
‘Of course, but—’ Her thoughts skidded to an abrupt stop and she had to try and conceal a gasp of shock. She had been hanging onto a rock wall of denial by her fingernails for weeks and she’d finally lost her grip.
Not being able to say the word in a man’s presence wasn’t exactly one of the most recognised symptoms of being in love, but, nevertheless, she was.
She had fallen in love with a man who was capable of giving his love and loyalty to a child that carried the bloodline he was so proud of, and to the land that was his heritage. A man who thought marriagemightwork, but only if you took love out of the equation. There was no room in his life for a woman, no room for her.
She wasn’t sure if it was a bitter laugh or a despairing sob that was locked in her throat, but it hurt as she remembered that she’d always believednotfalling in love with the wrong man was a matter of choice. She marvelled now at her own arrogance and was suddenly deeply fearful for her future.
‘So you see that I didn’t ask you here to talk about nannies, because I am very much hoping that there will be no need for one.’
She had started shaking her head. ‘You want me to stay on here until you’ve found a suitable wife?’
‘I want you to stay on here—but as my wife.’
He watched her drop down into the chair she had recently vacated. Luckily it was still there, though he doubted she would have noticed if she’d landed on the floor.
‘That isinsane!’ Her laugh was edged with hysteria. ‘The only thing we have in common is Mattio.’
‘Isn’t that enough?’ His shoulders lifted as his dark eyes moved over her face, lingering on the plump curve of her lips. ‘But actually it’s not true. We also have a similar sexual appetite, don’t we? What we have, between us—that kind of chemistry is rare,cara, and exceptional sex is even rarer.’ Two years of enjoying the pleasures of Maya’s body and exhausting his hunger for her would surely compensate for any temporary loss of freedom.
Breathing hard by the time he finished speaking, Maya shook her head in an effort to free her mind from the spell of his smoky voice and the erotic images his words had evoked.
‘Yes, wedohave Mattio.’ His delivery was now flat and cool. ‘And he deserves the very best. You are the best for him, and there is the blood connection between you, which, given the circumstances, could be a significant factor.’ He paused, his crazily long lashes veiling his eyes momentarily.
‘I know he’s the last bit of your brother you have left and the heir to—’
‘He is the heir to the Agosti name,’ Samuele cut in. ‘And the responsibility that goes with it. But he is not Cristiano’s child.’
The blood left her face and her heart went into high gear. She could hardly hear past the dull thud in her own chest; whatever she had expected to hear, this was definitely not it. ‘What are you saying?’ she whispered, her eyes trained on his face.
‘That, unlike you, I have no blood connection with Mattio,’ he said roughly, in a voice that cracked with the effort to keep it free of emotion.
‘This is the thing that Violetta is blackmailing you about.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s her trump card.’
‘How long have you known?’
‘Cristiano told me before he died, when he asked me to keep Mattio safe, to take care of him.’
