Married For The Italian's Heir. Rachael Thomas
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should impose the same on you, but I doubt a man like you can be exclusive to any woman.’
* * *
Dante didn’t miss the crisp tartness in her voice. The subject was something he’d already given thought to on the drive to his apartment. He would have to be faithful to his new fiancée and, given that his body still heated at the memory of hers, it wouldn’t be a challenge. The biggest problem would be to ensure he didn’t repeat what had happened in London. She had made it clear this was to be only a business deal.
If he portrayed himself to the world as a caring and faithful man, in love with the woman who was to be his wife, he would not only clinch the deal he’d almost lost but wipe out the reputation that for years he hadn’t cared about. If he didn’t, the future of The Hope Foundation, the charity he wholeheartedly supported, would hang in the balance.
The three other businessmen who supported the charity were about to do the same. Zayn and Xander had agreed that Benjamin’s suggestion that they settle down was the only way. He’d watched on, uncharacteristically drowning his misgivings in a bottle of whisky, as the ghosts of his past had taunted him that he’d never be able to be responsible for another person without hurting them, forcing them to leave him.
Now he was responsible for a woman who should have been his for just a few hours of mind-blowing sex. Not only that, he was responsible for the child she carried—his child. Could he put himself through that? Could he engage the emotions he’d switched off and risk losing everything again?
‘You will have my full and undivided attention at all times. We are in love, no?’ As he looked down at her that spark of lust, a sexual chemistry too strong to deny, arced between them. He saw her eyes darken, watched her lips part, and his body responded in the only way possible to such a blatant invitation.
‘Nothing can ever happen between us again, Dante.’
Her whisper cracked with desire, and in normal circumstances he would have laughed softly, pulled her against him and kissed her into submission. But these were not normal circumstances. This wasn’t just a meaningless affair that would end as soon as the sun rose the next morning.
‘I have agreed to our terms.’ He unlocked his door and stood back for her to enter, smiling down at her in an attempt to hide the conflicting emotions warring within him. ‘A marriage in name only that will give us both what we want.’
‘More than that, Dante.’
She stood outside, as if crossing the threshold to his home was the last thing she wanted to do. To have her permanently in his life was not what he wanted, but he had his reasons for making this deal. Just as she had hers.
‘It will give our child what it deserves.’
The mention of the baby shocked any response from him and he turned and walked into his apartment—a place he’d never taken a woman before, preferring the anonymity of hotel rooms which he could leave when he was ready.
‘Tomorrow you will sign a contact.’ His irritation at the situation he found himself in sounded in his words—even he could hear that.
Not only was he inviting a woman into his home and his life—permanently—he was giving himself the biggest challenge of all. One he wasn’t sure he could master. He would have to invest himself, his emotions, in a child. How could he do that when the pain of Alessio’s loss, the guilt of his inability to be what someone else needed, still festered in his dormant heart?
‘Until then you will have to trust me when I say that I will be the perfect gentleman, and that you may sleep soundly in my bed.’
‘In your bed?’ The few hesitant steps she’d taken into his domain faltered to a stop.
‘Alone,’ he added.
She really was adamant that they would not be repeating those hot, sultry hours in London. So be it. He didn’t want the added complication of lust becoming more than that.
‘We’ve settled this. As my lover you need to be seen here, at all times of the day and night. What the outside world will never know is that I will sleep there.’
He gestured to the second bedroom, which served as his office. Last night, if one of the other three men had suggested he’d be taking a woman into his life and sleeping in his spare room in order to salvage his reputation and that of his supported charity, he would have laughed.
‘I’m not sure... I’ll find a hotel.’
‘That is not an option any longer, mia cara. You should not have come all this way, imparted such news and then expected me not to put my terms on any arrangement made.’
The late night and early start were finally catching up with him, and all he wanted was to shut the door on the world and relax. But first he had to contact Elizabeth Young and ascertain if her agency offered the services he required. He needed to transform the plain and ordinary woman before him into a fiancée that would bring the gossips to a tongue-tied halt.
‘I can’t take your bed.’
‘Va bene, then I will share it with you if it makes you feel better.’ He stifled a smile at her shock.
‘No,’ she said, and she all but flounced past him into the apartment, her attitude hinting that the woman he’d met in London was still lingering inside her, waiting to be drawn out. If he dared to find her.
‘Then at last we understand one another. I suggest you make yourself at home. I have work to continue with.’
Never had he ever thought he would be inviting a woman into his home, into his life, and telling her to make herself comfortable. The idea was unnerving, but reluctantly he knew it was necessary.
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