The Italians: Franco, Dominic and Valentino: The Man Who Risked It All / The Moretti Arrangement / Valentino's Pregnancy Bombshell. Michelle Reid
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able to convince him to bypass his apartment here in Livorno and go directly to Monfalcone, where Pietro and Zeta will be on hand to help you with his convalescence.’
He was referring to the private estate just outside Livorno, where she’d stayed during her mess of a brief marriage. Monfalcone was a beautiful castello built of golden stone that had mellowed over centuries. It was also the place where she and Franco had been married. A day she would much rather not think back on, because her welcome from the rest of the Tolle family had been so disapproving. In a cold fury Franco had whipped them away from there before the first waltz had been announced and taken her to his apartment in the city for a week. Continuing hostilities between the two of them had prompted a return to Monfalcone, because the castello was big enough for the two of them to avoid each other for most of the time.
‘He will not go to Monfalcone without you,’ Salvatore imparted flatly. ‘He is determined to follow you to London if you decide not to stay here. I do not pretend to understand this fixation he has developed about your marriage, but I do know that it is paramount in his thoughts.’
Guilt, Lexi wanted to say—but didn’t. She’d been thinking about it since she’d left the hospital, and she’d decided that his guilt over Marco’s death had stirred up guilty feelings over the way he’d behaved during their short time together as a married couple—though she was not so self-pitying as to think that she had treated him any better than he had treated her.
Every time she’d looked at him she’d seen the lazily complacent smile on his handsome tanned face when he’d accepted his winnings from that rotten bet. Every time he’d made an attempt to mend fences between them, she’d struck out at him like a whip. When he stalked out of the castello and hadn’t come back for two whole weeks she’d been heartily glad to see the back of him. She’d worn her disillusionment and bitterness like a suit of armour that contained the aching throb of raw, broken-hearted hurt, and she’d hugged it to her for long, lonely months until …
‘Am I asking too much of you?’
Without knowing she’d sat down again, Lexi blinked her eyes and realised she been lost in her own thoughts for too long. Looking up at her father-in-law, she saw an expression she never would have expected to see score Salvatore’s coldly impassive features. It hinted strongly at despair.
He didn’t know what he was going to do if she refused to stay with Franco. Salvatore had a large multinational ship building company to run, whether or not he wanted to go and do it right now.
‘I will stay,’ she said, and smiled a crooked smile when she counted how many times she’d used those words recently.
LEXI pulled to a stop in the doorway. The monitors had gone, and plump snowy-white pillows now lay stacked on the bed, but there was no Franco resting against them. Swivelling around, she found him seated in a comfortable chair by the window, with a rolling table lowered so it skimmed across his legs, a laptop computer standing open on its top.
‘Oh, you’re out of bed!’ Lexi exclaimed brightly. ‘That’s great.’
‘I am not a kid. Don’t talk to me as if I am,’ Franco responded, with enough sizzling antagonism to put Lexi on her guard as she stepped further into the room so she could close the door behind her. ‘You are late. Where have you been?’
‘Sorry, I had some stuff to do.’ Dumping her collection of bags down against the wall, she walked over to him. ‘When did they let you get up?’
‘They didn’t let me do anything. I got up.’
‘Was that wise?’
‘I’m still breathing.’
Lexi almost responded with something very sarcastic, then thought better of it and removed her jacket instead. Moving to drape it over a chair, she looked at him again. He was wearing a white bathrobe and nothing else as far she could tell. His hair wore a damp sheen to it, and yesterday’s rakish five o’clock shadow had disappeared. So, thankfully, had the sickly pallor from his face. His eyes were veiled, because he was concentrating on the computer screen, and his lips were flattened tight. For Lexi, his manner was a good reminder of what it felt like when Franco turned on his cold side. Words became lethal weapons.
‘Well, at least you smell nice anyway,’ she murmured idly, determined not to rise to his provoking bait.
A hint of a flash speared out from behind his eyelashes. With the use of only one hand—the strapping around his right shoulder impeded the other—he continued to tap away on the keyboard with a five fingered efficiency that was impressive.
‘You left the hotel by taxi at nine o’clock this morning. That was three hours ago. Have you forgotten how to wear a skirt?’
Blinking her eyes at that blunt-ended bombardment, Lexi glanced down at her legs, still encased in stretchy black fabric, and her ankle boots—which were making her feet ache because she’d done too much walking in them and it was too hot outside for boots.
‘What kind of skirt would you like me to wear?’ she questioned innocently. ‘Short and tight? Flared and flirty? Long and floaty?’ Strolling back to her bags, she picked them up and hauled them over to the window to dump them down beside his chair, then dropped down into a squat. ‘I’ve bought all three, just in case you have a preference, plus a couple of dresses—mainly because I fell in love with them. Two nighties, some underwear …’ As she listed her purchases Lexi scooped the items out of their bags and dropped them on top of his laptop without a single care as to whether she was messing up his five fingered prose. ‘It really shocked me what I’d thrown in my case in London because I was in a hurry. I mean, what can a girl do with one pair of jeans, no spare tops, no fresh underwear and no shoes?’
He caught the shoes before they landed, his long fingers closing around the pair of strappy flats.
‘Oh, and these.’ Dipping into a bag, she came out with a clutch of cosmetics and a hairbrush.
‘Don’t,’ he warned softly, when she went to drop them onto his laptop too.
‘OK, so you’re not impressed with girly necessities. How about this, then … ?’ Her next dip produced a stuffed pearl-grey floppy-eared rabbit, which she ever so gently laid against his chest. ‘Present for you,’ she told him sweetly.
Still squatting there, she watched his lean, hard and handsome face as he stared down at the furry rabbit. A tingling sensation caught hold of her solar plexus as she watched the tension relax from his lips so they could shift into a reluctant smile, and at last he looked at her. What she saw glinting in his eyes made her so glad she’d taken the flippancy route.
‘I thought you’d done another runner,’ he admitted.
It took Lexi a second or two to work out why he’d said another runner—until she remembered how she’d run back to England three years ago. No note, not even a spitting I hate you note. She’d just walked out of this very hospital, climbed into a taxi, and left.
‘Nope.’ Still she kept it light. ‘I went shopping.’ She waved a hand at the rabbit. ‘Well, at least say hello to him.’
Silently he passed her back the shoes, then picked the rabbit off his chest and looked at it. ‘He’s wearing a pink bow round his neck.’
‘They didn’t have a blue one.’
‘Does he have a name?’
‘Yes. William,’ she announced decisively. ‘William Wabbit—because the young man that served me couldn’t sound his “r” and his wabbit sounded kind of cute.’
‘Rabbit in Italian is coniglio.’
‘Ah, yes, but the guy was trying out his best English to impress me,’ Lexi explained.