Italian Mavericks: Expecting The Italian's Baby. Andie Brock
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ceremony itself went by in a blur of emotion. She could remember Raoul’s responses, his deep, clear voice, but not her own. Presumably she had made her vows because Raoul was bending his head for the first kiss, brushing his lips across hers and not acting surprised when she whispered the unromantic message against his mouth.
‘It’s your grandfather—I don’t think he’s well.’
His eyes held understanding but he just nodded as, hand in hand, they moved on to the legal part of signatures and witnesses.
At some point she saw Sergio leaving through a side door, his shrunken frame looking frail between two bodyguards.
She could feel Raoul’s impatience as they stood welcoming their glittering guests, and by the time they reached the end of the line her hand was aching and she was way beyond awed and star-struck.
Once they were seated, Raoul got to his feet and the place fell silent, all eyes on the tall, commanding figure.
‘I wish to thank all my friends and family for being here today, and most of all, naturally, my beautiful bride...’ He paused for the ripple of applause. ‘However, as you have probably already noticed, one person is not with us. Our host today, my grandfather, is feeling unwell, so I will leave you for a moment in Lara’s capable hands. Please enjoy yourselves.’
Lara watched him leave, noticing him pause to say something in the ear of a striking-looking brunette on the way out.
The woman nodded, then approached Lara with a friendly smile.
‘Tell me, Lara, do you ride?’
She took a deep breath and thought, And now I start earning my severance cheque. ‘I love horses, it’s just heights I have a problem with. My sister and I did used to help out at stables near where we were brought up—the place is run by a charity that helps children with disabilities get an opportunity to ride.’
* * *
‘I’m sorry.’ It was close on nine when Raoul came to sit on the bed where Lara was wearing a pair of silky pale green shortie pyjamas.
She looked up when he spoke and shook her head. ‘What for?’
‘For walking out on the wedding reception...’
‘How is he?’
She had got the message that Sergio’s doctor had insisted that he go to the hospital to get checked over.
‘They’re keeping him overnight. They seem to think that there hasn’t been any deterioration. It’s his drug regime that’s the problem.’ He rotated his neck to ease the tension that had climbed into his shoulders.
Lara pulled herself up onto her knees and shuffled across the bed until she was in a position to slide her hands under the neck of his shirt. His muscles were like iron. ‘Wow, you really have some knots there.’
Raoul grunted as her fingers dug into muscles. ‘So how was it after I left?’ He had felt guilty as hell leaving her to cope alone. Talk about throwing her in at the deep end!
‘Oh, people were happy and there was plenty of booze. Actually, I left early myself.’ Lily, who was at drama college, had a screen test for a TV show the next day, so she and her mum hadn’t stayed late. Once they’d gone, Lara hadn’t known a soul and Naomi, the woman Raoul had spoken to, who had introduced herself as a family friend, had assured her that she wouldn’t be missed.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll deputise,’ she had promised as Lara had slipped away.
Raoul’s silence made her wonder whether leaving early wasn’t a bigger thing than the other woman had suggested.
‘Did I do wrong? Naomi said she’d—’
‘Oh, I’m sure it was fine.’
‘Her husband is in a wheelchair?’
‘She was one of Lucy’s friends.’ Actually the only one he still had any contact with. ‘And Leo has MS. She’s devoted and he’s not an easy man. Ouch!’
She dug her teeth into her bottom lip. ‘Sorry, got carried away,’ she admitted guiltily.
He reached out and pushed his fingers into her hair. ‘You make it sound as though that is a bad thing?’
His tone was light but the glow in his dark eyes was anything but. ‘You looked beautiful today.’ It was rare for his accent to surface; it only happened in moments of passion. ‘I’m sorry the day was ruined.’
‘There’s nothing to ruin. After all, it’s all make-believe, smoke and mirrors.’
‘Well, you played your part well.’
‘Did I? I don’t really remember. I was just scared that Sergio was going to collapse, and this is all about Sergio.’
Recognising this didn’t mean that she hadn’t wondered a little about how it might feel if this were happening for real...oh, not with Raoul, obviously. When and if she ever married again she knew it would not be a man like Raoul.
Even without the perfect-dead-wife thing there was the fact that he was the sort of man who could have any woman he wanted. She pushed away the thought—trusting him to say no was not her problem.
‘Yes...but here, now, it is all about us...’ His voice was a throaty caress as he leaned in until their lips were almost touching, then with slow deliberation skimmed his tongue across her mouth, tracing the full outline.
Lara was breathless, capable of nothing but gazing at him, the longing that infiltrated every cell of her body shining in her eyes.
‘I’m going to be gone most of the week.’
She ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘What will your grandfather think?’ No honeymoon was one thing, but the groom leaving his bride alone the day after the wedding...?
‘No problem, he understands.’ He had understood better than Raoul the massive task it was going to be to bring his knowledge up to a level where he could take the helm of the family businesses.
That makes one of us, Lara thought, stifling a stab of irrational resentment.
‘Oh, that’s all right, then.’
Hard not to contrast her calm acceptance with the reaction of a real wife. Right now he’d be being made to feel as guilty as hell—a marriage based on sex and a contract definitely had its plus points.
‘Feel like being carried away?’
Lara curled her hand around his neck immediately, totally caught up again in the burning need of the moment. ‘Oh, yes, please.’
The next morning she woke at around six feeling groggy on the couple of hours’ sleep she’d snatched between lovemaking. The space beside her in the bed was empty, but on the bedside table stood a note, her name on it in bold, slanting lettering.
Unfolding it, she read it.
Meeting in Geneva at noon. Calling in on the old man on the way. Any problems arise let me know. If not should be back Fri p.m.
It was signed with a flourish—but no love.
Three months later
LARA GAVE HERSELF over completely to the explosion of sensation as it hit, savouring the sweet release from devouring hunger.
Still breathing hard, she forced her lids apart as Raoul rolled off her and lay next to her.
‘Oh, wow, that was—’
‘Just sex.’
The words had pretty much the same effect as a bucket of cold water; they usually did.
She hid her hurt