Neha’s laughter—loud, full-bodied—hit Leo like a sound specifically created to awaken every nerve ending he possessed. His hand stilled with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. He had convinced her to stay at his family’s villa by Lake Como for the weekend because he’d wanted to keep an eye on her.

      It was a familiar sound—a glimpse into the funny, witty woman beneath the elegant facade. But so out of context here, in his home, where he had never invited a woman. Silvio’s multiple affairs, paraded shamelessly in front of Massimo’s mother, had been enough drama to last a lifetime.

      He hadn’t sought her out in the two days she’d been here, leaving her in Nat’s capable and kind hands.

      Ignoring his nonna’s complaints about the upcoming celebrations for her eightieth birthday in two weeks, he stood up and walked across the vast balcony.

      A weak November sun cast a soft, golden glow around the gardens surrounding the villa that were his pride and joy. The villa had been a stalwart presence in his life when he’d been devastated as a young boy—confused, distraught and lost. The centuries-old legacy, the Brunetti name, thousands of people who’d always depended on the finance giant BFI for their livelihood, the tens of thousands of people who’d put their hard-earned income into the Brunettis’ hands for safekeeping, an anchor that had kept him going straight.

      But it was the gardens that had given him a sense of belonging.

      He’d always been able to will the most reluctant, the most stubborn, flower into full bloom with his hands. For a long time, he’d believed this was his contribution to the Brunetti legacy. Well, this and the fact that BFI had flourished under his leadership for the last two decades.

      Vaguely, he remembered following a fragile, delicately built woman around the same gardens with a plastic pail and spade in hand. With a sense of delight that hovered at the edge of his subconscious mind. Soft laughter, sweet words...a memory buried in the recesses of his mind.

      Another laugh from Neha pulled his thoughts from murky, unreliable memories. More than relieved to leave the past behind, he studied the woman who continued to intrigue him. The same woman who’d rendered him sleepless for the two days that she’d spent under his roof. Roused protective instincts he’d never even known before.

      Neha stood on the sloping path that led to Massimo’s custom-built lab. Peach-colored trousers hugged her hips and buttocks, the fitted white shirt displaying the outline of her breasts perfectly. Hair high up in a ponytail that swung playfully as she walked, her smile glorious amid the riotous colors of the gardens.

       I want you to father my child.

      Even now, the fierceness of her expression when she spoke of a child that hadn’t even been conceived amazed him. Then there was the very existence of another image in his head—unbidden—of a boy or a girl he’d try to guide and protect while Neha nurtured with unconditional love.

      “She looks much happier just after two days of being here,” said Massimo, joining him.

      “You think so?” Leo had noticed something off with her but had put it down to the strangeness of her request. It wasn’t every day she walked up to a man and asked him to father her child.

      “You didn’t notice?” Massimo wasn’t being facetious for once.

      “Tell me what you noticed,” Leo invited him.

      Massimo cast Leo a curious look but obliged. “She has such dark circles under her eyes her makeup can’t hide it. I haven’t seen her in...eighteen months, but she’s clearly lost weight. I know these ridiculous magazines call her fat and plump—”

      “Her brand is successful because, like her products, she’s authentic, real. She eats like a real person and has curves like a real woman.” Leo heard the vehemence in his voice only after the words were out.

      Massimo raised a brow. “It isn’t just her physical appearance, though. She doesn’t have that glow that lights her up from the inside, that genuine quality of hers. Instead, there’s a fragility I’ve never associated with her.” Massimo’s tone became softer, gilded with worry. “I remember Mama like that, before she left. As if she were at the end of her rope.”

       Success is a yoke that can stifle every other joy.

      “But the two days here seem to have made a world of difference,” Massimo added.

      Again, true. Each hour Neha spent here in the villa seemed to restore a little bit of sparkle to her eyes. That innate joy.

      “She wants to have a child. With me.” The words came easy because somewhere in the last two days he’d come to a decision.

      Massimo’s sharp inhale jarred alongside his own steady breathing. “I didn’t know you two were involved.”

      “We aren’t. Until now.”

      “You’re considering this,” Massimo said, astonishment ringing his tone.

      Leo’s smile dimmed, his chest tightening with an ache that was years old, that he wanted to shove aside as he’d always done. But today, he couldn’t. As much as he wanted to leave it there to rot, the past had a way of shaping the future. He couldn’t make a decision without making sure no innocent, and there could be two if he agreed, got hurt.

      “Go ahead, play the devil’s advocate,” he said, inviting his brother’s opinion on a matter he didn’t discuss with anyone.

      Massimo