The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride Of Convenience. Кейт Хьюит
Читать онлайн книгу.
her foot and released his grip. ‘You pleaded with me, in fact.’ He turned back to the computer. ‘It’s forgotten now.’
Liar.
For Nico, sex was necessary and frequent—if a touch emotionless. And it was always a smooth and controlled affair, taking place in his suite at the hotel, never at his home.
It did not compare to the panting, hot, sweaty coupling that had taken place with Aurora.
Nothing could ever compare.
‘Forgotten?’ Aurora checked.
‘It happened just the once and it was a long time ago.’
‘Four years, Nico.’
Yes, it had been four years since that night, and Nico had been paying for it ever since.
That one slip had cost him millions.
Tens of millions, in fact.
Though the cost of a new hotel had been preferable to another night under the Messina roof.
He did not glance up as she stood and walked to the window.
This was hell.
Nico was aware he had treated her terribly.
He should never have slept with her.
They had been supposed to marry. Of course they had never had a say in it, but as they’d grown up it had become a given. Her nonna’s house had been left to her father, Bruno, and he had kept it for them to reside in after their wedding day.
Nico had been able to think of nothing worse. Stuck in that damned village, living opposite the in-laws and working all day on the vines.
Aurora had taken it well when he’d told her they would never marry. She had laughed and said something along the lines of Thank God for that.
It had been the sun that had made her eyes sparkle, Nico told himself. She had been sixteen then, and a skinny, slip of a girl. He hadn’t seen her for a few years after that.
Oh, but when he had…
He glanced over to where she stood, looking out towards the Vatican City, and though he wanted to turn back to his computer screen he could not resist a double-take.
There was nothing, Nico thought, more beautiful than a beautiful Sicilian woman.
She was dark-eyed and dark-haired, with voluptuous curves that had never seen a gym let alone a scalpel or silicone. Beneath her full bust in the white crochet dress there was a thin strap of leather, tied in a bow. He could think of no other woman who might look so sexy in such a dress, but she certainly did. He wanted to pull on that bow…he wanted to bare her breasts and pull her onto his knee. To kiss that mouth and properly welcome her to Rome.
His eyes drifted down to her shoes, which were neutral. Her legs, though, were not—their olive skin was bare and her calves were toned. His gaze followed the line of her long limbs until it rested where he knew he would find dark silken curls; he knew, too, the grip of those thighs.
She was fire. And he must do all he could not to let it catch him. For what Nico craved in his life was order.
Aurora could feel his eyes on her and she liked the vague, unsettled feeling that tightened low in her stomach and brought a hot and heavy sensation between her legs.
She had seen him since that fateful night—of course she had. But since the morning after they had never been alone.
Now, for a few precious moments, they were.
Aurora had practised this moment in her head and in the mirror so many times, and had sworn to rein herself in. But what had she gone and done?
Teased and cajoled and tried to draw a reaction from this cold immutable man, who had ruined her for anyone else.
Yet she could not bring herself to regret losing her virginity to him. Aurora would never regret that.
She attempted a more bland conversation. ‘I like Rome…’
‘Good.’
‘Though I love it in the early morning. I went exploring this morning…’
Nico looked back to his computer screen.
‘I felt as if I had the city all to myself. Well, not quite…’
She thought of the cafés and markets opening, and the street cleaners she had encountered on her early-morning walk—the walk during which she had promised herself that when she saw Nico later she would be serene and controlled. Sophisticated. Like the slender beauties he dated, whom she read about while bile churned in her stomach.
‘Tonight we’re all going on a bus tour…’ She halted, thinking how touristy and gauche she must sound to him. ‘Are you excited about the Silibri opening?’ she asked, because that seemed safe.
‘I will be glad when it’s done.’
Glad when he would be able to hand it over to his executive and the managers. When it would be up and running and no longer at this intense stage.
Right now, though, the tension was all in his office.
It was a relief when Marianna appeared and, with Aurora observing, they began to go through his schedule.
Nico was to meet with the Silibri hotel staff in fifteen minutes, and after that his day was back-to-back meetings with accountants, financiers and lawyers—and, no, Nico said, he would not be staying at the hotel that night.
‘You have a breakfast meeting at seven and the helicopter is booked for nine…’ Marianna frowned at this slight anomaly. ‘Usually you stay here if you’re flying out.’
‘I’ll be residing at home tonight,’ Nico said. ‘Now, can we check my Silibri schedule? I want to see my father’s doctor as soon as I arrive.’
‘You’re going home…?’ Aurora blinked. ‘Why are you going home when we are all here?’
‘Again…’ Nico sighed. ‘You are here for staff training.’
He looked to Marianna and was grateful when she stepped in.
‘Signor Caruso and I run through his schedule each morning, Aurora. This is not a meeting, and nor is it a discussion; it is to ensure that everything is in order and that we are both clear on timings.’
‘Of course…’ Aurora attempted, but there were a million questions in her eyes about why he was leaving Rome so soon after they had arrived.
Nico answered none of them.
Instead, having gone through his impossibly busy week, they headed out of his office, with Nico holding the door for both the women.
‘After you,’ Nico said.
He wished his good manners were not quite so ingrained, and that he did not have to hold open the door, for the scent of her reached him again. The chemistry that flared between them was undeniable, and the want was still there.
Nico, though, was first to walk into the boardroom.
The Silibri contingent were there, waiting, and they greeted him warmly.
Too warmly.
‘Hey, Nico!’
And there were more gifts set out on the table.
Amongst other things, Francesca had brought homemade biscotti to go with the coffee being served. Only Vincenzo, his marketing manager, sat rigid, clearly taken back by the party-like atmosphere in the room.
He smoothed his auburn hair nervously and cast a slightly aghast look at Nico. Bizarrely, for the briefest of seconds, Nico wanted to tell Vincenzo to relax. Did he not know how things worked in Sicily? Did he not know that humour and conversation were an art form there, especially in Silibri?
Of