Bound to the Sicilian's Bed

He owned the airline?

Nicole blinked.

Was there really no escaping the influence of Rocco Barberi on this infernal island?

She told herself to say no. To tell him she didn’t need him—and maybe she didn’t. But deep down she wanted him and something told her that was never going to change.

‘Very well,’ she said grudgingly. ‘I will hear you out—just as long as you understand that I’m not making any promises.’

‘I understand,?

? he said gravely.

But despite the clapping which accompanied them as they made their way off the plane, Nicole refused to give the laughing passengers the fairy-tale ending she suspected they wanted. A prolonged kiss in slo-mo and the big clinch on the Tarmac. Because life wasn’t a fairy tale and she still didn’t believe she had any kind of future with Rocco.

He ushered her towards an unmarked door and before she knew it they were in some sort of private lounge, with huge potted palms, squishy sofas and panoramic views over the runway. But instead of feeling overwhelmed or joyous—or any of the emotions she might have felt if he’d said these things just eighteen hours earlier—Nicole felt flat. More than that, she was angry with herself for allowing herself to be led off a flight which she had paid for—like some docile little mouse. Wasn’t she supposed to have shed her mouse-like skin?

‘So hurry up and say whatever it is you want to say, Rocco.’

It wasn’t the most promising of beginnings. In fact, Rocco would go so far as to say that he had never seen Nicole look so angry. And he knew then that he needed to go further than he’d planned. Further than he’d ever been before. That she would not be willing to accept half-measures—and why should she? He’d pushed her away so many times—why would she believe he had changed unless he was prepared to show her? Unless he opened up a heart which had remained locked and bolted for so many years.

He sucked in a deep breath. ‘You accused me of pushing you away once we were married and maybe I did—but not for the reasons you imagined. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you, Nicole—there hasn’t been a second of my life since we first met that I didn’t want you—but because I was being cautious.’

‘Cautious?’ She fixed him with an enquiring look.

Restlessly, he shrugged. ‘I had no idea how to deal with a pregnant woman—and you were sick. So very sick. I thought you would prefer a nurse rather than a husband who was out of his depth, and then...’ He swallowed. ‘Then you lost the baby...’

‘And that was when you pushed me away—’

‘I was giving you space,’ he argued. ‘I thought that’s what you needed. I could see how broken you were and I couldn’t get near you.’

‘You didn’t want to get near me,’ she said slowly.

‘It wasn’t that. You wouldn’t talk. You wouldn’t even look at me. I thought if I went to the States to work that you would have the chance to come to terms with it in your own time.’ He sighed. ‘And maybe deep down I was relieved that you didn’t want to talk about it.’

She tilted her chin to meet his gaze full on. ‘Why?’

There was a pause. ‘Because I was afraid,’ he admitted. ‘Afraid of facing my feelings about losing our baby. Afraid of where it might take me.’

The husky choke of his voice made Nicole’s heart twist and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. But not yet. Because he needed to do this. To say it and feel it, no matter how much it hurt.

‘I was afraid that it would bring up all that stuff from the past when my parents were killed. Stuff I had suppressed and didn’t want to look at. Naively, I thought that if I went away—everything would have calmed down by the time I got back.’

‘You went to America,’ she said woodenly.

He nodded. ‘Yes, I did. Which only made it worse. And then I came back to Sicily and—’

‘I had gone,’ she finished.

‘Se.’ His features looked like a tight mask. ‘I tried telling myself it was all for the best. That I’d never planned for this marriage to happen. I knew I could never make you the kind of husband you wanted. The kind of husband you richly deserved.’

‘And that’s why you never came after me?’

He nodded. ‘That’s why I never came after you. Until that divorce petition landed on my desk and suddenly my lifelong ability to suppress my emotions was blown out of the water. I felt anger—and indignation, too. I convinced myself that I was going to get you to come to Monaco with me, because that would be the last thing you wanted. I intended to punish you by making you jump through hoops to get your divorce. I even convinced myself that my desire for you was no more—mainly because my ego had been wounded by having a woman leave me, the way you did.’

He paused. ‘And then I saw you... I saw you and the thunderclap happened all over again and there didn’t seem to be a thing I could do about it, no matter how much I fought it. I told myself that having sex with you would rid me of my hunger, but it only increased it. Just as being with you reminded me of all the things I love about you. Your creativity. Your irreverence. The way you make me laugh. All those things reinforced what I was reluctant to admit—even to myself.’ There was a pause. ‘That I love you and want to be with you. Now and always.’

She didn’t say anything but her gaze was very steady as she looked at him.