Delucca's Marriage Contract

‘But my father was a teenager by then and had already become involved with the Mafia in Sicily. He forged new links in Rome. When my grandfather became too ill to work, my father let the business run into the ground. He kept it going only to use as a front for his Mafia activities. It broke my grandfather apart. We were close.’

Keelin was sorry for asking now. She didn’t want to know this about Gianni. She didn’t want to empathise with him or feel sympathy. Especially not after last night’s intimacies.

But he ignored her silent plea and she could see the steeliness in his expression. ‘I’ve made it my life’s ambition to reclaim what my grandfather set out to do, to create a family business we can be proud of.’

She tried not to let Gianni’s story affect her. ‘We’re not so different, you know. We want similar things, but I have to give up what I want so that you can get yours.’

His expression became even steelier; as if to emphasise that, he folded his arms. ‘I’m sorry about that, but I’m not prepared to lose this chance now, Keelin.’

Feeling desperate she said, ‘You really are ruthless, aren’t you?’

He didn’t look remotely perturbed by that. ‘Nothing will deter me from this course of action.’

He undid his arms and came closer. All she could see was bare chest. Dammit, now was not a time to get distracted by his physicality. She averted her eyes and glared at him, sure that he was fully aware of his effect on her and using it.

‘You really want to leave here? Walk away from this marriage right now?’

Suddenly Keelin felt as if the wind had been knocked from her chest. She hadn’t expected that. And far from feeling a resounding yes rising up within her, it was something much more ambiguous. But she forced out, ‘Yes, of course.’

Gianni looked at her for a long moment and she could see some kind of struggle being waged behind those dark eyes and that implacable expression. He stepped back. ‘Fine.’

She blinked and swallowed. ‘What?’

His jaw clenched. ‘You heard me. I don’t want you to ever feel isolated or trapped here, Keelin. I’m not some gaoler. I don’t relish the fact that your father attached you to this deal like some kind of medieval chattel but he did, and the fact is that aside from all of that, something unexpected has happened. Mutual desire.’

He waited for a moment, almost as if he expected her to deny it, but she couldn’t. Not after last night.

‘But one thing I won

’t grant you is a divorce and you know the reasons why. However, I’m not such a masochist that I’ll live in a constant state of war because you’re not mature enough to admit you want me, or to give this marriage a decent chance.’

She lashed out hotly, ‘That’s—’

But he lifted a hand and said coldly, ‘Meet me back downstairs with your bag packed in half an hour.’

* * *

Keelin was still trembling when she zipped up her bag. Her belly had dropped somewhere around her feet when Gianni had told her to pack her bag. Worst of all was the awfully familiar sensation of being sent away. First by her parents, and now this. And she was hurt. It was slicing through her like a knife, making her bleed internally.

She sat on the bed for a second, her hair still damp from the shower, trailing down her back. What was wrong with her? Since when did Gianni have the power to hurt her like this? Since when would she not have jumped at a chance to regain her freedom? Even if he wasn’t promising divorce, he was clearly prepared for her to get on with her life.

And then lurid images flashed into her head from last night. Two hearts beating in unison, biting his shoulder like some kind of animal, sweaty limbs sliding together urgently, the deepest connection—she closed her eyes desperately but that only made it worse. She opened them again.

Was Gianni right? Was she immature? Not looking at this like an adult? Still locked into acting out the part of the rebel that had been assigned to her so long ago that she followed it slavishly?

Was he really sending her away? No, she realised, he was giving her a choice. Asking her to stand up and ask for what she wanted.

Feeling incredibly insecure and hating it, Keelin stood up and took her bag in her hand. On her way down the stairs she half expected to see Gianni barring the door—maybe he’d been calling her bluff?

But when she saw him he was waiting, looking reserved but at ease, keys in his hands. When she reached him he took her bag, not saying anything, and led her outside.

She followed Gianni to where the jeep was parked. He threw her the keys and she caught them on a reflex. He answered her surprised look. ‘I told you I’m not a gaoler, Keelin. You should get used to driving on the opposite side of the road, and get a feel for the jeep.’

Keelin got in and felt butterflies tie her belly in knots. Gianni was like a stranger. A polite, distant stranger.

Carefully she navigated out of the villa driveway and onto the open road, getting used to the left-hand drive. Gianni made her do a grand loop of the estate and she saw just how massive it was.

Then he was giving her different directions and after about fifteen minutes they drove into a small sleepy town.