The Sicilian's Scandalous Secret

Fia forced herself to stand still, expecting him to stop, but he didn’t stop until he had her with her back against the wall and nowhere to go.

Jaw tight, he slammed a hand either side of her to block her escape. She was boxed in by rock-hard muscle and testosterone and because she didn’t want to look at him, she looked at his bare chest and that was a mistake too because everything about him made her think of that night. She didn’t need a close-up of his physique to know how strong he was. She’d felt that strength. Why the hell hadn’t he pulled on a shirt? The world around her seemed to fade. She forgot she was in his kitchen. She forgot about

her grandfather in the hospital and the cheerful sounds of her child playing in the next room. She forgot everything.

Her world became this man.

‘Look at me.’ His thickened command told her that if she didn’t, he’d make her and so she lifted her gaze and the look they shared unlocked something dark she’d buried deep inside herself. Something she hadn’t dared examine because she was so afraid of it.

The way she felt about him.

Breathing shallow, she stared into those burnished dark eyes that changed colour according to his mood.

‘This is not just about Luca and I need you to acknowledge that because I don’t want some martyr in my bed.’ He lowered his head, his mouth as close to hers as it was possible to be and yet not touch her. He spoke so softly that he couldn’t possibly be overheard and yet each word was delivered with such force and power that she knew they’d be forever embedded in her memory. ‘If we do this, then we do it properly.’

If she licked her lips now, she’d touch him. If she made that single move she’d be kissing him. And she knew how that would feel. Knew how he’d feel. Even after more than three years, she’d never forgotten it. ‘Yes. We do it properly. We…get to know each other.’

‘I already know a lot about you—’ That wicked, sensual mouth held hers hostage. ‘I may not know how you like your coffee, but I know other things about you. Want me to remind you?’

‘No.’ She didn’t need reminding. She’d forgotten nothing. Not the way he tasted nor the way he touched her. And now those memories were unlocked and she could feel herself melting—feel the heat of her own arousal spread through her body and the hard pressure of his.

His hand came up to cup her face, those same fingers that knew how to drive her wild, now firm and determined as they forced her to look at him. ‘Sure? Because if this is going to work for Luca, it has to work for us.’ His mouth was just a breath away from hers, the heat of him a pulsing, throbbing force. ‘I have to get to know all of you, particularly the bits you’re hiding. And you have to get to know all of me, tesoro. Everything.’

CHAPTER SIX

OVER the next few days she experienced the full might and force of the Ferrara machine. Her grandfather was moved to a private room to convalesce, his near miraculous recovery attributed to Santo’s prompt intervention but also an astonishing will to live. And that will, the staff believed, came from a determination to see his granddaughter marry. And Santo fed that determination by keeping him appraised of the wedding plans—plans in which Fia had little input.

‘If you have any requests then let me know,’ Santo said one morning as they drove back from the hospital. ‘We’ll marry at the Ferrara Spa Resort, our flagship hotel. It’s licensed for weddings and it’s a beautiful venue, right on the beach. I’m planning on keeping it as small as possible.’

Of course he was. This wedding wasn’t something to broadcast, was it?

‘I’d like to invite Ben and Gina.’

He tensed slightly at the mention of Ben’s name and she fully expected him to refuse, but instead he nodded. ‘Yes. They are an important part of Luca’s life. They should be there. I will arrange it.’

He arranged everything, or rather his team did.

It was his insistence that one of his top chefs step in to run the Beach Shack that enabled her to spend as much time with her grandfather as she needed to in those early days. And the occasional phone call to Ben was all it took to reassure her that all was well with the restaurant and that the new chef was following Santo’s orders to run the place exactly as Fia ran it.

She wanted to be angry that he’d taken over, but the truth was that Santo had taken a hideous, stressful situation and made it as smooth for her as he possibly could. Because of him, her grandfather was making a good recovery, her business was safe and her child was happy.

And every time she felt wobbly about her decision, she just had to look at how he was with Luca.

‘My staff have interviewed and appointed three nurses with excellent qualifications who will provide round the clock care for your grandfather when he is discharged home.’ Santo negotiated the thick traffic with the ease of a native Sicilian. ‘They will work on a rota so that your grandfather will never be alone.’

For years her only mode of transport had been her dusty old moped. Now each journey was made in supercharged, superaccelerated, air-conditioned luxury. ‘I can’t afford that level of care.’

‘But I can. And I am the one paying.’

‘I don’t want your money. I can look after him myself. I’ve been running a successful business since I was eighteen.’

‘Even if you were not about to marry me, that would be an unsustainable proposition. You cannot raise a child, run a business and be a full-time carer.’

‘Plenty of people do just that. You may have missed the press release because it was sent to “modern man” and you don’t fall into that category, but it is possible to have it all.’

‘In my experience “having it all” usually includes a nervous breakdown,’ Santo drawled, leaning on his horn as the driver in front stopped to let out a passenger and blocked the road. ‘I want a wife, not a basket case so we’ll buy in the appropriate help, which should leave you with the energy for the important parts.’

‘I presume you consider the “important parts” to take place in your bedroom.’