Bought by Her Italian Boss

She lowered her eyes, aching inside. He saw through her every single time.

“When your brother came to Milan that day,” he said heavily, “all I could think was that it was better to let our separation happen then, before you were pregnant with an abomination—”

“Don’t say that!”

He held up a hand. “But it tortures me, cara, that he made it sound like you were only a convenience to me. Our affair served many purposes, not all of them romantic, sì. That’s true. But to let you think that was all it was is a lie. We are honest with one another if nothing else, are we not?”

“Are we?” she asked, mind reeling from all he’d told her, which made certain suspicions rise that were so sweet and fragile she barely let herself touch them. But why would he tell her all this, with that tortured look on his face, if he didn’t care for her, trust her, not just a little, but a lot.

“Does some part of this sound made-up to you?” he asked, voice chilling and shoulders going back.

She made a noise. “Well, it is quite a story. But I do believe you. No, I’m questioning why you’ve told me.”

She thought back to that day in the elevator when he’d been so angry at what she hadn’t been able to see in him. All this time he’d presented her with the thick wall of the vault that fronted the man inside. Of course she’d had trouble seeing his true thoughts and feelings.

But now, now she thought she saw very clearly. It wasn’t just wishful thinking, was it?

“I just explained,” he said testily. “I didn’t want you hurting unnecessarily.”

“So I’m supposed to not hurt when you leave again? Secure in the knowledge that your rejection is for my own good? You know I love you, don’t you?” There. She flung her own vault wide open, crashing it into the wall.

He flinched, dragging in air like he’d taken a knife to the lung. “I hoped that you didn’t,” he said through his teeth.

“Oh! Another lie!” she charged, stabbing a finger at his chest, hard enough to hurt her fingernail.

He grabbed her hand and glared, dark brows a fierce line. “I’m not lying!”

“You knew I was in love with you and you sent me away to get over it, but the minute you thought I might, you came back to see exactly how deep my feelings went. This—” she pulled free of his grip and pointed wildly to encompass all the photos he’d shown her “—is a test.”

“Untrue. I’m explaining to you why I can’t marry you and give you the family you’ve always wanted.”

“Fine. I accept,” she said, crossing her arms.

He grew cautious. “Accept what?”

“That we’ll never marry and have children. Maybe we can talk about adopting someday, but that’s not a condition. I’ll accept simply living together without all those picket-fence trappings I always wanted.”

“No!” he growled. “That’s not what I’m saying. You deserve those things, Gwyn. Your brother is right. That’s why—” He cut himself off with an impatient noise, palm scraping up his cheek, creating a raspy sound.

“So I should go marry another man and have his babies?” she confirmed.

“No! Damn you, no. I hated seeing you with that man. It made me sick. No. And damn you for forcing me to admit that.” He stalked away a few steps, hand raking into his hair. “I’m trying to think of you, Gwyn, but I keep acting for myself. That is who I am. Greedy. Selfish.” He pivoted. “Don’t you see that’s what I’m trying to protect you from? I want that deal you’re offering. I want to take you into my home as my lover and shortchange you on all the things you have a right to. What does that make me? How could you love someone like that?”

“What kind of man are you really?” she cried. “One who blames himself for his mother’s death?”

He jerked a little in surprise, said, “No,” but without conviction. Then hitched a shoulder. “Perhaps. A little. Everyone, the aunts and uncles who knew, always looked at me as if... I used to fight with Paolo. A lot. But then my uncle told me about this and I knew I had to contain this part of myself. Stamp it out as much as possible.”

“And you have,” she told him. “Are you likely to hit me, Vito?”

“No,” he said, his contempt for men who would do such a thing thick in the word.

“What if I provoke you? What if I push you?” she asked, coming across to give him a light shove in the middle of his chest.

He caught her hands and easily twisted her arms behind her back, hauling her close in such a swift move they both released a little, “Ha,” as their bodies lightly slammed together.