Claimed for Makarov's Baby

But lately he had begun to grow tired of the constant travelling. These days the only place he wanted to be was here, with his wife, in their true home. He had wanted to say that to her last night, but they had got sidetracked.

He walked back to the castello just as evening was setting in and found Dara waiting for him in the kitchen. A bottle of vintage Prosecco sat on the table, two glasses beside it.

‘I’m sorry I took so long.’ She winced, pouring him a generous glass of wine.

Leo took a sip, appreciating the taste for a moment before shrugging. ‘You have a business to run, carina. I have to accept that I can never have you all to myself.’

‘I’ve turned my phone off for the evening, so I am one hundred per cent yours. No distractions.’ She smiled, pressing her mouth to his.

Leo held her at arm’s length, noticing the shadows under her eyes. ‘Good. Because I’d like to continue our discussion from last night.’

Dara removed herself from his arms, turning to take a long gulp from her own glass. ‘I’d rather we just leave that, actually. I must have been overtired and emotional.’

Her laugh didn’t fool him. ‘Dara, are you unhappy?’ he asked, and watched her face snap up with alarm.

‘Why on earth would you think that?’

‘You seem...unfulfilled, somehow. These trips to Syracuse tell me that perhaps you might have changed your mind about some things.’

Dara looked momentarily miserable, her expression filled with intense sadness before shifting back to a mask of calm. Anyone else might not have noticed, but Leo knew her better than anyone.

‘It’s nothing that I plan to act on,’ she said coldly. ‘There’s no need for you to worry.’

‘Why would I worry? We are husband and wife, Dara. We make these kinds of choices together. Maybe I should go with you to Syracuse so you can help me to understand.’

‘That’s definitely not what I want,’ Dara snapped.

‘Per l’amore di Dio.’ Leo sucked in a breath to control his frustration. ‘Dara, for God’s sake, what do you want?’ he shouted harshly, feeling instant remorse as she flinched.

They stood in silence for a moment, toe to toe in the silence of the kitchen.

‘I won’t be shouted at.’ Dara spoke quietly. ‘I need some time alone. I’ll see you at dinner.’

She practically ran from the room. Ran away from him.

Leo frowned, looking out of the window at the waves crashing against the cliffs. He had lost his temper—but could she blame him? He was her husband, and yet she was determined to battle whatever was bothering her alone. He had a right to know what this was about.

Clearly the answer lay in Syracuse. If she wouldn’t go with him, then he would have to go alone.

* * *

Dara awoke to a note on her pillow from Leo, telling her that he had some business to attend to and that he would return by the afternoon. His words were plain and to the point, with none of the flowery terms of affection that they usually used. She felt a pang of hurt that he hadn’t woken her before leaving, and now she faced a day in the castello alone with her thoughts.

She had been hostile and unfair last night. And now she had driven a wedge between them. She sighed, falling back onto the soft Egyptian cotton bedspread, and stared up at the ceiling.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to share her inner turmoil with her husband. She just felt that it was pointless to do so. Yes, she had formed a bond with Luca. Yes, for the first time in her life she had felt the all-encompassing yearning to care for a child as her own. But she would never do it. She would never be so naive as to assume that she was in any way qualified to be a parent. She was a very good wedding planner, and she hoped she was a satisfying wife. But she was not cut out to be somebody’s mother.

Her own mother had been warm and caring. She had given up her career in hotel management to stay at home as a full-time parent and had made it clear that she believed all women should do the same. Dara knew that Leo didn’t think that way—he went out of his way to promote equality in his company, and often commented on how proud he was of his wife’s accomplishments. And yet the image of her mother baking in the kitchen would always be her measure of what a good wife looked like.

She stared out at the waves crashing onto the cliffs below. Why was she having all these thoughts now? She loved her life. She had more than most women could dream of.

Needing to escape her overactive thoughts, she walked to the window. The winds were too high today to walk down on the beach, and being outside in the chilly December air wasn’t her idea of a relaxing getaway.

It had been Leo’s idea to take time off work, and yet here he was abandoning her on their third day. Clearly he was annoyed, and was choosing to punish her.