The Price Of A Dangerous Passion

The vividness of the memory, the picture of his beautiful naked body above her, filled her with heat and a breathlessness that made it impossible to take another bite of her custard dessert.

She pushed the small plate away, hot, flustered, confused, and put a hand to her hot cheek, as if to cool herself.

“Is it too warm in the sun?” Brando asked, immediately noting her gesture. “Would you prefer to sit in the shade? We can move to the umbrella—”

“I’m fine. The sun is gorgeous.”

He didn’t appear convinced. “I don’t want to fatigue you.”

“I’m pregnant, not eighty, Brando.”

“Yes, you’re pregnant,” he said darkly. “Which is why I won’t have you overly tired. Perhaps we should go inside—”

“I’m fine. Trust me.”

“You’re flushed.”

Yes, because I’m thinking about making love to you. Thinking about your body. Thinking about the amazing things you did with your body...

She didn’t say it, though, but she blushed, exquisitely aware of him.

“If you truly are comfortable where we are, I think it’s time we talked about why you’ve come to Italy, and what we’re going to do.” Brando’s deep voice was firm, his gaze direct as it met hers.

“I suggest we marry. Soon. A simple ceremony, followed by an intimate dinner with our immediate family—”

“Excuse me?” she interrupted, brow creasing.

“The sooner the better,” he concluded.

“Your wife?” She stared at him aghast. “Please tell me I’m misunderstanding you.”

“No. You are understanding me perfectly.”

“I am not going to marry you.”

“Why not?” he retorted calmly.

“There’s no reason for us to marry. We’re not living in the Dark Ages, or the Victorian times. There is no reason we can’t have a child without being married—”

“There is in my family.”

“Maybe your family needs to adapt, then. Maybe it’s time the Riccis evolved.”

“It’s not just about my family’s values, or morality,” he answered. “It’s about the business. Our child won’t have any hopes of heading the family business if we’re not married.”

“Well, I sincerely doubt our child would want to head your family business, not if it’s that archaic.” She gave him a long look. “And I know your family is archaic. It’s why I was called in to mediate in the first place. The Riccis still live in the nineteenth century, but it’s time they caught up with the rest of the world. Children do just fine in single-parent homes. Children thrive—”

“When raised in a stable home, with two loving stable parents.”

She eyed him for a long moment. “You and I are stable, and we will be loving parents. But it’s not necessary to be in the same house together. In fact, that’s asking for disaster. I can guarantee that will create more instability than anything.”

“Why?”

“We’re not meant to be together, Brando, and regarding a single home, you don’t live in just one house. You bounce between your properties, never in one place long.”

“But you’ve already heard me say that this place is home, and this is where I intend to raise my children.”

“You’re not settled here yet, and babies are adaptable. Obviously it’s different once children are in school, but that’s years from now. Five or six years.”

“I hadn’t planned on settling down quite yet, but your pregnancy changes everything. It changes both of us. I’m prepared to make the necessary changes.” He hesitated a beat. “Are you?”

She felt her shoulders rise, and a quick hot retort rush to her tongue, but she held the words back and forced herself to count to five, and then ten. “I already have. I’m preparing a nursery in my home. I’ve begun taking birthing classes.”

“All without me?”

She choked on an uneasy laugh. “I’m not planning my future around you, no.”

“You should be. I’m planning my future around you, or more correctly, I’m planning my future with you.”

If her heart wasn’t racing she’d get up and move. Flee. But as it was, she didn’t feel steady enough to even get up and walk. “I don’t think we’re on the same page,” she said hoarsely.

“Cara, my love, children need security, traditions and a familiar routine.”

She suppressed a shiver at the husky rasp in his voice, as well as the endearments. She wasn’t his darling, or his love, and she hated that he sounded so reasonable, so patient, when everything in her screamed in protest. “That’s where we don’t see eye to eye, Brando, as I had very two very different families and very different traditions with each family, and it didn’t hurt me. If anything, it was good for me. I learned to be flexible, and adaptable.”

“You say that now, but I’m sure you felt pain when your parents divorced, and then your mother remarried and moved you to California.”

“It was a change, and yes, it was hard being ten with chaos all around me, but I’m stronger because I’ve had to deal with challenging circumstances.”

“But if you had your way, is that what you’d wish on your child? Challenging circumstances? Or would you want to protect him, or her—”

“Now you’re just being unfair. I would always want to protect my baby. I want to do what’s best for the baby, which is why I’m here, trying to include you, but there’s a big difference between including you and becoming your doormat!”

“How is marriage making you a doormat?”

“Because it’s giving up everything I want, and need, to do what you think is best. But I don’t believe it’s necessary for us to marry, and I most definitely don’t believe it’s the best thing for us. We can provide stable homes independently of the other. You provide a home here in Italy, and I’ll provide one in LA—”

“You can’t possibly be serious about raising our child in Los Angeles.”

“What’s wrong with Los Angeles?”

“What is right about Los Angeles?”

She pressed her lips together, frustrated and unwilling to say more. She counted to ten, and then she couldn’t remain silent any longer, and blurted, “There is much to like about Italy, and much to love about Tuscany, but you’re a little too smug about being Italian—”

“I’m proud of my heritage.”

“But it’s not the only heritage in play here. I have my own.”

“You’ve run away from yours. You left it behind. You’re just like everyone else that has run to Los Angeles, looking to reinvent themselves.”

His scorn stung and she bit into her lower lip, trying not to focus on his criticism. He was fighting for a place in their child’s life. He was fighting to be included. She understood that. She respected that. But he was giving her no middle ground and middle ground is what she needed. “There is beauty in reinvention,” she said quietly. “And beauty in change. I appreciate you wanting to do the right thing by offering to marry me, but I must decline, must most adamantly decline. I will not marry because it’s the morally right thing. If I marry it’s because I’m in love and want to spend the rest of my life with someone, rather than being trapped with someone out of duty or misplaced obligation.”

“Now that is old-fashioned.”

“To marry for love?”

“Love marriages end in divorce when the dopamine fades. You and I both know that. Children can help parents bond, and marriages can last because of oxytocin. We make a choice, and then choose to be committed, and we have a marriage that endures.”

“For a moment, I thought you were speaking of grafting grapevines. That is another asexual propagation technique.”

“Yes, but I believe our procreation technique was sexual. I believe you’re pregnant because we couldn’t get enough of each other.?

??

True, true, true.