Second Time Bride

Daisy was devastated by that condemnation. Clearly, Alessio saw her as an utterly selfish individual who had caused unlimited damage. But she was being unfairly judged by adult standards. In marrying her at nineteen, Alessio had acknowledged that their child’s needs should come first. It had been a fine and noble ideal but he had not carried through with the reality that their marriage would have to work to make that possible.

His penthouse apartment was breathtaking. Inquisitively she glanced through open doorways, taking in glimpses of richly polished wooden floors, magnificent rugs and gleaming antiques. In an elegant dining-room, the first course of their meal already awaited them. A silent manservant pushed her chair in, shook out her linen napkin and poured the wine before leaving them. Daisy emptied her glass fast. Over the rim, she collided with Alessio’s broodingly intense dark gaze and the silence pulsed and pounded like the quiet before the storm.

Alessio expelled his breath in an impatient hiss. ‘When we met again, I admit that I was very hostile.’ His strong jawline squared. ‘But that was self-defence. All the memories came back and I only allowed myself to recognise two reactions—lust and anger.’

In the past, Daisy had had a large personal acquaintance with both emotions, although, admittedly, Alessio had never before acknowledged the existence of either. She surveyed her empty glass with a sinking heart. She wondered what it would take to satisfy the Leopardi need for blood and retribution. When would Alessio take account of his own sins of omission?

‘But there was a lot of pain and bitterness in there too.’

Daisy experienced enough of a surge of interest and surprise to look up and pay closer attention.

Alessio’s gaze was screened to a mere glimmer of gold. ‘I was amazed that I could still remember those feelings,’ he admitted tautly. ‘But then my ego was very fragile at the time and you do hold the distinction of being the only woman who ever ditched me for a large injection of cash.’

Daisy’s breath caught in her throat as she belatedly recalled that she had not yet explained about that money. ‘I—’

Alessio shifted a lean, autocratic hand to silence her. ‘But that sordid reality does not release me from what is patently my duty of care and responsibility towards my daughter. Nor do your personal feelings release you from that same obligation.’

Sordid reality? In the midst of reflecting that it might well have done Alessio a great deal of good to believe that he had been ditched in return for a large injection of cash, Daisy was sidetracked by his horrific use of that word ‘duty’. Her daughter had used it last night and it had given her mother a distinctly nasty turn. Leopardis were heavily into buzz words of the ‘duty’ and ‘honour’ variety. Employing such terms, they braced themselves to do masochistic things and then took revenge by punishing the unfortunate being who had forced them into those sacrifices.

That was the story of their first marriage in a nutshell, Daisy conceded with an involuntary shudder. Alessio had been punishing her for his sacrifice. She was not crazy enough to give him a second bite at the same apple. Tara would thank neither one of them for involving her in the misery of an unhappy marriage. If Alessio wanted a sacrifice, he was not going to find one in Daisy. Whatever he might think, Daisy knew she was not good martyr material.

‘Daisy...’ Alessio breathed in a charged undertone. ‘Are you listening to me?’

Like a mouse slowly raising its gaze to risk the hypnotic and deadly enchantment of a snake, Daisy lifted her head. ‘Sorry?’ she said very tautly.

Anger glittered in his incisive scrutiny. ‘No doubt it will surprise you, but I am accustomed to attention when I am speaking.’

Daisy was not at all surprised. Alessio had the most gorgeous dark, seductive drawl. That rich voice sent tiny, delicious quivers down her spine. He also had the most incredibly beautiful eyes and the most fabulous bone structure, she acknowledged, fully concentrating on what really mattered ... her own vulnerability. She could not remarry a man whom she had once loved so much and who had hurt her so terribly. It would be a suicidally stupid act. And she might have a bad habit of learning most of her lessons the hard way but nobody could ever say that she made the same mistake twice!