The Italian's Unexpected Baby

The food was delicious, and she allowed herself a glass of champagne to celebrate, losing herself in the warm and unabashed admiration she saw in Alessandro’s eyes. Tonight was made for magic.

And the magic continued as they walked hand in hand along the canal, chatting about everything and nothing. Alessandro had a dry sense of humour that made Mia laugh, and a sensitivity she hadn’t expected, even though she’d seen it on display with their daughter. As they enjoyed the sights of the city of bridges, she felt as if her heart were a balloon inside her, filling up with hope, buoying higher and higher. Their marriage could work. Their marriage could even be amazing…

Finally, as twilight settled on the city with deep indigo shadows, the placid surface of the Grand Canal nearly black, they took the helicopter back to the villa.

Moonlight streamed through the windows as they walked quietly, still hand in hand, through the villa, up to the master bedroom Mia had been sleeping in alone for the last few weeks but would share with Alessandro tonight.

In the few hours since she’d been gone, it had been transformed: tall white candles flickered and gleamed, and the bed sheets had been exchanged for a silk duvet, folded back to reveal smooth linen sheets beneath. The nightgown of cobwebby lace and nearly transparent white silk that she’d picked out last week was hanging on the wardrobe door. Mia’s heart tumbled in her chest at the sight of it.

‘Is all this Alyssa’s doing?’ she asked.

‘And mine.’

It thrilled her to think Alessandro had thought of such romantic touches. ‘This is all so romantic…’

‘And why shouldn’t it be? It is our wedding night, after all.’ Alessandro stood behind her, his hands warm on her shoulders. ‘It will be different this time, cara. So much better.’

Nerves fizzed and popped inside her. ‘It was pretty good last time,’ she admitted shakily. Now that the moment had come, and they were here together in this beautiful room, intending to consummate their marriage, she felt overwhelmed with both excitement and anxiety.

‘Even so.’ Alessandro nodded towards the nightgown. ‘Do you want to change?’

‘All right,’ Mia whispered, and, taking the beautiful nightgown, she went into the bathroom.

Alessandro paced the bedroom, feeling restless and eager and, he had to admit, nervous. He was never nervous, and yet he couldn’t deny the way his stomach clenched and his heart raced. Yes, he was nervous, but he was also excited. Very excited. He’d been waiting a long time for this, and more than once he’d questioned his decision to wait until their wedding night.

The evening had been perfect so far—the food and wine, the company, the romance of it all. Alessandro had never seen the point of such gestures before, but tonight they’d been important, and he’d enjoyed them. He’d wanted them. He’d wanted to make this night special for Mia, and special for him, in a way he’d never remotely wanted to before.

What was happening to him?

He thrust the question away, determined not to think about it tonight. This was just a bit of romance, that was all. It was a way to show Mia he appreciated her. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that.

Besides, tonight he only wanted to think about Mia…and what was going to happen between them.

The door to the bathroom opened and then she stood there, her hair loose and golden about her shoulders, her slender body swathed in ivory silk. Alessandro sucked in a hard breath, dazed with desire at the sight of her. The silk was so thin he could see the lush, shadowy curves of her body beneath it, and they enflamed him. The few rushed minutes they’d shared over a year ago were nothing compared to this.

‘You’re still dressed,’ Mia observed with a shaky laugh.

‘Not for long.’ His hands moved to the buttons of his shirt before they stilled. ‘Why don’t you do it, Mia?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Me?’

‘Yes, you.’ His voice turned ragged with the force of his feeling. ‘I want you to. I want you to touch me.’

She stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds before she moved towards him, the silk whispering against her body. As she stood before him he breathed in her citrusy scent, felt her hair brush his jaw as her fingers fumbled with the first button.

‘I’m nervous,’ she whispered.

‘So am I.’

She glanced up at him. ‘No…’

‘Yes.’ He clasped her hand in his own and pressed it against his thudding heart. ‘Feel.’

She laid her palm flat against his chest, her fingers spread wide. Even that simple touch enflamed him, made him want more. So much more. ‘Why are you nervous?’

‘Because this feels important.’ The words came of their own accord, heartfelt, honest. He didn’t care what they revealed of him.

Mia glanced at him uncertainly, her hand still resting against his heart. ‘You’ve been with plenty of women before…’