The Sicilian's Bought Cinderella

Dio, he was planning when he could make love to her again?

‘Talk to me. Distract me,’ he ordered.

‘What? Why?’

‘Because, dolcezza, me driving with a rock-hard erection is going to get us killed. I need a distraction. Tell me something interesting about European medieval history.’

She giggled softly. ‘It’s all interesting.’

‘Narrow it down. Tell me something about Sicily I don’t know.’

‘Do you know much about how Sicily became a part of the Crown of Aragon?’

‘When we were ruled by Spain?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Educate me.’

For the next ten minutes he relaxed and listened as she told him about a period in his island’s history that was familiar to him only on a distant level, bringing it to life in that wonderful lyrical way she had.

‘If you’re set against being a teacher, have you thought of being a historian?’ he asked. ‘You could work in a museum giving tours and educating the public.’

‘But that would take me away from home,’ she pointed out. ‘There are no museums near to where we live so to do that would mean having to move away from Orla and Finn.’

‘I’m sure they would miss you but Orla will be able to afford professional help rather than rely on you.’

‘I would miss them too much,’ she stated simply.

‘Then get them to move with you. It’s time you started living your life for yourself. You’ve put it on hold for long enough.’

Parking at the cathedral was limited but he found a space easily enough. As he held Aislin’s hand to help her out, a figure in the distance caught his attention.

He swore.

Aislin followed his gaze and saw a couple heading their way. The elderly man had a walking stick and a shock of pure white hair that brought to mind Albert Einstein. The much younger, pencil-thin woman holding his arm had dark hair coiffured within an inch of its life and wore a chic silver lace dress and billowing green silk cape. She guessed they were grandfather and granddaughter.

Then she looked back at Dante and saw the distaste curdling his face and felt suddenly sure it was because of the woman he was staring at.

Nausea sparked in her guts, violent and immediate.

Katrina might not be one of his ex-lovers but the odds were that another guest or two would be.

‘Who’s that?’ she asked as casually as she could manage.

‘My mother.’

‘What?’

‘That woman is my mother.’

That woman spotted them staring and raised a hand in their direction to wave enthusiastically.

Dante raised a hand in return. He didn’t wave it.

‘That’s your mother? You’re kidding me! Seriously?’ Aislin, all nausea gone as quickly as it had come, now had the worry that her eyes were going to pop out. Holy moly, that was his mother?

She didn’t look like any mother of a thirty-four-year-old man Aislin had ever met.