The Italian's Christmas Secret

He shook his head. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. You look as if you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks and I’m giving you the chance to get some rest.’ He forced himself to be gentle with her, even though his instinct was always to push for exactly what he wanted. And yet strangely, he felt another wave of compassion as he looked into her pale face. ‘Now, we can do this one of two ways. You can fight me or you can make the best of the situation and come willingly.’ His mouth flattened. ‘But if you choose the former, it will be fruitless because I want this, Keira. I want it very badly. And when I want something, I usually get it. Do you believe me?’

The mulish look which entered her eyes was there for only a second before she gave a reluctant nod. ‘Yes,’ she said grudgingly. ‘I believe you.’

‘Then pack what you need and I’ll wait downstairs.’ He turned away but was halted by the sound of her voice.

‘And when we get there, what happens then, Matteo?’ she whispered. ‘To Santino?’ There was a pause. ‘To us?’

He didn’t turn back. He didn’t want to look at her right then, or tell her he didn’t think there was an ‘us’. ‘I have no crystal ball,’ he ground out. ‘We’ll just have to make it up as we go along. Now pack your things.’

He went downstairs, and, despite telling himself that this was nothing more than a problem which needed solving, he could do nothing about the sudden and inexplicable wrench of pain in his heart. But years of practice meant he had composed himself long before he reached the tiny hallway and his face was as hard as granite as he let himself out into the rainy English day.

CHAPTER SIX

GOLDEN SUNLIGHT DANCED on her closed eyelids and warmed her skin as Keira nestled back into the comfortable lounger. The only sounds she could hear were birdsong and the buzz of bees and, in the far distance, the crowing of a cock—even though it was the middle of the day. Hard to believe she’d left behind a rain-washed English autumn to arrive in a country where it was still warm enough to sit outside in October. And even harder to believe that she was at Matteo Valenti’s Umbrian estate, with its acres of olive groves, award-winning vineyards and breathtaking views over mountains and lake. In his private jet, he’d announced he was bringing her here, to his holiday home, to ‘acclimatise’ herself before he introduced her to his real life in Rome. She hadn’t been sure what he meant by that but she’d been too exhausted to raise any objections. She’d been here a week and much of that time had been spent asleep, or making sure that Santino was content. It felt like being transplanted to a luxury spa cleverly hidden within a rustic setting—with countless people working quietly in the background to maintain the estate’s smooth running.

At first she’d been too preoccupied with the practical elements of settling in with her baby to worry about the emotional repercussions of being there. She’d worried about the little things, like how Matteo would react when he discovered she wasn’t feeding Santino herself. Whether he would judge her negatively, as the whole world seemed to do if a woman couldn’t manage to breastfeed. Was that why, in a rare moment of candour, she’d found herself explaining how ill she’d been after the birth—which meant breastfeeding hadn’t been possible? She thought she’d glimpsed a brief softening of the granite-like features before his rugged features resumed their usual implacable mask.

‘It will be easier that way,’ he’d said, with a shrug. ‘Easier for the nursery nurse.’

How cold he could be, she thought. Even if he was right. Because despite her earlier resistance, she was now hugely appreciative of the nursery nurse they’d employed. The very day after they’d arrived, he had produced three candidates for her to interview—top-notch women who had graduated from Italy’s finest training establishment and who all spoke fluent English. After asking them about a million questions—but more importantly watching to see how well they interacted with her baby—Keira had chosen Claudia, a serene woman in her mid-thirties whom she instinctively trusted. It meant Keira got all the best bits of being a mother—cuddling and bathing her adorable son and making goo-goo noises at him as she walked him around the huge estate—while Claudia took over the dreaded three o’clock morning feed.

Which meant she could catch up with the sleep she so badly needed. She’d felt like a complete zombie when she arrived—a fact not helped by the disorientating experience of being flown to Italy on Matteo’s luxury jet then being picked up by the kind of limousine which only a year ago she would have been chauffeuring. The drive to his Umbrian property had passed in a blur and Keira remembered thinking that the only time emotion had entered Matteo’s voice was when they drove through the ancient gates and he began to point out centuries-old landmarks, with an unmistakable sense of pride and affection.

She almost wished Santino had been a little older so he could have appreciated the silvery ripple of olive trees, heavy with fruit and ready for harvest, and the golden pomegranates which hung from the branches like Christmas baubles. She remembered being greeted by a homely housekeeper named Paola and the delicious hot bath she took once the baby had been settled. There had been the blissful sensation of sliding between crisp, clean sheets and laying her head on a pillow of goose-down, followed by her first full night’s sleep since before the birth. And that was pretty much how she’d spent the last seven days, feeling her vitality and strength returning with each hour that passed.

‘You’re smiling,’ came a richly accented voice from above her as a shadow suddenly blotted out the sun.

Shielding her eyes with the edge of her hand, Keira peered up to see Matteo towering over her and her smile instantly felt as if it had become frozen. She could feel her heart picking up speed and the tug of silken hunger in the base of her belly and silently she cursed the instinctive reaction of her body. Because as her strength had returned, so too had her desire for Matteo—a man who she couldn’t quite decide was her jailer or her saviour. Or both.

Their paths hadn’t crossed much because he’d spent much of the time working in a distant part of the enormous farmhouse. It was as if he’d unconsciously marked out different territories for them, with clear demarcation lines which couldn’t be crossed. But what she’d noted above all else was the fact that he’d kept away from the nursery, using the excuse that his son needed to settle in before getting used to too many new people. Because that was what it had sounded like. An excuse. A reason not to touch the son he had insisted should come here.

She’d seen him, of course. Glimpses in passing, which had unsettled her. Matteo looking brooding and muscular in faded denims and a shirt as he strode about the enormous estate, conversing in rapid Italian with his workers—or wearing a knockout charcoal suit just before driving to Rome for the day and returning long after she’d gone to bed.

Another image was burnt vividly into her mind, too. She’d overslept one morning and gone straight to the nursery to find Claudia cradling Santino by the window and telling him to watch ‘Papa’ going down the drive. Papa. It was a significant word. It emphasised Matteo’s importance in their lives yet brought home how little she really knew about the cold-hearted billionaire. Yet that hadn’t stopped her heart from missing a beat as he’d speeded out of the estate in his gleaming scarlet sports car, had it?

‘It makes me realise how rarely I see you smile,’ observed Matteo, still looking down at her as he stood silhouetted by the rich October sun.

&n

bsp; ‘Maybe that’s because we’ve hardly seen one another,’ said Keira, flipping on the sunglasses which had been perched on top of her head, grateful for the way they kept her expression hidden. Not for the first time, she found it almost impossible to look at the man in front of her with any degree of impartiality, but she disguised it with a cool look. ‘And you’re a fine one to talk about smiling. You don’t exactly go around the place grinning from ear to ear, do you?’

‘Perhaps our forthcoming trip to Rome might bring a smile to both our faces,’ he suggested silkily.

Ah yes, the trip to Rome. Keira felt the anxious slam of her heart. She licked her lips. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Do we really have to go?’

In a movement which distractingly emphasised the jut of his narrow hips, he leaned against the sun-baked wall of the farmhouse. ‘We’ve agreed to this, Keira. You need to see the other side of my life, not just this rural idyll. And I’m mainly based in Rome.’

‘And the difference is what?’

‘It’s a high-octane city and nothing like as relaxed as here. When I’m there I go to restaurants and theatres. I have friends there and get invited to parties—and as the mother of my baby, I will be taking you with me.’

She sat up on the lounger, anxiety making her heart thud even harder against her ribcage. ‘Why bother? Why not just leave me somewhere in the background and concentrate on forming a relationship with your son?’

‘I think we have to examine all the possibilities,’ he said carefully. ‘And number one on that list is to work out whether we could have some kind of life together.’ He lifted his brows. ‘It would certainly make things a whole lot easier.’

‘And you’re saying I’ll let you down in my current state, is that it?’

He shrugged his broad shoulders with a carelessness which wasn’t very convincing. ‘I think we’re both aware that you don’t have a suitable wardrobe for that kind of lifestyle. You can’t wear jeans all the time and Paola mentioned that you only seem to have one pair of boots.’