Bought by Her Italian Boss

“And I’m going to have to insist on more frequent feedings,” she added, trying to rise. “I suppose I have to cook again?”

“Two words, cara,” he growled, flattening her on her back and setting his teeth against her shoulder. “Bite me.”

CHAPTER NINE

“GOOD JOB ON the lawyer,” Paolo said dryly as he opened the door to his home to them a few nights later.

Gwyn was a bundle of nerves, not quite believing this was a mere social dinner, but Vito assured her it was. All she had done was ask casually how Lauren and the baby were getting on. Vito had called to ask and it had turned into a dinner invitation. Now, here they were.

“She’s really nice, isn’t she?” she said to Paolo, barely tracking the conversation as the old-world beauty of the house dazzled her. Vito had told her as they drove in that the house had been in the family for generations. It was set on a property that had to be worth millions of euros given its size and location. What charmed her more was the way the high ceilings and Renaissance architecture and formal furniture was peppered with colorful children’s toys, a baby swing and the sleek lines of a laptop on an antique escritoire.

“Nice,” Paolo repeated under his breath, saying to Vito, “Did you have anything to do with her choice?”

“I’ve stayed out of it. Why? Are we likely to lose these?” Vito plucked at his shirt.

“My stepbrother found her for me,” Gwyn hurried to say. “I didn’t know who else to ask. Why? Is she awful?”

“Depends which side of the table you’re on,” Paolo said smoothly. “You’re on the side where she is very nice. But she’s already setting a high bar for our own legal team. It will be a good exercise for them in staying sharp.”

Lauren came down the stairs at that point, newborn in her arm.

After a greeting of kisses all around, she brought them through the house to the back to greet the children who were playing outside under the eye of the nanny.

“Ignore the boxes,” Lauren said as they came back in, waving at the dozens piled near the back stairs. “One of the aunts has embarked on a family history book. Paolo and I have been digging relics out of attics and pantries that haven’t been opened in years. It’s fascinating! So many old photos and diaries. Love letters.”

Gwyn had just taken the baby from Lauren, gathering his warm body close and glancing at Vito like she was the first person to ever cuddle a baby. It was a vulnerable moment of wanting to share her excitement and joy, maybe see what he thought of the sight of her with an infant against her heart, but he wasn’t looking at her.

He and Paolo had a lightning exchange that consisted of one look of inquiry and another of an infinitesimal shake of Paolo’s head replying, No.

If Vito realized she had seen what had just transpired, he betrayed nothing. In fact, his direct gaze, so forceful as he met hers, was a silent declaration that he had nothing to hide.

But she’d seen something. She knew it.

“That’s what brought me to Italy, you know,” Lauren said, moving through to the lounge where she gathered toys. “Looking up family. My grandmother had a scandalous affair with a married man and went home pregnant.”

“Here I thought you came to Italy for me,” Paolo said, holding up a red plastic bin so Lauren could drop her collection of stuffed toys and books into it.

“You’re why I stayed, mio bello,” she said, offering her lips for a kiss.

The rest of the evening passed in entertaining conversation, excellent food and an invitation from the children to read bedtime stories. It was sweet, yet poignant, making Gwyn recall the way Vito had told her this would never be her life.

Later, as they were readying for bed, she asked him, “Did you ever live in that house?” She was still thinking about that odd moment when Lauren had mentioned love letters. Had he left some evidence of a lost crush?

“I stayed with Paolo’s family at different times as a child, wherever they happened to be living. Both of our families traveled a lot, but my sisters and I were well matched in ages to Paolo and his sisters. We often had summer vacations together, that kind of thing. They were our favorite cousins and my uncle...” Vito shrugged. “I looked to him as much of a father figure as my own,” he said with a hint of private irony.

“That must have been so idyllic,” she said wistfully. “Did you and Paolo play with the girls? Or were you horrible sexists?”

“A little of both,” he said dryly, unbuttoning his shirt. “We were never going to play with dolls without lighting their hair on fire, but if the girls wanted to play tag or hide-and-seek, we were up for it.”