Italian Mavericks: Forbidden Nights With The Italian: The Forbidden Ferrara / Surrendering to the Italian's Command / The Unwanted Conti Bride

Yes, he’d been demanding, but she’d been demanding, too. In fact she couldn’t even remember who had made the first move in the thick sweltering darkness of that hot summer night. He’d slaked his appetite and she’d slaked hers. He’d taken and she’d taken right back.

Because she didn’t want to think about sex, she went back to something he’d said earlier. ‘There is one thing you’ve forgotten in all this. You’ve forgotten to make me sign a prenuptial agreement.’

He laughed. ‘We’re not going to need one of those.’

‘Don’t be so sure. You’re a very rich guy. Aren’t you afraid I’m going to take you for every penny you have?’

‘A prenuptial agreement is only necessary in the event of a divorce. I’m very traditional. I believe that marriage is for ever. Once a Ferrara wife, always a Ferrara wife. We will not be getting a divorce.’

‘Maybe you’ll want one.’ She didn’t understand her need to goad him but she couldn’t help herself. ‘Maybe you won’t find being married to me particularly entertaining.’

‘As long as you focus on one particular type of entertainment, we’ll be fine.’

She decided he was definitely winding her up and threw him a look. ‘If you’re so damn horny how can you be sure marriage is going to suit you? Being trapped with one woman might drive you mad.’

‘Been reading my press coverage?’ He threw her an amused glance and a sexy smile that travelled right through her body. ‘I never said I wasn’t going to keep you busy but you can relax. You have no reason to be jealous. I intend to focus all my attention on you. All of it, tesoro.’ His husky voice teased her nerve-endings. Or maybe it was the words again. The way he managed to inject each phrase with lethal promise. Under that veneer of smooth control she sensed darker emotions that simmered beneath the surface he presented to the world. From the rocky base of her own family, she’d watched him grow from boy to man. She understood the volatility that was so much a part of his nature, but she’d also seen the drive. Unobserved, she’d watched as he’d learned to windsurf and to sail. She’d admired the sheer determination that never allowed him to give up on anything until it was mastered. And then there had been the women. Golden-haired girls who flocked to the beach in the hope of attracting the attention of one of the Ferrara brothers.

It was no wonder he was sure of himself, she thought numbly. No one had ever said no to him. No one had ever challenged his supremacy. And suddenly she couldn’t help herself.

‘Maybe you won’t be enough for me,’ she said calmly, deciding to play him at his own game. ‘I have needs too. Needs every bit as powerful as yours. Maybe you won’t be able to satisfy me.’

Dark eyebrows rose, but the faint gleam in his eyes suggested he appreciated the humour. ‘You think not?’

‘No. I don’t see why men always think they have the monopoly on sexual needs. I’m just saying that perhaps I’ll be the one looking elsewhere.’

He stopped the car so suddenly that the seat belt locked.

Oblivious to the cacophony of horns sounding behind them, he turned to face her and her heart raced away in a crazy rhythm under that glittering gaze because the humour was gone.

‘I didn’t mean it,’ she muttered. She realised she’d been stupid to goad him in that way. ‘You were winding me up and I was doing the same. For goodness’ sake, Santo—my father was unfaithful to my mother for the whole of their marriage, do you really think I’d do that?’

He inhaled slowly. ‘Not a good joke.’

‘No, but—’ she hesitated ‘—since this conversation has turned serious—I’m well aware that you’re marrying me just because of Luca so we’re not exactly glued together by love, are we? I’m not a meek, obedient girl who is going to sit in the corner while you go off with other women. What happens if you do fall in love?’

He stared at her for a long moment and then turned his attention back to the road and eased back into the horrendous traffic. ‘I’d be bored silly in five minutes with meek and obedient. I don’t want you to sit in a corner. As my wife you will inevitably have a high profile. And whatever happened in the past, I respect you as the mother of my child and that is enough to glue us together. And as for your father—’ his voice hardened ‘—his behaviour was dishonourable and beneath contempt. I would never behave in such a way towards the mother of my children. You have no need to worry. And no need to be jealous.’

Humiliated that she’d revealed so much, she turned her head and looked out of the window but she was oblivious to everything except her own emotions. She realised that she didn’t even know where they were. She’d been so wrapped up in her emotions she hadn’t been watching the route. ‘I’m not jealous.’

‘Yes, you are. You’re worried I’m going to cheat on you and I don’t mind that because it proves you’re committed—’ He leaned on his horn and overtook a driver who he obviously considered to be going too slowly. ‘If you’d told me to go ahead and have an affair, I would have been worried. You feel strong emotions and I’m comfortable with strong emotions. I just need to persuade you to express them. From now on “hiding in the boathouse” is banned. And I use that term figuratively as well as literally.’

She hadn’t been back to the boathouse for years. Once, it had been her favourite hiding place, her sanctuary, but she hadn’t been back there since that night.

Santo drove into the courtyard of a beautiful palazzo and Fia glanced around her in surprise.

‘Where are we?’

‘My brother Cristiano’s town house. You’re choosing your wedding dress. Dani is here and also Cristiano’s wife, Laurel. You’ll like her. She is calmer than Dani so hopefully she’ll add some sense to the proceedings.’

‘They separated—’ she frowned, trying to remember ‘—I read something in the paper.’

‘But now they are back together and stronger than ever. They have a daughter, Elena, who is the same age as Dani’s Rosa, and an older daughter, Chiara, who they adopted a year ago.’ He switched off the engine. ‘So you see, Luca’s family is expanding by the minute.’

‘I read that they were getting a divorce.’

‘Not any more.’ He gave a gentle smile and released her seat belt. ‘As I said, angelo mia, once a Ferrara wife, always a Ferrara wife. Remember that.’

She got through the wedding ceremony by telling herself that she was marrying for love. Not love for Santo, but love for her son. And any doubts she might have had were swept away by the sight of Luca being welcomed into the big, noisy Ferrara family. He thrived on the attention, adored playing with his cousins and wouldn’t let his father out of his sight. And Fia couldn’t help but warm to Santo’s mother, who embraced her tightly as she welcomed her to the family. They never held anything back, she thought. They didn’t ration love. They weren’t afraid that too much was a bad thing.

The media, tired of the endless gloom of economic disaster, greedily devoured a happy story. Thanks to the few choice details fed to them by the Ferrara publicity machine, they’d pieced together a romantic tale that bore no resemblance to reality. According to the press, their relationship had been conducted in secret because of the long-standing feud between their families, but now it was out in the open and the headlines read ‘Love conquers all’.

But perhaps the press were most charmed by the sight of her grandfather and Cristiano Ferrara shaking hands and talking together at length, finally putting an end to hostilities.

‘I’m worried this is all too much for you, Nonno.’ The tension a constant knot in her stomach, Fia sat down on the chair next to her grandfather. ‘You should still be convalescing.’

‘Don’t fuss. Ferrara has half the hospital standing guard,’ her grandfather grumbled. ‘What can happen?’

But she could tell he was impressed by the care and attention Santo had paid to him and if her insides hadn’t been churning so alarmingly at the thought of what was coming, she would have been grateful, too. As it was, she stole a glance at the handsome man who was now her husband and felt a flicker of trepidation. It was all very well for him to say that marriage was for ever but, apart from the moment they’d exchanged vows, he hadn’t looked at her. Not once. It was as if he were trying to postpone the moment he had to confront reality. What would happen when the guests finally left and they were alone? Would there be stilted conversation? Would he suggest an early night?

Her grandfather gave a rare smile. ‘Look at Luca. Now that’s how a boy should play.’

Fia looked and saw her son shrieking with laughter as his father held him upside down by his ankles. She felt a lurch of anxiety.

‘I hope he doesn’t drop him on the terrace.’

Her grandfather gave her an impatient look. ‘You fuss him to death.’

Did she fuss him to death? She’d tried so hard to make sure Luca knew he was loved. Had she overdone that?

‘I just want him to be happy.’

‘And what about you? Are you happy?’ It was the first time her grandfather had ever asked her that question and she didn’t know how to answer.

She should have been happy that Luca now had his father in his life and that the long-running feud between their two families had finally been put to rest.

But how happy could a marriage be when the only love involved was for a child?

Her father had made no secret of his resentment towards his children. He’d married because of pressure from his father—her grandfather—and four lives had been damaged as a result of his innate selfishness.

But Santo was nothing like her father, she reasoned. It was obvious that he felt nothing but unconditional love for his son and already Luca was being enveloped in the warm, protective blanket of the Ferrara family.

‘I’m giving him the land as a wedding gift.’ Her grandfather scowled at her. ‘Satisfied?’

She gave a weak smile. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

He hesitated and then squeezed her hand in an almost unprecedented show of affection. ‘You did the right thing. Eventually.’

The right thing for Luca, yes. But for her?

She was less convinced.

Eventually the guests started to drift away. Her grandfather, tired but less grumpy than she’d seen him in a long time, was ushered away by concerned health staff and only a few close family remained.

Feeling alone in the crowd of Ferraras, Fia paced restlessly to the far side of the terrace where they had gathered to ‘celebrate’.

‘Here—’ Dani thrust a glass of champagne into her hand ‘—you look as though you need it. Welcome to the family. You look stunning. That dress is perfect, if I say so myself.’ She clinked her glass against Fia’s. ‘To your future, which is going to be good, despite what you’re thinking right now this minute.’

Fia wondered how she knew. She wasn’t used to confiding in people. On the other hand, she was grateful to Dani for at least making an effort to be friendly. ‘Am I that easy to read?’

‘Yes.’ Dani stretched out a hand and brushed a strand of hair from Fia’s shoulder. ‘I know that you and Santo have your problems; I’m not fooled by this story he’s spinning for the world. But it’s going to be fine now you’re married. You’ll work it out. There’s something strong between you. I sensed it that morning I arrived to help with Luca. You could barely keep your hands off each other.’

That was just sexual chemistry and Fia knew you couldn’t build a marriage on that. ‘He’s angry with me.’

‘He’s Santo,’ Dani said simply. ‘He feels deeply. About everything, but most of all family. Cristiano is the same. But now you are family.’

‘But he didn’t really want to marry me.’ The words came out in a rush. ‘I’m irrelevant.’

‘Irrelevant?’ Dani looked at her for a long time and then smiled. ‘Let me tell you something about my brother. Whatever you may have heard, he is very, very picky when it comes to women and he believes that marriage is for ever. He would not have married you if he didn’t think the two of you could make a go of it.’

‘I don’t think he’s thought about us at all. This is about Luca.’

‘But you made Luca together,’ Dani said gently, ‘so there must have been something. And you’re certainly not irrelevant. He’s spent the whole evening trying not to look at you.’

‘You noticed that?’ Her humiliation deepened but Dani smiled.

‘It’s a good sign. I have a suspicion my very confident brother is feeling confused for the first time in his life. That has to be a good thing.’

‘I took it as a sign that he’s indifferent.’

‘I don’t know what he feels but it’s not indifference.’

Fia had no chance to question her further because Dani was immediately dragged away to speak to a bunch of cousins and Fia was left alone again. She was now married to one of the wealthiest men in Italy, but she longed to be back at the Beach Shack, clearing up after evening service, with the prospect of an early-morning dip in the sea with her son.

It had been agreed that Luca would stay with Dani and her family for the night and the thought of being without him brought a lump to her throat. Suddenly she wanted to scoop up her son and run straight back into her old life where her emotions and feelings had been a steady, predictable thing. Instead she had to hug him goodbye and watch as he left with his new family. Was it selfish to wish he were just a little anxious about leaving her? Was it wrong of her to wish he’d clung just a little longer instead of smiling with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with his cousins? Was it cowardly to wish she had him here, because he formed the only effective barrier between herself and Santo?

‘He’ll be fine. Don’t worry about him. Dani may seem scatty but she’s a devoted mother.’ Santo was by her side. Santo, who was now her husband, for richer, for poorer. And it was definitely richer, she thought numbly. Even knowing how wealthy the Ferrara family were, she was still stunned by the sheer luxury of her new life. This was their flagship hotel and their corporate headquarters and at the far side of the private beach was the Aphrodite Villa, the jewel in the Ferrara corporate crown. Occasionally the family rented it to rock stars and royalty, but for the next twenty-four hours it belonged to them and the thought of being alone with Santo in a place designed for lovers made her feel something close to panic.

Over the past week she’d been so busy taking care of Luca, shuttling backwards and forward to the hospital to be with her grandfather, she’d managed not to face up to the reality of their wedding night. But now—

Suddenly she longed for those distractions that had kept her from thinking about this moment. The moment she’d be on her own with Santo.

‘He didn’t need to be sent away.’ She kept her eyes fixed on the distance, determined not to look at him. If he could ignore her, she would ignore him back. ‘It isn’t as if he’s intruding on a romantic interlude. It’s crazy to turn this into something it’s not.’

Her observation was met with silence.

Unnerved by that silence, she glanced briefly at him and collided with night-black eyes that glittered bright with intent.

‘You don’t think he’d be intruding?’ He slid his hand behind her head and brought her face close to his. ‘You want him here while we finally let this thing between us go free? Is that what you want?’ His voice was thickened with raw lust. ‘Because I, for one, have no intention of holding back. I’ve been doing that for long enough and it’s driving me insane.’

Shocked, Fia stared into those eyes. She could see the blaze of hunger. Feel the hard bite of his fingers as he buried them in her hair. And everything he felt, she felt too. How could she not? The chemistry was so powerful that she felt it shoot right through her. She burned up and melted. It might have ended right there on the terrace had not someone cleared their throat right next to them.

This time it was Cristiano, Santo’s older brother. Unlike Dani, he’d been cool with her and Fia suspected he wasn’t going to be so easily won over as his romantic sister.

Brotherly love, she thought numbly.

She’d never had that. Her brother had been selfish and irresponsible and any warmth in their relationship had existed only in her mind. Unlike the Ferraras, where warmth surrounded the family like a protective forcefield.

With visible reluctance, Santo let his hand drop from her neck. ‘Back in a minute.’ Relaxed and unflustered, he strolled away with his brother and Fia took advantage of the distraction to make an exit. She had no intention of waiting. The atmosphere was suffocating and anyway, what was he planning? A romantic walk on the sand? Hardly.

Solar-powered lights lit the path to the beach and she walked quickly, blotting out the thought that this place was perfect for a lovers’ stroll. The setting sun sent a ruby glow over the darkening horizon and in the background she heard the rhythmic chirruping of cicadas and the soft swish of the sea on the sand.

It should have been an idyllic setting but the perfection jarred against the reality.

It felt as inappropriate as the cream silk wedding dress chosen by Dani.

She should have worn red, she thought. Red for danger.

She approached the villa, was momentarily checked by the sheer beauty of the infinity pool and then stopped dead at the sight that greeted her. It was obvious that the place had been lovingly prepared for a night of romance. The doors were open to the beach. Chilled champagne waited by the bed, candles flickered on every surface and rose petals had been scattered on the floor leading to the luxurious bedroom.

She could have coped with the champagne and the candles.

It was the sight of those rose petals that made her throat close.

Rose petals said romance, and that wasn’t what was going on here.

Their relationship was not about romance.

Emotions that had been building since Santo had first strode into her kitchen exploded. Trying to destroy the atmosphere created by the candles, she flicked on harsh overhead lights and started to open doors, looking for a broom—looking for something that would help her remove that romantic symbol from the floor. When she failed to find anything remotely like cleaning equipment she dropped to her knees and started to scoop the petals up by hand, sweeping them into a pile by the bed.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ An incredulous male voice came from the doorway but Fia didn’t even look up. She didn’t dare look up in case everything she was feeling spilled over.

‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m clearing up the evidence of someone’s warped sense of humour.’ The mound was growing but before she could add any more she was lifted off her knees and planted on her feet.

‘What’s warped about it?’

‘It’s a mockery,’ she croaked. ‘Someone is being intentionally cruel. Making fun of our relationship.’

Dark brows locked together in an uncomprehending frown. ‘I gave the instruction to prepare it the way we do for honeymoons and romantic breaks. I just married you. Short though it may be, this is our honeymoon. There are certain expectations. I’ve projected this as a romance because I don’t want any rumours that will hurt our son.’

So even the rose petals by the bed were for Luca. All of it was for Luca.

‘But he’s not here now, is he? And neither are the journalists. So we can lose the rose petals.’ Her teeth were chattering and he made an impatient sound and his fingers tightened on her shoulders.

‘What is the significance of a few rose petals?’

‘Precisely! They have no significance! They have no place in our relationship, and if you can’t see that—’ She tugged herself away from him. ‘I think you are the most insensitive man I’ve ever met. I’ve gone along with this whole white wedding charade although I would have been quite happy just to have kept it small—’

‘That was small.’

Fia wasn’t listening. ‘I’ve bitten my tongue when the press have gone on about Romeo and Juliet which, by the way, isn’t actually the best analogy given that both of them die at the end, I said my vows and I gave you my son. I did all that not because I have feelings for you but because I have feelings for him and I can see that already he loves you! I’m prepared to do all that for him and I’m prepared to be nice Mommy when we’re all together but when we’re alone—that’s different.’

Suddenly she felt exhausted and she pressed her fingers to her forehead, struggling to contain emotion that felt too big for her body. ‘Do you know what? I actually respected you for not once pretending this was anything other than a marriage of convenience, mostly your convenience, by the way. But nowhere in our discussions have we ever pretended that what we share is about … about …’ her breathing stuttered ‘… rose petals.’

‘Cristo, will you stop obsessing about rose petals?’

‘I just don’t need rose petals in my life, OK?’ She was right on the edge and the thought of losing it horrified her. ‘It doesn’t matter how many rose petals you arrange to have strewn on the floor, our marriage is still a sham. And now I’m going to bed. And if you have any sensitivity you’ll sleep on the sofa.’

‘I have it on good authority I’m an insensitive bastard, so I guess that clears up any questions over where I’ll be sleeping,’ he drawled. ‘And don’t even think about making a run for it because I’ll just drag you back. Look at me.’

She looked, and if breathing had seemed hard before it was doubly hard now. As she looked into those dark sexy eyes a part of her she’d buried sprang to life. She was used to controlling her feelings. She’d learned the skill as a child. Only once in her life had she truly let herself go, and it had been with this man. That night in the darkness, the night they’d made Luca, it had been all about touch and taste, soft sounds and a wild, maddening desire. It had unnerved her then. And it unnerved her now.

Because she’d put on the lights, there was no missing the purposeful glitter in his eyes or his obvious arousal. And there was no disguising the instant response of her own body.

It had been brewing, of course, since that night he’d walked into her restaurant, but they’d both held it in check.

Now, there was nothing to snap that frighteningly powerful connection. It wasn’t about candles or rose petals, but an elemental force that was stronger than both of them.

He stood absolutely still and the stillness simply raised the tension because she knew now how this was going to end.

They moved at the same time, coming together with a violence that came close to desperation. His hands cupped her face as he kissed her hard. Her hands were on the front of his shirt, ripping. And then her fingers were on his flesh and he groaned against her mouth and grabbed the hem of her dress and yanked it upwards. They stopped kissing just long enough for him to strip it over her head and then his mouth crushed hers again, his hands buried in the thickness of her hair, his powerful body pressed hard against hers as the two of them staggered backwards into the wall. Still they kissed, his tongue hot in her mouth, her hands fumbling frantically with the zip of his trousers. She yanked it down and closed her hand over the thickness of him. He gave a savage groan, his hands bold and sure as he stripped her naked.

Desire was an elemental savage rush of fire. It poured through her veins, heated her skin and weakened her limbs. It blasted all thought from her head until her most basic instincts were screaming. She was naked in front of him but she didn’t even care. Her only thought was that now he could get on and do what they both needed him to do.

And he did.

His mouth found the pulse at the base of her throat and her head fell back, the excitement almost excruciating.

‘Cristo, I want you—’ His hand was between her legs and his skilled fingers slid into her, exploring her so intimately that she sobbed his name on each ragged breath.