Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin Page 10

  For both, it was the end of longing.

  It was a fierce kiss, when he hadn’t intended it to be, but it was a mutual kiss borne of three months of yearning from both of them.

  Dante’s scent, which Mia had hungered for, consumed her again, and their untamed passion unleashed her and caused her to reveal other truths that she’d not intended to share. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she panted between kisses. ‘Dante, I want you so much...’

  The breathless admission was delivered with a wanton edge that surprised Dante, for she was always so pent up that it was delicious to know another side existed.

  And he too was unleashed.

  There was no thought of bed now, just a craving for skin.

  He reached for the zipper but as his hand brushed her breast she moaned into his mouth and he read that moan, the zipper forgotten, roughly handling her breasts through the silky fabric.

  It made her feel desperate, frantic even, for more of his touch.

  Mia had felt desperate and frantic many times in her life, though for sadder reasons, and she had always hidden it, always held on to her emotions, but when with Dante, when safely locked in his embrace, her reserve tumbled.

  His hands were everywhere, roaming her body then deftly hitching up her dress, his hands impatient and delicious. She had never wanted anything so much in her life. She was no longer shy, or guarded. She was grappling with his shirt just to feel his chest, and then his belt—she did not know who this woman was. They were both panting and their foreheads were locked together as he reached for a condom. There was the tiniest moment for Mia to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, but she was desperate and wanton and sliding down her panties as that thought dispersed.

  The sumptuous lounge was impossible to negotiate because they could not bear to drop contact.

  Dante lifted her heavy gown and then he lifted Mia and positioned her and with his hands on her hips pulled her down onto him. But Mia did not know how to move with abandon, how to find her own rhythm, when she had known but one night with him.

  Dante searched for a wall, any wall, but as he moved them to it the roses in their vase were knocked to the floor in their haste.

  Then she felt the cool wall behind her and she locked her arms around his neck as he took her against it, over and over again.

  Mia’s legs were wrapped tightly around him and the heel of one stiletto was digging into the back of the other calf. She was vaguely aware that it hurt but she could no more consider moving than flying to the moon, for the feeling of Dante inside her, raw and unbridled, was beyond exquisite.

  He thrust into her so deeply and so rapidly that her thighs were shaking, and her neck was arching so that the top of her head met the wall. ‘Dante...’ She was coming and crying but still he did not relent.

  ‘Di più,’ Dante said.

  More.

  And there was more, Mia found, for as he thrust into her, she heard Dante’s breathless shout as he released himself into her, which had her clamping all over again, every nerve so tight she could not even scream as, for a moment, she entirely left her mind.

  And then he kissed her back into time.

  He carried her through to the bedroom and laid her down, before collapsing beside her to collect not just his breath but his thoughts.

  Soon he would undress her, Dante decided. Soon they would start again, but slowly this time. But it wasn’t just sex on his mind as they lay together, staring at another ceiling. This time his arm did not cover his face.

  ‘What do we do?’ Dante asked, and turned his head so they looked at each other. ‘Meet once a year in our decadent palace, or...’ He saw her eyes shutter and guessed she wasn’t ready to glimpse stepping out and facing the world and to hell with the scandal it would cause. Yet he was beginning to glimpse a tentative future, when he never once had before. He was starting to trust Mia, and he knew this was different because in the three months they had been apart he had not been able to get her out of his mind.

  ‘What do you think we should do?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mia admitted. She looked into those gorgeous black eyes and knew she could hold it in no longer. ‘Dante, I’m pregnant.’

  Mia waited, for his intake of breath, for his shock, or even his refusal to acknowledge that fact. What she did not expect was the dark chill of his calmness, like a still, deep pond that would silently swallow you, or the weary sigh he gave, as if he had expected no less.

  ‘Of course you are,’ Dante said, and he rolled himself off of the bed. That suspicious, contemptuous look that he displayed so well was on her again.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Mia asked.

  ‘It means,’ Dante said, as he did himself up, ‘that I am not in the least surprised we find ourselves here.’ For a moment there he had trusted her, had honestly believed they might stand a chance. ‘Has the money run out? How much more do you want?’

  ‘Dante, please...’

  ‘No need to beg.’ Dante deliberately misinterpreted her words. ‘Just speak with a lawyer. Though, when you do, tell them I want DNA before I respond.’

  ‘Do you really think I want to be in this situation?’ Mia asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Dante said. ‘Absolutely! I think you are exactly where you want to be—in fact, you are where you planned to be.’ He stared right at her. ‘I told you where and when to get emergency contraception.’

  ‘And I took it,’ Mia said.

  He gave such a mocking laugh. ‘You had one job, Mia. Did I have to go and fetch the pills and watch you take them myself? No, I trusted that you would take care of it. Clearly you didn’t.’

  ‘Just because you’re such an expert on emergency contraception it doesn’t mean we all are. I forgot to take my motion sickness medication that night. If you’re such an expert, perhaps you should have warned me that if I vomited within three hours—’

  ‘I’m no expert!’ he angrily interrupted. ‘I was looking it up on my phone while you got the cases. The pharmacist should have told you.’

  ‘She spoke in Italian, Dante, and very fast.’ But Dante didn’t want to hear it. He was already heading out to the lounge to gather his clothes, and she was shaking and upset as she followed him. ‘Yes, I made a mistake, and, yes, this isn’t what you want. Well, guess what? I didn’t want to be pregnant either. I wanted the Romanos out of my life for good.’

  ‘Yet here you are,’ Dante pointed out. ‘You never wanted to be gone.’

  ‘Do you think I enjoyed the scrutiny? Being called a gold-digger and a whore by the press?’

  ‘I don’t believe you, Mia, and with good reason. You’ve been lying to me from the first day we met. You introduced yourself as his PA when you knew you were about to the blow the family apart. You masqueraded as his lover, yet that was clearly a lie, so tell me, why should I start believing what you say now? There hasn’t been a word of truth from your mouth from the very start. There’s been nothing but trouble since the day you came into our lives.’

  He stalked out through the adjoining door, but then returned and took the bottle of champagne. ‘You won’t be needing this,’ he said tartly, and walked out again.

  This time, it was Dante who turned the key.

  CHAPTER NINE

  NEITHER MIA NOR Dante got much sleep.

  Mia wasn’t angry at his reaction. How could she be, when she had asked the very same questions of herself?

  Well, not the DNA one, but even that she understood.

  Rafael had once told her about the various paternity suits filed against him, how a woman with whom he had once had a business dinner had announced eight weeks later she was pregnant with his child, and had insisted the same right up to the return of the results. Sadly there were people willing to go to any lengths to get their hands on the Romano fortune.

  No, she had never expected Dante to blindly
believe and suddenly trust her, of course not.

  But it still hurt that he didn’t.

  Yet Dante was right, Mia thought as she peeled off her gown. Despite the chaos of her personal life, Mia clung to order and hung the dress up. Then, with shaking hands, she returned the gorgeous earrings to their box and put them in the safe, but such was her turmoil that Mia just tapped in the first numbers that came to mind. Yes, she clung to order, even removing her make-up and brushing out her hair. But even with her night-time routine and the sumptuous bed, it was impossible to sleep, for there was no real relief that Dante now knew the truth.

  Dante did not sleep either.

  In fact, he paced his way through the early hours of morning, tempted to go to her suite and haul her out of bed so that they could sort this out.

  Except the straight black arrows of anger he aimed at her blurred when he thought of Mia flying home after the drama of the last twenty-four hours. He did not easily lean into sympathy, but conceded that he had not taken his usual care that night, for he never had sex without condoms, yet when they’d made love the thought hadn’t as much as entered his head.

  The champagne went untouched because Dante needed to think. He could not get past her lies, albeit of omission, and so he swung between doubt—one moment believing it had been a simple mistake—and panic.

  Yes, sheer panic.

  A baby!

  He had struggled enough when he had been landed with Alfonzo, but this wasn’t a dog, this was a baby, with arms and legs and teeth—well, eventually teeth, he knew that much!

  A person.

  A whole other person for whom he would be responsible, as if his damned family wasn’t already enough.

  He would be stuck co-parenting with Mia in London, because the thought that they might parent together never even entered his head. The one thing he avoided was relationships, even if for a brief moment he had considered the possibility of one with her.

  That had been before her bombshell, though.

  It felt exactly that—like a bomb had exploded in his brain.

  At six, just as morning coffee was delivered, his phone buzzed, and when he saw that it was Sarah he took the call.

  As she spoke, Dante glanced at the adjoining door as Sarah told him that photographs of himself and Mia had been taken last night in the occasional garden and were being sold.

  ‘Do you know who took them?’ Dante asked.

  ‘Not at this stage.’ Sarah said. ‘Of course, it might have been a set-up. Mia might—’

  Sarah was brilliant at her job and possibly as suspicious by nature as he. Of course he would expect his PA, who liaised with his PR people, to consider that Mia might have set him up, yet Dante had to draw a shaking breath in as he fought not to reprimand her.

  ‘It was not a set-up,’ Dante said. ‘I took Mia out to the garden.’

  ‘Of course, but—’

  ‘Drop it,’ Dante said, and quickly realised it didn’t matter who had taken the pictures. What mattered was the explosion of interest that would take place the moment the images got out.

  He gave rapid orders to Sarah, but when the call ended Dante knew, even as his legal team were being woken, there was no hope of the images being shut down. He made some rapid decisions, before taking a breath, unlocking his adjoining door, and knocking on hers.

  ‘Mia!’ There was no answer and after a couple more knocks he pushed down the lever and found himself back in her lounge. It was somewhat chaotic with the remnants from their lovemaking scattered about. There were roses strewn on the floor and he saw a crumpled sheet of paper and rescued it, reading her pained drafts of telling him about the baby.

  Dante, I don’t know how to tell you this....

  Dante, there was a problem after I took the pills...

  Dante...

  And now he had to tell her this. He made his way to the bedroom and knocked on that door.

  ‘Mia?’

  The door opened immediately as his knock on the adjoining door had woken her, and Mia had pulled on a robe and had been about to head out of the bedroom when he had knocked again. ‘Is it time for round two?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not here to argue. I want you to pack up your things and get dressed—’

  ‘Don’t worry, Dante, I’m leaving.’

  ‘Do you really think I would wake you up to kick you out? Mia, we need to leave now, together. I am taking you back to Luctano where I can control things better. There were photos of us taken last night in the garden. Compromising photos...’ He saw the colour drain from her face.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you seen them?’ she asked.

  ‘No, though by all accounts they speak for themselves.’

  ‘But we didn’t as much as kiss...’ Her voice trailed off when he gave her a wide-eyed look, for their lips may not have touched but certainly there had been contact. ‘Oh, no...’ She could hear the roar of her pulse in her ears and her legs seemed to turn to lead but she pushed them to move and then sat down on a chaise longue by the windows in the vast bedroom.

  Dante remained at the doors and watched as she put her head in her hands. Mia was clearly devastated and, surprisingly for Dante, even with Sarah’s words lingering, not for a second did he think she might have engineered it. ‘We can leave now, unnoticed, as the pictures are not yet out, but I guarantee it is a window that will close very soon.’

  He sounded so calm when she was so not. ‘Dante, I can’t go in your helicopter.’

  ‘That’s fine, I will drive.’

  ‘But I’m starting a new job tomorrow,’ Mia said, and then cringed at the thought of starting work with the photos coming out and buried her head in her hands again.

  Dante looked around the room rather than at her, and saw the dress hanging up neatly and the shoes side by side, so at odds with the chaos that was about to hit. ‘Mia, despite what I said last night, it is clear that we need to speak, so let’s just focus on that for now.’

  It didn’t take Mia long to pack and Dante took even less time, for she could feel his impatience from the lounge as she stuffed the gown in her case and pulled on a denim skirt and strappy top.

  ‘Where’s your luggage?’ Mia asked when she came out.

  ‘Sarah will come and pack for me...’ he said, but as he followed her out he saw a fresh blue bruise on the back of her calf. ‘What happened to your leg?’

  Mia glanced down and then twisted and looked at the bruise her own stiletto had made and gave him her answer. ‘You did.’

  They drove through a sleepy Rome, bathed in a golden sunrise, the streets more deserted and more beautiful than Mia had ever seen them, but nothing could soothe her now.

  ‘I forgot the earrings.’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘I left them in the safe.’

  ‘I’ll tell Sarah to get them. She’s waiting at my place; I have to collect a few things before we head off,’ Dante said, and turned into a lane.

  He lived very close to the hotel, in Campo Marzio, in the historic centre of Rome, with everything she loved about Rome on his doorstep.

  Not that Dante had a doorstep as such.

  He parked the car on a cobbled lane. She got out and followed him through a heavy gate, where they were greeted by a doorman who pulled open the lift. Despite herself, Mia was curious to glimpse his home.

  But they were not alone.

  Sarah was there and handed him a case, and though she gave Mia a polite nod she clearly had no interest in her and was just sorting things out for the boss, so Mia stood as Sarah and Dante spoke, and took in her surroundings.

  The vast lounge with its high walls and ornate ceiling was a stunning marriage of ancient and modern. There were rugs everywhere and heavy leather sofas, and the huge pieces of modern art on the walls clashed marvellously
with the picture-perfect view of the Spanish Steps.

  The biggest surprise, though, apart from the most delectable view, was a tiny, ancient-looking white dog sitting on the sofa. Dante did not seem the type to have a small dog—or any dog, come to that. His eyes were white with cataracts but whether or not he could see Dante, he thumped his tail when his master arrived. The dog didn’t get up, just lay there as Dante stroked his ears while he spoke with Sarah, who had but one question for Mia: ‘What is your code for the safe?’

  ‘One, two, three, four,’ a blushing Mia admitted, trying to ignore the look that passed between Dante and Sarah that said, Too stupid for words.

  ‘We should get going,’ Dante said to her in English.

  ‘Are we bringing him?’ Mia asked, and pointed to the scruffy little dog.

  ‘No. Alfonzo lives only to lie on my couch; he hates being moved. Is there anything you need?’

  ‘Coffee,’ Mia admitted. She had no room in her brain to think of anything else, and there was nothing to be gained from pointing out that she had few clothes with her when the shops weren’t even open.

  ‘I’ll collect some breakfast from the café.’

  He got them some pastries too, and there was an armistice while he drove them out of Rome and they took breakfast on the go.

  ‘It’s like being a fugitive,’ Mia commented.

  ‘A bit,’ Dante agreed, ‘though they will soon figure out where we are, but at least you will not be standing at Fiumicino or arriving at Heathrow when word gets out.’

  He took a couple of calls on the way, and one was from Sarah.

  ‘Your earrings are now at my apartment.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘One, two, three, four,’ Dante said. ‘How the hell do you remember that?’

  ‘I wasn’t exactly thinking straight last night,’ Mia said. ‘I’m usually more careful.’

  It was what he did to her, Mia thought.

  Dante had taken the order she eternally sought and tumbled her into chaos.

  Though not now.

  For despite the strain in the air and the questions to come, suddenly there was no place she would rather be than with Dante on a Sunday morning with Rome in the rear-view mirror and the baby no longer a secret.