Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin Page 7

  Still, even as the flickers of sensation died, he moved slowly, while she panted, still unable to draw a deep cleansing breath.

  She was silently shocked—not at what had been done, more at what his touch had revealed, for she was tender and sore yet also spun in a golden glow. She did not know how she had lived without knowing such pleasure.

  How she must now live never knowing his touch again.

  And that sinking feeling started now, for with a groan he rolled off her and lay with his arm covering his eyes, as he realised the failure of his own self-control on this solemn day.

  For a while there he’d forgotten that he was grieving.

  The winter that had settled in his soul had faded, but was back now with a vengeance, for it was combined with self-loathing and Dante was well aware he had not taken adequate care. But for now he had but one question. ‘What were you doing, married to him, Mia?’

  She had been a virgin and what had driven Dante wild with desire before now just saddened him. That knowledge told him there had been no passionate affair between her and his father. It really had all been a lie and one he could not understand. ‘Was it just for the money?’ he asked.

  Mia lay there, listening to the fading crackles from the dying fire. The vast lounge was cooling now and she would give anything to roll into Dante and be held in his arms, yet if she moved even an inch closer, she knew she would shatter and reveal the truth.

  A truth she had not only sworn never to reveal but a secret she had been paid handsomely to keep.

  And so, instead of rolling into him, instead of drawing closer, Mia returned to her taciturn self and her response was a brittle, ‘I don’t have to answer that.’

  ‘No,’ Dante said, ‘you don’t.’ But how he wished she would.

  Dante pulled his arm from over his face, but still they could not look at each other. He had another question for Mia. ‘Was it worth it?’

  ‘Which part?’ Mia asked, and her voice was hollow as she looked up at the ceiling, knowing he was asking about what had just taken place, while also looking at the sum of the lie she’d been living these past two years. ‘Being savaged by the press and called a gold-digger and a whore for marrying your father? Being derided by your family at every turn? Or sleeping with you?’

  ‘All of it?’ Dante said. It was an important question, because if she said yes, then he might just take her up to his bed and not give a damn as they breakfasted together in the morning and to hell with the world.

  But for Mia, self-preservation had kicked in. She’d been vilified so many times for her marriage to his father that she could not bear the thought of word getting out about a sordid affair with her late husband’s son on the evening of his funeral. ‘No,’ Mia said, for such was her shame right now. ‘If I could, I would pay the money back, with interest, just to have avoided this.’

  It was the most horrible ending to something so lovely and still neither could meet the other’s eyes. She got up and headed to her suite, deciding that Dante could pick up the clothes in the lounge, for she would never be wearing them again.

  Mia showered quickly and threw on some fresh clothes, and then carried her cases down the stairs.

  It took several journeys, but when she went to call for a car, he appeared, somewhat dressed. Well, he had on his suit trousers and his white shirt but it was untucked and his feet were bare. ‘I’ll drive you to the airport,’ Dante said.

  ‘Please don’t,’ she replied.

  ‘Mia.’ He caught her wrist as she went to walk off and told her what she already knew. ‘We didn’t use any protection.’

  ‘No.’ She felt a bit sick at the thought of that, for she was usually so meticulous and organised and was still reeling that she could have lost control like that.

  ‘You need to go to a farmacia...’

  Mia stood, still unable to look at him as Dante handed out emergency contraceptive advice as if he were an expert! Though she guessed he was more than used to it.

  ‘You’ll take care of it, Mia?’ He did not call her bella; he would be remembering her name. Because Dante always took care, and was aghast at his own lack of thought. ‘Mia?’ he checked.

  ‘Yes,’ she hissed.

  ‘Because you do not want to be pregnant by me.’

  ‘I get it!’

  ‘Do you?’ he checked. ‘It would be a scandal like no other and, aside from that, I never want to have children.’

  ‘I get it, Dante.’ She gave a tight smile. Mia was well aware he liked his single lifestyle, without consequences. ‘All care and no responsibility.’

  ‘But I didn’t take due care.’

  She looked at this reprobate playboy. No, she did not want to be pregnant by him. ‘Then I shall.’

  Perhaps to make up for his lack of assistance in bringing the cases down the stairs, he did help load them into the car, but there was no kiss, no Dante standing on the stairs, waving goodbye.

  Of course not.

  Before the car door had even closed he was back in the house.

  There could be no happy ending to this.

  It was appalling, what had just taken place.

  And both of them knew it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS DANTE who alerted Mia that there might be an issue.

  For a few weeks there had been silence from Italy.

  After a turbulent flight back to England, Mia had headed to the small flat that was part of her inheritance from Rafael.

  Michael’s wife, Gemma, had been keeping an eye on it, and, aware of Mia’s impending return, the place had been aired and there was bread and milk and suchlike. Mia bypassed all that and had headed to the bedroom where she’d lain, still in her coat, curled up on top of the bed covers, utterly conflicted. A part of her was aghast at what had taken place between Dante and herself, while the other part saw now that it had been inevitable, for she had ached for him for so long.

  She was dismayed too at her own lack of regret, for, despite her brave words to Dante when he’d asked if it had been worth it, Mia knew that, given the chance, she would do it all over again.

  On the morning after she’d arrived in London, Mia had showered and dressed and sworn to put that one indecent Tuscan night behind her and move on, before heading off to visit her brother and his wife.

  Michael had met Gemma on his return to England following the accident. Gemma was a physiotherapist and over hours of rehabilitation they had become friends. Mia had noticed the increasing references to Gemma in online conversations with Michael, and then finally Gemma had appeared on the screen. Not long after that, her brother had told her they were in love. The odds were stacked heavily against this young couple, but Gemma was both motivated and determined, and as Michael came out of the fog of depression he had resumed his more usual ‘can do’ attitude.

  Michael had supported Mia when she had married Rafael, while never—at the time—realising that Mia had actually been supporting him.

  Now, though, he was starting to see what his sister had done on his behalf.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done this, Mia.’

  Mia gritted her teeth rather than point out that had he bothered to take out travel insurance she wouldn’t have had to have done it. Her anger was still there, but it was permanently suppressed and with no fair outlet, for she knew that Michael had more than paid the price for his foolish decision.

  And so she smiled and carried on as yet more outstanding bills were paid. As well as that, Michael and Gemma’s home was transferred into their name, and modifications to accommodate a wheelchair and bathroom renovations were soon underway so that the inheritance was all but spent.

  Angela Romano had been a Rottweiler while the deal had been drawn up—reminding Rafael over and over that everything he gave Mia he took from his own children, when everyone knew it was but a drop in their gold-plate
d ocean.

  But she and her brother had homes, and were debt-free, and life could finally start again, so Mia set about looking for work.

  Had it been worth it?

  In the safety of her own head she could answer Dante’s question more honestly.

  Yes.

  She was back to being Mia Hamilton and here in London nobody gave her as much as a second glance. She was yesterday’s news and her brother, after his life-altering trauma, was finally embracing life.

  And yet...

  Had it been worth it?

  Mia wasn’t so sure.

  When an invitation to the annual Romano charity ball arrived in the mail, Mia stared at it for a very long time, unsure what to do.

  She felt dizzy with want for Dante and ached to see him again, but when she thought of news of their illicit night ever getting out, of their torrid one-night stand on the night of Rafael’s funeral ever being exposed, she felt sick.

  That night with Dante had changed her; that one blissful time had set in motion this endless craving for more. She stuffed the invitation in a drawer, much as she suppressed her own wants, and did her level best not to think about a man who, with a crook of his finger, could again unleash her desire.

  Mia was just coming out of a job interview, pleased with how it had gone, and was turning on her phone when it rang.

  ‘Pronto,’ Dante said.

  With one word from him Mia almost caused a little pile-up of suited people as she came to a halt on her walk to the underground.

  ‘Dante.’ She tried to keep her voice even, tried not to betray the sheer pleasure that could be brought to her day by the mere sound of his voice. ‘How are you?’

  ‘That is what I am calling to ask you.’

  ‘Me?’ She was flummoxed, wondering if she had forgotten an important anniversary for Rafael, or if he was chasing her up because she hadn’t RSVP’d to the invitation to the Romano Ball. ‘Yes, I’m fine, why?’

  Dante was brusque, he was up-front, and he completely sideswiped her. ‘I just wanted to be sure there were no consequences to our time together.’

  ‘No,’ Mia said, ‘of course not.’ After all, she had taken the tablets. ‘Everything’s fine.’

  ‘That’s good, then,’ Dante said. ‘I just wanted to make sure.’

  Only now Mia wasn’t so sure herself.

  As Dante clicked off, she caused another little pile-up of suited people again as she drew to another abrupt halt, while trying to work out dates.

  The pharmacist in Italy had, Mia was sure, said it might delay her period by a week...

  She was more than a week late, though.

  Damn you, Dante for making me stress, Mia said to herself as she clipped off to another pharmacist and bought a home pregnancy test.

  Except the little indicator told her that she was pregnant.

  And a second test told her the same thing.

  Then the doctor told her that, yes, in fact, she was due on the seventh of October.

  ‘But I took emergency contraception...’

  During a deeper discussion with the doctor Mia recalled there had been turbulence on the flight home and she had been ill. It was often the case as Mia did not travel well. She could not even sit in the back of a car and her stomach lurched at the mere sight of a helicopter; certainly she would never set foot in one. Usually she took medication when flying or travelling long distances, but on that night she had been too muddled to take her motion sickness pills and had simply accepted the consequence of that when she’d been ill on the plane.

  Had she stopped to think about it, the importance of keeping the pills down would have been obvious, except Mia had no experience with contraception and had been flying out of Italy like a bat out of hell, reeling from what she and Dante had done. Of all the things on her mind, avoiding pregnancy had only been one amongst many.

  And now she was pregnant.

  Had it been worth it?

  She asked herself Dante’s question again, and for many nights the answer was unequivocally no!

  No!

  No!

  Mia felt terrified, mortified and simply wanted it gone. But then February turned to March and the anniversary of her family’s accident, and Mia lay there, not exactly at peace but thinking, on this painful day, how far she had come—from the terror of the accident and the deep lows of grief to being there for Michael; to two years in Italy, which, for the most part, had been healing and restful; and then to Dante, a man who had awakened a side of her she hadn’t thought existed, and together they had made a baby.

  Had it been worth it?

  Maybe...

  She was starting to come round to the little life inside her.

  Yet, aside from the scandal if it ever came out, if two years with Rafael had taught her anything, it was Dante’s reputation that told her he would not take the news well. She knew the board had repeatedly insisted that he tame his ways. She knew that he had absolutely no desire to settle down, or have children; she knew it because she’d heard him arguing with his uncle Luigi. Oh, she knew from many sources. Dante himself had told her they could go nowhere and had warned her not to fall pregnant by him.

  He’d practically had on a white coat as he’d dished out advice!

  Well, it was too late now.

  She’d survive, Mia knew, because she always somehow did, and that thought got her out of bed and dressed for a third-round interview.

  This time with the boss!

  The other boss, the very good-looking one in Italy, was more than a touch subdued. His mother commented on it when she dropped by the office to say goodbye before heading off on a cruise.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Dante insisted.

  ‘Why have you got Ariana so involved in the preparations for the ball?’ Angela complained.

  ‘She does have a degree in hospitality.’

  ‘It’s her excuse all the time, and I’ve barely seen her in recent weeks. I am sure she is seeing someone.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The only function she should be preparing for is her wedding,’ Angela sighed.

  It was a familiar complaint. While Dante was frequently pressured by the board to marry and settle down, he was confident enough to shrug it off. For Ariana, he knew the pressure to marry from her mother was both relentless and intense, although Angela had more than her daughter on her mind. ‘Ariana said you are thinking of putting the Luctano property on the market?’

  Dante nodded then checked again if his mother wanted it. ‘Have you changed your mind?’

  ‘No, no,’ Angela said. ‘I just wondered what was going on. You’re very quiet, Dante. I haven’t seen you since the funeral.’

  ‘Because I’ve been busy with work.’

  But Angela was sure there was more to his pensive mood. ‘I know it might seem a little insensitive that I am going on a cruise so soon after your father is gone, but it was booked some time ago.’

  Dante said nothing rather than lie. Privately he thought it was too soon for her to be kicking up her heels, even if they had been divorced. He also found it no coincidence that she was leaving two weeks before the ball, and not arriving back until the day after. When his parents had been married, his mother had loved nothing more than the preparations and the heightened press interest as the date of the lavish event approached.

  ‘Is she going to the ball?’ Angela suddenly asked, and Dante knew his mother referred to Mia.

  ‘I am not sure.’

  ‘Really,’ Angela said, ‘Mia should have the decency to stay away. And who would escort her? If she goes it will just make everyone feel uncomfortable.’

  ‘My father was specific in his request that all of his family attend. Technically, Mia is the hostess of the event.’

  ‘You haven’t put that on the invitations?’

 
; ‘No.’

  Dante was in little doubt that his mother was envisioning her own return as hostess at future events so he moved to change the subject. ‘So, who are you going on the cruise with?’

  ‘Just a friend.’ Angela shrugged.

  ‘More than a friend perhaps?’ Dante probed.

  ‘I am seeing someone,’ she finally admitted. ‘You might even remember him. Mr Thomas, your old—’

  ‘My English tutor.’ Dante pushed out a smile.

  ‘How do you know it was him?’

  ‘I saw you together,’ Dante said. ‘And I thought I recognised him. He’s a nice man, from what I remember.’

  ‘Yes, we ran into each other a few months ago. He asked how you were and we got talking...’ She looked worried. ‘You’re not cross?’

  ‘Why would I be cross? It’s time for you to be happy.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and stood up. ‘Is Stefano here?’

  ‘He’s at a very long lunch with Eloa,’ Dante said, and rolled his eyes. ‘I doubt he’ll be back.’

  When his mother left he sat a while and, despite the smile he had given, Dante wasn’t sure he believed that they had only bumped into each other a few months ago.

  He’d always felt lied to and, since his father’s death, more and more he was starting to see why.

  ‘Dante.’ Sarah knocked on his door and he told her to come in. ‘Matteo Castello called and asked to speak with you. I said you were in a meeting.’

  ‘What did he want?’ Dante frowned, because the Castellos, though not rivals—not even close—were not his choice of people.

  ‘It’s for a reference.’

  His frown deepened, because Sarah looked a touch uncomfortable. ‘You’re not jumping ship?’

  ‘No, no.’ She smiled. ‘It is Mia he is calling about. Matteo is considering her for the role of his executive assistant in London.’

  Well, well, Dante thought. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, and speaking of Mia,’ Sarah added, ‘she still hasn’t RSVP’d for the ball.’

  Dante gave a dismissive wave. ‘Not my problem.’