In the Italian's Bed: Bedded for Pleasure, Purchased for Pregnancy / The Italian's Ruthless Baby Bargain / The Italian Count's Defiant Bride

What would her parents want her to do?

‘I can’t take this much longer, Emma.’

There was her answer. So now, with Jake’s veiled threat still ringing in her ears, for the first time since her parents’ funeral Emma dressed carefully.

But it took for ever.

Since their death it had felt as if her brain was working in slow motion. Her stomach was knotted in constant tension and the simplest decision took for ever to make: which shoes to wear, hair up or down, even whether to apply make-up—all required a mammoth effort, one she didn’t want to make. And she’d never thought she would be making it for Zarios.

The putrid words of their last conversation still rang in her ears at times. She hated what she’d said to him, but hated what he’d done to her even more. She could see clearly how he’d used her that weekend—she’d been nothing more than a small diversion in an otherwise boring weekend. Emma had played with the big boys, she realised, and only had herself to blame for getting well and truly burnt.

And now she had to face him. Had to swallow her pride and ask the snake for help.

Which was easier said than done. His work life, as Emma had found out when she had tried to contact him, was as capricious as his personal life—Rome one week, Singapore the next. He was flying from his office in Sydney down to Melbourne today, Emma had discovered on her third attempt to contact him, and surprisingly he’d agreed to meet her—or rather his secretary had arranged an appointment for 2:00 p.m. the following day, which had given her twenty-four hours to change her mind.

As if she had a choice.

She frowned at her dressing table as if it belonged to someone else, noticing that her hand was shaking as she stroked her make-up brush into powder. The two pink dots that appeared on her cheeks were just too much against her pale complexion and Emma wiped them off with a tissue, giving up on her face and grabbing her bag instead, clipping down the steep stairs of her flat. What the hell was the point of wearing make-up anyway? Nothing was going to disguise her humiliation—nothing was going to mask the shame of going to Zarios with a begging bowl in her hand.

‘My appointment was at two.’ Emma tried to keep the slightly desperate note from her voice. ‘It’s almost three now.’

The receptionist gave her a pussycat smile, which without words told Emma in no uncertain terms that she was more than capable of telling the time. ‘Mr D’Amilo is an extremely busy man. As I’ve said, I’ll inform you as soon as he’s ready to see you.’

Not that busy!

Strolling through the lavish foyer, Zarios looked completely refreshed and relaxed after his extended lunch. Maybe it had something to do with the company he was keeping.

A well-groomed brunette was beside him, hanging on his every word, laughing at whatever it was that Zarios had just said.

Emma had forgotten just how beautiful he really was. In the past few weeks, whenever her mind had drifted to him, or she’d read about his heartless, torrid break-up with Miranda, somehow her mind had managed to distort his image to almost devil-like proportions, marring his beauty perhaps to shield herself. But seeing him now, breathtakingly elegant in a charcoal-grey suit, his shirt gleaming white against his olive skin, there was no denying his beauty. He’d had his hair cut, those jet locks cropped closely to his head, which made him look more menacing and somehow more striking, if that were possible. Seeing him in the flesh even more than two months on had Emma’s stomach curling—not at what she must now ask, but at what they had once shared.

When he spoke briefly to his receptionist, Emma was unclear whether she had let him know that his 2:00 p.m. appointment was waiting, because Zarios didn’t even deign to give her a glance. Instead he headed towards the lifts and disappeared, leaving Emma more intimidated than ever at the prospect of what lay ahead.

It was another ten minutes till she was directed to his floor.

And another half an hour spent sitting in another waiting room—albeit a lavish one.

The groomed brunette must be his personal assistant, Emma realised, when she brought her an extremely welcome glass of iced water and peered at her from her desk when she thought Emma wasn’t looking. Emma bit her lip as she awaited her fate, and then, with just an hour till the office building closed, the intercom buzzed and the snooty brunette finally gave her a nod. She was shown through.

‘You wanted to see me.’ There was no small talk, no apology for the delay. He curtly gestured for her to take a seat, his face utterly unreadable as tentatively she nodded.

‘Regarding?’

He certainly wasn’t making this easy.

‘It’s difficult…’ Emma attempted.

‘Then let me help you. We slept together approximately two months ago, and now you urgently need to meet with me—I can hazard a guess—’

‘No!’ Emma interrupted. The arrow he had shot had missed its mark, skimming over her shoulder surely to be forgotten. Except a sound resonated, a small hollow summons to tell her that somewhere it had hit a mark. But with a determined, irritated shake of her head she ignored it. ‘I got my period on the day of my parents’ funeral. That’s not the reason I called.’ Only now did he frown. Only now did he seem curious as to why she might be here. ‘I wanted to see you about the release of my parents’ money.’

‘Of course!’ Zarios gave a tight smile. ‘Silly me for assuming otherwise!’

Emma ran a dry tongue over even dryer lips, embarrassment stinging every pore at his implication, regretfully acknowledging that after their bitter parting he was right to think as he did. She forced herself to continue. ‘The house has been sold…’

‘I believe so.’

‘The thing is…’ She blew a breath skywards, but her fringe barely moved; it was plastered to her moist forehead. ‘I need access to my share of the funds now.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes. Today.’ She watched his eyebrows rise just a fraction.

‘Can I ask why you need money so quickly?’

‘No.’ She choked the single word out, then, clearing her throat, said it more firmly. ‘No. I’d rather not say, but as soon as the sale of the house goes through I will repay the money. It would just be a loan until then.’

‘I can see that a lot of work has gone into your proposal!’

His sarcasm, though merited, wasn’t exactly helping. ‘I realise it can’t look good, me just walking in and asking for money. But I have my reasons, and the in-heritance—’

‘I can’t help you.’ He interrupted her, shaking his head.

‘Please.’ She hated that she was reduced to begging, but she had no choice. ‘Zarios, please. You’re the only person who has access to that type of funds…’

‘Not quite…’ He flashed a mirthless smile. ‘Have you ever heard of banks?’ Tears pricked her eyes as he savagely continued. ‘If you are so convinced it is just a short-term loan, that in two weeks you can repay, then you should have no trouble securing a bridging loan. Of course a bank would want to know where the money was going, why a twenty-five-year-old woman needs access to such a sum of money at such short notice. Have you even tried the banks?’

She tried to say no, but the word wouldn’t come out. Emma settled instead for a tiny shake of her head.

‘Then am I right in assuming that is because you couldn’t suitably answer their questions?’

Oh, how he must be enjoying this, Emma thought, the tears in her eyes drying as she stared at him across the desk, their mutual contempt meeting in the middle.

‘Anyway,’ he continued when she didn’t answer, still holding her stare, ‘even if I wanted to help you I could not.’ He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘There’s a potential conflict of interest. I have excused myself from the board in regard to the execution of your parents’ estate.’

‘That’s not what I’m asking…’

‘I know that!’ Zarios sneered. ‘You are playing on the fact that we once slept together.’

‘No!’ Emma quivered. ‘I’m pleading to you as a friend of the family.’

‘Did you approach my father with your request?’ Zarios snapped his very good point out. ‘Of course not!’

‘You know,’ he continued bitterly, ‘he said I was overreacting when I removed myself from having any dealings with your parents’estate.’ He stood up, clearly ending the meeting. ‘Clearly I was right to follow my instincts.’

‘You’ll get it back…’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks unchecked now. The thought of telling Jake, the thought of him telling Beth, the horrible reality of it all was unbearably close now, making her desperate. But her tears didn’t move him. If anything they just compounded his disdain. ‘I’ll sign anything—the day the exchange happens you’ll get the money back…’

‘If you’ll excuse me?’ He glanced at his watch and pressed a button on his phone. ‘I’m running behind schedule.’ He smiled as his secretary opened the door, gave her a sort of wide-eyed look that acknowledged yet another tearful woman was leaving the building, and asked if she could please arrange that it was done quietly. ‘Could you show Ms Hayes to the lift, please?’

As easily as that he dismissed her. His cold eyes made it clear there would be no further discussion, and the distaste was evident in the set of his face as he held open the door.

And who could blame him for what he must be thinking? Emma thought as the lift plummeted down-wards—her parents were barely cold in their grave and she wanted her hands on their money with no questions asked, if that could possibly be arranged!

Clearly it couldn’t.

She could feel her phone vibrating in her bag, knew it was Jake. For a tiny second she was almost relieved. Relieved that she couldn’t help him. Relieved that the problem was no longer hers…

But then she heard his voice.

‘Maybe Beth will understand…’ Emma attempted as she told him the hard news. ‘Maybe it’s time to come clean, Jake—time to lay it all out in the open…’

‘It’s not what Beth’s going to say that I’m worried about.’ She could hear the fear in her brother’s voice. ‘Oh, God, what have I done, Em?’ He was sobbing so hard he could barely get the words out. ‘I can’t face this! What are they going to do to me? What if they turn on her, on the kids? I’d be better off out of it.’

She was half walking, half running through the foyer. She could hear the desperation in his voice and knew she had to get to him and turned, wild-eyed, when the receptionist stopped her in her tracks.

‘Mr D’Amilo will see you shortly.’

Emma briefly closed her eyes in frustration before answering. ‘I’ve already seen Mr D’Amilo.’ She gave a very short smile, tempted to add, for all the good it did. She turned her attention back to her brother, but the receptionist persisted.

‘I’m aware of that. Mr D’Amilo has asked that you wait while he considers your proposal further. If you’d like to take a seat, he’ll send for you in due course.’

She had no idea what game Zarios was playing—the only thing she was certain of was that it was a game! How she would have loved to ignore the command to sit. But Jake was still on the line—or rather, Emma thought, Jake was at the very end of the line.

‘Just hold on, Jake.’ She put the phone back up to her ear. ‘Just calm down. I’ll sort out something. I’ll talk to Zarios again.’

Despite the air-conditioning, sweat was beading on his forehead. Zarios felt as if his tie was choking him. Loosening it, he pulled open the top button of his shirt and tried to kick his stalled brain into some sort of action.

In an attempt to make things work with Miranda he’d relegated all the good things that he had shared with Emma to the recesses of his mind—had ignored the wonderful parts in the short life of their relationship and focussed solely on the death of it. He had replayed Emma’s finishing words like a mantra every time his mind had wandered in that dangerous direction. But even if he had discounted their lovemaking, their passion, long before today, no matter how he had tried he hadn’t been able to discount her.

And now she was back.

From the second he’d heard she was trying to make contact Zarios had been bracing himself—warning himself not to overreact, that if she did tell him she was pregnant he would stay calm…Except she wasn’t pregnant.

Opening his office drawer for the first time that week, he pulled out the hand-sized teddy bear, with its smiling face and black button eyes, and managed to really look at it. He remembered the mawkish pride that had filled him when he’d paid for the little thing and had looked forward to sharing it with Miranda.

Just the thought of Miranda made his jaw clench.

The slurs, the innuendoes, the filth that had been reported this past week should have had him shouting the truth from the rooftops—should have propelled him to come out of his corner fighting. Except in the abyss of his pain the slights of the press had barely touched the sides.

Grief was the only thing that consumed him now.

A grief he couldn’t understand and one he certainly couldn’t explain—even to himself.

Resting his head in his hands, Zarios forced himself to breath evenly, to hold it together, to rise above it as he always did.

He had business to attend to.

And now, waiting downstairs, was the one woman who could possibly make his father believe that he had changed. Zarios’s frozen brain was leaping into action now. He could even tell his father Emma was the real reason he had ended things with Miranda.

Stuffing the teddy back in the drawer, he slammed it shut, annoyed with himself for indulging in sentiment. The time for mourning was over.

Straightening his tie, he pressed on the intercom and told Jemima, his receptionist, to send her back in. After all…how could you mourn something that never even existed?

It was well after five before she was summoned. Way too late, Emma figured, for Zarios to do anything. The banks would have long since closed. Again the receptionist swiped her security tag for the lift and Emma headed to Zarios’s floor. The only difference was that this time his snooty PA wasn’t there to greet her. The sumptuous waiting area was empty, and Emma took a tentative seat, unsure what to do. She was also unsure what Zarios could possibly want with her now, so absolute had been his refusal to help.

She jumped slightly when his heavy office door opened and Zarios himself wordlessly gestured for her to come inside.

‘You waited.’

He stood at the window, staring out at the darkening Melbourne sky that was thick with rain despite the summer month. Threatening droplets splashed onto the window and she knew that in a few moments, when he’d finished playing whatever his little game was, there was no doubt she’d be out there.

‘I had no choice but to wait.’

‘There are always choices.’

‘Not always.’ She took a seat uninvited, angry now. What choice had her parents had? What choice did she have now other than to sit and wait to see what the master had to say?

‘You will have read about my break-up with Miranda?’ He didn’t turn to see her response; there was just a natural assumption that she had. ‘My father and the board are less than impressed.’

As they should be, Emma thought, but didn’t have the nerve to say it. Her voice was shaky when, after a moment, she found it. ‘Is it true?’ Emma swallowed. ‘That you left her because she couldn’t have your babies?’

‘Why do you owe so much money?’ Zarios countered, and when she didn’t answer he gave a wry smile. ‘We both have our own set of excuses, I am sure. When I first started working for my father it was a small company—building and refurbishing, here in Melbourne and in Rome. I found a property in Scotland—a castle that had the potential to be renovated into a top-class boutique hotel, ideal for weddings, that type of thing…’

Her head pounded with neuralgia. Why the hell was he telling her this? She didn’t need a history lesson, she needed cash!

He must have sensed her impatience. ‘Don’t worry—I am as loath as you are to be in conversation. Believe me, this is not idle chatter!’

‘Good.’ She accepted the glass of water he poured, draining it in one gulp, not caring whether or not it was ladylike.

‘For that to come to fruition we had to borrow, or bring investors on board. My father chose the latter option, and when the situation was repeated he brought in more investors. Ten years ago I was a year younger than you are now—twenty-four years old and still somewhat intimidated by father. The company was divided, with my father retaining a twenty-five percent stake, myself twenty-four. I strongly advised him to make his share twenty-six, mine twenty-five—are you still with me, Emma?’ He must have seen her eyes glaze over, because he snapped her to rapid attention. ‘Had he listened to me then, we would not be having this conversation now.’

‘I can do the maths.’ Emma gave a tight smile.

‘Good—then you will know how important that two percent share is now, when D’Amilo Financials is worth billions. Once my father retires our directors want to rename it, and for my father’s stake in the company to be spread between all the directors rather than passed to me—naturally, I am opposed.’

‘What about your father?’ Emma blinked. ‘Surely it’s up to him…?’

‘He wants what is best for the future of the company, and on recent form he is not sure that is me. As he has said, whatever happens I am still a majority shareholder.’ He registered her frown. ‘My relationship with my father is not the same as the one you had with your parents. He is more a business partner to me than a parent.’

‘What does this have to do with me?’

‘My father wants to see me settled. He is unwell.’

The clipped tone of his voice told Emma he wasn’t angling for sympathy, but no matter what she thought of the son, Emma cared about the father. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ She watched Zarios’s jaw stiffen, saw a flash of annoyance dart across his features at the invasive nature of her question. Finally he gave a brief, reluctant nod, before answering. ‘He requires major heart surgery. His colleagues do not know—I would prefer that it stays that way.’

‘Of course,’ Emma responded. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’

He neither wanted nor acknowledged her comment. Instead he moved swiftly on. ‘This is why he is retiring so quickly. He was going to tell your parents about the surgery after your father’s birthday. Given the seriousness of the matter, he is busy getting his affairs in order. He made it clear that if I toned down my behaviour, if I gave him reason to believe that I had changed, he would go against the rest of the board and transfer his stake to me. Miranda and I breaking up has almost put paid to that. However—’ he gave a wan smile ‘—just when it seemed irretrievable a solution has appeared.’ He gave Emma a black smile. ‘He thinks the world of you.’

‘He warned you off me!’ Emma pointed out. ‘I only wish you’d listened at the time.’

‘He doesn’t want me to hurt you, Emma!’ His lips pouted and he blew her a mock kiss. ‘Which is why we’re getting engaged!’

‘Please!’

‘I’ve never made it official with a woman before…’ He smiled at the novelty of his own treachery. ‘It would go a long way to convincing him!’

‘He’d never believe it.’

‘You’re too modest!’ Zarios chided, his sardonic smile mocking her. ‘Why, you’re an excellent liar and a consummate actress, Emma! Personally, I’d never have taken you for a gold-digging whore!’

‘Bastard!’

‘Then we understand each other,’ he drawled. ‘You’ll have no problem convincing him.’

‘As if he’s going to accept that we’re suddenly together—’ Emma shook her head. His proposal was too preposterous for words.

‘Why wouldn’t he?’ Zarios interrupted. ‘We will tell him the truth. We met up again after many years at your father’s sixtieth birthday party and the attraction was immediate.’

Which was the truth, Emma conceded. But only so far!

‘With all that has happened to you recently, it is no wonder things have moved so quickly. Of course it was hard, ending things with Miranda, but my feelings for you…’ his eyes were black with malice ‘…were just impossible to ignore.’

‘Why?’ Emma blinked. ‘Why does it matter to you so much? You’re going to be rich either way…’

‘Honour,’ Zarios said. ‘Look it up in the dictionary when you get home. You might learn something!’

‘Honour amongst thieves, you mean!’ Emma responded. ‘You’re asking me to lie to your own father, remember.’

‘My father is too easily swayed by others—he has the Italian curse of worrying too much what others think.’

‘It must have skipped a generation.’

‘I have no…’ he snapped his fingers as he searched for the word ‘…no doubt.’ He shook his head, clearly not happy with his choice. ‘No guilt…’ Still he frowned.

‘No qualms.’ Emma stared coolly at him. ‘The word you’re looking for is qualms.’

‘It was the D’Amilo name that made our current directors rich, it is my acumen that has lined their pockets, and it is my brain that keeps it that way. I have no qualms about fighting for what is rightfully mine.’

‘Modest, too.’ Emma’s mouth twisted. She was way past even pretending to be polite now. She didn’t have time for this. There was no way she was going to agree, and there was no way he was going to lend her the money. She should never have come back!

‘I don’t believe in false modesty,’ Zarios continued. ‘I am the best—it is as simple as that.’

He sat down then, and stared at her as if commencing a business meeting.

‘I will transfer the funds you require into your account now; in return we will go to my father tonight and tell him of our plans.’

‘And what happens when your father realises it was just a charade?’ Emma asked scathingly.

‘Who said anything about a charade?’ Zarios frowned. ‘We will be engaged.’

‘But when it ends…’ Emma flailed.

‘It might not!’ Zarios just laughed at her confusion. ‘There is, after all, a high possibility we will get married!’

‘Married…’ She scooped up her bag. She had never heard anything more bizarre in her life. She loved Jake and would do anything to help him—well, almost anything—but a marriage of convenience with a snake like Zarios was way beyond the call of sisterly duty.

‘You’re hardly in a position to walk out,’ Zarios called to her departing back.

‘I’m in every position. You really think I’d marry you? After all you’ve done, the way you are, do you really think I’d want to be married to a man like you?’

‘I never said that you had to marry me.’

‘You just did.’ Her fingers were reaching for the door handle. She was in absolutely no mood to decipher one of Zarios’s cryptic messages—in no state to have her frayed emotions toyed with even for a little while longer.

‘If you would let me finish—you will see you do have an exit clause.’

‘An exit clause…’ She blinked in anger and frustration at his businesslike terms. His utter disregard for the sanctity of marriage had never been more evident.

‘Your parents’ insurance payout, the funds from their house—all are due for settlement around the same time as the board’s decision.’ Warily Emma nodded. ‘If you pay me back on the day you receive your inheritance you can walk away as soon as the board announces its decision.’

‘That’s all?’ Emma frowned, turning around to look at him. ‘I just have to pay you back?’

‘That’s it.’

‘But what about your father?’

‘I’ll worry about that.’

‘But it will devastate him…’

‘You have delusions of grandeur, Emma. I don’t think devastate is the word—I am sure we will all survive. Anyway, we are talking about a hypothetical situation—one I don’t believe will transpire. As I said, I have every reason to believe we will be married.’

‘Zarios, I will pay you back.’ She couldn’t really believe she was talking as if this was going to happen. ‘You know what I’m due to receive, and I always pay my debts…’