The Italian's Love-Child: The Italian's Stolen Bride / The Marchese's Love-Child / The Italian's Marriage Demand

‘Still designing buildings, though I’m now head of that department,’ he answered easily, waiting for her to finish serving herself before doing the same.

‘A fast rise,’ she commented. He’d been a junior architect in the Peretti Corporation six years ago.

‘I could say I had the talent and the brain for it,’ he drawled with arrogant confidence.

‘Not to mention being Maurizio Peretti’s oldest son.’

The good humour instantly left his face, his expression hardening into cold pride, his dark eyes sharply challenging. ‘You don’t think I’ve earned my place?’

It pulled Skye back from the black judgement she had made. Because his family had not been fair to her, was no reason why she shouldn’t be fair to Luc. ‘I think you’re capable of doing whatever you set out to do,’ she said slowly. ‘I just meant…well, you are tied to your father. Weren’t both you and Roberto educated and groomed to fit into the places he planned for you to take?’

Architecture, engineering…perfect for a business centred on property development.

‘I can’t answer for Roberto who may well have pursued what pleased my father,’ he said sardonically, ‘but I was always interested in design, Skye, and chose my own career.’

Yes, he would, she realised, just as he had chosen to continue a relationship with her, despite his parents’ disapproval. Only damning evidence of the worst infidelity she could have committed had stopped him. Luc was not his father’s tool, yet being so strongly connected to the family business did leave him vulnerable to manipulation, and blood ties were not easily broken.

He felt he’d earned his place, was proud of filling it, probably with distinction—an important cog in the Peretti wheel. He wouldn’t want to walk away from it. Skye suspected he’d fight to keep it, which could mean deadly conflict with his father who would definitely be opposed to the marriage Luc wanted. And she and Matt would be the meat in the sandwich.

Not a happy prospect.

‘I report to my father at boardroom meetings but I don’t work under him,’ Luc tossed at her to elucidate the situation. ‘I have autonomy within my department.’

‘Autonomy…’ Skye seized on that word as though it was a lifeline out of the frightening problems that had been whirling through her brain.

It meant Luc was his own boss. He couldn’t be manipulated where business judgements were concerned. And it was probably faulty reasoning to attach what had happened with the damning photographs to what might develop in his work situation. Emotional judgements were in a far more volatile territory.

‘I’m sorry for implying…you could be pushed around,’ she rushed out, suddenly feeling very much on the wrong foot. ‘I guess your father is…something of a bogey-man to me.’

His face relaxed, his eyes softening to sympathetic understanding. ‘I don’t live in my father’s pocket, Skye. He can’t buy me away from you and Matt.’

Embarrassment—or was it something else? A deep treacherous pleasure?—sent a flood of heat to her cheeks. The commitment—conviction—in his voice, the possessive warmth in his eyes, the unswerving sense of purpose engulfing her… Skye teetered on the edge of giving him her trust, wanting him to take care of everything: her, Matt, the future…

She barely brought herself back from the brink, finding a brittle escape in focusing on the food on her plate, telling herself to keep talking.

Silence was the enemy.

Luc was filling it with temptations.

She was not even clear on why she had to fight them any more.

‘What are you working on at the moment?’ she asked, hoping his answer would be long and distracting.

He obligingly described his current project. The company had bought up old boatyards along the harbour shore at Balmain and Luc was designing a new apartment complex to be built on the site. She listened to the pleasure and satisfaction in his voice as he explained what he wanted constructed and how it would take advantage of the view, as well as catering for every modern aspect of living in the city.

Clearly he enjoyed his work and the opportunity to have such lavish projects to work on. He might not recognise how deeply he was tied to the Peretti Corporation since it had always been there for him to step into, but Skye did.

Big money at his fingertips.

Big money to invest how he saw fit.

Big money to spend how he pleased in his private life, as well.

As long as he stayed where he belonged.

Or was that being unfair, too? Luc had more than enough driving force to succeed in establishing himself anywhere, in any company, or on his own. Why couldn’t she just accept that he didn’t live in his father’s pocket?

Because she couldn’t make the fear go away.

It was too deeply rooted in past pain.

‘Do you still live at Cronulla?’ she asked, needing to know if he’d continued living with his family in the incredibly luxurious horseshoe compound facing the waterfront there.

He shook his head. ‘Dad sold that place five years ago.’

The timing made Skye wonder if Maurizio Peretti had decided to shift his family right away from the neighbouring suburb of Caringbah where Luc’s illegitimate child was possibly far too close for comfort.

Luc flashed her an ironic look. ‘He upgraded to a heritage-listed mansion at Bellevue Hill.’

Mega-bucks, she thought, plus getting way out of the range of any accidental meeting with the unsuitable woman and her child.

‘Big enough to house three generations of the family,’ Luc went on, his voice carrying a sardonic edge.

Everything within Skye recoiled at the idea of living in the same house with his parents. It would be absolute madness to even consider marrying Luc if it meant co-habiting with his family. Regardless of how attractive he was to her, how good he was to Matt…

‘It hasn’t worked out that way,’ he said, forestalling the tortured impulse to reject his proposal here and now.

‘Oh?’ It was more a choked gasp than a query. Skye was appalled at how wildly hope had galloped over despair.

‘Roberto obligingly brought his bride home—’ Luc’s riveting dark eyes glittered derisively ‘—the bride my father had hand-picked for me, except I didn’t oblige.’

‘So Roberto married her instead?’ She shook her head, shocked that such a switch would be made in so serious a life commitment.

Luc shrugged. ‘He was happy to. And I’m sure Gaia found Roberto a more charming husband than I would have been. Besides which, it was a very advantageous marriage on both sides. Unfortunately, even the best-laid plans can go astray. Gaia was still childless when Roberto died, and has since returned to her own family.’

‘You’re not expected to…to console his widow?’

‘I doubt my father would wish me to take a wife who might not be able to produce the grandchildren he wants,’ he answered cynically. ‘Gaia suffered two miscarriages in her short marriage to Roberto.’

It was revolting to Skye to think of any woman being regarded as a baby-making machine. On the other hand, Roberto’s wife had probably been sadly disappointed herself not to have had a much-wanted child.

‘I’m sure your father can find you another suitable wife for his dynastic ambitions,’ she tossed at Luc, knowing she should never take on that role herself.

‘I won’t marry anyone but you, Skye.’

His eyes burned with unshakeable purpose, making her too agitated to even pretend to eat any more. She put down her knife and fork, willing herself to face him with her own determination. ‘It won’t work,’ she stated bluntly.

He set down his cutlery and focused on her, the whole concentrated power of his energy coming at her full blast. ‘I’ll make it work.’

She leaned forward, fighting for her independence again. ‘If you think, for one moment, I’d live under the same roof as…’

‘I don’t live there myself,’ he added. ‘I moved out when Roberto married. Bought my own apartment at Bondi Beach.’

Her mind whirled at this apparent disconnection to his family, though it quickly seized on the fact that the suburb of Bondi was right next to Bellevue Hill. ‘Not far from them,’ spilled from her mouth.

‘Far enough to have separate lives,’ he retorted.

Separate… Skye paused to catch her breath. Was she making bogey-men of everything, snatching at whatever fed her fear of the power his family had to hurt? Luc was proving at every point he was his own man. And he had been hurt, too, by the dreadful deception that had been played to make him turn his back on her.

‘Why did you move out?’ she asked, wondering if there had been some earlier rift between him and his family.

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t care to have the happiness of Roberto’s marriage rubbed in my face every day.’

Her insecurities surged again. ‘Regrets for rejecting it yourself, Luc?’

‘None at all. I wished my brother well with it.’

‘Then why did it upset you?’

‘It didn’t upset me. I knew my father would constantly use it as leverage to get me to fall into line with his plans, which would end up being unpleasant for everyone, so I removed myself from the situation.’

‘While still maintaining your relationship with your family,’ she said, pressing to ascertain just how important it was to him.

‘I had the choice of coming and going as I pleased.’

‘Did you ever miss a special family occasion?’

‘I just did.’

Again she felt her defensive mat being swept out from under her feet. ‘What was it?’ she asked, needing to know how much it meant.

His eyes glittered a joyless challenge. ‘You remember the Easter Sunday luncheon you attended with me six years ago?’

The memory leapt vividly to mind—the huge luncheon party, and feeling like a fish out of water amongst all the Italian families, people engaging Luc in conversation and subtly ignoring her presence. Not obvious snubs, but definitely left out in the cold while warmth was overflowing everywhere else. It had been such a relief when Roberto had taken the time to charm her out of her sense of alienation.

Luc’s brother…setting up the trap to get rid of her.

‘You haven’t told me how Roberto died.’

Luc frowned.

Realising she’d thrown him off-stride, Skye bitterly reminded him of the person who had betrayed them both. ‘He was nice to me that Easter Sunday, making me feel welcome when no one else did.’

There was a flash of pain in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry…sorry I subjected you to…’ He shook his head. ‘It won’t happen again, Skye. I swear it. I won’t take you anywhere near my family without an assurance that you will be welcomed.’ He looked at her with searing intensity as he gave her his personal assurance. ‘And I’d be watching. Watching every minute. If you’re made to feel uncomfortable—’

‘I would feel uncomfortable anyway, Luc,’ she cut in bleakly.

He nodded, not pressing. ‘You might find that Matt will break the ice,’ he said hopefully.

She couldn’t help thinking their only hope of having any happiness together was in living separate lives to his family. And was that really a possibility?

‘Roberto died of extensive injuries from a car accident,’ Luc said, grimacing as he softly added, ‘He did regret what he’d done, Skye.’

‘Not while he had his life to live,’ she pointed out, her eyes sadly mocking Luc’s view of the situation. ‘I don’t think your father is ever going to accept me.’

‘I’d like to give him the time to take that option.’

‘Time won’t make any difference. I’m sure you challenged him over this Easter Sunday, asking if Matt and I would be welcome. He wouldn’t come at it, would he?’

‘I don’t expect a quick turnaround. But the point was made, Skye.’

‘And he made his. You’re welcome. I’m not.’

Ruthless steel answered her. ‘It will be his loss if he doesn’t change his attitude.’

Your loss, too, Skye thought, and spelled out the most testing scenario of all. ‘What if he threatens to cut you off?’

‘So be it.’

Not the slightest dent in the steel. But Skye felt it was pride talking. In his heart of hearts, Luc didn’t believe it would happen. To him, the family link was too strong. Blood would tell in the end. It was the argument he’d used to her for his parents’ eventual acceptance of Matt as their grandchild. What he didn’t take into consideration was how much they felt Matt’s blood was tainted by hers.

A wave of sheer misery washed through her. Here she was sitting opposite a man she’d loved—a man she still couldn’t help loving—the father of her child, wanting to marry her—and a decision about their future should be simple and straightforward, not hemmed around with the dark threat of endless pain.

‘Skye…’

She had nothing left to say. The grief his family had already given her was swimming through her mind, carrying her towards rocks that would smash any happiness she might achieve with Luc. It startled her when his chair scraped back. Her heart leapt erratically as he rose to his feet, his eyes blazing with savage emotion.

‘You come first with me!’ he hurled at her, using his voice like a hammer, forcefully intent on breaking through anything that held him out of the centre of her existence.

The words rang in Skye’s ears, drowning out the voices of doom that kept tugging her away from him…first with me… first with me. Not his son. Not his family. She came first.

In a few quick strides he was around the table, pulling her up from her chair, wrapping her in a fierce embrace, pouring out passionate pleas.

‘Don’t reject me, Skye…’

She didn’t want to. Her whole body was flooding with the need to be held by him, loved by him, surrendering so utterly to his embrace, her head nestled onto his shoulder and her eyes closed to shut out the rest of the world.

‘You know it’s good between us. We connect on levels that no one else even touches.’

It felt good just feeling his chest rising and falling with each breath he took.

‘I made myself forget that, told myself I’d only imagined it to satisfy some need in me.’ Harsh mockery in his voice, then powerful conviction. ‘But I only had to meet you again to know we should never have been parted.’

Never echoed in Skye’s mind, knocking out all the reasons why they should be parted.

‘I’ve been like a hollow man all these years without you.’

The emptiness left after your heart has been torn out, she thought, and hers had only been punched back into chaotic life when Luc had re-appeared and the fear of being hurt like that again…and she might be…but right now, the need to have him was so paramount, it pushed the fear away to be dealt with some other time. Not now. The emptiness cried out to be filled, filled to overflowing.

‘I want to make love to you, Skye.’

Yes…

Her whole body sighed in relief as the constraints she had willed on it were lifted.

Luc’s imprisoning embrace eased a little, one arm still possessively pinning her to him while the other hand wove through the long fall of her hair, finding enough purchase to gently tug her head back, tilting it up to his.

‘Look at me…’

She opened her eyes to see dark torment in his.

‘It’s not just sex, Skye. I can get that anywhere. You can, too. Don’t belittle what we have together. I want you to remember how it was…how it can still be…’

He carried those last throbbing words to her mouth, making her feel them…how it still was…Luc kissing her, the wild surge of response shooting through her, wanting him so much, wanting all he’d ever given her before, everything so beautifully right between them.

They weren’t forceful kisses, no taking in them at all, more a searching for the sense of mutual loving, the desire to establish it was so, overriding any urge to dominate. He was sexually aroused. She was, too. But it didn’t matter, just a natural part of what was happening, the yearning of their bodies expressing the need for each other.

‘Come to bed with me, Skye.’

It wasn’t a command. Nor a plea. It was a softly murmured request for them to move to a private place where nothing else could intrude on the intimacy of being together.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, rebelling against the inhibitions that warned of consequences she would never be able to control.

The inhibitions sprang from Luc’s world, but Luc was here with her, and if she truly came first with him, couldn’t she let him come first with her?

He eased back and took her hand in his, leading her off the balcony, leading…not picking her up and carrying her off, letting her feet speak their consent to this move and they did, willingly walking through the apartment to his bedroom, though they faltered when she saw the bed, one high-risk consequence insisting on being acknowledged.

‘I’m not protected, Luc.’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

The smooth reply was meant to soothe away the fear, but it was a sharp reminder that he hadn’t cared last time, had actually hoped she’d fallen pregnant. She turned to face him, her eyes searching for truth. ‘Will you?’ she asked, needing to know there was no manipulation of her vulnerability intended—no thought of future entrapment. The gift of love should be a free gift, if this was what it was.

He lifted a hand and gently stroked the anxiety from her facial muscles, his eyes promising safety with him as he answered, ‘If we make another child, it will only be when we both want to. A planned baby, Skye, not conceived by accident nor a lack of forethought.’

‘You came prepared for…for…’

‘I hoped.’

‘You aimed for it,’ she wryly corrected him, running her fingers down the bared strip of chest his unbuttoned shirt had left open for her touch—a temptation beyond bearing any longer.

‘Why wouldn’t I? You’re the woman I want above all others.’

The man she wanted above all others.

He dropped his hand to her shoulder, fingertips drawing the strap of her sundress over to her arm. ‘Do you want to stop me, Skye?’

‘No.’ She sucked in a deep breath, relaxing as it shuddered out again. ‘No one can take this away.’

Maybe they could create a small world together—a place of survival for the love they could share, sheltered from the storms that might rage around them, trying to break in and tear them apart.

She wanted it to be possible.

The magic of touching like this…making love…

Was it strong enough to hold against any destructive intrusion?

Or was such a small world an impossible dream, bred from desires that craved satisfaction?

Skye didn’t know.

Didn’t want to think.

The need…simply to feel…made everything else fade away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

LUC found himself in two minds as he drove up to the Bellevue Hill mansion. It had been nine months since he had last set foot in it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to make any rapprochement with his parents on a personal level. He might have a happier future with Skye if he kept them shut out of his private life.

Yet family was family.

Business forced him to deal with his father in boardroom meetings where all current property developments were reported on and future projects discussed. The subject of Skye was never mentioned between them. No doubt his father thought if he ignored the bone of contention long enough, it might go away, especially if the woman he regarded as unsuitable did not agree to marry his son. Or given enough time, Luc might have second thoughts about going through with his declared intention.

His mother had not made the effort to contact him—probably still wallowing in grief over Roberto. He had not been inclined to make the effort to visit her, either, remembering all too well her rigid disapproval of Skye—setting a foundation of rejection which Roberto had played on, creating a lethal structure of lies with supposedly just cause.

Luc could not bring himself to sympathise with his mother’s grief when he was constantly conscious of the damage his brother had wrought, not to mention the years he’d missed of his own son’s life. Besides which, her approval meant nothing to him any more.

He wondered if his mother knew about Matt or had his father protected her from any unsettling knowledge of an unwanted grandchild. If he had kept Matt’s existence from her, the cat would certainly be out of the bag tonight!

He left his car parked near the front door which was promptly opened by the butler who informed him his parents were in the formal drawing room. Interesting, Luc thought grimly. Having called ahead, he was expected. No doubt his courtesy call had alerted his father to the possibility of serious news behind it so he was getting the grand treatment, designed to impress on him what he might be giving up in going against his parents’ wishes.

Futile game-playing. He’d moved beyond any influence his father could bring to bear on him. Even professionally. He could walk away from the Peretti Corporation and start his own business, if necessary.

He didn’t wait for the butler to usher him into the drawing room, moving ahead with quick purposeful strides, opening the door himself. His father was standing in front of the marble fireplace, the dominant figure amongst all his prized material possessions. His mother was sitting very upright in a nearby armchair. Still wearing black, he noted, but her regal demeanour telegraphed that her attention could be courted again.

She wore a full complement of jewellery and she’d obviously been to a beauty salon today, her thick wavy grey hair groomed to perfection, not a strand out of place, her fingernails buffed and polished. Her face was skilfully made up to presentation standard and Luc reflected on how imposing she could be when it suited her—totally intimidating to Skye.

‘Mamma…more yourself again, I see,’ he said dryly, walking forward to confront them more closely.

‘No thanks to you, Luciano, since you haven’t seen fit to come home for nine months,’ his father remonstrated.

He shrugged. ‘This isn’t my home. You both know where I live…if I was needed,’ he added in a pointed drawl.

‘It’s not a case of need,’ came the brusque retort. ‘Out of respect for your mother, you should have—’

‘He is here now, Maurizio,’ his mother broke in, giving Luc a gracious nod. ‘Please sit down. It has been a long time.’

He propped himself on the well-cushioned armrest of a sofa, not about to let his father stand over him. ‘I assume Dad told you what I’ve been doing. If you were interested in re-acquainting yourself with Skye Sumner and meeting our son, you could have called me, Mamma.’

Her lips compressed, whether in disapproval or frustration Luc wasn’t sure, but clearly his words came as no shock to her. She knew all right. Her gaze turned straight to her husband in a sharp demand for him to deal with it.

Luc waited for his reply, wanting to be clued in on how they viewed the situation. His father wore his poker-face, not giving anything away. His reply was laced with careful diplomacy.

‘We felt any re-acquainting was best left to you…to make a time…if it was what you wanted.’

So the policy had been to wait. No red carpet welcome was about to be rolled out. Not while ever there was an outside chance that Luc might come to his senses when there was no family support forthcoming, no turnaround to oblige his feelings. A complete stand-off.

Luc eyed his father with open scepticism. ‘I did ask at Easter, Dad. You made it clear a meeting was not to your liking.’

‘In front of all our friends?’ he scoffed as though the idea was absurd.

‘You could have put Skye and Matt at ease with you before your guests arrived.’

He waved an angry dismissal. ‘The timing was wrong.’

‘When will it be right?’ Luc mocked. ‘The truth is you had Skye unjustly trashed and can’t bring yourself to offer her the apology she deserves, let alone acknowledge the beautiful person she is, and has always been.’