Italian Bachelors: Irresistible Sicilians

‘Che ci fate qui?’ he had said, asking what they were doing while removing his gun from its holster. He had not sensed any danger from these young women but he would not take chances. While Salvatore Calvetti lived and breathed, the Mastrangelos would never be safe.

One of them, a curvy redhead, had jumped up in terror at the sight of the gun but the other, a slender blonde, had stayed on her bottom and gazed up at him. After a moment’s study, she had raised one hand in the sign of peace and then dived into her rucksack from which she had retrieved a battered notebook.

‘Uno minuti per favore,’ she had muttered as she got to her feet, flicking through her book. ‘Er...mi dispiace, ma il mio italiano non è molto buono.’ When she’d finished her garbled apology for not speaking Italian she’d beamed at him.

He’d taken in her tall, lithe frame, her long honey-blonde hair, the bare, dirty feet and the garish multicoloured top over the pair of frayed denim shorts. For all her grubbiness she’d shone brighter than the blazing midday sun.

‘Are you English?’ he’d asked, putting the gun back in its holster.

She had nodded.

‘This is private land. You must leave.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she had said. ‘We didn’t realise we were trespassing. There’s a gap in your fence we thought was a footpath.’

He had followed the direction she’d pointed at, and had seen a couple of panels had come off.

‘Get that fixed,’ he’d said to Paolo, who was hovering in the background, before turning his attention back to the striking woman before him. ‘You must leave now.’

‘Give us a minute to pack our materials away.’ She had turned to her cowering friend who was hiding behind her. ‘Are you going to stand there like a stuck lemon or are you going to pull your finger out?’

‘He’s got a gun!’ the friend had yelped, pointing a finger at Luca.

‘He’s also put it away,’ she had replied patiently, throwing Luca a discreet wink. That wink had jolted him to his core. ‘We are trespassing in Sicily, Cara, not Surrey.’

It was only when they had started packing their stuff away that he’d realised what they had been doing. ‘You are artists?’

‘I suppose we are,’ had said the brave woman, who had not so much as flinched at the sight of his gun. ‘We graduated last summer and have been travelling Europe ever since. We’re trying to get in as much art appreciation as we can before the real world drags us into its tentacles. That’s why we were pitched up here—Cara dabbles in landscapes and the view was spectacular. Honestly, your estate is beautiful.’

But Luca had had no interest in Cara. ‘Do you paint too?’

‘I do. Portraits. I normally work with oil but as we’re outdoors I’ve brought my sketchbook with me.’

‘May I see it?’

‘Sure.’ She had knelt down for another rummage in her rucksack, giving him a perfect view of her pert bottom.

He had blinked in shock as a stab of lust had run through him.

Grubby urchins were usually well off his radar.

This woman though...

She had brought a large sketchbook over to him.

Taking his time, he had flipped through it. Most of the drawings had been of her companion. They had been, without exception, exquisite.

He had looked back up and met her eyes properly for the first time.

The most enormous feeling of warmth had spread through his bones, a thickening in his chest that had made it hard to catch a breath.

‘Do you take commissions?’ he had asked after too long a pause during which they had simply stared at each other.

Her wide hazel eyes had crinkled at the sides. ‘Not from people whose names I don’t know.’

He had extended a hand. ‘I’m Luca Mastrangelo.’

‘Grace Holden.’ She had wiped her hand down the side of her shorts before reaching out to accept his.

A shock of heat had zipped through his hand, permeating through him. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Grace Holden.’

Her answering smile had stolen his remaining breath.

Neither had made any attempt to relinquish the other’s hand.

Later, over a romantic meal at his favourite restaurant, he’d asked why she hadn’t been scared when he had pulled out the gun.

She’d smiled mischievously. ‘You weren’t aiming it at us. You looked peed off but not murderous.’

Out of everything, that was the thing that cut in his craw the most. How could the woman who had judged him so accurately with one glance even dream he was capable of murder? Why the hell did she think they had let that man live? It had been at his insistence, that was why. That man had been caught cheating from them before, from their casino in Sardinia. Francesco’s men had been ready to tow him out to sea and throw him in with weights on his ankles.

Did she think he enjoyed hurting people or having people hurt in his name?

He took no more enjoyment from it than his father had.

A lump formed in his throat. Pietro Mastrangelo had been a fine and honourable man who believed in the sanctity of life. Always he would favour the route that left the least physical and emotional damage, a lesson Luca had taken to heart.

The way Grace had looked at him, the words she had said to him...she truly believed him to be a monster. She gave him no credit for saving that man’s life. Thanks to him, that man would still be able to live a long life and be a husband to his wife and a father to his children.

She had been happy to leave him, Luca, unable to be a husband or a father.

A wave of bitterness ran through him as he recalled her attempts to deflect her deplorable behaviour by turning it onto him.

He made no apologies for restricting her movements and keeping her in the dark on certain matters. He had been doing his best to keep her safe. He would do anything—would have done anything, he corrected himself—to keep her safe. He hadn’t wanted her to worry about things she could never understand. That was what he’d told himself.

The sound of Lily’s cries carried down the corridor and into his room.

Grace’s accusation came back to him. Have you tried any form of interaction with her?

Before he met Grace, he’d never imagined he would marry a woman and selfishly want to keep her all for himself, even if just for a while. With Grace, he’d wanted to enjoy every minute they had together before they got around to making lots of bouncing bambini. When those mythical babies eventually came along he’d known he would want to be involved in everything. Their children would be born of their parents’ love and would want for nothing, from either their mother or their father.

Grace had stolen that from him.

If she had her way she would steal it from him again.

He rubbed his eyes, the sound of Lily’s cries ripping into his heart.

‘Don’t think it’s escaped my attention that you haven’t held her yet. Not once.’

She was right.

The way he was acting around his own flesh and blood, anyone would think he was scared of her.

How could a baby be construed as even vaguely frightening? Especially when that baby was his child.

He left his room and moved stealthily down the dark corridor to the nursery.

Grace’s eyes widened when he walked through the door. ‘What’s the matter?’ she whispered, pacing the room, rocking Lily on her shoulder.

The breath caught in his throat.

His wife and daughter. Together. Illuminated by the moonlight seeping through a crack in the heavy curtains, Grace wearing her tatty dressing gown, Lily bundled up in blankets, her whimpers lessening.

It was a sight he knew he would never tire of gazing at.

He cleared his throat, taking in the dark rings circling his wife’s eyes. ‘When did you last have a proper night’s sleep?’

Her brow furrowed, a flash of pain contorting her features. ‘About eleven months ago.’

When she had left him.

And just like that, he understood what terrible anguish she must have gone through.

Whatever her reasoning had been, and whatever vitriol she might spout now, it hadn’t been any easier for Grace to break their union than it had been for him to accept that she had left of her own accord.

She hadn’t left because she no longer loved him.

She had left despite it.

Dio, but he had no idea how that made him feel.

‘Can I hold her?’ He hadn’t meant to ask. He’d intended to simply take Lily from her. After all, he was the father. It was his right.

She didn’t say anything, her tired eyes simply gazing at him with more than a hint of apprehension. Eventually she inclined her head.

‘Aren’t you going to give me any tips about keeping her head supported, or anything?’ he could not resist asking as he stood before her.

A faint trace of a smile curved her lips, a smile that did something all squidgy to his chest, before it faded away and he detected sadness in its place. ‘You’d never hurt her.’

She delivered it as a whimsical statement of fact. The squidgy feeling became a tight mass.

Between them they transferred Lily into his arms, the tight mass solidifying into a heavy weight, spreading up his throat and down into his guts, enveloping his insides. The softness of Grace pressed against his arm, her clean fragrance filling his senses, all of this merged with the plump delicacy of his daughter and the new baby scent that was all her own.

For a moment he couldn’t breathe, the feelings evoked so powerful they threatened to overwhelm him.

Lily stopped grizzling. She stared up at him, her midnight eyes almost curious, as if she were trying to work out who this stranger was who now held her so protectively.

Grace watched them, the ray of moonlight casting her in an ethereal light, emphasising both her beauty and her tiredness.

‘You need to sleep,’ he said, lowering himself onto the rocking chair next to Lily’s cot. ‘Go to bed. I’ll get her back down.’

She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue with him, but all that came out was an enormous yawn, which she covered with the back of her hand.

‘If I have any problems I’ll wake you.’

Still she hesitated before giving a short nod. ‘Okay. If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

She closed the space between them and leaned over, placing her lips to their daughter’s cheek, her hair inadvertently tickling his throat. ‘Sleep tight, my angel.’

As she made to straighten up she wobbled slightly and placed a hand on his bare thigh to steady herself.

‘Sorry,’ she murmured, taking a step back.

‘Don’t be.’ His skin heated, and he breathed deeply, willing the completely inappropriate feelings to disperse.

She backed up to the adjoining door. ‘Well, goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight, bella.’

Alone with his daughter, Luca closed his eyes and breathed in Lily’s sweet scent. The heavy weight inside him had become a pulsating ball of steel and it took long moments before he felt ready to properly look at her.

Carefully he laid her on his lap and stared, taking in the long limbs, the skinny fingers, the plump cheeks, the snub nose, everything. The longer he looked, the harder it became to breathe.

His daughter. His flesh and blood.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHEN GRACE AWOKE, she checked the time on her bedside clock and almost fell out of bed in shock.

Throwing the covers off, she jumped out and raced into the adjoining nursery, completely skipping the blurry-eyed, lots-of-yawning routine the morning usually brought.

The cot was empty.

Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she gnawed at her bottom lip and forced her frantic brain to calm down and think.

She checked in the small fridge she’d had placed in the corner of the room. Instead of the two made-up bottles of Lily’s milk she’d put in there before going to bed, there was only one.

Still chewing on her lip, she headed off along the corridor. Was it possible Luca had heard Lily call for her breakfast while she had slept through it? Surely not? Her bedroom adjoined the nursery, and her maternal biology was primed to hear her baby’s cries.

The door to the master bedroom was ajar. She tapped on it lightly. Getting no response, she tapped again then pushed it open.

Rooted to the floor, all she could do was stare, wide-eyed.

Luca was asleep on the edge of the ultra-king bed. Lily lay on her back next to him, bang in the middle, wearing a sleep suit Grace was certain she hadn’t been wearing when she’d put her to bed. A pile of pillows had been placed neatly along the other edge, sandwiching Lily between them and Luca. On his bedside table sat an empty baby bottle.

Heart in mouth, she swallowed away the compulsion to climb in with them, stood for an age unable to tear her eyes away.

Her presence must have disturbed him, for Luca raised his head. ‘What time is it?’

She cleared her throat. ‘Nine o’clock.’

As he sat up she noticed how careful he was not to use any sudden movements that could wake Lily. All the same, the baby stirred and kicked her little feet out.

Now fully upright, his black hair mussed, Luca reached for Lily and cuddled her to his bare chest. From Grace’s vantage point she could see the wound on his shoulder—the wound she had inflicted—was healing well, now a dark red scar. It made her stomach roll to know every time he looked in a mirror and saw that scar, he would be reminded of the time she had shot him.

At the same time fresh guilt was kicking in, her mouth ran dry as she experienced a pang of envy, not that Lily had evidently accepted him without question, but envy that he held her so tenderly.

How Grace had loved to nestle into that broad chest...

‘What time did she wake up for her bottle?’ she asked, pushing all thoughts of nibbling at his nipples and running her fingers through his black silky hair from her mind.

‘A couple of hours ago.’ He yawned widely.

‘I never heard her.’

‘She fell asleep not long after you went back to bed, but as soon as I put her down she woke up and started crying. I didn’t want her to wake you, so I decided the best thing to ensure you got a decent amount of sleep was to bring her to bed with me.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘The bed is big enough.’

That it certainly was.

‘Er, well, thank you.’

‘I do not require your gratitude,’ he said, a touch frostily. ‘I want to be involved in her care. Besides, it gave you a chance to catch up on some needed sleep.’

She stared at him, too shocked that he’d done something for her partial benefit to speak.

‘Which is why our trip to Florence tomorrow could not come at a more opportune moment,’ he continued. ‘It will do you good to have some space. I’m guessing you’ve not spent much time apart from her since she was born?’

‘Of course I haven’t.’ Other than her one visit to her cottage studio, she had never been parted from their daughter. She could only tolerate Lily being in the next room by leaving the adjoining door wide open. Which was why it shocked her that she had been able to sleep so deeply. Was it because she knew Lily was in Luca’s care...?

He had cared for her beautifully. That much she had to acknowledge. Though she didn’t want to. When she looked at Luca she wanted to know she was looking at a bastard, not at a man with the capacity to tend for a young baby on instinct alone.

And now she needed to take Lily back to the nursery and get her ready for the day. And that meant taking her from him. It meant having to get close to his naked chest— Please, God, let him at least be wearing a pair of boxer shorts.

As ridiculous as she knew it to be, she had to practically drag her legs over to his side of the bed. Holding her breath, she leaned down and took Lily from his arms.

‘What are your plans for the day?’ he asked as she took a step back.

‘We’ll probably go for a walk.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to question why he asked, but she stopped herself in time. The last thing she wanted was for him to invite himself along.

Unsurprisingly, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. The only time in the whole of their marriage she had voluntarily gone for a walk and not been badgered into it had been the day she left him. ‘Another walk?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s not for me, it’s for Lily. She needs fresh air and I really can’t have a SWAT team accompanying us if we leave the estate. Yesterday was bad enough.’ The day before, she had taken Lily into Palermo for some Christmas shopping. She hadn’t visited the discreet arcade Luca had taken her to to buy the vile dress, but went to a proper shopping centre and market. It had been so crowded her bodyguards had been tripping over the heels of her feet to keep up with them.

‘The minders I have assigned to you are discreet.’

‘About as discreet as a herd of cows dressed in pink tutus.’

His lips twitched. ‘I’m sorry if you find them an inconvenience,’ he said without sounding the slightest bit apologetic, ‘but as I have explained to you countless times, they’re for your safety.’

‘Absolutely.’ She nodded with faux sweetness. ‘It was much harder to tolerate when I thought you were a legitimate businessman and an overprotective bear. But now I know it’s all because you’re worried one of your victims will get vengeance by going for me and Lily, it makes your attitude so much easier to sympathise with.’

The humour vanished from his face. He climbed off the bed and stalked towards her, a furrow running down the centre of his brow. He wore nothing but a pair of snug black boxer shorts. All the breath in her lungs expelled in a rush.

Luca, virtually naked, was as stunning a sight as if he had been fully nude. He was the only person for whom she had ever wished she were more proficient in sculpture, his body deserving to be immortalised on something even more substantial than canvas.

‘My business activities have nothing to do with my security provisions other than in respect of the scumbags it occasionally forces me to associate with. There are no victims.’

She averted her gaze from the wonder that was his body and forced herself to meet his eyes. That was no safer place to look, his eyes holding her like a magnet. No matter how hard she tried to look away, she could not.

This physical weakness for him enraged her and she could feel angry colour stain her cheeks. ‘You can tell me this until you’re blue in the face, but nothing is going to convince me you are anything but a gangster.’

Luca’s rage was like a tight coil. She could see it in the way his muscles bunched under his smooth skin.

Her breath hitched.

‘You are lucky you can use Lily as a shield,’ he said, his silky voice menacing, ‘or I would be forced to silence your vicious tongue.’

‘That sounds like a threat.’

‘Not at all, bella. As you should know, I never make useless threats, only promises. If you keep challenging me I will have no option but to shut you up the only way I know that works with you.’

‘Oh, yes? And how’s that, Gangster Boy?’ Why was she antagonising him so? Why could she not simply keep her mouth shut and walk away?

He studied her for an age, the fury in his eyes dispersing and being replaced by a gleam that frightened her a whole lot more than mere anger. Suddenly she was all too aware of the shortness of her nightdress—in her rush to find Lily she’d forgotten to put on her dressing gown.

His olive throat moved; his magnificent chest rose.

She could hear the heaviness of her own breathing, knew he was close enough to hear it too. He was too close. She could smell the musky scent of his skin...

‘By kissing you.’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’

He took another step towards her, stopping just short of touching her. But it was enough. The heat of his naked skin so close to hers was enough to make her traitorous body, already wholly aware with her skin tingling and her blood thick and warm, spring alive.

‘Ridiculous?’ His voice dropped to a murmur. ‘Do you not remember how good it used to be between us?’

She shivered, unwanted yet, oh, so potent images of just how good they had been together flittering in her head. ‘I thought you were on the hunt for a mistress.’

‘So did I.’ His eyes were stark with a desire she recognised from old, his voice barely audible. ‘But you are the only woman who can make me hard with a single look. And you want me too—I can see it in your eyes. I know you, Grace. And I know when you want me. If Lily wasn’t in your arms we would already be on that bed screwing each other’s brains out.’

The air thickened with the same tightening as in her core. Struggling for oxygen, she fought to make her vocal cords work. ‘Don’t say another word. You can keep hunting because there is no way I’m ever sharing a bed with you again. I don’t want you—I hate you.’

She turned on her heel and fled, hurrying all the way back to the hateful blue room, a room she loathed almost as much as she loathed her husband. She let the door shut with a slam.

Holding Lily to her, she sat on the bed and waited for her thundering heart to slow to at least near normal levels, berating herself for her stupidity.

Thank God she’d had Lily in her arms. There had been a moment when her fingers had itched to slap him while her lips had tingled to kiss him.

To do more than kiss him.

Why had she not had the good sense to take Lily back to her room immediately, without striking up a conversation with him, without antagonising him?

Deep down, she knew why.

Seeing Luca and Lily together had disturbed her on so many levels she’d had to fight, lest the softening in her bones became a permanent thing.

They had looked so...so...perfect together. Seeing them like that... The guilt had almost split her in two.

Then, when Luca had woken, his defences against her down, his hatred still sleeping, he had looked exactly like the man she had married.

She didn’t want to remember anything good about him. She didn’t want to remember how convinced she had once been that he would make a fantastic father, even if his offspring would be unable to breathe without his knowledge.

He had been more of a father to Lily in one night than her own father had been to Grace in her entire lifetime.

It had been hard enough to leave Luca the first time. How easy would it be to leave if Lily fell in love with him too? She had to remember the man he had become by the end of their marriage. The man she had run away from.

She cast her mind to the cheap phone currently stuffed in a pair of boots in her wardrobe.

She didn’t know how it could help in her escape plan but just having something that was hers and untraceable felt precious.

If Luca found it, she would be thrown out on the streets. It made no difference that he still wanted her. That was just chemistry. He didn’t love her. He would cast her out as if she were nothing more than uneaten food.

She couldn’t quite believe she’d been able to acquire it. She hadn’t gone shopping with the intention of buying a phone—her only intention had been to buy her mum and Cara a Christmas present each; something to let them know how special they were to her. To make amends.

Not that Billie thought there was anything to make amends for. When she’d spoken to her mum, it was as if she’d never been away—Billie had made some appropriate-sounding noises of relief and appropriate squeals at being a grandmother before discussing, in great detail, her latest commission. By all accounts Grace’s dad was somewhere in Africa with no plans to return any time soon. If he knew or cared that she’d been missing, she didn’t know. And she didn’t ask. Some questions were better left unasked.

Cara’s reaction to Grace’s reappearance had been somewhat different. Other than a couple of vague text messages, her best friend was being decidedly elusive. She couldn’t blame her, not after she’d been so flippant about Cara’s fright the day they’d first met Luca. Cara had been the one with the sense to be frightened of a man with a gun. And somehow Cara had been the one tricked into giving up her phone so the secrets contained within it could be revealed.