Boss Meets Baby: Innocent Secretary...Accidentally Pregnant / The Salvatore Marriage Deal / The Millionaire Boss's Baby. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
wanted for the photos,’ she said softly, her eyes following his gaze to the tombstone he was reading.
‘My grandmother,’ Luca explained.
‘She was so young,’ Emma said, reading the inscription. His grandmother had been little older than her mother when she’d died.
‘I don’t remember her really—a little perhaps.’ He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but clearly from his grim expression it did. ‘And this is Zia Maria. I do remember her…’
Emma licked dry lips as she saw the young age of his aunt too. ‘Rinaldo’s first wife…’
‘She was a lovely woman.’ His voice was tender in memory, and pensive too.
‘I know what you meant about Rinaldo…’ He closed his eyes on her as if she couldn’t possibly know, but Emma did. ‘About not even waiting a year to remarry. I hated how many girlfriends my dad had. I know now that Mum had left him and everything, but he started dating so soon after…’
Now that she knew, it was as if her brain was finally allowing her to remember—patchy, hazy memories that she couldn’t really see but could feel—a woman who wasn’t her mother kissing her father, women’s things in the bathroom, the sound of female laughter drifting across the landing to her bedroom as she lay weeping into the pillow and wanting her mother.
‘They make me sick!’ He shook his head, then raked his hair back in a gesture of tense frustration. ‘Just leave it.’
And she had no choice but to do that, because now really wasn’t the time. ‘We should get back anyway.’ She turned to go, but he was still staring at his aunt’s grave and Emma guessed he must be painfully aware that in a matter of days or weeks he would be back here in the graveyard to bury his father. Only she didn’t understand what he was doing here today, when everyone was trying to be happy, reminding himself when he should be forgetting.
‘Luca…’
‘You go. I’ll be there soon.’
‘Luca, today is a wedding—your family are waiting for the photos. For now, surely you should try to forget?’ she said hesitantly.
‘I never forget.’ It was a bald statement and his eyes met hers for the first time since she had joined him in the cemetery, but there was none of the warmth that had been there that morning. In fact, there was no warmth at all. ‘Come—we have a job to do.’
And in that short sentence he both reminded and relegated her. This was just a weekend away to him, a deal that had been struck, a pact that had been reached—an act she had agreed to partake in. It was Emma who had forgotten that at times; Luca clearly always remembered it.
As they joined the rest of his family, as they stood side by side with her hand in his, never had it been harder for her to force a smile.
CHAPTER TEN
IT HAD been a long exhausting day and was a long exhausting evening—as weddings often are.
Rico made it through dinner and, as Mia watched on anxiously, he managed to dance with his daughter. After that, clearly unable to participate further, Rico took a back seat and it was for Luca to take up the baton.
There was nothing Emma could put her finger on as Luca took over the role of patriarch with ease. He chatted with everyone, sat with the men at a table for a while and she could see him laughing at jokes, raising his glass in a toast, joining in tapping spoons to demand that the newlyweds kiss—and when she came over, he was soundly slapped on the back for his choice in women.
‘The D’Amato name goes on,’ Uncle Rinaldo cheered, so clearly she would do! ‘Salute!’
There was just something…
Something that filled the air between them as they waved off the bride and groom.
As they put his parents into a car and then stayed to say farewell to the last of the guests.
Something as he let them into the darkened house. He climbed into the bed beside her and stared unseeingly into the darkness.
A shout from the house snapped Emma’s eyes open, her body instinctively moving to investigate, but he caught her wrist.
‘It is just Pa, calling for his pain medication.’
His fingers were loose, but there. That small contact became her sole focus, every nerve darting along its pathways to locate and gather where his fingers touched hers.
She listened to the sound of silence and thought how hard it must be, not just for Rico but for Mia with the exhausting, round-the-clock care she delivered. And Luca must be thinking it too, for she could feel him—the tense energy in the room, this state of hypervigilance this family must live with when dealing with someone so ill.
Had it been like this for him as a child too?
She had never known violence—oh, there had been arguments and, living with four men, yes, the occasional fight, but they had been storms that had blown over quickly. This was different. A thick tension had slowly built as they lay there together—yet he would have lain here alone as a child, and heard every creak, every bang, every word while wondering if…
‘Luca?’ She knew he was awake even if he was ignoring her. ‘How bad was it?’
‘Leave it, Emma.’
‘You can tell me.’
‘I don’t want to.’
And it should have ended it. She expected him to turn away, except he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his side, towards her. ‘Emma, please…’ He didn’t finish what he was saying, or had he just said it? This begging for distraction.
He moved his body over hers, and then his lips were on hers, his kiss catching her by complete surprise. Luca’s mouth was seeking an urgent distraction; it was a frenetic, heated kiss that urged her body into instant response. They had made love over and over, Luca initiating her into the wonders of her body, the marvel of his, only this was nothing like the tender, slow lovemaking of previous times—this an enthralling new facet. Urgency crashed in like a stormy ocean slamming onto the beach, and her body flared in instant response to his potent maleness. He was kissing her, hot, demanding kisses that she reciprocated, her fingers at the back of his head pressing his face closer to hers. His thighs came down hard on hers, his arms swept under her, circling her, craving more contact— as too did she.
She opened her centre to him, parting her legs, yearning for that first thrust of him with the hunger of an addict. Only it didn’t bring relief, the feel of him driving inside her, his skin sliding over her, it just made her want more, energy building like a cyclone, swirling and obliterating and dragging her to its centre. He moved his arms from beneath her and there was the sensation of falling as her back hit the mattress and Luca leant in on his elbows. Over and over he kissed her, over and over he said her name into the air as he gulped it in, into her mouth as he licked her.
Her orgasms had, till now, been slowly coaxed from her, a learned thing, this gradual build-up as he taught her to let go, as he urged her on to lose her mind, herself, to new sensations. But this night in his bed she was swept into a maelstrom of sensation that was as desperate and urgent as Luca’s fierce need.
The shudder of him inside her was met with sweet beats of her own—it wasn’t sex, it was devotion, the intensity of her orgasm startling her. Her hips moved frantically upwards to escape from the relentless throb of her body, but Luca was in instant pursuit, his last throes tipping her to a place there could be no coming back from, to true abandon, to utter trust.
They slept together—the third night in his bed, and this time they truly slept together, coiled around each other in a fierce embrace that didn’t abate with sleep.
Never did he just glance at his mother in the morning.
Never could he just accept that greeting and