Love Islands: Swept Away. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
enough to keep Bronagh and Lucca, who sat on the far side of the limo, from overhearing. ‘Open it.’
Fingers shaking, she prised the box open and gasped. The three-layered collar necklace contained over two dozen diamonds in different cuts and sizes, the largest, teardrop gem placed in the middle. The stunning jewels, along with a pair of equally breathtaking earrings, sparkled in her trembling hand. Maisie realised her mouth was still open when Romeo plucked the necklace off its velvet bed and held it out.
‘Turn around.’
Still stunned, she complied and suppressed a tremble when his warm fingers brushed her nape. She turned towards him to thank him and froze when he leaned forward to adjust the necklace so the large stone was resting just above her cleavage. The touch of those fingers...there...sent her blood pounding through her veins. She looked up and met dark hazel eyes. The knowing and hungry look reflecting back at her stopped whatever breath she’d been about to take. They stared at each other, that intense connection that seemed to fuse them together whenever they were close sizzling between them.
‘Wow, that’s stunning.’
Maisie jerked guiltily at Bronagh’s awed compliment. Another blush crept into her face when she realised she’d momentarily forgotten that her friend and son were in the car. To cover up her embarrassment, she hastily reached for the earrings and clipped them on. Then exhaled in a rush when Romeo produced another ominous-sized box.
‘Romeo...’
His eyes flashed a warning and she swallowed her objection. This time he opened it. The large diamond-and-ruby engagement ring defied description. And probably defied any attempt to place a value on it. Silently, Maisie held out her left hand, absurdly bemused to take in the fact that between one heartbeat and the next she’d been draped in jewels that cost more than she would earn in a lifetime.
She smiled through further gasps from Bronagh and just willed herself to breathe. She might not have fully absorbed what she was letting herself in for publicly by agreeing to marry Romeo Brunetti the billionaire, instead of Romeo Brunetti, father of her child, but she’d faced tougher challenges and triumphed. She could do this.
* * *
The marriage ceremony itself was shockingly brief.
Whatever strings Romeo had pulled to secure a special licence had pressed home his importance. They were ushered into an oak-panelled room that reeked history and brevity. The registrar read out their commitments in a deep but hushed voice and announced that they were man and wife within twenty minutes of their arrival.
Romeo’s kiss on her lips was swift and chaste, his hands dropping from her shoulders almost immediately. She told herself the wrench in her stomach was nerves as she followed him to the desk where their signatures formalised their union.
As she signed her name, Maisie reaffirmed that she was taking the necessary steps to keep her son safe. It was what kept her going through the lavish Mayfair meal with Bronagh, after which Bronagh was driven to the airport to catch a flight back to Dublin, and they were driven straight to a private airport south of London.
Unable to stand the thick silence in the car now that Lucca had fallen asleep, she cleared her throat.
‘I didn’t know Italians could marry in London without jumping through bureaucratic hoops.’
Romeo switched from looking out of the window. The brooding glance he sent her made her wish for a moment she’d let the silence continue. ‘I’ve lived in London for over ten years. Other than two days ago, the last time I was in Italy was when you and I met.’
Surprise lifted her brows. ‘I thought you were a resident. You seemed to know your way about where...where you were staying.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I was, once upon a time. But in a much more inhospitable part.’
‘Inhospitable?’ she echoed.
That brooding gaze intensified. ‘I wasn’t always affluent, gattina. I can probably go as far as to say I’m the definition of nouveau riche. I know the streets where we met well because I used to walk there at night in the hope that I would find leftover food in bins or a tourist who was willing to part with a few euros for a quick shoe shine. Barring that, I would find an alleyway to sleep in for a night, but only for a night because inevitably I would be sent packing by the polizia and threatened with jail should I return.’
Maisie wasn’t sure which was more unnerving—the harrowing account of his childhood or the cold, unfeeling way in which he recounted it. Either way, the stone-cold horror that had wedged in her stomach grew, until she was sure her insides were frozen with pain at imagining what he’d been through.
‘You said you only met your father twice,’ she murmured, unable to erase the bleak picture he drew in her mind, ‘but what about your mother?’
Lucca stirred in his sleep, and Romeo’s eyes shifted to his son before returning to hers. ‘My mother is a subject I don’t wish to discuss, especially on my wedding day.’ His smile mocked the significance of the day.
But Maisie couldn’t dismiss the subject as easily. ‘And child services? Surely there was some support you could’ve sought?’
He blinked, his nostrils flaring slightly before he shrugged. ‘The support is the same in Italy as it is in England. Some fall through the cracks. And if one tried hard enough to evade the clutches of a system that was inherently flawed, one could succeed.’
Despite catching his meaning, Maisie couldn’t fathom why he would choose to live on the streets. ‘How long did you sleep rough for?’ she asked, her heart bleeding at the thought.
His mouth compressed in a cruel line. ‘Two years until the authorities got fed up with hauling me away every other night. A do-gooder policewoman thought I would be better off in the foster system.’ He gave a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. ‘Unfortunately, she couldn’t have been more wrong. Because then it was really driven home that my kind wouldn’t be welcome in a normal, well-adjusted home.’
‘Your kind?’
‘The bastard children of violent criminals.’
Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, God!’
Romeo’s eyes once again flicked to his sleeping son and he shook his head. ‘Don’t worry, gattina. I got out the second I could. Now look at me.’ He spread his hands in mock preen. And although his voice was even, Maisie saw the shadows of dark memory that blanketed his eyes and hardened his mouth. ‘According to the media, I’m every woman’s dream and every parent’s ideal suitor for their wholesome daughter. Consider yourself lucky for bagging me.’ His teeth barred in a mirthless smile.
‘Romeo—’
He lunged close so quickly, filled every inch of her vision so spectacularly, her breath snagged in her chest. His fingers pressed against her mouth, forcibly rejecting any words she’d been about to utter. ‘No, gattina. Save your warm-hearted sympathy and soft words for our son,’ he rasped jaggedly. ‘You be there for him when he scrapes his knee and when the goblins frighten him at night. I require no sympathy. I learnt to do without it long before I could walk.’
He sat back and for a full minute remained frozen. Then his chest rose and fell in a single deep exhalation before he pressed a button next to his armrest. A laptop slid from a side compartment and flickered on. Strong fingers tapped the keys, flicking through pages of data with calm efficiency.
As if he hadn’t just torn open his chest and shown her the raw wounds scarring his heart.
* * *
Romeo tapped another random key, stared unseeing at the stream of words and numbers filling the screen.
What in the name of heaven had he been thinking?
Had he not sworn only last night to keep his past locked in the vault where it belonged? Through all the voracious media attention that had exploded in his life once his first