The Reluctant Wife (2 page)

“Do you? Really?”

She gave a choked cry. “Of course I do, because I was
there
.” The pain sliced at her memories. He had not married her for love.

“You think I was so desperate that I had to marry the first beautiful woman who caught my eye?”

“Suitable woman,” she mumbled, although his assertion of beauty sent tingles of warmth over her skin. Dante had thought he was getting an infatuated, quiet, and willing wife to stand by his side. A woman who was madly in love with him and his family. Once he’d made up his mind to marry, she’d had no chance of escape.

“Unbelievable. Are you listening to yourself?” He swore in Italian. “I could have married anyone, but I chose you! Although why escapes me right now.”

“Does it? Perhaps if you’d told me how you felt about me—”

“I showed you every night, usually all night. I picked you to be the mother of my children.”

“Oh, here we go again. Children! That is really what you married me for, admit it.” She moved closer. “Most couples marry because they’re madly in love with each other. You married to gain a brood mare.”

“If I’d wanted a brood mare, I could have married a local Italian girl from a Catholic family. Then there would be no stupid talk of divorce. I’ll never understand you. You used my desire for children as an excuse to run from what scared you, nothing more.”

“Perhaps I left because you think love is a dirty, four-letter word.”

His silence spoke volumes. Abby couldn’t remember Dante ever saying those three little words that hold such power. All she’d wanted was to become like any other member of his family. Loved. By him. Her husband.

“As for love and cherish…how do you think I felt when I saw you coming out of the hotel with Elena? You knew how much I wanted that job, yet you gave it to her. You wanted a child more than my happiness. You never once considered my feelings.”

“I couldn’t be seen to be doing you favors. Elena was the right person for the position.”

“But you couldn’t tell me that?”

“Would you have listened?”

“It doesn’t matter. Our marriage is over. Since we applied for our formal separation last year, even the powerful Dante Lombardi can’t stop me from divorcing a man who does not love me. Once the three uninterrupted years from now have passed, we’ve satisfied Italian law and you can find another, more suitable wife. One far less reluctant than I.”

“What was wrong in wanting my wife to have my child? To start a new family? Most woman long for children.” The way he said the words made her feel abnormal, unfeminine.

“I want a family, someday, but I had only just turned twenty when we actually married into your illustrious family. I was still finding my feet. I was nervous and scared and alone in a strange country with a new extended family.” She raised her eyes to glare at him. “You’ll never understand. You’re always so sure of yourself.”

“At least I was honest about what I wanted. You stooped to deception. Where’s the honesty in that?”

“You weren’t honest, were you? You stood in a church and swore to love me.”

His face paled under his olive skin.

She let out her breath. What had she been waiting for? For Dante to declare he did love her and wanted her back?
Fool
. “It doesn’t matter now. I need money. A lot of money. Well, a lot of money in my book.”

He gave a short, harsh laugh. “Women are so predictable. What do you want this money for?”

This time she looked fully into his eyes, refusing to plead for his sympathy and understanding. “For my grandmother. She needs a heart operation, but the hospital in Liverpool refuses to give her the surgery, saying due to her age she is not a priority patient. She is on a waiting list but I don’t think she has enough time.” Her eyes filled with tears. “She’s the only family I have left. I would like enough money for her to have the operation done privately, by the best surgeons.”

The doctor in her hometown of Southport, on the northwest coast of England, had been sympathetic to her grandmother’s plight, but his hands were tied. He’d advised her to get the operation done as quickly as possible and that meant privately. She held herself straight and proud. “I returned the money you sent me when I left. I’d hoped you would allow me to now accept your generous settlement.”

His voice was softer, kinder when he finally spoke. “Your grandmother must mean a lot to you, to risk the humiliation of having to come to me for this favor.”

“I owe her everything. She raised me, gave me love when I had no one else.”

“I gave you a home, a family. Yet you could walk away from that without a second glance.” His voice was cold and flat.

She closed her eyes. Fleeing home to England and walking away from him and his family was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Her throat constricted and she gulped back a sob. No, she thought, coming back and seeing what she had given up was harder.

Before she could get a grip on her emotions, her eyes flashed open. “It would appear you have not been short of someone to fill my bed since I left.”

He remained silent, but something like guilt flickered deep in his eyes.

“Carla is only a friend. I pretended she was more to see your reaction.”

She met the silent challenge in his gaze. “I don’t think you were in any doubt that I used to love you.”

“Past tense. I see. Did you really think I would sit around pining for you?”

Her faced flushed with warmth. Of course not. Women flocked to him. It wasn’t difficult to see why. His striking masculinity was like a beacon. He had money, but more devastating were his charisma and his power of persuasion. Now his eyes held nothing but scorn. He looked precisely like the man he’d been back then, only she’d been too blind to see past his sensual persona. He was powerful, ruthless. Lethal. Not someone with whom to tangle.

“No.” she sucked in her breath at the stabbing pain under her rib cage. “Knowing your appetites, I did not expect you to wait.”

“You are wrong. I did wait.”

She took a step back in surprise.

“Since I
have
waited, waited for my wife to come to her senses and return to me, I think you owe me. You owe me my son.”

Chapter Two

Her hazel eyes rounded in shock. He saw her mouth tremble, and it was just like the first time he’d set eyes on the gorgeous, blond waif. The same bolt of lust racked his body. He’d never had such an instant reaction to a woman before. That had been his body’s warning, a warning he’d stupidly ignored.

No. He was over her. She no longer haunted his nights. He’d miscalculated how much he’d miss her. The first year of their separation, he’d had to fight every primal instinct not to go after her and drag her home. He knew if he waited, she’d come home. He just hadn’t realized how long he’d have to wait.

And worse, she had not come home for him, but for his money.

Abby had completely deceived him. He’d thought her naïveté would make her easy to manage. He’d quickly learned that Abby had more backbone than any woman he’d ever met. Her readiness to challenge him seemed to add to her allure. Now, again, here she was asserting her wishes, taking command…

Abby licked her lips. “I don’t owe you anything. And, as we’re divorcing, I’m the last woman you should have a child with. Besides, I don’t care what you do in your personal life.”

She lied. Her arms were folded across her stomach as if she were warding off a blow.

“You care. You know I could always read your body as well as a blind man reads braille.”

Abby shook her head, the emphatic movement flinging her thick blond hair over one shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. “Can you read what I’m thinking now?”

He searched Abby’s drawn face, recognizing the marks of strain in the bluish shadows beneath her eyes and the set of her delicate jaw. She had the strength of fine bone china, and the fragility.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking.” He tilted his head and tapped his chin with a finger. After a theatrical pause he spoke deliberately. “You wish you’d waited until the morning to meet with me. You’re angry with yourself for still wanting me, and you’re wondering whether one kiss from my lips can still make you come.”

He felt rather than saw her body tremble across the room, and heard her soft gasp.

“Of all the arrogant, conceited…”

“Most of all, you’re remembering the first night you were in this room, how you let me seduce you, how I made love to you into the small hours of the morning.”

The hazel of her eyes glittered almost golden as he watched her fight tears. He tried to keep his heart unresponsive, but the beauty of her pale face, the dark circles under her eyes, and above all her stricken look of profound loss assailed his protective barrier.

“You want a favor from me. I want a favor—or two—from you. I’d call it a mutually beneficial business proposition. I know you need money and I’m happy to help. For a price. You are my wife, this is where you belong.” A traitorous pulse flickered fast just below her collarbone, calling attention to the delicate skin of her throat. His body shuddered into life, with total recall of the addictive taste of her skin.

She quivered as his eyes roamed her small frame. Every detail screamed at him—the dark of her dilated pupils, the flush on her cheeks, the moist pink of her parted lips. She wanted him and though she shook with the effort, she couldn’t hide the giveaway signals. Cursing inwardly, he felt his body respond to the recalled pleasure of their days and nights of intimacy.

“But I’m not yours. Not anymore.”

“Legally you are still mine!”

“I am not a possession, Dante. As I said four years ago, I’m a flesh-and-blood woman with feelings and desires.”

“Come here.” He patted the couch beside him. “I’ll satisfy those feelings and desires.”

“Stop it. I’m not nineteen anymore.”

Dante rose from the couch. “A challenge. I always rise to a challenge.” He took a step toward her. “Shall we put your words to the test?”

She held her ground. A flicker of unease passed over his skin—this was not the malleable girl he had married.

“Over the last few years, I’ve had plenty of practice at fending off unwanted attention.” Her smile held a dangerous glint. “And plenty of practice at accepting.”

His fists clenched at his sides and he felt his jaw tighten until he feared his teeth would break. She had changed. His Abby would never have knowingly hurt anyone, least of all him. The thought of her with another man made his stomach clench.

“How many?” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.

Her smile died on her lips. “How many what?”

In two strides he reached her, pulling her hard against him. She struggled a little, then froze helplessly. “How many have you slept with?” He knew he had no right to ask. He was gripping her arms too tightly, but the savage jealousy swept him beyond reason or control.

She did not struggle in his grip, but raised her hand to his chest, covering his pounding heart. He saw his answer in her eyes and almost sagged in relief. She’d slept with no other man. He couldn’t help his response. He took her lips in a kiss meant to make her remember everything that had been good between them.

At the first touch, she held herself stiff and unyielding. Then on a sigh she softened and melted into his arms. Her lips parted, and as he plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, she gave a moan of ecstatic surrender. This was how he remembered her—hot, soft, vibrant, and welcoming. His to taste, to take, and to pleasure.

He pulled her closer, reveling in the scent that was uniquely hers. Her mouth tasted of memories, delicious and intoxicating. Her tongue dueled with his, not willing to let him have everything his way. How he’d missed her.

Missed her?
The thought made him draw back. She had left him. She didn’t want him. She was here for what he could give her—money. Abby had not understood who and what he was. She’d come back for the money, nothing more.

She looked at him in disbelief. Whether it was disbelief that she’d let him kiss her or disbelief that she’d wanted it, he couldn’t tell.

“I think I’ve proved my point.”

He watched her shift weight from one foot to the other, as if about to flee. She plainly didn’t want to be in the same room as him, but she’d stay, he was certain, because she was desperate.

He wouldn’t lie to himself. He wanted her back in his life for more than one reason.

Even now his body hardened as he remembered the erotic image of her spread naked across his bed in the drowsing heat of the afternoon. Her glorious blond curls cascading in a tangle, her lush pink mouth begging for his, while she writhed and moaned with pleasure beneath his expert hands. She’d always been so responsive. Their initial lovemaking had been fast and furious. It had taken him several months to learn to appreciate her body without losing himself in her passion.

Her eyes drank him in, sending longing coursing through him. But just as he had at their wedding, he suppressed his feelings. His family was about duty, honor, and tradition. Strength was admired, weakness forbidden. And romantic love was weak.

Dante shoved the arousing memories from his mind. He took in her fighting stance and knew he would lend her the money. He believed in family and he was proud of the way she’d sacrificed her pride to ask him for this favor. Her selflessness and honor were two of the reasons he’d selected her as his wife in the first place.

“How much money do you need for your grandmother’s operation?”

She turned a startled gaze his way. “You’ll help me?”

He ran a hand through his hair and kept the annoyance out of his voice. “You knew I would; that’s why you came.” He watched her shoulders sag in relief. “Before you get too pleased with yourself, you’d best hear my terms.”

She cringed. “Terms?”

He remembered how Abby had coldly left without even a good-bye. The cracks in his heart’s fortifications hardened. “What are you prepared to do for this favor?” Dante saw the pulse at the base of her throat quicken in apprehension.

“You weren’t serious before, surely? You can’t be suggesting that I…”

He walked to the window, looking down on his estate. His domain. Something Abby seemed to have forgotten. Time for a reminder.

“A son. I want my wife by my side and I want a son.” He cast his eyes over her petite form, lingering on her pert breasts, leaving no misunderstanding of what he was suggesting.

“Don’t do this.”

He spread his hands wide. “Do what? I’m a businessman. According to you, I’m heartless and cruel. I’d hate to disappoint. You want money from me—”

“A loan.”

“And how do you expect to repay this loan?”

Her hands were once more clasped tightly in front of her. “I’ll manage somehow, even if it takes me a lifetime.”

“Waiting is not one of my strong points. A lifetime seems too long to wait, even for you.”

“Stop toying with me. What is it that you require in return? My blood?”

He watched suspicion sharpen her eyes. “Not blood—this time. I want my wife back in my life and in my bed.”

Abby’s lips parted and closed again. “You expect me to move back in here as if the last three years never happened?”

He said nothing.

“You’re more cold and unfeeling than I imagined.”

His eye began to twitch in anger. “I’m still your husband.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.” His offer was the last thing she’d expected. “Why on earth do you want me back? You told me you weren’t lacking for company.”

“You and I were married in a church before God, Abby. You are still my wife. And I,” he added, “am still your husband.”

“Only on paper. You certainly made it clear I was a bride suitable for only one thing.”

He ignored her gibe. “There has never been a divorce in the Lombardi family and I’ll be damned if I’m the first. I will not make public what is Lombardi personal business.” He pushed ahead, knowing the reaction his next words would evoke. “Business comes first—always! I’ve a major business deal that requires I have my wife by my side. I want to buy Paolo Zanetti’s company. He’s a strict Roman Catholic. If he hears I’m divorcing he’ll never hand his company into my care.”

“So, it’s about two of your passions—children and business. Strengthening the Lombardi empire and a son to rule over it.”

“Why not kill two birds with one stone. I
do
want a child to take over the Lombardi empire should anything happen to me. And since we won’t be divorcing, not if I want this deal, and I do, that means you’ll have to be his mother.”

Abby’s eyes glittered with icy distaste. “Even you couldn’t be that manipulative. There must be another reason…are you sick?”

His heart warmed, but he tried to conceal it. “Do I look sick?”

Her eyes swept over him, and his body responded with an urgency he couldn’t suppress. Her gaze lingered on the bulge at his groin and her face flooded with color as she took in his condition.

“You look pretty fit and healthy to me.” Anger flashed across her face. “So, we’ve come full circle. A child. Isn’t this why you married me in the first place? To obtain a brood mare?”

Her words made guilt rise up to choke him. Dante had known as soon as she’d slipped her tiny hand in his that she was perfect. Perfect for what he required. A beautiful, virtuous woman to be his wife and bear him children. A woman not experienced enough to test his heart.

He pushed aside his guilt. The clock was forever moving forward and time was not on his side. “You need money, I need my wife by my side, and a child would cement the family.”

She sank into the small antique chair opposite him, crossing one perfect leg over the other, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the skin beneath her skirt.

“Why the hurry?”

“Where are my manners? Would you care for a drink?” He pointed to the brandy tumbler. “If we are to discuss a business arrangement, I suggest we fortify ourselves.”

She hesitated, but finally nodded. He crossed to the drinks cabinet, taking his time. How best to approach this situation? Calm and emotionless, as he lived his life.

Once he was reseated and both of them had a drink in hand, he started.

“When we met, you remember my brother had just been killed in a motorbike crash.”

She nodded. “It was one of my regrets, never being able to meet your brother. Your mother told me you were so very different but were best friends.”

Dante swallowed back his grief. Since his brother’s death, he’d felt like a part of him was missing. There had been only fifteen months between them. “We were different, but no one knew me like Roberto. He was my better half.”

He watched Abby take a large sip of brandy, her hands trembling. She had lost a brother and both of her parents. Yes, she understood his loss.

“Roberto’s passing was impossible to bear, especially for my mother. She’d still not recovered from the loss of my father, and to suddenly and tragically lose a son…” This time he took a gulp of the fiery liquid, letting the warmth ward off the chill of bad memories. “But it had consequences for my family—for me.”

Her nose screwed up as she frowned.

“My father’s will. Both my father and grandfather were dead before they reached forty. I believe that is why my father agreed to marry so young. He came from a rich, Italian noble family. He could have gone anywhere and done anything with his life. He never sowed his wild oats. He married my mother when they were both eighteen and remained faithful to her until his death.”

“I’m sorry I never got to meet your father.”

“He would have approved of you.”

“Even my leaving?”

Dante laughed. “Well, perhaps not the leaving, but the coming back he’d heartily endorse.”

“I’m not back, Dante.”

“Please, let me finish.” He cleared his throat. “My father was concerned for the Lombardi Group and for his family. His will stipulates I have to marry and have a son by the age of thirty-eight or the company goes to the eldest male relative with a son.”

He watched her face, hoping to see a light of understanding. Instead he saw anger glinting from within her eyes, the tawny amber darkening to a burned coffee color.

“That’s why you married me and why you’re so concerned with having a child as soon as possible. A son. The company.” She almost spat the word.