Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire (11 page)

‘I would have made sure of the security first.'

‘You know as well as I do that the gardens at the embassy have security so tight I couldn't slip a worm in there unnoticed, let alone a pack of hyenas. This is the perfect solution, Marco. No one will get within a mile of me,' she added confidently.

‘You might have told me what you had planned.'

‘As you always tell me what you've got planned?'

There was a long silence, and then he said tensely, ‘That's not the point.'

‘Isn't it? I thought we were equal—or is one of us more equal than the other? I don't have to ask your permission before I do something. Or do I? I really appreciate what you've done for me. I know I wasn't well when I came here, and I know I was too stubborn to admit it back in England, but now I'm well enough to go back to work.'

‘You will still need to rest.'

‘I don't need to rest. I'm fine. I'll be even better when I'm working outside in a garden again.'

She refused to back down. He loved her fire, but it irked the hell out of him.

‘What are you doing, Marco?'

Reaching out, he removed the single clip holding up her hair so that it tumbled in unruly waves around her shoulders.

Gathering it up again, she pinned it firmly back in place.

‘Am I supposed to take that a sign?' Marco demanded.

‘Yes. A sign that I need fresh air,' she said, staring levelly at him until he stood down.

‘What about the roof garden?'

‘What about the roof garden? You've never mentioned a roof garden to me. Are you telling me there's a garden here?'

‘Let me show you.'

He led the way through the door that took them up via some steps to one of the most magnificent views in Rome.

‘Oh, my,' she breathed, so taken aback that for a moment she didn't even notice the carefully laid-out garden and just soaked up the view. ‘To think I didn't even know this was here.'

‘I should have mentioned it to you,' Marco admitted, ‘but I so rarely come up here—'

‘And you couldn't wait to get away as soon as we arrived,' she suggested, careful to keep her expression neutral.

‘Maybe,' he admitted. ‘But now you know it's here, couldn't you keep yourself busy up here?'

‘Fill my empty hours, do you mean?' She shrugged. ‘This is beautiful, Marco, really beautiful, but it's all planned out—down to the last, carefully manicured square inch. There's nothing here for me to do, except admire—which I do. But I need more than this. I need a proper job.'

‘Isn't the baby enough for you?'

‘My question is this: will I be enough for the baby if I just sit here idle and wait for our child to arrive?'

Marco flinched a little at her mention of
our
child, and then he turned away to lean his hands on the wall as he stared out across Rome.

‘You're never going to accept that I could make life easy for you, are you, Cassandra?'

‘I don't want easy. I just want a chance to do the job I love.'

He seemed to understand that. Turning, he reached out his hand to capture a stray lock of hair to tuck behind her ear.

‘I could admire you if you weren't so damned annoying,' he admitted.

She huffed wryly and relaxed a little. Perhaps they were both guilty of taking themselves too seriously at times.

‘I'll try to be worthy of your admiration, and slightly less annoying,' she promised. And then, for the first time, they shared a smile.

They left the beautiful roof garden, and went down to the main part of the penthouse, where she hovered as Marco prowled the room. Tension grew between them, and threatened to engulf her when Marco came to stand in front of her.

‘Come to bed with me, Cassandra.'

Breath hitched in her throat as he stared down at her. She knew that smouldering look in his eyes, and her body was desperate to respond to him. This had nothing to do with pregnancy hormones. She wanted Marco, and not just physically but with every yearning, aching part of her soul.

Leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his.

Several seconds passed. It was as if time stood still in those potent, charged moments. Resting her hands on Marco's arms, she allowed him to back her towards his bedroom.

Putting his arm around her shoulders, he shut the door behind them, and then he worked on the buttons of her shirt and let it fall. Cupping her breasts, he dipped his head to suckle through the fine lace of her bra, and then he unhooked it and disposed of that too. Lowering her unflattering maternity jeans carefully over the swell of her belly and her hips, he helped her step out of them. Taking hold of her hand, he led her towards the bed, and pushing the bedclothes out of the way he lowered her gently onto the pillows.

‘Turn on your side,' he instructed, ‘and wait for me.'

She watched him undress and felt her arousal grow. Marco's back rippled with muscle as he moved. His entire body was a work of brutal masculine art. She could hardly breathe for excitement by the time he joined her on the bed.

Stretching out his length behind her, he rested his hand in the small of her back. She responded immediately, and arching her back she waited in tingling anticipation for his first touch.

Having arranged her to his satisfaction, Marco took hold of her and gently parting her legs he slipped the tip of his erection inside her until he was sure she was relaxed. Then he sank deep. He hardly needed to move at all as her hunger took over. Working with ever-increasing intent, she used him shamelessly.

‘Nice?' he enquired softly when, after the longest time, she was quiet again.

‘Very nice,' she confirmed groggily, smiling into the pillow.

‘Again?'

‘Oh, I think so, don't you?'

They made love so many times she lost count, and each time was better than the last. She drifted off to sleep, safe in Marco's arms, and woke to find him making love to her again.

‘How do you do that?' she muttered, still half-asleep.

He hushed her and continued to move steadily back and forth.

She remained quiescent and silent, the grateful recipient of pleasure, with no effort required from her at all. She had no argument with that, not when this was turning out to be the most incredible experience of her life. Just the thought of Marco doing what he was doing, and so skilfully, was enough to make her lose control. As sensation claimed her, she cried out his name, and clutching the pillow in a vice-like grip she gave her body over to violent convulsions of pleasure. And when she was quiet, Marco started all over again.

Sex wasn't an end in itself, she knew that as well as anyone. But until a solution could be found to their situation, it was the one thing that brought them as close as this.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

C
ASS
'
S
WORK
AT
the embassy gardens was turning out even better than she had hoped. She was smiling when she returned to the penthouse at the thought that she loved everyone she worked with, and was even picking up the language. Working with the plants she loved, with her hands in soil and her head in a better place, she could even start to think of the penthouse as home—at least, for now—and then without dwelling too much on what would happen in the future.

One thing was sure. She loved her baby already, and she would do everything in her power to give her child the best life possible. Two things were sure, Cass amended as she caught sight of her passport in her bag. She had made up her mind to return to England for the birth. She couldn't risk the uncertainty of staying in Italy, if only because Marco seemed to be working harder than ever. He was either trying to avoid getting in too deep, in an emotional sense, or maybe he was trying to exorcise his own demons. Either way, their child would be born soon, and she was determined that her baby's future would be stable, unlike her own as a child.

Marco had been away on business for the past few days, and was due back tonight. The thought thrilled her, even as it made her more determined than ever to pin him down and explain what her plans were. Time was running out on her pregnancy, and he had to face the future. It was a future she hoped they would share with their child, even if Marco and she lived in different countries.

She hadn't been idle while he'd been away. As well as her job at the embassy, she had interviewed new staff for the penthouse. She wanted to earn her keep. She wanted Marco to know that she wasn't waiting for him to do everything.

She also had to tell him that she was well enough to go home, and though she was grateful to him for allowing her to recover here in Rome, her mind was made up to return to England.

Tears pricked the back of her eyes at the thought of leaving him. She was falling in love with him, Cass realised as she brushed her hair.

There were no if, buts or maybes. She had fallen in love, and with a very complex man who was coming home tonight, so she would leave her hair loose...for him.

* * *

Marco looked exhausted when he walked through the door. He also looked gloriously striking in a navy suit so dark it was almost as black as his eyes. His crisp white shirt was open at the neck and his stylish silk tie was hanging loose. She didn't need him to tell her that it had been a hard trip. His hair was ruffled, his stubble was thick, and his frown was so deep she knew he'd had a difficult time, though his face lit up at the sight of her.

‘
Cara mia
, you look beautiful.'

It was the first time that Marco had called her
his
. Instead of resenting this, she found she liked it, and perhaps more than she should have done, bearing in mind what she had to say to him. She was an independent woman, but she liked the sense of belonging, as well as the feeling that she wasn't alone. The ‘beautiful' she'd take with a pinch of salt. She knew she wasn't beautiful. The mirror told her that every day. She was bloated and heavy, and—

She turned her attention back to Marco. ‘You look wiped out. Can I get you a drink?'

He smiled and shrugged. ‘I should be looking after you,
cara
.'

‘Okay, then.' She grinned. ‘We can take turns.'

He prowled towards her until she was backed up against the wall.

‘Does this bring back memories?' he asked, staring down at her with the faintest of smiles on his dark, brooding face.

‘A few,' she admitted. She longed for him to kiss her. She wanted to feel his hard body pressed against hers...

‘What about this?' he murmured, scraping her sensitive skin with his stubble as he scorched a trail of almost kisses down her neck.

‘A few more memories seem to be returning,' she conceded wryly.

‘How about this?'

She closed her eyes and exhaled shakily as Marco's big hands captured her breasts.

‘You have the most magnificent breasts, Cassandra.'

‘And you haven't closed the front door.'

He put his foot to it. ‘Better now?'

As he was cupping her between the legs as he asked the question, her answer could only be a shaky ‘Not quite yet...'

She looked up and knew Marco could see the heat in her eyes.

‘Is there anything I can do to improve the situation for you?' he asked.

‘There might be,' she conceded.

Moving his hands to cup her face, he dipped his head and kissed her...very gently. It was a tender kiss of a type they'd never shared before, and it fired every nerve ending in her body.

‘The bedroom?' he suggested with a shrug, pulling back.

‘If you think that's best,' she whispered.

‘In your condition, banging you against the wall probably isn't advisable,' he pointed out. ‘Try not to look quite so disappointed. I promise to make up for it with something you'll like just as much.'

‘Are you sure?' she challenged in a whisper.

‘I'm certain of it.'

She gasped as he swung her into his arms.

‘You'll have to wait while I take a shower,' he said with reluctance as he lowered her down at the side of the bed.

‘That long?' she complained.

Marco's eyes were full of wicked promise, and she was breathless with excitement by the time he sauntered back. Drying his thick, wavy black hair on one towel, he had another looped around his waist. His torso was staggering. Bronzed and muscular, she wondered if she would ever get enough of looking at it.

Marco only had to catch her glance to be instantly aroused, and as he prowled towards her all she could think about was pleasure. He knew just what she needed, and his appetite matched hers. Her glance dropped to his mouth. She had never experienced anything like this all-consuming hunger. She was quivering with excitement as he came to stand in front of her. His thick hair was still curling damply and catching on his stubble. She smiled a little to see he hadn't shaved.

Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her neck. And then, putting his arms around her, he moved with her to some silent music. Then he turned her so she had her back to him, and looping his arms around what was left of her waist he whispered into her ear, ‘I love this position with your back to me—it's perfect for making love when you're pregnant.'

‘Perfect when I'm not pregnant too,' she replied.

She could feel his hard need pressing into her. It only made her hungrier for him than ever. Arching her back, she invited him to take full advantage of her pregnancy-fuelled, wild-for-sex body, and then she rolled her hips against him.

Marco brought her down on the bed beside him. ‘I need this,' he groaned, sinking into her.

‘Me too,' she gasped out, holding onto him as her breathing quickened.

Marco braced himself on his forearms to keep his weight off her as he stared down. That look in his eyes was enough to break her apart.

‘I guessed you needed that too,' he teased her as her violent release shattered her thought processes into a starburst of light.

‘More?' he asked as she writhed beneath him.

He turned her on her side the way she liked, and whispered, ‘You're going to bend your knees while I sink slowly into you, and I'm going to touch you at the same time.'

His hand had barely found its destination before she greedily claimed her next release.

‘I think you like that,' he murmured. Resting his chin on her back, he waited as she dragged in some noisy breaths.

‘Definitely,' she confirmed.

‘Are you ready for more?'

Marco only had to rest his hand in the small of her back for her to lift her buttocks so he could cup them and slowly take her again. Moving to a steady and dependable beat, he worked her with his hand at the same time, steering her unerringly into her fiercest climax yet.

* * *

Cassandra was sleeping so heavily he decided to make her breakfast in bed. She should rest—wasn't he always telling her that? He should tell himself that—he'd kept her up half the night. He couldn't get enough of her. He'd never felt like this before—had never made love to a woman all night and woken her up in the morning by making love to her. Hell, he'd never cooked a woman breakfast before—not since he had tried to coax his mother to eat in the latter stages of her alcoholism, a thought that shattered his current idyll.

The priest who had buried his mother had seen to it that he had a roof over his head and had gone to school with enough food in his belly to keep him going for the day. The orphanage had been a chilling experience, but he'd survived that too. There was nothing in this world he couldn't overcome—with the exception of his feelings for Cassandra.

But he couldn't offer her anything more than this, he mused as he backed his way into the bedroom. He'd been dead inside for far too long to make any form of commitment, and he would never lead Cassandra on.

She woke slowly and smiled with her face still pressed against the pillow as he carried her breakfast tray into the room.

‘You made me breakfast!' she exclaimed with pleasure.

Pressing his lips down, he shrugged. ‘It's in my best interests to keep your strength up.'

‘Stop acting tough, Marco. Even if you're joking, I know you're kinder than you make out. You've got a whole bank of feelings inside you, but you're like a miser afraid to dip into them.'

‘Afraid?' he queried, already tensing in preparation for retreating into himself as he put the tray down.

‘I know. You're not afraid of anything...except what's inside you,' she said, losing her smile. ‘And we all have demons in the past to fight.'

‘I don't know what you mean.'

She stared at him for a moment, and then she held out her hand. ‘Come here...'

‘I have to go to work...'

‘Please,' she insisted. ‘Give me your hand.'

He frowned, but he did as she asked.

Taking it, she guided it beneath the bedclothes. ‘Can you feel him? Your son is saying hello.'

‘My—' He recoiled, but she caught hold of his hand, and with more strength than he had guessed she possessed she brought his hand back again and made him rest it on her swollen belly.

‘Don't be frightened,' she whispered. ‘We're both new at this. Babies don't come with a manual, and I don't want you to miss out on a single thing.'

He'd weakened once before and kissed her belly. He had survived that. The miracle of life was something even he couldn't resist. He calmed his breathing and stilled, and then he felt it...he felt the little pulse of life, trying to kick his hand away.

‘
Dio!
I can feel him.' His eyes were full of wonder as he turned to look at her. ‘That's your baby!'

Cassandra looked at him steadily for a good few moments and then she said, ‘That's our child.'

* * *

There was so much she wanted to say to Marco. She wanted to reach out to him in a way that would break through all his issues, but before she could do that he had to trust her...trust her enough to tell her what had made him this way.

‘Marco?'

He was heading at speed for the door, and looked stricken. Yet she knew he'd had that same moment of wonder and bliss that she had experienced when she had felt their child kicking her for the first time. What was it about this baby that frightened Marco? What had rocked the foundations of his world? If his only concern was that her baby was his, he could resolve that with a test. She suspected it was something more than that—something so devastating that it had shaped Marco's life. She wanted to know what that was, so she could help him.

These thoughts plagued her, though she went on to have a productive day. She had been allowed to redesign a tiny portion of the embassy garden, and hadn't realised how late it was when she finally finished up. Marco's driver, an elderly man called Paolo, was waiting for her. Paolo was full of courtly charm and he insisted on seeing her to the door of the penthouse. It was while they were travelling up in the elevator that he offered her a small insight into Marco's past.

‘He's a good man,' Paolo said, turning to face her. ‘I used to work for his father, you know? Bad business, that.'

‘His father?' She was instantly alert, but Paolo had already tensed, as if he knew he'd said too much. ‘You used to work for Marco's father?' she repeated. She had to try and prompt more out of him.

‘Yes,' Paolo offered, saying no more.

‘So, how did you come to work for Marco?' she pressed.

Paolo thought about this for a moment, as if he were weighing his loyalty to both men.

‘I drove Marco to his father's funeral,' Paolo revealed at last. ‘He wanted to show his respect to a man who had never shown him any, especially when Marco was a child and had needed it most. I have worked for Marco ever since.'

‘Thank you. Thank you for telling me that.'

Before she could stop herself she had leaned into a hug. Paolo was surprised, but he was Italian so he understood big emotions.

‘I'm sorry I can't tell you more,' he added with a shrug. ‘I don't think I'm breaking any confidences if I tell you that Marco's father was a difficult man. We were never close, as I am with Marco. But I am a loyal man, and I've already said too much.'

‘I understand, and I shouldn't have asked you.' But she was glad she had.

‘You should have some rest now,' Paolo advised as the elevator doors slid open on the penthouse floor. ‘You must be careful not to overdo things at this stage of pregnancy.'

Paolo saw her safely inside, and when she had closed the door behind her she leaned back against it and cradled her growing bump. There was so much more she wanted to know about Marco, but at least Paolo had helped her to take the first step. She could only hope that one day Marco might trust her enough to tell her the rest.