when the deal hinged on selling the Zanetti empire to a man with the right values. Rumors were rife about Abby’s sudden reappearance in Dante’s life. Everyone knew she’d applied to the Italian courts for a divorce. No doubt Zanetti wished to see for himself if their reunion was legitimate or simply a means to win his company.
Dante agreed that he and Abby would join the deeply religious man’s family for dinner that evening. Abby was of course nervous. She knew this was a farce and she’d already told him she wasn’t a skilled actress. The fact he wasn’t yet invited to permanently share her bed didn’t help the situation. They were both on edge.
Seeing Abby in his house every day, taking up the reins as mistress of the house, his wife, yet not able to have her in his bed, was slowly driving him insane. Never a patient man, his body recognized the urgency to procreate. He knew the driving restlessness was because his next batch of monthly tests was scheduled for next week, and he had a terrible feeling the news would not be good.
It wasn’t only that. Gripped by an unrefined, primitive hunger, he was forced to confront an inescapable truth—he not only desired his wife, but his defunct heart beat faster, felt lighter, whenever she was near. She’d brought joy back into his life. He hadn’t smiled at a joke or felt light-headed from a woman’s fragrance and simple touch for what felt like forever. If he understood love he might just think this was it.
He wished it wasn’t so. He purposely kept away from her, trying to deny and destroy those tender feelings. Sighing, he wished for a lot of things. He wished… He didn’t want to face what he wished for. He was a realist.
He wanted the deal with Zanetti, needed it. If something happened to him, with the merging of the two companies, the Lombardi empire would be untouchable. He’d have protected all his family and his employees, while ensuring his father’s legacy. With an angry tug, he loosened his tie and pulled it from his neck, walking through the house like an exhausted man who thought he had crossed the finish line of the marathon, only to learn he still had one more lap of the circuit to run. He felt defeated and for once he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Was misleading Abby, forcing a child on a woman who, if she had a choice, would not be here in his house, let alone in his bed, the right thing to do? If something should happen to him, if his test results were positive, bringing up a child on her own would be tough.
With more force than necessary, he removed his gold cuff links and threw them on the sideboard. He was tempted to pour himself a large brandy, but it was only one in the afternoon. He shouldn’t drink—he needed a clear head tonight to get both of them through this dinner where they would be put under the spotlight. Ignoring the alcohol sitting in the decanter, he made his way through the villa, nodding to Pietro as he neared the sun terrace.
“The contessa is swimming, and your mother has taken Mrs. Taylor for a drive and to visit friends.” Pietro’s words were followed by an insinuating smile.
Dante’s pulse kicked up a gear. He was alone in the house with Abby. No mother, sisters, or grandmother.
“When do you expect them to return?” The gruffness in his voice betrayed his eagerness.
“Not until six. You have at least four hours. I’ve persuaded Rachele to accompany me to the markets for supplies. We will be gone all afternoon, too.”
“Remind me to pay you a bonus, Pietro,” Dante said to his smiling majordomo.
Images of how he’d like to spend the afternoon immediately assailed his mind. They needed to connect in order to make their performance tonight a success. Besides, he wanted her. The tension in his body increased. He dropped his tie on the floor and, without any conscious thought, his strides lengthened as he approached the pool, undoing his shirt buttons as he walked. By the time he
Dante agreed that he and Abby would join the deeply religious man’s family for dinner that evening. Abby was of course nervous. She knew this was a farce and she’d already told him she wasn’t a skilled actress. The fact he wasn’t yet invited to permanently share her bed didn’t help the situation. They were both on edge.
Seeing Abby in his house every day, taking up the reins as mistress of the house, his wife, yet not able to have her in his bed, was slowly driving him insane. Never a patient man, his body recognized the urgency to procreate. He knew the driving restlessness was because his next batch of monthly tests was scheduled for next week, and he had a terrible feeling the news would not be good.
It wasn’t only that. Gripped by an unrefined, primitive hunger, he was forced to confront an inescapable truth—he not only desired his wife, but his defunct heart beat faster, felt lighter, whenever she was near. She’d brought joy back into his life. He hadn’t smiled at a joke or felt light-headed from a woman’s fragrance and simple touch for what felt like forever. If he understood love he might just think this was it.
He wished it wasn’t so. He purposely kept away from her, trying to deny and destroy those tender feelings. Sighing, he wished for a lot of things. He wished… He didn’t want to face what he wished for. He was a realist.
He wanted the deal with Zanetti, needed it. If something happened to him, with the merging of the two companies, the Lombardi empire would be untouchable. He’d have protected all his family and his employees, while ensuring his father’s legacy. With an angry tug, he loosened his tie and pulled it from his neck, walking through the house like an exhausted man who thought he had crossed the finish line of the marathon, only to learn he still had one more lap of the circuit to run. He felt defeated and for once he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Was misleading Abby, forcing a child on a woman who, if she had a choice, would not be here in his house, let alone in his bed, the right thing to do? If something should happen to him, if his test results were positive, bringing up a child on her own would be tough.
With more force than necessary, he removed his gold cuff links and threw them on the sideboard. He was tempted to pour himself a large brandy, but it was only one in the afternoon. He shouldn’t drink—he needed a clear head tonight to get both of them through this dinner where they would be put under the spotlight. Ignoring the alcohol sitting in the decanter, he made his way through the villa, nodding to Pietro as he neared the sun terrace.
“The contessa is swimming, and your mother has taken Mrs. Taylor for a drive and to visit friends.” Pietro’s words were followed by an insinuating smile.
Dante’s pulse kicked up a gear. He was alone in the house with Abby. No mother, sisters, or grandmother.
“When do you expect them to return?” The gruffness in his voice betrayed his eagerness.
“Not until six. You have at least four hours. I’ve persuaded Rachele to accompany me to the markets for supplies. We will be gone all afternoon, too.”
“Remind me to pay you a bonus, Pietro,” Dante said to his smiling majordomo.
Images of how he’d like to spend the afternoon immediately assailed his mind. They needed to connect in order to make their performance tonight a success. Besides, he wanted her. The tension in his body increased. He dropped his tie on the floor and, without any conscious thought, his strides lengthened as he approached the pool, undoing his shirt buttons as he walked. By the time he
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