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So he would marry her and keep them all safe. The Rossini family and the Di Visconti family would be aligned. He would right Giancarlo’s wrongs and give Coral the life she had missed out on. Salvatore would be enraged—but wasn’t he always? And they would need nothing from him. Romano’s net worth was already half as much again as Argento’s. And in a few years Raffaele would be able to step away from babysitting the cruise ships.
It was almost too perfect—and it was all within his grasp.
He slipped the ring into his pocket.
He would ask her tomorrow night at dinner. Before Salvatore arrived and had to be managed into handing over a DNA sample.
He crushed his hand round the little velvet box.
Yes, this was the way. The only way. It felt good. It felt right. Like when he’d left Rome to go to New York and when he’d launched Heavenly. When things felt like this it eased the knot in his stomach—for a little while, at least.
CHAPTER TEN
THIS DINNER WAS not going well. Everything was wrong. Coral had dropped her knife and knocked over her glass. She’d spilled soup down her dress and almost singed her hair on a candle. Raffa sat inches away from her, the strong angles of his face licked by the candles’ golden glow, his steady gaze assessing her without a flicker of emotion.
‘You seem a little anxious. Is everything all right?’ he asked.
She dabbed her napkin at a new stain on her lap.
‘I’m fine. It’s fine,’ she lied.
She was far from fine. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t rein in her emotions. The more composed and relaxed he got, the more vexed she felt.
In the little time they’d spent together since they’d left for the island he’d seemed to increase the easy charm as she became more and more waspish.
As soon as the plane had landed on Hydros she’d shot off with her camera, down to the little harbour, losing herself in images of rocky islands rearing up in the background and sea-battered driftwood in the stony foreground.
Usually her art gave her the space she needed to work out her thoughts, but her head had still been a mess. She hadn’t been able to help but think that the last time she’d viewed this horizon her head had been full of wonder and promise, stealing images from someone else’s world. But this time she was looking out at a vista that was slowly taking on a new meaning. It was a vista her father had enjoyed. A vista her son would enjoy.
She’d looked along the bay, imagining him playing in the sand, and felt suddenly how right that was. He should have everything in this world that would make him happy, despite how it made her feel.
When Raffa’s call had come, saying that the DNA test was a positive match she’d barely registered it. Of course it was. She’d made her way back to the new house with a clutch of beautiful images and a promise to herself to stop being so passive. She was going to get some advice. Some proper legal advice to see what her options were.
Now she listened with awe as Raffa told the story of how far Romano Publishing had come in five short years. How he’d built up the core business and could now acquire loss-making brands like MacIver because of their creativity and industry stature.
He spoke of how he’d started Heavenly. The risks he’d taken, the hours he’d worked until it had finally paid off. Not just financially, but by reputation. He knew everyone and everyone knew him.
He was out there in the world cutting a path, doing amazing, unforgettable things. And she wasn’t.
No matter how he dressed it up, he was following his dreams and she still wasn’t even being given the chance. That was wrong. But she couldn’t seem to hate him for it.
Not when every nerve danced to his tune, when every sense was alive to his nearness and the thought of his touch made her weak-kneed and desperate.
‘You don’t have much of an appetite?’ he said now.
She glanced at their respective plates—his clear and hers cluttered.
‘I’m not very hungry.’
‘Are you queasy? I should have thought. I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate.’
He reached his hand across and lifted her fingers. She stared wide-eyed at the gesture—at her fingers in his. They’d done something so much more intimate than hand-holding the day before.
She yanked them away. ‘No, I’m fine. Past all that. I wasn’t great for the first few months, but I feel better than ever now. Full of good health, actually. I could take on the world.’
As soon as she got out there.
He nodded, watching her. ‘You do look incredible. I’d never properly appreciated what was meant by the “bloom” of pregnancy before. But everything about you—your hair, your skin—is glowing. It’s amazing.’
