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He reached across and lifted a handful of her hair. She felt the brush of his fingers on her neck and the wildfire of lust spread through her body. She inhaled sharply, gripping the edge of her chair. She mustn’t let him see how he affected her. She had to stay on track.
‘The moment I saw you step off the jet I knew I wanted to touch this hair. Feel it in my hands.’
She turned her face and pulled her head away, and he slowly let her hair slide through his fingers.
He sat back again in his chair. Lifted his glass, sipped a little water. ‘You took my breath away, Coral. You still do.’
‘You took mine away when you threw me off this island,’ she said, turning to look at him.
It still burned and she wouldn’t forgive him so easily.
Slowly he replaced the glass on the table. ‘I’ll regret that moment for ever. But we are amazing lovers. You must admit if it hadn’t been for circumstances we’d have had a very good chance of making a proper go of things.’
‘Circumstances which you’re just about to reintroduce. I don’t need any kind of reconciliation with Salvatore to know that he’s my half-brother.’
‘As soon as we get a DNA sample from him we can start to put the rest of our lives in order,’ he said, not taking the bait.
Nothing seemed to induce him to retaliate.
‘I was putting my life in order before I met you, Raffa. I was starting my career. And I’ll be doing so again. That’s not up for debate.’
He smiled and leaned further back, putting his hands on the table in a gesture of openness. She looked at the breadth of his palms, at his fingers splayed wide. Lover’s hands. Protector’s hands. Chairman of the Board’s hands.
‘I want the best for you. You’re going to be the mother of my child. I will look after you. It’s the right thing to do.’
‘I don’t need a man to look after me. I wasn’t brought up that way.’
She felt her anger return, felt her spine straighten. She wasn’t going to rely on any man for her happiness. She was independent, and that wasn’t going to change just because she was going to have Raffaele Rossini’s baby.
He nodded. ‘I know. It was unforgivable, what happened to you. And it is something we will work through together. Whatever it takes, I promise. But tonight, Coral, let’s just be us again. Let’s properly learn to know one another.’
‘What is there that you don’t already know, Raffa? I won’t be steamrollered by you. I’m too independent. And having a baby with you isn’t going to change that. If anything, it’s made me feel even more determined. I’m going to be a working single mother. It’s no big deal. It’s been done before—loads of times.’
He raised an eyebrow and fixed her with his bright blue gaze. She should look away indignantly. But she couldn’t. She found herself staring back, ensnared by the brilliance.
‘No one will ever treat you better than I will. No one will care for you and keep you safe.’
He sat up and reached for her hands. She felt herself deliver them over to him.
‘I want us to be married, Coral. In fact, I can’t think of anything I want more.’
‘Married?’ she gasped. ‘Married?’
‘Indeed. A marriage contract. Rossini and Di Visconti. The two families should be aligned in law. It’s the right thing to do, Coral.’
His gaze never wavered as he slipped one hand below the table for a moment and then produced a ring. A beautiful square-cut yellow diamond, flanked by two clear stones. Its brilliance and beauty stunned her.
Her eyes dropped as he slid the ring on her finger.
‘In one move we will sort this whole thing out. You. Our son. Me. It’s the only possible way forward.’
She stared at the beautiful ring on her hand. Her heart thudded in her chest. He was asking her to marry him—but not in the way every girl dreamed it would happen. She had hoped that one day a prince would come for her, just as her mother had said. A prince who would fall on his knees and confess that he wanted to live with her and her alone. Who would promise to cherish her and share his world with her. Only her, and only because of their love.
Raffaele was proposing a contract. Because she was part of la famiglia—just another commodity to be guarded. It was business—family business—and the only two families that counted were the Di Viscontis and the Rossinis.
A contract.
But contracts could be broken.
Marriages could be annulled.
The underground stream whispered by. The chandelier swayed slightly. Over Raffaele’s shoulder a light blinked out on the rolling sea. Once, twice. Her eyes flickered. She felt as alone and vulnerable as that solitary boat.
