An Invitation to Sin(44)
‘Of course she wants to be pregnant.’ Luca’s gaze drifted over the heads of the people around them. ‘But not before we’re married.’
The chairman relaxed slightly. ‘The press is full of pictures of your romantic dinner together last night. Love has transformed you, Luca. A big family is exactly what you need. I assume Taylor will be giving up her career once you’re married?’
Taylor choked on her champagne and Luca thumped her on the back.
‘Taylor can’t wait to have children,’ he said smoothly as he gave her time to compose herself. ‘To the world she’s this fantastic, glamorous movie star but underneath all she wants is to walk barefoot round my kitchen, cooking my dinner and nursing my babies. She’s a real earth-mother type, aren’t you, angelo mia?’
Taylor had the feeling he was enjoying himself hugely. ‘Babies—’ she played along ‘—I can’t wait. We’ve agreed on at least six, haven’t we, Luca?’
‘Six?’ It was his turn to be startled. ‘Of course, bellissima. I’m all too happy to make as many babies as you would like as long as you’re sure you can cope with them while I’m away on business. Which might be often.’ His sensual mouth flickered at the corners and she found herself looking at that mouth and thinking of the way he kissed.
‘We’ll travel with you, my heart.’
‘Bene! I’ll be working on my laptop while six adorable little children, all dressed in Corretti Bambino crawl all over you wanting you to read to them, play with them and tuck them in at night.’
The image he painted was so vivid she couldn’t breathe. It was supposed to be a private joke but Taylor didn’t feel like laughing. How would it feel, she wondered, to have a family like that? A family that supported one another? It wasn’t a life she’d ever imagined for herself. Whenever she looked into her future she saw herself alone because any alternative scenario involved trust, and she knew she wasn’t capable of that.
Sadness squeezed her chest, as unexpected as it was painful.
The chairman patted Luca on the shoulder. ‘We’ll leave you two young things to mingle.’ Smiling benignly, he drew Nico away and Luca and Taylor were left alone in the crowd.
Realising that some response was expected from her, she gave a wan smile. ‘I didn’t realise you had a Corretti Bambino range.’
‘We don’t, but I’m just realising what an opportunity we’re missing. I’ve finally found a use for children—I can use them to increase my profits. And the idea has potential to be expanded into the hotel group—a range of clothes to give guests the chance to make sure their child co-ordinates perfectly with their hotel suite. If we do it well, they won’t even know the children are there.’
She knew she was supposed to laugh. She knew he was being outrageous on purpose, but the lump in her throat was wedged so securely she didn’t trust herself to speak and the feelings were so unexpected she had no idea how to deal with them.
Registering her lack of response, his smile faded and he tilted his head slightly. ‘You’re furious with me? I was joking, tesoro. I know you wouldn’t want all that barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen stuff, but it was what they needed to hear.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice husky and she changed the subject quickly. ‘Your family seems about as supportive as mine. Why do you want to work with them when you already have your own successful business?’
‘Because they think I can’t do it.’ Luca removed her empty glass from her hand and gave it to a waitress. ‘I have a congenital urge to prove everyone around me wrong. And I’m a Corretti. We were born competitive.’ As he talked, Taylor felt herself relax and decided she was just tired. Everyone had strange thoughts when they were tired, didn’t they?
‘But you’re not just Corretti, are you? You’re Marco Sparacino’s grandson.’
‘Have you been looking me up?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Non importa. I looked you up too.’
‘I’m boring, but your grandfather was a fashion legend. Right up there with Chanel and Dior. I read his autobiography, A Life in Colour. It was fascinating. What was it like growing up with him?’
‘It was hell. He used to criticise what we were wearing. It drove my mother insane. No matter how she dressed, he used to tell her what she should be doing differently. It made her deeply insecure and she grew up thinking every problem could be solved if you were wearing the right thing.’ There was an edge to his voice that made her want to delve deeper but it wasn’t the right time or the right place, with people pressing in on them from all sides.