The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(44)

“You would want your child.” It hurt to say the words when the flip side of them was that he would not necessarily want its mother.

“Dio, yes,” he said, his voice rough, “though we don’t always get what we want. Except for now. Now, what I want is you. I don’t suppose you have a condom in that carry-on bag.”

She shook her head. “I don’t, no, but since a second time without protection can hardly matter after a first…”

His eyes were so dark as he met hers that the pupils seemed to disappear. She had the feeling he saw through her, knew exactly what was in her mind. She didn’t care if he did, didn’t care about anything except this moment and his hand that was centered over the hard beat of her heart.

Long seconds past, then his lashes swept down. “Dio,” he said again with the sound of both prayer and imprecation, and leaned to set his lips to hers.

~ ~ ~

He had taken advantage of Amanda, and in the worst possible way, Nico thought as he had his morning espresso while dressing in his room. The problem was that he would do it again, often, and without regret. In fact, it was difficult to prevent himself from going to her this instant.

He could take her a cup of the hot, strong brew he preferred, and, while she drank it, see how the flavor that lingered on his tongue blended with her sweetness.

Gran Dio! He must stop thinking of such things.

He could not enter her room in the morning light. Anyone might see him coming or going. He was amazed they had not done so yesterday afternoon or again later last night.

The wider world might think little of such a thing, but it was not that way at the Villa de Frenza. Here the old values, old manners applied, and would as long as Nonna lived, or as long as he lived. That meant it would be best if he went away for a few days. He would stay away until the fever in his blood began to cool. Surely it would, eventually.

Amanda had been so very enticing in her thin robe with damp, sweet nakedness underneath it. She had been responsive beyond imagining, passionately sensuous beneath her lady-like exterior, just as he’d known she would be. The way she stood up to him, telling him exactly what she thought, fired his blood. Something about her made him forget the lessons in duty and honor that had been impressed upon him since childhood. All he wanted was to have her, hold her, to banish all her lovely defiance with his touch and his kisses so she surrendered in his arms.

He should not have made love to her, regardless. It was not well done while she was upset over her brother, out of her element in a country not her own, dependent on his hospitality.

His grandmother and Aunt Filomena would be shocked and disappointed if they knew. They would not believe him capable of it. They could feel Amanda must have tempted him beyond his power to resist. And so she had, though not in the way they might imagine, certainly not on purpose. No, all she’d had to do was breathe.

That fact was why it was best that he take himself to his Florence office to catch up on the work that had accumulated while his attention was elsewhere. He would fly to Naples as well and possibly to Rome if it was required. It was not only best, but necessary.

If he remained at the villa, he would take every chance that offered to have Amanda again, and if none appeared, he would make one — or more, probably many more. To keep the affair secret in the close confines of the house would be next to impossible. He would not have his family think less of Amanda when the fault was not hers.

How ironic that he had thought to seduce her as an act of vengeance. That he had caught himself in that particular trap was suitable penance for the impulse. The problem was how he was going to escape it.

Yes, he would at least go to Naples. And before he returned to the villa, he must remember to have his driver stop at the farmacia so he could lay in a supply of condoms.

Gran Dio! Was he an idiot that he could not stop thinking of these things?

~ ~ ~

Nico was gone. Flowers had been delivered to her room, an arrangement of five perfect green orchids in a crystal bowl. With them had been a note in a few slashes of black ink.

For remembrance.

A rare and perfect flower for each time he had made love to her during the afternoon and night. Something for remembrance, as if she needed such a thing.

She would have preferred a morning kiss, breakfast on the terrace, a smile, a word, something, anything, to show that what had taken place between them had meant something more than an incident easily marked by a florist delivery.

It wasn’t going to happen. He was the one who had run away without a word of goodbye.

Neither his aunt nor his grandmother seemed surprised or concerned at his sudden departure. They were sure he’d gone to his office where much was pending after his absence over the past several days. Yet Erminia had heard him speaking by phone with his personal assistant, arranging a meeting with the Naples executives and readying the corporate apartment there for his arrival.

Amanda had no right to expect a personal accounting of his movements, and she knew it. Neither of them had made any promises. The attraction between them, as powerful as it might be, had little future. A few days, a week or two at the most, and they would go their separate ways. They were too different, their lives too far apart, for it to be any other way.

Still, she had expected better of Nico. He did not seem the kind of man who would make passionate love to a woman, whisper such lovely, ravishing phrases in his own language, tend her responses with such care that her nipples beaded now just thinking of it, only to leave her flat.