The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(51)
“I was not speaking of your brother and my sister, but of you and me. I require to know what you think of marriage between the two of us.”
11
She could not have appeared more stunned, Nico thought, if he had suggested they jump off a bridge together. It was not the reaction he’d envisioned when he steeled himself to propose. Most women would have gasped, crying out for joy, before throwing themselves into his arms.
He should have known Amanda would be difficult in this as in all else. And yet there was something enticing in the fact that she did not make it easy for him. It put him on his mettle.
“Marriage between us,” she said, her voice flat.
“I should have made it clear earlier, but I thought you would first want to know what has been planned for Carita and Jonathan. I desire you for my wife, carissima, if you will do me the very great honor.”
“How can you say such a thing? You are the wealthy and privileged Conte de Frenza. Italians like you, so I’m told, marry your own kind.”
He inclined his head. “It was that way in the past. My mother and father were such a match, comparable in wealth, faith, nationality, age and family name. It was perfect in all respects.” He allowed himself an ironic smile. “And just look how it turned out.”
Nico wasn’t sure when the prospect of a chilly, socially acceptable marriage had ceased to be enough, when he had rejected the idea of being married for his title and his wealth. It might have been any one of a dozen moments — when he saw her concentrating so hard as she painted Carisa’s small mouth with lip gloss, when she smiled after taking her first sip of warm Italian wine, when she clutched a handful of his skin while defending her brother from his wrath, or the moment when he first saw her wearing the mermaid’s bikini he’d bought for her. He only knew that he wanted something more, something rich with passion and the stormy give-and-take he found with this woman. He wanted a life and family with Amanda Davies.
She swallowed, a movement in the smooth line of her throat that he watched with paralyzing interest and tingling lips as he thought of placing them just there. It was a moment before he could make sense of what she was saying.
“This is because of what Jonathan said, after all. You feel you owe me a proposal because you actually thought for a brief moment about seducing me as pay back for Jonathan with Carita.”
“No — well, yes, I thought of it, but that’s not the reason, I swear it.”
“Or maybe because the paparazzi and their stupid tabloids branded me your latest conquest, and it doesn’t suit you.”
He shook his head. “I regret you had to see that. It was a day or two before it came to me, but a retraction will be printed.”
She blinked, her eyes widening. “I thought they never did that.”
“They will, tomorrow.”
“I see. The power of the Conte de Frenza.”
He detected more respect than scorn behind the words. His lips twitched into a half smile. “It has its uses.”
“Well, but you allowed Carisa to believe I was your fiancée, allowed her to become attached to me. You preferred not to upset her with a denial before, and now—”
“Don’t be foolish, cara. No man marries for such a reason.
“Maybe, maybe not. But it must be because you want me then? And I’m supposed to believe in this great desire of yours when you left me without a word and stayed away for days? Talk about foolish.”
“I sent flowers.”
“For remembrance. As if I could ever forget.” She swung and walked away from him a few steps, but not before he caught the glitter of tears in the corners of her eyes. Tears that gave him hope.
“I didn’t say goodbye, cara mia, because I would not have left you if I had tried it. I didn’t come back because I would never have been able to sleep in the same house without finding my way to your bed. Nonna and my aunt might have accepted that from me as a man and head of the family, but I’m afraid they are old-fashioned enough to have thought less of you for it. I didn’t want that when I was the one who couldn’t keep my hands off you.”
She gave a low laugh of mingled surprise and admiration. “Nice try. But it doesn’t explain why you didn’t call, didn’t send a message of some kind to let me know you had no regrets about what happened between us.”
“I could not have heard your voice without ordering the plane for my return,” he said, running a hand through his hair in his exasperation. “Besides, I did have regrets. I knew I should not have pushed you into a relationship while you were not only my guest but worried over your bother. I needed distance, and thought you might as well. This affair of ours had come about so suddenly amid the disturbance over the accident. It seemed best to give us both time to discover how we really felt.”
“What I feel is that who and what you are as a man is forcing you into something you’ll regret. You don’t really want me, but will marry me because your miserable code of honor demands it. Well, I won’t be married for that reason. So there. Now you’re free. Count yourself lucky.”
Dio mio, she was driving him insane. He stared at her there in his study where he had thought of her so often, absorbing the perfection of her appearance in white linen, bridal white so seductively innocent in the way it was cut to mold her breasts, the narrow turn of her waist and flare of her hips, that it seemed a wedding omen. Yes, and made him want to peel it from her while tasting every inch of skin as he uncovered it.