His Virgin Bride: The Fiorenza Forced Marriage / Bought: For His Convenience or Pleasure? / A Night With Consequences

‘That is one of the reasons I do not want to have children,’ he said. ‘It is too risky. How can I guarantee I will even like the child, let alone love it?’

Emma felt an inexplicable pang deep inside at his words. ‘I’m sure you would love your own flesh and blood,’ she said. ‘One of the few benefits of coming from a difficult background is recognising the pitfalls to avoid when you become a parent yourself. You wouldn’t make the same mistakes your father made, I’m sure of it.’

His smile was a little crooked. ‘No, but I would probably make new ones,’ he said. ‘Then in thirty-odd years I would have a son or daughter who hated my guts. No way am I going to put my head in that particular noose. I am staying out of the parent trap.’

‘But what if it were to happen?’ Emma asked, still frowning slightly. ‘What if one of your mistresses got pregnant by accident?’

The line of his mouth tightened a fraction. ‘Firstly I would find it a little hard to believe it was an accident,’ he said. ‘I always take precautions and so do my sexual partners. In fact I insist on it.’

‘Precautions can fail,’ she pointed out. ‘My sister Simone fell pregnant while on the pill. She was only nineteen at the time. If that happened to one of your partners would you expect her to have a termination?’

‘I realise that is a decision best left to the woman concerned,’ he said. ‘An unwanted pregnancy is devastating to many women. I would not insist on her going through with it unless she was convinced it was the only option for her.’

‘Wouldn’t you want to be involved in its upbringing?’ Emma asked.

He drew in a breath and reached for his glass once more. ‘I am not sure a child should be in regular contact with a reluctant father. Children are not stupid. They work out pretty quickly who is genuine and who is not.’

Emma frowned at him. ‘But don’t all children deserve to have contact with both of their parents if at all possible?’ she asked.

‘In an ideal world, yes,’ he said. ‘But it is hard for men these days. It seems to me we are damned if we do and damned if we do not. We are called selfish for not wanting to procreate, and then if we do agree to father a child we are the worst in the world for not contributing enough in terms of housework or child care, even though we might be working every hour God sends to keep food on the table.’

‘I hadn’t really thought about it from that angle,’ she confessed. ‘But I still want to have a family. I just have to find a man who wants the same thing.’

‘You have got plenty of time yet,’ Rafaele said. ‘Why not have a bit of fun while you still can?’

She gave him a guarded glance. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.’

He reached across the table and picked up her left hand, the pad of his thumb stroking over the backs of her fingers. ‘What about it, Emma?’ he asked. ‘Want to have some fun with me before we call it quits?’

‘I’m not sure it would be all that much fun for me,’ she said with a haughty little glare.

He brought her hand to his mouth, the slight rasp of his skin against her fingers making her stomach fold over. ‘I would make sure it was fun for you, poco moglie di miniera,’ he said, and translated in a low sexy drawl, ‘little wife of mine.’

She tried to pull out of his hold, but his fingers around hers subtly tightened. ‘You’re only doing this because you see me as a novelty. It’s because I won’t fall at your feet just like every other poor deluded woman out there, isn’t it?’

The movement of his lips as he gave her a wry smile grazed her bent knuckles, sending another ripple of awareness through her body from her breasts to her thighs. ‘I admit you are becoming a bit of a challenge to me,’ he said. ‘I have not had to work so hard at getting a woman to agree to have an affair with me before.’

Emma gave him another glare as she pulled her hand out of his, this time with success. ‘I thought you said you weren’t interested in sleeping with someone your father had slaked his lust on first? Those were your exact words, weren’t they?’

His eyes held hers fast. ‘Did you sleep with him, Emma?’

She returned his level stare. ‘No, I did not.’

Rafaele sat back in his chair and surveyed her heightened colour, wondering if she was lying to him or not. He wanted to believe her, but knowing his father as he did he couldn’t imagine him handing over half of his estate without some sort of inducement from her. His father had always been so mean with money; it didn’t seem possible he would have given something away for free.

Admittedly Emma was nothing like any of his father’s previous mistresses, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t fallen for her understated beauty and beguiling aura of innocence. Rafaele could see beyond the prim and proper façade she adopted to the passionate woman simmering beneath. She was a feisty little thing with her flashing grey-blue eyes and pouting mouth, her sensual allure so powerful he could barely keep his hands off her every time she was in the same room as him.

He wondered if she was holding him at bay deliberately. Had she done that with his father, leading him on and on until he finally agreed to give her what she wanted? If so, what was it she wanted from him? She already had half of the estate secure in her hands. Nothing he could do or say could take it away from her. But did she want more, and, if so, what?

‘If you say you did not sleep with him, then I suppose I shall have to accept that,’ he said after a pause.

‘I have no reason to lie to you about something like that,’ she said. ‘What could I hope to gain by doing so?’

‘I am not sure,’ he said, rubbing at his jaw. ‘I am still trying to figure that part out. Eighteen months ago you had not even met my father, now you own half of his estate. I am trying to join the dots but so far with little success.’

Emma reached for her glass. ‘Maybe he wanted you to learn to trust people,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he sensed I wouldn’t do the wrong thing by you.’

‘Interesting theory, Emma,’ he said with an unreadable smile. ‘But I wonder if he really knew you. You caught him at a vulnerable time. He was dying and his judgement may well have been impaired. For all I know you could have talked him into this madcap scheme.’

Emma compressed her lips. ‘Of course you would think that, wouldn’t you?’ she said. ‘You don’t want me to be anything but a scam artist, do you? What if you’re wrong about me, Rafaele? What then?’

He studied her for a lengthy moment. ‘If that is the case I guess I will have to get down on bended knee and beg your forgiveness,’ he said. ‘But it is hardly something you would be able to prove either way, is it?’

Emma could think of a very good way of proving it, but didn’t like to inform him of it. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her inexperience; it was more a case of not wanting him to ridicule her. Somehow that seemed particularly important. Besides, she could just imagine what he would say. She could even imagine his teasing smile.

‘I don’t have to prove anything to you,’ she said instead. ‘You can believe me or not, it makes no difference to the truth.’

‘So you don’t do recreational, just-for-the-hang-of-it sex?’

‘No.’

‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I think we could be dynamite together. Fire meets ice, that sort of thing.’

‘I think any woman with half a brain would give you a wide berth,’ she said. ‘You won’t commit, you’re incapable of falling in love and you don’t want kids. For the thinking woman you’re a very bad deal, Rafaele.’

He gave her a bone-melting smile. ‘But I make up for it in other ways. Even thinking women like hot sex, do they not?’

Emma hated that she blushed so readily. ‘I can’t speak for other women, but personally I would rather share my body with a man who treats me as an equal, not as a sex object.’

‘I do not see you as a sex object, Emma. I just think we could be really good together.’

‘Oh, yes, but for how long?’

He gave a could-mean-anything shrug. ‘I am not one for setting time limits,’ he said. ‘Physical attraction has its own timetable.’

‘Yes, but in your case it lasts about as long as the life cycle of a flea,’ she said. ‘Or maybe even a gnat.’

He gave a low chuckle of laughter. ‘You are so damned cute. I bet you do not even know how long a gnat’s life cycle is.’

Emma tried to purse her lips, but somehow it ended in a lopsided smile. ‘You’re incorrigible. You really are.’

He picked up her hand again and brushed his lips over the back of her knuckles, his dark-as-midnight gaze holding hers. ‘But you like me anyway, right, mio piccolo?’

Emma didn’t answer but the words seemed to ring in the silence all the same: I like you. I like you too much.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_23131aaa-0cdb-5637-afab-0a53982609a5)

THE drive back to The Villa Fiorenza took only a few minutes, but Emma suddenly found she didn’t want the evening to be over. Rafaele had relaxed over dessert and coffee, chatting to her about his work as a share trader, telling her some amusing anecdotes about some of the people he’d met and the places he’d visited. She knew she was being a fool for letting her guard down around him, but for some reason the cold breath of common sense couldn’t seem to penetrate the warm mantle of complacency that had settled around her in his company.