The Italians: Franco, Dominic and Valentino: The Man Who Risked It All / The Moretti Arrangement / Valentino's Pregnancy Bombshell

There was no mistaking that Franco had been forged in his father’s image. Dressed impeccably as always in a dark business suit, and in his mid-fifties, Salvatore Tolle was still a very attractive if dauntingly austere man.

‘Buongiorno, Alexia,’ he greeted her soberly.

‘B-buongiorno, signor,’ she returned in a voice made breathless by surprise.

‘May I come in?’

Without saying another word Lexi stepped to one side in silent invitation for him to enter the suite. Nerves made her stay by the door once she’d closed it again. As she watched him take up a stance in the middle of the room she tried to anticipate what his visit could be about.

He took a few moments to glance around her accommodation. ‘You are comfortable here?’

She pleated her hands together at her front. ‘Yes, of course … thank you.’

He nodded his silver-threaded dark head. ‘I have spoken to Francesco,’ he announced abruptly. ‘He called me last night from his bed.’

‘Oh!’ Lexi instantly cheered up. ‘I’m so glad he did that. I was upset when I heard he had—’

‘Your concern on my behalf is touching, but I would prefer it if you resisted the urge to express it,’ Salvatore interrupted in a cool voice.

It felt like having a door slammed shut in her face.

She should be used to it, Lexi told herself. The few conversations she’d ever had with Salvatore had always felt like that.

‘Though I do thank you, Alexia,’ he then surprised her by adding, ‘for urging my son to—soften his attitude towards me.’

‘N-no problem.’ Having been stopped from saying what she would have liked to say to him, Lexi left her response at that.

Another knock sounded on the door, and this time it was her breakfast. Glad of the diversion, because Salvatore had always scared the life out of her, Lexi allowed the waiter entry and watched mutely as he crossed the room to place the tray down on a small table set by the window.

‘Can—can I offer you a cup of tea?’ she enquired politely, once the waiter had left them again.

‘Grazie, no,’ Salvatore responded. ‘However, please—sit down and enjoy your breakfast, ‘he insisted.

Lexi sat down at the small table, but the thought of eating or drinking anything in front of him just closed up her throat.

‘Please tell me why you’re here,’ she urged, hearing the strain in her own voice. ‘It’s not Franco, is it? He hasn’t—?’

‘Francesco is fine,’ came the quick assurance. ‘If fine accurately describes the injuries he endured,’ he added bleakly. ‘I have come here directly from visiting with him.’

‘Oh, that’s …’ Good, Lexi had been about to say, but held it back by biting down on her tense lower lip.

‘Francesco does not know I am here, you understand?’ he informed her then. ‘He has forbidden me from approaching you, so my relationship with my son is in your hands once again, Alexia.’ The rueful smile he offered her almost melted her wariness. ‘However, there is a matter I need to discuss with you.’

‘Will you at least sit down first?’ Feeling pretty uncomfortable sitting there, while he stood tall and straight several metres away, Lexi indicated the vacant chair placed at the table.

He really looked as if he was actually going to take her up on her offer, too; but then he glanced at his wristwatch, frowned, and shook his head. ‘I have to leave in a few minutes to catch my flight to New York. We are very close to procuring a large contract there, which will keep our New York shipyard busy for the next four years. Francesco was dealing with the details. Of course now that he cannot I must go in his place …’

Lexi pressed her lips together and nodded her head in understanding. She found she needed something to do with her restless fingers and picked up a glass of juice.

‘I must, therefore, ask you to do me another favour,’ Salvatore went on. ‘Leaving my son without my support at this time is unacceptable. I will be back in time to attend Marco’s funeral next week of course,’ he assured her quickly, having no idea that she did not already know when Marco’s funeral would be. ‘However, I will have to return to New York almost immediately afterwards. The thing is, Alexia, all being well, Francesco will be released from hospital in the next few days. Since he has decided to place his complete trust in you, I must ask if you would continue to support him in my place through the coming few weeks.’

Unable to sit still any longer, Lexi got to her feet, feeling very tense now, because she wasn’t sure how much of Franco’s close company she was going to be able to take without—

‘How long are we talking about? I have a job in London, you see, and—and other commitments.’

‘I feel that a month’s compassionate leave is not too much to ask of your employer.’

He felt that because he didn’t know Bruce, thought Lexi, not at all looking forward to that conversation.

‘Since Francesco is still refusing to allow anyone else to come near him, I am hoping that you will be able to convince him to bypass his apartment here in Livorno and go directly to Monfalcone, where Pietro and Zeta will be on hand to help you with his convalescence.’

He was referring to the private estate just outside Livorno, where she’d stayed during her mess of a brief marriage. Monfalcone was a beautiful castello built of golden stone that had mellowed over centuries. It was also the place where she and Franco had been married. A day she would much rather not think back on, because her welcome from the rest of the Tolle family had been so disapproving. In a cold fury Franco had whipped them away from there before the first waltz had been announced and taken her to his apartment in the city for a week. Continuing hostilities between the two of them had prompted a return to Monfalcone, because the castello was big enough for the two of them to avoid each other for most of the time.

‘He will not go to Monfalcone without you,’ Salvatore imparted flatly. ‘He is determined to follow you to London if you decide not to stay here. I do not pretend to understand this fixation he has developed about your marriage, but I do know that it is paramount in his thoughts.’

Guilt, Lexi wanted to say—but didn’t. She’d been thinking about it since she’d left the hospital, and she’d decided that his guilt over Marco’s death had stirred up guilty feelings over the way he’d behaved during their short time together as a married couple—though she was not so self-pitying as to think that she had treated him any better than he had treated her.

Every time she’d looked at him she’d seen the lazily complacent smile on his handsome tanned face when he’d accepted his winnings from that rotten bet. Every time he’d made an attempt to mend fences between them, she’d struck out at him like a whip. When he stalked out of the castello and hadn’t come back for two whole weeks she’d been heartily glad to see the back of him. She’d worn her disillusionment and bitterness like a suit of armour that contained the aching throb of raw, broken-hearted hurt, and she’d hugged it to her for long, lonely months until …

‘Am I asking too much of you?’

Without knowing she’d sat down again, Lexi blinked her eyes and realised she been lost in her own thoughts for too long. Looking up at her father-in-law, she saw an expression she never would have expected to see score Salvatore’s coldly impassive features. It hinted strongly at despair.

He didn’t know what he was going to do if she refused to stay with Franco. Salvatore had a large multinational ship building company to run, whether or not he wanted to go and do it right now.

‘I will stay,’ she said, and smiled a crooked smile when she counted how many times she’d used those words recently.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_df3de3fd-20ae-51c9-b0fe-7377fd89bd78)

LEXI pulled to a stop in the doorway. The monitors had gone, and plump snowy-white pillows now lay stacked on the bed, but there was no Franco resting against them. Swivelling around, she found him seated in a comfortable chair by the window, with a rolling table lowered so it skimmed across his legs, a laptop computer standing open on its top.

‘Oh, you’re out of bed!’ Lexi exclaimed brightly. ‘That’s great.’

‘I am not a kid. Don’t talk to me as if I am,’ Franco responded, with enough sizzling antagonism to put Lexi on her guard as she stepped further into the room so she could close the door behind her. ‘You are late. Where have you been?’

‘Sorry, I had some stuff to do.’ Dumping her collection of bags down against the wall, she walked over to him. ‘When did they let you get up?’

‘They didn’t let me do anything. I got up.’

‘Was that wise?’

‘I’m still breathing.’

Lexi almost responded with something very sarcastic, then thought better of it and removed her jacket instead. Moving to drape it over a chair, she looked at him again. He was wearing a white bathrobe and nothing else as far she could tell. His hair wore a damp sheen to it, and yesterday’s rakish five o’clock shadow had disappeared. So, thankfully, had the sickly pallor from his face. His eyes were veiled, because he was concentrating on the computer screen, and his lips were flattened tight. For Lexi, his manner was a good reminder of what it felt like when Franco turned on his cold side. Words became lethal weapons.

‘Well, at least you smell nice anyway,’ she murmured idly, determined not to rise to his provoking bait.

A hint of a flash speared out from behind his eyelashes. With the use of only one hand—the strapping around his right shoulder impeded the other—he continued to tap away on the keyboard with a five fingered efficiency that was impressive.