Kitabı oku: «Pregnancy Of Passion»
Pregnancy of Passion
Lucy Monroe
MILLS & BOON
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To Zachariah, a true knight—
one who is both willing to fight for what is
right and who does it with integrity. You have
my love and admiration always.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
COMING NEXT MONTH
CHAPTER ONE
SALVATORE stood outside the small family-owned jeweler’s, feeling a wholly unfamiliar wariness.
It wasn’t normal for him to hang back from a confrontation. He thrived on the head-to-head combat in the world of big business or the hand-to-hand combat sometimes necessary in his line of work, but this was something entirely different.
It would be a confrontation all right, but it wouldn’t be related to business.
He didn’t fool himself into believing Elisa would thank him for his interference in her life, even at the instigation of her worried papa. She’d spent a whole year avoiding Salvatore as if he had a particularly deadly communicable disease. She hated him with the same passion she had once given herself to him.
And he could not blame her.
She had more reason than most to despise her ex-lover, but that did not mean he would accept his dismissal from her life. He couldn’t. His Sicilian soul would not let such a debt remain outstanding. Even if she did not currently believe it, the di Vitale family was one of honor and he would not bring shame to the name.
He pushed open the door to Adamo Jewelers and frowned when he did not hear the faint buzz that should have accompanied his entry into the store. It was a minimum security measure to alert store employees to a customer’s presence.
He took two steps inside and stopped.
She was bending over one of the cases with a young couple. Her soft voice floated toward him even though he could not distinguish her words. Glossy brown hair he remembered best spread across white silk sheets had been pulled into a neat French twist. The conservative style exposed the delicate line of her neck and the faint pulse there that became very visible when she was sexually excited.
She was dressed with her usual flair in a sleeveless button-up blouse, the color of her moss-green eyes. Her straight skirt in a darker shade outlined her slender hips and small waist without showing more than a couple of inches of skin above the ankle. However, if she moved just a little bit, the slit in the back would give him a delicious view of legs he longed to have wrapped around his body in the throes of passion once again.
He gritted his teeth at the predictable reaction to his thoughts occurring below his belt.
He wanted her. Still. He doubted the physical compulsion to merge his flesh with hers would ever diminish. It hadn’t in a year of absence. A year in which he had not even been tempted to touch another woman. Such physical desire could make up for a lot…even marriage.
The only course left open to him. The one way he could make reparation for his sins.
She said something to the couple and walked around to the back of the case to pull out a tray of diamond rings.
And saw him.
All the color drained from her face and her eyes, leaving them a bleak winter gray. It was opposite to the reaction she’d once had to his presence, when her eyes had lit up with affection and welcome. There was no welcome now.
No. Horror described her expression best.
The tray tumbled from her hand and landed with a dull thud on the top of the glass case.
“Are you all right?”
Elisa forced her gaze to focus on the man who had just spoken instead of the phantom standing just inside the jewelry store’s doorway. She managed to bare her teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Yes. I’m fine.”
She straightened the ring tray. “You wanted to look at the marquis-cut solitaire?”
The young woman’s eyes lit up and she nodded, turning to her new fiancé with such a look of love, it hurt Elisa to see it. She’d felt that way once.
But Salvatore had destroyed her love as surely as misfortune had destroyed their baby.
Pulling the ring under discussion out of its slot, she made herself smile more genuinely at the couple. It was a good thing to love and be loved in return. The fact that her own life had little hope of such an outcome was no reason to diminish the joy these two were so obviously feeling.
“Why don’t you try this on?”
The young man, named David, took the ring and slid it onto his fiancée’s finger, his expression tender.
“It fits perfectly,” she breathed.
Elisa’s smile was not nearly so hard to come by now. That would be another sale. Adamo Jewelers needed it. Desperately.
“It looks beautiful.”
She’d almost convinced herself he wasn’t there. That he’d been a figment of her imagination—a waking dream…or, rather, a nightmare.
The girl’s head came up and she beamed at Salvatore as if he was some sort of benevolent benefactor, when Elisa knew he was anything but.
“Thank you, signor.”
“From the look of the ring, congratulations are in order, are they not?”
It was David’s turn to smile. “Oh, yes. We’re going to be married as soon as we get back home.”
“Isn’t that romantic?” gushed the girl. She looked warmly at her soon-to-be husband. “We met while we were on a European tour. We loved Italy so much, we decided to stay an extra couple of weeks.”
“And then we decided to get married.” David sounded very satisfied by that state of affairs, his Texas drawl putting emphasis on the word “married.”
“Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be very happy,” said the man for whom the word “commitment” was considered equivalent to a four-letter word of the worst order.
Elisa ignored him while the couple thanked him for his good wishes, bought the ring and the matching wedding bands that went with it and then left.
After they were gone, she busied herself arranging the jewelry in the case to disguise the hole left by the sold merchandise. She didn’t have anything else to put there and wouldn’t until after the auction. There were no funds to buy more stones, much less the gold to set them.
“Pretending I’m not here will not make me go away.”
She turned and faced him, despising the physical impact his presence even now had on her body.
Her nipples tightened and she felt a reaction in her inmost being she had not had in twelve long months. It was the reaction of her body to its natural mate. Even if her mind and her heart detested him, her body insisted on behaving as if they had been created one for the other.
Not likely.
“Why are you here?” As if she couldn’t guess.
She’d lived in Italy most of her adult life and her father was Sicilian. One thing she’d come to realize: Italian guilt was a heavy burden, but Sicilian guilt was even heavier.
And Salvatore had a lot to feel guilty about. More than he knew. More than she would willingly tell him.
Did he want absolution?
He shifted his six-foot-four-inch frame into a leaning position against one of the cases. “Your father sent me.”
“Papa?” Her heart contracted. “Is something wrong?”
Dark eyes probed hers and she wanted to close the lids, to protect her inmost thoughts from a man who saw too much while at the same time seeing far too little. He had seen her desire for him, but had not recognized the love. He had seen her reticence about becoming involved, but had been blind to the innocence that had spawned it.
In the end, he had seen her pregnancy, but not his own imminent fatherhood in it.
He sighed now, as if what he saw in her eyes bothered him. “Other than the fact you have not come home in over a year?”
“Sicily is not my home.”
“It is where your father lives.”
“And his wife.”
“Your sister also.”
Yes, Annemarie lived with her parents still. Only three years younger than Elisa’s twenty-five years, Annemarie showed no signs of wanting to move out and make it on her own in the world. Shawna, Elisa’s mother, would be appalled, just as she had been by even the slightest inclination to cling shown by her own daughter.
Elisa had been raised to be fiercely independent. Her sister had been cosseted in true Sicilian tradition. “Annemarie will probably live at home until she marries.”
“This is not a bad thing.”
Elisa shrugged. “To each her own.” She was pleased with her life in the small town outside of Rome. Her job allowed her to travel, at least when there were the funds to do so, and she had no one to dictate to her. No one at all.
“The announcement buzzer did not go off when I entered the store.”
Trust a security expert to notice. “It’s broken.”
“It must be fixed.”
“It will be.” After the auction.
“You have not asked why your father asked me to come.”
“I assumed you’d tell me when you were ready. You implied there was nothing wrong with him.”
“There is not. If you discount the fear he has for your safety.”
Had her father told Salvatore about the crown jewels? She wouldn’t put it past him. Francesco Guiliano was a traditional man. Elisa was the result of his one ride on the wild side, an affair with film star Shawna Tyler. He’d wanted marriage when the pregnancy was discovered. Her mother had said no, and meant it. She hadn’t wanted a husband to tie her down and had never allowed having a daughter to do so either.
“Why is Papa afraid for me?” She’d been living on her own for seven years.
“He does not believe Signor di Adamo has sufficient security to take possession of something as valuable and controversial as the crown jewels of Mukar.”
“That’s ridiculous. This is a jewelry store. Of course we can handle having possession of the jewels.”
Salvatore moved an impatient hand. “They are worth ten times the entire stock in this place. There is more than one faction in Mukar that is unhappy with the dissolution of the monarchy and the sale of the jewels.”
“Mukar needs the working capital. The former crown prince understands that and was willing to make whatever sacrifices were necessary to help his country survive.”
“Nevertheless, you are at risk.” He sounded so solemn, as if he actually cared.
She almost snorted. Right. Salvatore might feel guilty about the way he’d treated her, but he didn’t care about her and she’d be a fool to allow herself the luxury of that fantasy.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“With a broken security buzzer?” He looked around the small jewelry store with a contemptuous eye. “The other security measures here are old and out of date. Even a second-rate thief would have no problem robbing Adamo Jewelers.”
“That’s not going to happen. There hasn’t been a robbery at Adamo’s since before Signor di Adamo took over the store and he’s in his sixties.”
“Sì. He is an old man. Too weak to protect you. And times change. You cannot live in ignorance of those changes, even here.” He swept his hand out in an arc, indicating the store, but even more so, the small town in which she lived.
“I’m not ignorant!”
He shook his head. “No, but you are dangerously naïve if you believe taking possession of something like the crown jewels of Mukar does not put you at risk.”
“I’ll be extra-careful. Besides, we keep them locked in the vault.”
He shook his head again, his expression grim. “That isn’t good enough.”
“Whether it is, or it isn’t, is none of your business.”
“Your father has made it my business.”
“He had no right to do that. I run my own life.”
She would have said more, but Signor di Adamo chose that moment to enter the store. He had his grandson, Nico, with him.
“Ah, Signor di Vitale. It is a pleasure to see you again. And this time you visit when my assistant is in town.”
“Signor di Adamo.” Salvatore turned and extended his hand in greeting, before doing likewise to Nico. “You are getting tall, Nico. Pretty soon you will be working with your grandfather in the store, no?”
Nico beamed with obvious delight and Elisa had to wonder just how much of a friendship had developed between her employer and her ex-lover over the year she’d been avoiding Salvatore.
“If I have a store.” The old man’s voice lowered with defeat, but then he smiled. “This little girl here, she’s given me new hope. Has she told you about the crown jewels?”
“Her father did.”
“It is a miracle she convinced the former crown prince to let us handle the auction, but she is smart and pretty enough to convince any red-blooded man of whatever her heart desires.” The old man winked at Salvatore. “Is that not so?”
She could have told Signor di Adamo that she hadn’t been pretty or desirable enough to convince Salvatore to love her, but she didn’t. Because she no longer cared. She didn’t want his love. She didn’t want his second-hand concern either. She just wanted to be left alone.
She didn’t get her wish. Salvatore stayed and discussed the shortcomings in Signor di Adamo’s security with the old man. He insisted on doing so in the store, frequently coming into close proximity to her. And every time it happened, the desires of her body betrayed the knowledge of her heart.
It didn’t matter what she did to avoid him. She moved to one side of the store and began cleaning jewelry. He followed. The same happened when she went to a jeweler’s case on the other side to rearrange its contents. Always it appeared he had been about to move there too, but she felt stalked. Considering the primitive view he had of life, it wasn’t hard to imagine him as a predator and herself as the prey.
In less than thirty minutes, her nerves were shot.
Unable to stand the pressure any longer of being around a man she had once loved, who had not loved her and whom she now despised, she sought escape at her desk in the back room. She would work on the auction. Signor di Adamo could man the store.
“You have been running away for a year, Elisa. That is over.”
Stupid. She castigated herself mentally as the voice she was trying so desperately to avoid attacked taut nerve endings. It had been really dim to take refuge in the small confines of an office that had only one exit. She faced him, wishing for the numbness she had felt for so many months after the death of her baby and the destruction of her dreams.
He stood blocking that exit—his head almost brushing the top of the doorframe, his shoulders filling it.
She refused to allow any of the emotions roiling inside her to show on her face. “I’m not running. I have work to do.”
“So, it has not been running when you manage to be gone every time I have come to visit.”
“I wasn’t always gone.”
“No, this is true. The first time I came, you were home in your apartment, but you refused to open the door.”
She’d threatened to call the police if he didn’t go away and she’d meant it. Even so, she had not expected him to leave, but he had. A male of his wealth and standing could have talked the police around, but he hadn’t even pushed it. Although she’d been relieved, she still had no real clue why he had gone.
“You came back,” she accused.
“And you left.”
“I had a buyer’s trip.” He’d made the mistake of calling to tell her he was in Rome on his way to see her. She’d left for the buyer’s trip three days early.
“You were running, just as you ran the next time I attempted to see you.”
“I owed my mother a visit.”
“Your father told you I was coming to Rome. You knew that meant I was going to try to see you again. You took off on a flight for America less than an hour before I arrived.”
“My father thought I might want to see you.” A hollow laugh escaped her. Nothing could have been further from the truth, but Papa had done her a favor in warning her of Salvatore’s intended travel plans.
“You ran away, Elisa, and I let you, but I cannot let you run any longer.”
“I don’t want to see you. That’s not running away.” Even he should be sensitive enough to realize she wanted to avoid a man who had cost her more than she had to give. “That is simply reality.”
He flinched, or maybe it was a trick of the lighting. Old wiring sometimes made it flicker.
“It is also reality that your father has asked me to look after you. This I will do.”
“I don’t need looking after.”
“You can say this?” There was no trick of the lighting now. Salvatore looked furious. “The security in this store is worse than I could have thought possible. The fact Signor di Adamo has not been robbed is by the grace of il buon dio. This store is the amateur thief’s dream hit.” His stress on the word “amateur” underscored his contempt for their security.
“There hasn’t been money to make improvements in that area.”
“That is no excuse. According to both Signor di Adamo and your father, you spend many days here alone. Is this true?”
Why was he asking her when they’d already said that it was?
“It’s none of your business.”
“You are my business.”
That possessive statement set off something inside her. Pain that had been festering for months while she tried to pretend she was over him exploded in her chest. There had been no confrontation, no final end to their relationship. She’d walked out of the hospital against doctor’s orders and refused to see Salvatore from that point on.
She shot to her feet without any thought of doing so and stormed forward until they were mere inches apart. Poking him right in his rock-solid wall of a chest with each word for emphasis, she said, “I am nothing to you.” She managed to contain the level of her voice, barely. “I was nothing to you when you were screwing me, and now that we aren’t even doing that I’m less than nothing to you. And you are nothing to me.”
“You said I was the father of the child you lost.”
She reeled from the words as if they’d been multiple body blows, staggering backwards, the pain so intense she did not know if she could contain it.
In a lightning-quick move that shocked her, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her the remaining inches while his mouth formed words she could not comprehend. Her body molded to his in a way that had once given her pleasure, but now filled her with loathing and fear. Loathing for her own physical reaction and fear that he would see it.
“Do not speak of yourself in this crude way. Whatever you were before, when we were together, you gave yourself to me. It was not ugly, as you make it out to be.”
Whatever she’d been before? A virgin. That was what she’d been, but because the physical barrier had not survived her years in gymnastics he had assumed otherwise. Had in fact assumed she was the same sort of woman as her mother. A woman who flitted from one lover to another, Shawna had been uninterested in making a commitment to any of the long line of men parading through her life.
“I’m done giving myself to you. I’ve learned my lesson,” she spat at him.
His jaw looked hewn from the hardest marble, his eyes glittered at her with fury.
She was glad. She wanted to make him angry, angry enough to leave her alone once and for all.
“We do not need to discuss this right now. I am here to see to your safety. Our relationship will wait.”
“We don’t…” She yanked herself away from him and stepped back toward her desk. “There is no relationship. None. Do you hear me? Leave me alone, Salvatore. You have no place in my life any more and you never will again.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at her.
Then his gaze dropped below her neck and she wanted to scream. The whole time she’d been telling him off, the feminine parts of her body had been busy reacting to his scent, to the sensation of being held against him again.
“You’re lying to yourself if you believe that.”
She crossed her arms over the betraying rigid tips of her breasts and glared. “I’d rather go to bed with a sewer rat than with you, Signor Salvatore Rafael di Vitale.”
His head jerked as if she’d hit him. She wished she had.
His next words totally shocked her because they were so calm. “Signor di Adamo needs several security upgrades before either you or he will be safe in the store, and, even with them, neither of you should be here alone at any time.”
She fell back into her office chair, feeling the weight of her responsibilities too heavy to hold up any longer. Those upgrades, even the basic security measure of having two people in the store at all times, were not even pipe dreams. “I’m sure you’re right, but nothing can be done.”
“It must be done.”
“There is no money.”
Unmoved by that assertion, he said, “Nevertheless, it must be done.”
Hadn’t he heard her? Or was it that to a man like Salvatore, whose family owned one of the most prestigious and sought-after security firms in the world, the concept of not having any money did not compute?
He being richer even than her father, she supposed that was exactly the case.
“We can’t.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, for a moment not caring if her enemy saw this sign of weakness. She was so tired. “Signor di Adamo is trying to hold on to the store for his grandson, but it gets harder every year.”
“The auction for the crown jewels will bring in funds.”
“Yes. A great deal of money that he needs very badly, but I don’t know if even that will be enough. The security system isn’t the only thing needing improvement around here.”
She thought of the building’s leaky plumbing and dodgy wiring. It was old, original to the store’s inception. She shuddered to think of what sort of improvement Signor di Adamo’s private apartments required.
“I will take care of it.”
“He won’t let you.” One of the things that had drawn her to the old man was his fierce sense of independence so like her own. His pride would never accept charity.
She said so, but Salvatore just shrugged. Not really a smile, the tiny tilt at the corner of his lips reminded her of things she would rather forget.
“I know how to work around a man’s pride.”
“I don’t doubt it. You’re good at manipulating people.”
He shook his head. “I will not allow you to draw me into another argument, cara.”
“I don’t want to argue with you.” It was true. The rage that had sprung up before was all but burned out. She just wanted him to be gone.
“This is good.”
For a moment her mind could not comprehend what he had said until she realized she had only spoken aloud regarding not wanting to argue, not her desire for him to be gone. “I don’t want to see you at all.”
“We cannot have everything, dolcezza.”
Dolcezza. Sweetness. He’d used to call her that because he said she tasted and acted so sweet. It scraped at wounds that were no longer raw and bleeding, but were not anywhere near healed. “Don’t call me that.”
“Where are the crown jewels now?” he asked, as if she’d never spoken.
“I told you. They’re in the vault.”
His body went taut, his attitude one of extreme alertness. “You’ve taken possession of them already?”
“Yes.”
“Your father thought they were not being transported from Mukar for a week or more.”
“That is what the former crown prince wished. He told everyone they were being transported just before the auction. He hoped to make the transfer in secret. It worked.”
“Just because I did not know you had them does not mean no one is aware they have been brought here.”
“They’re safe in the vault,” she repeated stubbornly.
“Perhaps, but you are not safe.”
He kept harping on it and she knew he was right, but she didn’t know what to do about it. And frankly, when she’d negotiated for the auction, she hadn’t really cared about her safety one way or another.
The numbness after losing the baby and Salvatore had worn off, but a certain malaise of spirit lingered on. Sure personal happiness was out of her reach, she would risk anything, do anything to ensure it for a man who had been so good to her. Signor di Adamo.
Salvatore had moved without her realizing, while her mind had been off in its own little world. His hand brushed her cheek and she felt the gentle touch like a branding that both burned and physically hurt.
“I will never leave you alone.”
Leaving her dazed from that small interchange, he spun on his heel and left her office.
