Page 36 of Italian Baby Shock

He appreciated her.

Then he’d given her the most intense pleasure, taking her quickly and skilfully apart with the touch of his mouth and hands. He’d told her she was beautiful and brave and then he made her feel both of those things. He’d told her she wasn’t alone and for the first time in her life, she actually felt it. Even as a child, loneliness had stalked her, because although she’d had her mother, it had never seemed as if Grace was really there. She was either in the depths of a depression, or staring off in the distance, turning that ring on her finger, gone somewhere in her thoughts that Lark couldn’t follow. Her mother’s attention had seemed a fleeting thing. There and then gone again in the blink of an eye, even though she was physically present.

But Cesare had knelt at her feet and looked at her, seeing her. Focusing all his intense attention on her, and she’d felt the weight of that attention settle on her. It wasn’t heavy though, only deeply reassuring on a level she couldn’t describe.

He meant it though, she’d seen it. Every word he’d said to her that day, he’d meant.

And now he was her husband; she didn’t have any desire to go searching for a lover. She’d half thought, before he’d got down on his knees and made her feel so unbelievably good, that perhaps she wouldn’t mind being celibate, since it had never bothered her before.

But he’d shown her the error of that particular piece of thinking, and in addition to reassuring her doubts, he’d somehow awakened the passion inside her, until she hadn’t been able to think of anything else but him. Of what it would be like to be in a bed, naked, with him. Of how good it would be and how starved she’d been for physical touch.

As they pulled up to the palazzo, her new home, Lark made a decision. They hadn’t discussed what kind of marriage they were going to have in the days leading up to it, such as whether they’d share a room and sleep together every night, or whether she’d have her own.

But she knew what she wanted. Sharing a room, sharing a bed.

He might not like that, but she was going to ask for it nonetheless.

Cesare got out of the limo, opened the door for her. ‘Emily will be looking after Maya all afternoon,’ he said as she stepped out onto the gravel, the blue of his eyes burning fiercely. ‘I organised specially so you and I could have a wedding night.’

Emily had been looking after Maya on and off over the past few weeks, and Cesare had employed her to come to Italy with them since he wanted Maya to have someone familiar looking after her when her parents weren’t able to.

Lark could feel her own desire start to rise in response to his, yet he must have picked up on some of her uncertainty, because he frowned all of a sudden. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Did you not want—’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘No, it’s not that. We just...haven’t discussed anything about this marriage, Cesare. I mean, how it will work and what it will look like.’

‘What is there to discuss? You’ll be living here with me and Maya, and I’m hoping you feel the same way I do about sharing a bed.’

She swallowed and looked him in the eye. ‘Every night? And it will be “our” bed, not just yours?’

‘Yes.’ He held her gaze. ‘You will have your own space, but it will be “our” bed and “our” room.’

The last shred of tension left her and she let out a breath. ‘Okay, so apart from the living arrangements and sex,’ she said,as staff bustled around, taking luggage out of the car and into the house. ‘I also don’t know anything about you and I’d like to.’

He shut the limo door then paused. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘I told you all about my childhood and my past. About my mother and growing up on the run. You know about me, but I don’t know anything about you. Unless you told me that night?’ She looked up at him, part of her hoping that it hadn’t only been her who’d opened her heart, that he too had reciprocated.

But slowly he shook his head. ‘No. My past, my family history is...dark. And I didn’t want to talk about it that night. You were so warm and open, and you needed someone to talk to. I didn’t want to make it about me or drag you down into a discussion about my family’s dramatics.’

The words sounded casual, but she heard it again, the slight edge. The edge that always carried in his voice whenever he spoke about his family.

It was something bad—she could see the shadows stealing through his gaze—and part of her wondered if now was a good time to talk about it, especially since they’d only just been married. Then again, maybe now was the perfect time, so she knew immediately what she and by extension Maya were getting into.

‘Well, I’d like to know,’ she said. ‘I mean, shouldn’t I know something about the man I married and the family I married into?’

‘You are looking at the entirety of the family you married into.’ His voice had gone curiously blank. ‘I’m the last heir. Or at least I was until Maya appeared.’

She’d heard about that. It was what the media called him. Perhaps she should have done some internet research on her own about him, but she’d been too busy the past week with moving and getting things organised.

‘Will you tell me about it?’ she asked.

His blue gaze had gone dark. ‘Are you sure you want to know? A quick internet search should tell you everything.’

‘Maybe. But I’d rather not get Maya’s family history from the internet. I’d prefer to hear it from her father.’

He was silent a moment. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ He held out a hand. ‘Come with me.’

She took it, his fingers threading through hers warm and strong, then followed him as he led her in through the palazzo’s ornate entrance and into the huge salon where she’d first met him only a couple of weeks earlier. He let go of her hand, stopping before the fireplace and glancing up at the portrait hanging above it, of the stern-looking man and the pretty woman with rose-gold hair.

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