Page 31 of 2 Books in One Bundle

Dante had been tense and preoccupied, and Connie had kept as quiet as possible, stayed as unobtrusive as she could. It had been an awkward visit, ramming home to her the sheer weirdness of what she had done—marrying a complete stranger for the reasons she had.

‘To getting what we want...’

That toast Dante had given on the private jet was in her head again. And, oh, how different it was to hear it now!

She snuggled into him, feeling his strong shoulder under her head, and gave a happy sigh. On that brief, awkward former visit she had, of course, slept in the guest bedroom. Now, as she lifted her face to Dante, who met her ardent gaze with one of his own, it was entirely, utterly different.

Happiness surged through her. Back then, Dante had been as far beyond her as if he were on the moon. She might have looked, and gazed, and yearned...but that was all.

But now she was here with him because he wanted her to be here, and no longer as the stranger he’d had to marry and wished he hadn’t.

Now he desires me passionately...irresistibly... He wants me in his life. Wants to be with me and wants me to be with him.

She saw his expression change as she gazed up at him, her body moulded against his. She felt his arm around her shoulder tighten, his eyelids start to droop. Saw his mouth start to lower to hers...felt the first feathering velvet touch of his lips. She answered it with hers, her fingers splayed deliciously against the hard, muscled wall of his chest.

In moments the rest of the world had faded away and there was only her and Dante, Dante and her, and their bodies craving each other, their desire like a flame. Then he was scooping her up, carrying her to his bedroom—theirbedroom—to his bed—theirbed.

And time, as well as the world, vanished.

Dante parked the car at the ferry dock and glanced across at Connie. ‘Nearly there now,’ he said.

‘Nearlywhere?’ Connie asked with humorous demand.

‘You’ll see.’

That was all Dante would offer her. It was only once they were aboard the waiting ferry that he relented.

‘We’re heading for one of the islands that make-up the Tuscan Archipelago.’

Connie’s eyebrows rose. ‘I’ve never heard of the Tuscan Archipelago,’ she exclaimed.

‘The most famous island is Elba,’ Dante elucidated. ‘We can visit while we’re on holiday if you’re interested. It was where Napoleon was first exiled. But the island we’re going to is much smaller. Cars are very restricted—only allowed for deliveries and local essentials, not for tourists.’ He paused. ‘I hope you’ll like it. It’s very quiet and sleepy and old-fashioned, but that, I think, is its appeal.’

‘It sounds idyllic. I’m sure I’ll love it,’ Connie assured him.

It was the answer Dante wanted. He’d chosen their destination specifically because he’d thought it might best suit Connie’s obvious love of ‘old’ in general. She was polite about his apartment in Milan, but it was clear that her tastes had been moulded by her grandmother’s little Victorian cottage, and he was happy to indulge her when on holiday.

Besides, the island had one other salient virtue. It wasn’t fashionable in the least—which meant he was highly unlikely to run into anyone he knew. And that meant he could have Connie entirely to himself.

Just the way he wanted her.

Thoughts flickered in his head, trying to be heard, but he dismissed them. He didn’t want them there, disturbing what he had with Connie.

What I never in a million years thought I would ever have!

In the middle of the night he would still wake sometimes, with Connie naked in his arms, embracing her lovely body—trimmer now, and more toned because of her healthier diet and her exertions in the gym, but still soft and rounded and deliciously curvy—and find himself stunned at what had happened.

But it had happened, and he was simply going with it. It wasn’t in the least what he’d imagined was even a possibility, but here it was—and he was giving himself to it completely. Right now, it was all he wanted.

His gaze went to her now, drawing away from the azure sea. Watching the little island get closer, Connie leant on the ferry’s railings, the breeze winnowing her hair. She was a knockout, as ever, in stylish navy blue trousers and a loose-knit jersey top, looking relaxed and happy.

He draped an arm around her back and she turned her face to his, smiling at his touch.

‘Do you know the island we’re going to?’ she asked. ‘Have you been before?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s not somewhere I’d think of doing business.’ His expression changed. ‘Most of what I’ve seen of my own country—let alone any others—has generally been for business reasons.’

It sounded rather depressing, said out loud like that, and he gave a shrug to dispel the feeling. ‘So this will be a real change for me,’ he added, his voice lightening.

---