Page 48 of Bought For The Marriage Bed

‘And you are happy with that for now?’ he asked.

She looked at the infant cradled in the protective strength of his arms. ‘I am happy with that.’ A tiny sigh escaped from her lips as she raised her eyes back to his. ‘For now.’

A small silence swirled around them for several moments. Nina couldn’t tear her eyes away from the lingering pain reflected in his. Coming home had affected him deeply, the rush of memories no doubt reawakening the guilt he felt over his mother’s death. Hadn’t she experienced the very same pangs? Even though her mother had ultimately been responsible for her own death, Nina still felt as if in some way she had failed her. If only she had tried harder to get her into a clinic or had visited her more often, maybe the outcome would have been different.

‘Come.’ Marc’s deep voice broke the silence. ‘Lucia will be waiting to settle Georgia. My father does not like to be kept waiting.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

ONCE Georgia had been fed and bathed, Nina left her in Lucia’s care and made her way to the room Paloma had prepared for her.

It was luxuriously furnished, the huge bed dominating the room with its array of brightly coloured pillows and cushions, the floor softly carpeted with priceless antique rugs. There was a large wardrobe and dressing table and two doors, one leading to an en suite bathroom, the other to another room which, Paloma had informed her earlier—exchanging a conspiratorial wink with the hovering Lucia as she did so—was Marc’s suite.

Nina tore her eyes away from the firmly closed door and moved across the room to the bank of windows, looking out over the majestic slopes of Mount Vesuvius. A slight breeze disturbed the sheer curtains, carrying the scent of orange blossom and honeysuckle into the room.

There was the sound of a knock on the connecting door. She turned and issued the command to come in, her throat drying up when Marc stepped into the room. He was dressed formally, his dinner suit making him appear even taller and more commanding, the whiteness of his shirt highlighting the olive tan of his skin and the darkness of his eyes.

‘My father likes to dress for dinner,’ he explained. ‘Do you have everything you need?’

‘Yes.’ She pointed to the dress Paloma had laid out earlier. ‘I’m sorry, I won’t be long. I wanted to make sure Georgia had settled first.’

‘I will wait for you in my suite. Knock when you are ready to go down. It will take you a while to find your way around the villa.’

‘Thank you.’ She waited until he had closed the door behind him before she stepped out of her clothes, wishing she had time for a shower but deciding it wouldn’t do to upset Marc’s father by turning up late for dinner. She made do with a quick splash at the basin and a touch of subtle make-up, tying her hair up with a clip in a casually arranged knot that revealed the length of her neck. The dress she had packed was one of Nadia’s and, while it was very close-fitting, it was elegantly simple, the candy-pink chiffon giving her skin a creamy glow.

She gave the connecting door a tentative knock and held her breath as she heard Marc’s footsteps approach.

‘Ready?’ he asked, his eyes sweeping over her with unmasked approval.

She gave him a small nervous smile. ‘Yes.’

The dining room was as sumptuously furnished as the rest of the villa. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and the walls were adorned with priceless works of art as well as several gilt-edged mirrors that made the room seem even larger. The long dining table was set at one end for three people, the best of glass and silverware laid out in elegant style, with a fragrant arrangement of roses as a centrepiece.

Vito Marcello was already seated at the end of the table, his dark brooding gaze boring into Nina as soon as she stepped into the room with Marc by her side.

‘You are late, Marc,’ he said in Italian, his tone reproving. ‘Have you not yet taught your wife how to be punctual?’

Marc held out the chair for Nina as he met his father’s scowling look. ‘It was not Nina’s fault that we are late,’ he responded in his father’s tongue. ‘I had to make several calls. It was I who kept Nina waiting.’

Nina sat down and waited until Marc was seated opposite before sending him a grateful glance. He held her look for a long moment, a small shadow of puzzlement passing through his dark gaze as it rested on her.

Vito muttered something under his breath and reached for his wineglass and took a deep draught of the rich red wine. Nina saw Marc’s eyes go to the glass in his father’s hand and the almost empty carafe nearby, the small frown between his brows deepening.

‘You have a very beautiful house, Signore Marcello,’ she said to break the uncomfortable silence.

‘It will be Georgia’s one day,’ Vito answered in English and beckoned to the hovering staff member to refill the carafe. ‘That is unless Marc has a son. How about it, Marc?’ He switched back to Italian and added insultingly, ‘You could take up where Andre left off. I am sure your wife will not mind if you pay her enough. She has opened her legs for many others, why not you?’

Nina drew in a breath, her hands tightening in her lap in anger, her cheeks storming with colour.

‘What is between Nina and me is between Nina and me and no other,’ Marc said with implacable calm. ‘I would prefer it, Papa, if you would refrain from insulting her in my presence. She is, after all, the mother of your only grandchild and surely deserves a modicum of respect.’

Vito’s eyes flashed with fury. ‘She is the reason your brother is dead! She must be made to pay.’

‘How?’ Marc asked evenly. ‘By taunting her whenever you get the chance? By twisting the knife of guilt all the time like you do to me?’

Nina sat very still.

Vito’s glass thumped on the table so heavily that the chandelier above their heads tinkled along with the rest of the glasses on the table. He glared back at his son, his cheeks almost puce and his lips white-tipped.

---