She sucked in a breath when his hand came down to touch her, his fingers seeking the pulse of her body with heart-stopping accuracy.

Now it was she losing control. She felt it building all over again, deeper and more intense with the swell of his maleness invading her, her muscles clenching at him to keep him hard and hot within her.

She felt the first tingle, and then the second before the avalanche hit her, stunning her with its totally devastating impact on her senses.

She felt Marc suddenly tense, the momentary stillness of his body heralding his subsequent cataclysmic plunge into paradise. She felt him empty himself inside her, the spilling warmth of his essence binding her to him in the most primal way imaginable.

She held him to her, relishing the feeling of him as close as could possibly be, the silence between them settling like breeze-driven blossoms falling softly to the ground.

She felt him move, the long stretch of his legs against hers reminding her of how intimately entwined she was, and not just physically. Her love for him seemed to fill every space in her body. She could barely take a breath without feeling it tug on her somewhere, a painful little tug that warned her that he did not care for her at all. His priority was Georgia and always would be.

She turned her head to look at him, the words of her confession already forming in her head, when she realised he was asleep.

‘Marc?’ She gave him a little shake.

There was no answer.

She gave a soft sigh and curled back into his warmth; she would tell him in the morning, but for tonight she would remain in his arms where she hoped with all her heart to stay for ever.

Nina knew something was terribly wrong as soon as she opened her eyes the next morning. The space beside her in the bed was empty and she could hear voices, urgent upset voices, echoing all through the villa. Her eyes went to the baby monitor but it showed no signs of being activated through the night.

She scrambled out of bed and threw on some clothes and rushed to Georgia’s nursery where she found her niece just starting to wake, her tiny hands unfolding as she heard Nina come in. She gathered the baby close and turned around to see Paloma enter the room with a stricken expression.

‘Whatever is the matter, Paloma?’

The Italian woman sank to a nearby chair, her face ashen. ‘Signore Marcello passed away in his sleep last night. Marc is with him now.’

‘Oh, no!’ Nina cried.

‘It has been expected for a long time but it is so sad,’ Paloma said. ‘For all his faults, all the staff members were very fond of him.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

Paloma gave her a sad smile. ‘You have already made such a difference in the short time you have been here, signora. He died a happier, more peaceful man for having met his only grandchild.’

Nina found the next few days excruciatingly painful as she watched Marc deal with his grief over his father’s passing whilst maintaining the family business and household affairs. Her plan to tell him of her deception was unthinkable now. He was barely able to cope with the stress of seeing to his father’s funeral arrangements and the steady influx of calls of condolence from all over the world. She did what she could where she could, trying to take some of the burden from him, holding him in bed at night while he lost himself in her arms, again and again, as if their physical union was the only salve he could find to ease the sting of his loss. But during the day he often retreated into himself, reminding Nina of a lone wolf who trusted no one to come too close.

The day after the funeral Paloma informed her that Marc wished to speak with her in the study where he had been sorting through his father’s papers.

He looked up as she came in, rising from the desk as she closed the door behind her. She was shocked at how tired he looked, his normally olive skin looked more sallow than tanned and his dark eyes had lines at the corners she hadn’t noticed before.

‘You wanted to see me, Marc?’

‘I have been doing some thinking. I want to talk to you about Georgia’s future.’

She felt her heart give a sudden lurch. Surely he wasn’t thinking of a divorce so soon? Perhaps the death of his father had made him realise he could no longer tie himself in a loveless marriage indefinitely.

‘W-what about her future?’ she asked warily.

‘I want to formally adopt Georgia.’

She swallowed, hunting for her voice, but when she found it she couldn’t get it past the lump of panic in her throat.

‘I want to be her father, not her uncle,’ he went on. ‘Nothing I can do will ever bring her real father back, and in time I will tell her about him, but for now I want to be her father in every way possible.’

Nina didn’t know what to say. She saw the way Marc interacted with her niece, his dark eyes warm with deep affection as he cradled her in his arms or played with her, murmuring endearments to her in his own tongue. No one could question his ability to be a wonderful father, but she could hardly give the go-ahead for a formal adoption when she wasn’t even the child’s mother. And the thought of telling him now, after all he had been through…

‘You don’t seem all that enthusiastic,’ he observed after a too long silence.