Page 10 of The Convenient Cosentino Wife

The only comfort she could take in the following weeks, and then months, was that she was pregnant and at least she’d have his child. Clare hadn’t wanted to know the gender of the baby, and the nurse practitioner she saw for monthly checkups kept insisting it was a girl, so it had been a shock when she went into labor and twelve hours later delivered a boy.

The baby had dark hair and deep blue eyes and a hint of a dimple in its fat cheek, the dimple almost identical to the one Marius had, that Clare cried as she held her son, missing her Marius.

The nurse had gently removed the baby from Clare’s arms, saying it wasn’t good for the baby to hear such grief so soon after his birth, and Clare had continued crying without him. The first six weeks were filled with tears, but gradually she recovered from her bleak depression even as her body healed. She named the infant Adriano Marius Jonathan Cosentino, after her son’s father and both grandfathers, and had him baptized at six months. It was some months after the baptism that she wrote to Rocco, letting him know she’d given birth to a son and he was doing well. She’d been tempted to add, that they were both doing well, but stopped herself knowing Rocco wouldn’t care.

Had she been wrong, though?

Clare shifted in her desk chair, sitting forward as she pictured Rocco arriving in the helicopter, as well as their first tense conversation following his arrival. He’d been searching for them, Clare and Adriano, and once he’d met Adriano, Rocco had clearly been entranced. But it was easy to adore Adriano; he was the best of all of them.

But that didn’t mean she was going to drop her guard. If anything, Rocco’s arrival, and request to remain for a day or two, had made her even more conflicted. She had to remain vigilant. Rocco was brilliant and still not to be trusted.

Her watch buzzed. She glanced down at the text from Gio.Her guest wanted to know what time dinner would be served.

Clare arched an eyebrow. She hadn’t thought that far in advance. To be honest, she hadn’t wanted to think about dinner, or having to entertain. She usually had an early dinner with Adriano and then returned to her office after he was in bed. She couldn’t imagine Rocco eating dinner at five thirty, though.

She texted Gio back.

Where is Rocco now?

Gio responded.

In the blue suite.

The blue suite was on the third floor in a different wing from the family’s wing, which allowed security to keep visitors from the nursery and Clare’s rooms. Clare rarely had visitors, but when a university girlfriend stayed three months ago, Clare had her in the guest wing, as well.

She texted Gio.

I will go to him.

CHAPTER THREE

ROBERTO,CLARE’SBUTLER, had shown Rocco to his suite of rooms on the third floor, but Gio lingered just outside the door, as if uncomfortable leaving Rocco unattended.

Rocco was more amused than offended and recognized that he’d handled things with Clare badly when he’d first arrived, but hopefully they were past that now. He went to the doorway and faced the bodyguard. “I have not come to cause trouble,” he said to Gio. “But I was tactless. I should have reassured her first that I have only come to pledge my loyalty and protection.”

The bodyguard’s expression was impassive, his gaze briefly landing on Rocco and then away.

“Well, it was a good talk. I’ll leave you to do your job.” Rocco nodded at Gio and then closed the door, shutting Gio out.

Rocco inspected his rooms, a very luxurious suite with a living room, elegant spacious bedroom and an opulent bath, all with views of the sea. The decor of blue and white, reflecting the ocean view, the furniture antiques mixed with a few modern pieces for ultimate comfort.

He opened the bedroom doors onto the balcony and stepped outside, hands resting on the wrought iron railing, eyes narrowed against the sun. He knew that until a year ago this had been a much in demand hotel, one of those exclusive word-of-mouth resorts that charged upward of one thousand a night for a small room. This suite would have been ten times that. He was curious why Clare had turned the former hotel into a family home when it’d been a hotel for several decades now. He’d have to ask her at dinner, which reminded him, when was dinner?

He crossed through his suite and opened the door to the hall, and yes, there was his good man Gio still standing sentry. “Do you know what time I’m expected for dinner?”

“I will find out,” the bodyguard answered.

“Thank you.” Rocco didn’t bother closing the door this time and was still wandering around the living room of the suite, studying the artwork, when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Will these rooms work for you?” Clare asked.

He turned, surprised she’d come. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I know you had work to do.”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t getting anything done. Too much on my mind.” She looked up at him, her stunning eyes searching his. “This is...unsettling...having you here.”

Rocco realized he liked her hair dark, the rich brunette shade made her eyes look like violets. She was even more beautiful now than before, if that was possible. “How can I make it more comfortable for you?”

She went to the pair of French doors that matched the pair in the bedroom, and opened them, letting the late afternoon breeze sweep into the room, providing warmth and the perfume of the roses below. “It’s not your problem,” she said after a taut silence, glancing at him over her shoulder. “It’s my problem, and I’ll figure it out. I’m surprisingly good at handling problems.”

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