Page 13 of The Convenient Cosentino Wife

But her cool resolve faltered as she paused outside the dining room, surprised by the dimmed chandelier, and the flickering candles on the table and in the pairs of delicate Venetian sconces.

Rocco was already there, admiring one of the seventeenth-century Baroque gilt wood floor lamps flanking the doorway. “Did all of this come with the house?” he asked, turning to greet her, dressed in a black suit, white shirt and black silk tie. “Or are these acquisitions you’ve made?”

It was hard to focus on his question when her heart was beating fast. She’d told him that dinner was informal, and yet Rocco looked dashing—elegant—in a stunning, sophisticated twill suit made from an incredibly fine wool. One of her newest ventures was the purchase of an Italian fashion house specializing in menswear, high-end menswear, and she was curious to know more about Rocco’s suit but didn’t feel it appropriate to ask.

She forced her gaze from his chiseled jaw to his strong aquiline nose, to his silver gaze beneath black eyebrows. “A combination,” she said, trying not to feel like a gauche schoolgirl. She wasn’t a girl, but a woman, and she wasn’t a virgin, but a mother. Just because Marius had been sunshine and laughter, didn’t mean she had to be cowed by Rocco’s brooding intensity. “When I first purchased the villa, it was fully furnished, but as it was a hotel, I refurbished tired rooms and began to collect pieces that would fit the different rooms and decor.”

“I think that’s what made finding you so difficult. I was looking for a private residence, not a hotel, and I’d been under the impression this was still a hotel.”

“It was until a year ago Christmas. We always closed for January and February, reopening in March, but when it came to reopen, I realized I’d rather live here full-time, and so we never reopened, and little by little I converted the hotel into what it had originally been—a private home. A family home.”

“But it’s so big for just two people.”

Clare laughed. “I employ a small army, and most live on the property, so as you can imagine, the space comes in handy.”

The chef appeared in the doorway, letting Clare know the first course was ready, if she was ready to sit down.

Clare gestured for Rocco to join her at the table. Again she noted the candles and the dimmed overhead lighting. “I’m surprised by the candles,” she told him as he held her chair for her. “This isn’t something Adriano and I do.”

“I asked for them,” Rocco answered, sitting to her right, instead of at the far end of the table. “I thought after a long day it’d be more restful.”

But as the first course was served, Clare struggled to eat with Rocco so close and her pulse continuing to drum, making her feel strangely breathless. Ideally Rocco should have been seated across the table from her, instead of on her right. He was left-handed and she was right and there were moments their hands brushed and each light touch made her even more light-headed.

It had been a long day, though, and she was unaccustomed to entertaining, never mind Marius’s brother who’d always been so brusque with her. She knew he didn’t think she was good enough for Marius, and she’d decided that hostility would get them nowhere, but it was hard to forget the tension, hard to not resent him for making those last few months leading up to the wedding so stressful.

She and Marius could have had a wedding anywhere. They could have had a huge wedding, something lavish, even ostentatious, but that wasn’t Marius’s style. Despite his background, he preferred to be casual, and he’d wanted their wedding to be relaxed, fun, something his closest friends would enjoy. Since most played polo, or were sponsors of the sport, they scheduled the wedding for late August to coincide with the end of the polo season in Spain, and just before everyone shifted to Argentina for the fall. The wedding would be held at Marius’s sprawling villa in Sotogrande, ten minutes from the breathtaking beaches of Cádiz, and thirty minutes from the Gibraltar airport.

The Spanish villa’s gardens were expansive, as well as tropical and lush, and they’d planned to have tents erected to cover the broad lawns, while the reception would feature colorful flowers and the best music for dancing, as well as truly great food. The wedding reflected Marius’s personality. He was color and passion personified.

It was there at the Santa María Polo Club in Sotogrande that Marius died, a freak accident just days before the wedding, an accident that no one could have seen coming. Everyone knew that polo could be a dangerous sport. Risks were an inherent part of sports, but for Marius to be thrown? Unthinkable.

The funeral was a blur. She traveled to her main property then, a small private island off the coast of Italy, and it was there she realized she was pregnant. She’d known in September she’d missed a period but with grief it hadn’t surprised her. Her shock had almost incapacitated her. She’d stopped eating, drinking, sleeping. How could something have happened like this...to Marius of all people? He was the ultimate horseman. The horse whisperer, his friends teased him. No one knew or loved horses like Marius.

It wasn’t until late October that Clare realized she’d missed a second period, and her body felt different. Her emotions felt different. She’d ordered a pregnancy test kit to be delivered to her secluded home. When the results flashed positive, she traveled to the nearest medical clinic, consulted a doctor, had a blood test done, along with an ultrasound, confirming the pregnancy, and how far along she was. She’d probably conceived the day Marius died, or the day before. They’d made love all week, but they’d been a little reckless near the end, knowing the wedding was just days away.

The baby arrived as scheduled on May the nineteenth. She’d named him after Marius’s Argentine grandfather, a famous polo player just like Marius. She’d added middle names to include her father, and Marius, of course. It was a long name for an infant but Clare knew he’d grow into it, and he was.

One of the staff approached the table, quickly removing one course to return with the second. Although Clare usually loved seafood, tonight the plated fish made her stomach heave a little. She was finding it so hard to relax. Maybe sharing memories of Marius would help. Maybe it would comfort them both. “Do you remember Marius as a baby?” she asked Rocco, who didn’t seem to have a problem with the Acqua Pazza.

“Of course. I was ten when he was born. It was exciting. Everybody was happy, and from the beginning Marius was easy, a very cheerful baby.”

Clare smiled wistfully. Adriano had been more challenging as a baby, but Marius would have been patient with him, and wonderful. “I always assumed due to the age difference between you and your brother, Marius was an oops baby, but maybe that isn’t true, maybe your parents—”

“Our mothers were different. The age gap was due to the fact that our father took his time remarrying after my mother died. But I’m glad he remarried. He married two good women. He was lucky in love.”

“I had no idea Marius was your half brother?”

Rocco’s eyes narrowed. “There is no half anything. He was my brother, period. My family, my world.”

Clare flushed, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to imply that the relationship was less then—”

“And yet you saidhalf.”

“I was surprised, that is all. He never mentioned it.”

“Why should he? It wasn’t important, certainly nothing to discuss with an outsider.”

“I was his fiancée, not a stranger.”

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