Page 23 of The Sicilian’s Deal For 'I Do'

‘What I want—what I’ve always wanted—is a family of my own. I never expected...for a long time, my parents have spoken about finding me a suitable husband, someone of whom they approved, who my biological parents would have approved of too.’ Her brow crinkled, and, in the back of her mind, she wondered when she’d become okay with that. ‘It wasn’t like I had dreams of growing up and falling in love. But I always knew I wanted children of my own. Lots of children.’ Her lips were twisted in a strange smile. ‘I would have settled for two, though. A boy and a girl, if I could prescribe such things.’

He was very still, watchful, his eyes probing hers, and when he spoke, his voice had a strange, heavy resonance. ‘Then it’s just as well we didn’t marry, Mia, because I have always known, since I was a boy, that I would not have children.’

Her heart stammered and her stomach rolled like the motion of a dolphin dipping beneath the ocean. ‘You can’t?’

‘No. Not can’t. I won’t.’

‘Why not?’ It made no sense to Mia. She couldn’t fathom his feelings; not even a little.

‘Why do you want children?’

She toyed with her fingers.Because I’m an only child. Because I was adopted. Because I desperately wanted siblings. Because I want actual unconditional love.There were any number of reasons she could have chosen, but instead, she lifted her shoulders. ‘I just know I want them.’

‘Just as I know I don’t.’

He was right, then, she realised with a leaden feeling. It was for the best that they hadn’t married. But it felt like the slamming shut of a door she realised she still wanted open. Ridiculous. Their ‘marriage’ hadn’t happened. He’d humiliated her, made her a laughing stock. And now she was marrying someone else. Someone kind and gentle who didn’t intimidate her at all, who she suspected she could twist around her little finger. Most importantly, she was marrying someone who came from a big family and had willingly agreed to Mia’s stipulation that they would have children. Not straight away, but within a couple of years, when she was ready.

Why hadn’t she thought to make such a stipulation with Luca?

Had she been so swept up in the idea of becoming his wife that she’d been happy to leave such things to chance? Or had she just presumed that he’d feel as she did? Had she taken it for granted that everyone must have such strong feelings on family?

‘Then I guess it all worked out for the best,’ she said, wondering if her voice sounded as brittle to him as it did to her. ‘I could never have been happily married to you.’

Silence fell. A strange, weighted silence.

‘And Lorenzo?’ he prompted.

She forced a smile, hoped it seemed genuine. ‘He wants children, too.’

‘You’ve discussed it?’

‘Yes.’

A frown flickered on Luca’s brow, like lightning, quick but obvious. ‘How well do you know him?’

She shrugged again. ‘We’ve met a few times. I learned from our engagement.’ She gestured towards Luca. ‘I wanted to know—’

Luca stared at her, silent. Somehow that silence was deafening.

She sighed. ‘I wanted to be sure he wouldn’t...’

She didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t need to. He seemed to understand anyway. Luca tilted her chin once more, bringing their faces together. ‘I had no intention of hurting you.’

Her lips pulled to the side. ‘I think you did,’ she said softly, slowly. ‘I think you believed I deserved it, though.’

His eyes narrowed and Mia’s heart twisted. She was so confused. When she was with Luca, she wanted to slam shut the door on the rest of the world and exist purely in this space, purely with him. But she couldn’t forget how he’d treated her, and her parents, how he’d hurt her. She’d gone to him last night with the intention of hurting him back. Of giving him a taste of his own medicine. And instead, she’d fallen more under his spell than ever. What else could explain her willingness to sit beside him and calmly discuss their almost-wedding day?

‘Yes.’ His response was quiet. ‘I did.’

Her eyes lifted to his, sadness in their depths. ‘And now?’

He captured her face with his hands, holding her cheeks, moving closer, brushing her lips with his. ‘The past is immaterial,’ he said, except it wasn’t.

‘Not to me.’ She pulled back, just a fraction, so she could say what was on her mind. ‘That day changed me, Luca. You changed me. When you walked out on our wedding and left me like that, it fundamentally altered who I am. Probably for the better,’ she added after a beat. ‘I’m less trusting, less gullible, more careful to look after myself. That’snotimmaterial.’

‘Mia.’ He said her name on a groan, then pulled her back to him, kissing her hard, fast, hungrily, perhaps to silence her? To stop her enumeration of all the ways his behaviour had affected her?

It suddenly became imperative to Mia to make him understand how she felt—what she knew to be the truth. ‘You’re not safe, Luca,’ she said quickly, against his lips. ‘You’re not good for me. When we go back to Palermo, I can’t see you again. I’m getting married. This has to be the end of us.’

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