Marrying Her Enemy & Stolen by the Desert King Page 13

  “So worse than being angry with you, you’re telling me that I should actually be thanking you for at least giving my dad something back for a business that was probably going to completely tank?”

  He shook his head. “I do not want your thanks. But I cannot bear for us to have secrets.”

  She nodded slowly. “I love you, Luca.”

  “I know.” He put a finger beneath her chin and angled her head, so that she was looking up at him. “I have an idea to run by you. Actually, two.”

  “Oh?” She couldn’t help the silly grin that came over her. He was so beautiful. And he was all hers.

  “I want to help Arlo rebuild his business.” He winced. “It was through my misunderstanding and manipulations that he got into trouble. I can restore that.”

  Rosie’s smile was enormous, and transformed her face completely. “I’m pleased to hear it. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. Doing something out of love is so much better than doing it out of resentment.”

  “Excellent. I am glad you approve. Secondly, I have made enquiries and your nanny Eleanor is available and would be delighted to help us with our piccolina Abramo.”

  “What?” Rosie blinked in surprise. “Eleanor?”

  “She was working until recently, and had then contemplated her retirement, but the prospect of another baby as adorable as you were was, apparently, too tempting to resist.”

  Rosie’s smile was watery. “But I won’t need a nanny. I want to raise our little one.”

  “And you will. But how are you going to keep doing your floristry with a baby.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “I… wasn’t sure I would have time to do that.” She lowered her gaze.

  Luca, ever perceptive, kissed her forehead. “You mean you weren’t sure I would want you to?”

  She didn’t meet his eyes. “Maybe.”

  “The very first night we met, you told me that you love your work with flowers. I don’t want you to give that up because of me. I don’t ever want you to give anything up for me.”

  “But your work is…”

  He interrupted her quietly. “My work was filling a gap in my heart, that you have now completely closed over. I can work anywhere and anytime I wish to. What I want is to be with you. In one night, you became my family and my future. Do you see, Rosie, what you mean to me?”

  She swallowed, because finally, she was beginning to understand.

  She might have felt crazy in love with him, but he’d been feeling it right back all along.

  He put a hand on her flat stomach and widened his fingers. “And now you are growing our family by one, I find myself indebted to you beyond words.”

  Rosie’s eyes brimmed with tears of pure joy. “Who needs words when you feel what we do?”

  She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The first night they’d met, there had been lightning on the horizon, but now, there were flashes of electrical fireworks all around them, and Rosie just knew it would be this way forever.

  Epilogue

  Rosie lifted a hand to block out the bright midday sun. Her fair skin was already pinking, but it was heat rather than exposure. Luca had ordered a veritable beach construction programme in order to accommodate their little family on this trip. Umbrellas, sun shades, loungers and a cooler filled with ice cold drinks had all been transported to their island paradise. Little Marianna had been taken inside for her midday nap, leaving the two of them to contemplate the serene vista.

  “I can’t believe it’s been two years since our wedding day,” Rosie said on a sigh, angling her head to admire her husband.

  “No,” he agreed, reaching out and lacing his fingers through hers. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed each fingertip carefully. The army of butterflies began to dance and flutter in the way that Rosie knew so well now. “That expression about time flying when one is having fun barely seems to scratch the surface.”

  Rosie felt just the same. Of course, they’d been a very busy two years. She and Maggie had eventually sold The Darling Buds of May Café, purely because both were occupied so much with their own lives that it seemed to make sense. Rosie was just glad that she and Maggie had a good excuse to see one another often. Their babies were separated by only three weeks – two perfect little girls who were destined to be best friends, if their mums had any say in the matter. Marianna Abramo was the spitting image of her father; dark, with intelligent eyes and a wide smile. She was tall, too, and very inquisitive. Maggie’s little May was an unknown mix.

  A brief frown marred Rosie’s face as she thought of her best friend. Despite repeated inquiries, Maggie had not once spoken about May’s father, insisting only that he didn’t know, and it was better kept that way. Rosie hadn’t even known she’d been involved with someone! Then again, her relationship with Luca had absorbed all of her concentration around that time. She’d probably been a very neglectful friend, upon reflection.

  “What is it, mi’amore?” Luca was, as ever, completely attuned to his wife’s emotions. The way her face had crinkled made him sit up a little straighter.

  She smiled wistfully. “I was just thinking about Maggie, wishing that she could be as happy as we are.”

  It was a sentiment Luca shared. He had a great affection for Rosie’s best friend, if only because she had been so helpful to him at a time when he had been hitting rock bottom. Beyond that, though, Maggie was kind and intelligent, and easy to be around. “She’ll meet someone.”

  “I know.” Rosie hoped she would, at least. Maggie was gorgeous, but she was also flat out making ends meet, with a little baby to support. “I wish she’d let us help her.”

  “As do I, cara. She is proud though, Rosie, as you are. She knows we are here if she ever needs anything.”

  “Mmm. But she has a man out there who should at least be providing for that child!”

  “Maybe he has no money?” Luca shrugged. “Besides, she has told you time and time again that she does not wish him to be involved.”

  Rosie harrumphed in frustration. “I just hate to have her worrying about money.”

  Luca squeezed her fingers in his. “I know, darling girl. But you must let her live her life.”

  “This from the master controller!”

  He chuckled good-naturedly. “I am no such thing.”

  Rosie lay back in the lounger and began to hum, the first few bars of a Rodriguez song. Now it was Luca’s face that creased with a thoughtful frown. “Did I ever tell you where I first heard that song?”

  “No.” And though they’d been married for two years, and were as intimate as two people ever could be, she still flushed when she remembered that night they’d danced together, before making love for the first time.

  “The day I met your father, he was playing it.” He spoke quietly, for he knew that thoughts of Bertram still upset his wife.

  “Oh.” Her face broke out into a smile. “That’s nice.”

  “Nice?” He arched a brow quizzically.

  “Yes. I like that idea. That somehow, though he didn’t know it at the time, dad introduced both you and me to something that we both love. It’s a little bit of him in our relationship. That’s nice.”

  “And that is why I love you, Rosie. You can see a very positive side to anything.”

  “Just about,” she grinned. “What time are Mietta and Arlo expecting us?”

  He shrugged. “Today. Tomorrow. It is our decision.”

  “Luca!” She reached across and punched his arm playfully. “You know the fuss your mother goes to when we’re coming to visit. I expect she’ll have Marianna’s bedroom all ready for her little princess.”

  “Of course. What she lacked as a mother, she more than makes up for as a nonna.”

  Rosie looked at him carefully. “Does that hurt you?”

  His smile was convincing enough. “Nothing hurts me now that I have you and Marianna, cara. I am not selfish enough to wish Mietta absent
just so that I didn’t feel upset that she missed my childhood.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Rosie said in agreement.

  “And you are a very forgiving soul, when it comes to other’s imperfections,” he murmured. “And yet you cannot forgive your own mother.”

  Rosie’s eyebrows flew skyward. They had barely spoken of her mother in the whole time they’d been married. “It’s different,” she said, her lips compressed.

  “Different how?” He pushed gently.

  “Mietta was in an impossible position. She genuinely believed you would lead a better life being raised by other people. She wasn’t to know that you’d fall through the cracks of the foster care system.” She continued, despite the fact she could see him silently preparing an objection. “My mother left me, at nine years old, with a man she knew to have a drinking and gambling problem.”

  “You said she came to see you, once afterwards. What did she want?”

  “I’m not sure it matters,” Rosie said on a sigh. “She was an adult woman, and she left me. I did not suffer, because I had my father. However, as a mother now, I cannot imagine leaving my daughter.”

  Luca loved his wife, and seeing her face pulled tight by unpleasant thoughts was impossible for him to stomach. He regarded her thoughtfully, and a need to bring her smile back unfurled inside of him.

  “You know, you really look just too beautiful there.” He sighed dramatically and stood. Before she knew what he was thinking, he’d lifted her from the bed and was walking at a determined pace towards the beautiful turquoise ocean.

  “Luca!” Rosie squealed, as he walked into the cool shallows, and then continued deeper still.

  “Yes, my beautiful wife?”

  “Put me down!”

  “As you wish.” He grinned and took another step, then dumped her unceremoniously into the sea.

  Rosie surfaced, spluttering with laughter and annoyance. “Oh, you!” She lifted her hands and splashed him. He caught her wrists easily and brought her towards his body. Beneath the ocean, she could feel the proof of his arousal, and she immediately stilled.

  “You said this is a private beach?” She queried, moving closer and wrapping her legs around his waist beneath the water.

  “Very private,” he promised, his voice hoarse with love, pride and desire.

  “Then let’s work out a proper way to celebrate our second wedding anniversary, hmmm?”

  Luca didn’t need to be asked twice. He would love his wife wherever and whenever she wanted, for the rest of their lives.

  THE END

  STOLEN BY THE DESERT KING

  All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.

  All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.

  The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Paperback and E-book Edition first published 2017

  (c) Clare Connelly

  http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk

  Chapter 1

  “WHAT DID YOU just say?”

  Melanie covered the mouthpiece of the apartment intercom, her eyes enormous. “Some man is downstairs claiming to be your fiancé.”

  Kylie froze in her seat, her slender, tanned legs curled beneath her, her fingers splayed wide to let the turquoise nail polish she’d just laboriously applied dry. “What?”

  “I said...”

  “Oh, God. I heard what you said.” Kylie pressed her lips together. It didn’t help. Her throat was still as dry as dust. But hadn’t she known this was coming? The betrothal documents had specified she’d wed at twenty-two, and her birthday had been the week prior. She’d celebrated with her friends, enjoyed the bonhomie but this had been ever-present in her thoughts.

  “Is this… the guy? From Argenon?”

  Kylie squeezed her eyes shut on a wave of desperate comprehension. The fate that had been awaiting her now seemed too close – a destiny she wanted to escape. But could she? Legally, she was obliged to marry into the family who’d taken over her care and upkeep. They had been her legal guardians and they were now her obligation.

  Her eyes travelled, of their own accord, around the luxurious apartment she called home. An apartment paid for by her betrothed’s family. A gift, one of many, in exchange for her hand in marriage.

  She stood on legs that were wobbling like barely-set jelly and moved towards the sliding glass doors of the balcony. Beneath her, Sydney harbour glistened, the sun was shining and yes, there it was. A sleek black limousine across the street with two conspicuous men in suits on either side. Their dark glasses couldn’t hide the furtive way they were scanning the street.

  Bodyguards.

  Just what she’d expect for a man of her intended’s stature.

  Not that she knew exactly who her intended was to be. The contracts were vague enough to be worrying – a suitable member of the Haddad family was all her lawyer had told her. She’d googled them, and found at least twelve men within ten years of her age.

  She gnawed on her lip, her stomach flipping and twisting wildly.

  Mel bit down on her lip, her own thoughts on the whole arranged marriage something she’d aired ad nauseum to her best friend. “Just pretend you don’t live here,” she said urgently. “He’ll go away eventually.”

  “No, no.” Kylie stared straight ahead, remembering all the reasons she’d fallen in with this arrangement. Her parents. Her legal obligations. Her … fate. Yes, it was stupid and trite, but something about this moment felt so pre-ordained that she’d never dared question it. She lifted a finger, careful not to smudge the still-setting polish, and wiped her upper lip, removing the sheen of perspiration that had spotted across it.

  “Kyles?”

  She spun around, her long blonde hair whipping behind her like a sun-filled cloud. “Yes.” A croak. She cleared her throat and nodded now, but nothing could shake the trepidation from her features. “I… yes. Let him up.”

  Melanie’s lips compressed with disapproval but she reached across and pushed the buzzer – a loud humming noise filled the apartment and, in the distance, four flights of stairs beneath them, the distant thud of the security door slamming shut sounded with a kerthunk.

  “You’re crazy. You don’t have to do this!”

  But Kylie was sinking back into the past. The truth that had unfolded around her from the moment her parents had died and she’d been taken into boarding school, told her new legal guardians were a family far, far away – on the other side of the world. That she’d never met them, but that one day she’d become part of them.

  Her betrothal had been so much a part of that story that she’d barely stopped to question it. Even now, a young woman with a mathematics degree and a confidence she wore like a second skin, Kylie knew this marriage to be not only her obligation, but her birthright.

  She ran trembling fingers over the cream dress she’d thrown on that morning. It was far skimpier than she would have ideally liked to wear for this introduction, but it had been hotter than hades in Sydney – a typical February day, long and stifling – and she’d opted for comfort over modesty. Nonetheless, she pulled at the hem then lifted her hands to her hair, spreading the lengths over her shoulders, covering the tanned expanse of flesh as quickly as she was able.

  Nerves made her fidget; her fingers sought the three carat solitair
e diamond she wore at her throat – a gift from her betrothed for her twenty first birthday.

  And then she waited, heart in her throat, mind thick, eyes focussed on the door.

  “Kylie?”

  “I know I don’t have to. I … I want to,” Kylie murmured with a hint of apology in the words. And it was true. But how could Melanie ever understand? The idea of an arranged marriage would be anathema to her – as it would be to most women who’d grown up as they had, free and footloose in the urbane city centre of Sydney.

  The knock at the door was nothing if not perfunctory.

  Kylie’s heart was in her throat. She was torn between fainting and crying. She did neither. The deportment classes she’d attended had taught her well. She waited impassively, her features set in a mask of disaffectation, her eyes locked to the door frame.

  “Kylie Clare Mathison, look at me.”

  Kylie spun her face, her eyes linking with her best friend’s. “I know you don’t approve.”

  “Don’t approve? You’ve never even met this man. You don’t even know his name!”

  “I told you, it’s complicated.” Now, she began to move towards the door, not ignoring the fact that her destiny stood on the other side.

  “What’s complicated about the fact you’re acting like you live two hundred years ago?”

  Kylie’s smile was half-hearted. “I know. But it’s … bloodlines,” she said cryptically, as though it explained everything. And she wrenched the door inwards, prepared to meet her fate.

  Only her fate… her fate was nothing like she’d imagined. For who could? Who could have foreseen a man like this as her groom-to-be?

  Not Kylie, who had never imagined such a species of man existed.

  Tall, sure. Broad and muscled. But this man went beyond simply tall and well-built. He was … huge. Broad shoulders, strong arms, tanned skin, eyes that were so dark they were almost black, a square jaw covered by dark stubble and black hair that was pulled into a messy sort of bun – not a fashion choice so much as, Kylie believed in that instant, laziness. He wore a suit, but he was far too wild to be contained by it – far too masculine. It looked wrong. She wasn’t sure how she would have imagined him – but not like this.