The Tycoon's Secret Baby: Forbidden lust. One stolen night. A secret baby! Read online

  A thick growl from Marco’s throat drew her attention, but looking at him only made her feel worse.

  “Come here,” he said impatiently.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s … It was my fault.”

  “Si. It was your fault.”

  Surprise had her spinning away from him, staring towards the door of his office. What a fool she’d been. She should have controlled this! If he told her to leave immediately, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  His hands on her shoulders was the last thing she expected. And her emotions were already unscrewed, the lid off, revealing pure feeling just inside of her.

  “We all make mistakes, Grace.” The way he said her name made her flush with need. “Fixing them is what matters.”

  And gently, so gently that her heart began to beat only for him, he turned her in the circle of his arms, drawing her to his broad chest and stroking her back.

  “This is not worth your tears.”

  “But the bank’s reputation,” she sobbed, giving into her fears now. “We pride ourselves on providing an unfailingly confidential service…”

  “And it should be,” he agreed. “But this is a simple error to repair.”

  “It is?” She lifted her face, looking up into his eyes.

  It was a mistake. His mouth was right there at her eye height and suddenly, all she could think of was kissing him. Being kissed by him. She moved to step backwards but his eyes held a droll challenge and he laughed softly.

  “You are afraid of me,” he said softly.

  “I’m … I’m disappointed in myself for making such a stupid mistake,” she corrected.

  “That is not what I mean.” He lifted a hand and ran it down the length of her hair. “You are afraid of how you feel about me.”

  “What?” Her eyes locked to his but she didn’t attempt to move away. She surrendered to where she stood. The way it felt to be in his arms, hard against his warm, firm body.

  “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?”

  She swallowed, her eyes huge in her face, and she thought of Steve. Steve she’d broken up with right before coming to Italy. Steve who wanted to marry her. Steve she had never felt even a hint of desire for like she did this ruggedly-handsome Italian billionaire.

  “I…”

  “We will fix this,” he nodded in the direction of his desk. “And then you will join me for dinner. Okay?”

  She knew she should say no. No to what he was suggesting – not dinner. They both knew that was just a prelude to what would come next. The only kind of relationship Marco Dettori was interested in. The horizontal, short-lived kind. Immensely satisfying, completely transient.

  “Have you been so busy looking at me that you have not noticed I’m looking right back?”

  And then, his lips captured hers on the small gasp of surprise, his mouth pressed against hers in a silent question at first.

  A question she answered emphatically, by bringing her body against his, meshing her lips to his as though she were adrift on a storm-ravaged sea and he was her sole chance of survival.

  She kissed him with every ounce of need that had perforated her soul from the first day they’d met. She kissed him as though he was the only man on earth.

  He curved his hands around her back, holding her to him and she rolled her hips in an invitation she wasn’t conscious of issuing. She lifted up on tiptoes so she could tangle her fingers in his hair and hold his head right where she needed him.

  She tasted his growl as he issued it, low and hoarse, it rumbled through her, obliterating any last vestige of concern that perhaps she was doing something completely, utterly foolish. His hands found the fabric of her blouse, pulling at its looseness, freeing it from the restriction of her waistband.

  His hands, surprisingly coarse, brushed her smooth hips and she broke the kiss to gasp in surprise. His touch was so right! Her body zinged with silent acceptance of his command over her. He stared at her – the same fever burning his blood as ran through Grace’s.

  “You are so soft,” he said, chasing her mouth once more, his tongue daring her to disagree. She didn’t.

  She would agree with anything and everything he said in that instant.

  But there were the contracts; the need to fix them. She knew she should say something. To remind him of the urgency of why she’d come to his office. But then his hands roamed higher, stroking the flesh on her sides, holding her on the edges of her bra, and his thumbs launched an assault on her nipples, stroking across them as though he had every right.

  And he did.

  She arched her back, whimpering in her throat. She tilted her head back right as he dropped his mouth, finding the sensitive flesh just below her jaw, teasing it with his tongue, then running higher, to her earlobe. He sucked it, flicking it hungrily and she was putty in his hands. He stepped and she anticipated, shadowing his moves, mirroring them, until her butt connected with the hard edge of his desk and he reached down, his hands cupping her arse and lifting her, settling her on the surface and spreading her legs so he could stand between them.

  He fit perfectly, the hardness of his arousal making her whimper. Her hands splayed across his shirt front but he kissed her, pressing her back so she connected with the desk. Something sharp was beneath her. She winced and Marco reached behind her, flinging his keys onto the floor.

  “Sorry,” he said, pulling at her legs to bring her closer to him as his body folded over hers, and his lips kissed her again, demanding everything she had to give.

  He dominated her in every way and she couldn’t quite believe how perfect it felt. But there were the contracts.

  And she had messed up – she had to be the one to fix it. She turned her head away, pushing her hand against his chest with determination now. “We can’t do this.”

  She felt him stiffen, his whole body frozen at her urgent command.

  “No?” He spoke silkily though, as if he had no concern about her pronouncement.

  “We have to deal with this.” She reached behind her head, dragging her fingertips over the papers with true regret.

  His eyes followed her touch but then he smiled.

  Her whole body responded with a lurch.

  “Yes.” He nodded, but he brought his mouth back down to hers and his fingers found the buttons of her shirt, separating the top three before her sluggish brain could register the act. His fingers cupped her breasts and he straightened so he could watch her, stare at her, take in every detail. From her smooth skin to her lacy cups, to the way her breasts were full and rounded. And then his fingers gripped the lace of one cup and dragged it downwards, revealing the creamy flesh and pink aureole. His fingers found her nipple and traced it, his eyes locked to her chest as though she were the definition of magic.

  “There is no time now for what I want,” he said with regret, dropping his mouth lower, dragging his lips across her sensitive flesh. He flicked her nipple with his tongue.

  “And what’s that?” She was emboldened to ask, but the words trembled out of her on a sigh.

  “Oh, I want to make you scream with pleasure,” he said simply. “I want to make sure you never forget me.”

  And then, he dragged her legs closer again, so the strength of his erection was right there against her feminine heart and she was lost to the power he swirled around her. “Do you know where I live?”

  She shook her head, but his lips found hers, kissing her hard, pressing her head back against the desk.

  “I have a house on Via Dottore,” he said. “You will know it when you arrive.”

  It was madness, surely. Madness to even think of going to her boss’s house for the purpose of being made love to. Madness to sleep with him knowing she’d be on a flight the next day, bound for her normal life in Chicago.

  But if she didn’t?

  The whisperings of regret already lashed her spine.

  She couldn’t not go. It would destroy her. She would wonder forever.

&nb
sp; “What time?”

  He smiled against her lips. “I will be finished by four. Come as soon as you can.”

  His hands found her breasts once more and she arched her back as he moved his touch over her, sending her into a spiral of desire. “I have a going away party…”

  “Believe me, mine will be more fun.”

  She laughed, but it was a husk of disbelief. “I can’t not go to my own party…”

  He brought his mouth lower, flicking her nipple, and then lower still, teasing the flatness of her stomach until goosebumps covered her body.

  “I will make it worth your while,” he promised, and she writhed beneath him, saturated by the pleasure he was so easily stirring within her.

  In all her life she had never felt even a hint of this need.

  How could she not chase it all the way down the rabbit hole to its inevitable conclusion?

  Still, her team had worked hard on organizing her party. She wasn’t supposed to know the details, but she’d been erroneously copied in on a planning email and therefore she did know and she couldn’t bear to let them down.

  “I’ll come after,” she promised, tangling her fingers in his shirt and pulling her closer, lifting up to kiss him.

  “You’ll come before, during, after and again and again, I promise.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I’M BUYING MORE THAN the business, cara. I’m buying you along with it.”

  The words swirled around her, dragging her back to the present with a thump.

  She stared at him, confusion in all her features. Sub-consciously, she moved further away from him, her body’s treacherous memories of how he had kissed her, touched her, revered her, filling her with a raging torrent of emotions she couldn’t decipher.

  “I’m not for sale,” she said finally, the words strained by tension and she tried to tell herself that was true. She ignored the fact that, to some extent, she’d already been bought once before. Oh, Steve had loved her, but their marriage had been so much more complicated than that. Would she have married him if she hadn’t felt so indebted? If he hadn’t paid her college tuition and rescued her from a life of poverty and misery?

  Marco’s lips twisted into what could have been a smile, or a sneer. “You don’t know what I’m offering.”

  “I know I’m not interested,” she said stiffly. Danger was everywhere. No matter what her traitorous body wanted, this man couldn’t get closer to her again. It was impossible.

  “You want to sell Aztec. I want to buy it.”

  “Yes. Fine. I’ll sell the business to you.”

  “You have been acting CEO for six months. You are a part of the business.”

  She thought of how she’d floundered in the world she didn’t understand. The deals that had seemed counterintuitive to her. The personalities that were used to Steven’s relaxed affability and dynamic charm. Men who had wanted to work with him.

  “Not a strong part of the business,” she said frankly. “You’re better finding someone to replace me. To replace Steven. Someone like him.” And her voice cracked with emotion as she thought of her husband – a husband in name only, but a dear, beloved friend nonetheless. A man she had adored and trusted.

  “I intend to.” His shrug was nonchalant, as though her concerns were of little care to him. “But it will take time, at least six months. Until then, you will stay on as interim CEO.”

  “I… I can’t,” she shook her head, biting down on her lip.

  “Then the deal is off,” he said with an air of unconcern, his hands deep in his pockets.

  Grace froze, her eyes silently pleading with him. “But you want the business…”

  “On these terms,” he nodded. “Si.”

  Grace made a sound of frustration. “You’re impossible.”

  His laugh curled her toes; it was just like she’d remembered. They’d laughed a lot that night. On his balcony overlooking the gardens of his Roman villa, in his bed, and when he’d cooked pancakes and burned them all to a crisp.

  She hadn’t expected that. To share a sense of humour with him. She hadn’t expected to share anything with him beyond a mutual lust.

  “So? Is that a yes?”

  She stared at him, and shook her head slowly from side to side. Confusion was far too gentle a word to describe how Grace felt. On autopilot she moved around behind Steven’s desk, perhaps in an attempt to take strength from him. She held the back of his chair and stared at the photo of them. It had been taken only a couple of hours after Ben’s birth. Steven had wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and the tiny little bundle of Ben was pressed to her chest.

  Grace had always hated the picture. She looked so tired in it – a two-day labour would do that to a woman. But Steve had insisted it was her at her most beautiful. Primal. Maternal. He’d loved her so much and the guilt she’d felt at not returning that love had almost swallowed her whole.

  It hadn’t felt right to remove it when he’d died.

  Her throat was thick with emotion when she lifted her gaze and saw Marco looking straight down at the frame, his face lacking any expression so that she didn’t know if he registered the details or not.

  Working for Marco again would be a recipe for disaster, and that was before she factored in the child they shared.

  The little boy that he knew nothing about.

  Her face drained of colour as a whole new world of agonizing decisions opened up before her. She’d tried to tell him. At least, she’d called with every intention of telling him, but the conversation had been a disaster and she’d ended it before she could give too much away.

  And now? Now that she had a little fifteen-month old waiting for her at home?

  Could she keep Ben from Marco?

  Did she want to?

  Or should she tell the man she’d spent one incredible, earth-shattering night with: Surprise! You’re a daddy!

  Ugh. The idea was impossible to make sense of.

  “I never wanted this, you know,” she said with a small twist of her lips. “And I don’t think Steven had any idea of me actually taking over the company. I’m sure leaving it to me was some lapse in judgment.”

  “Did I ask for a history?”

  The words stung. Her eyes flew to his and she shook her head, shaken by how different things were between them.

  She bit back the explanation she was about to offer.

  He didn’t want to know anything about her.

  He was buying a company Steve had built from the ground up. And naturally he wanted the CEO to continue on in some capacity for a time. That was completely the norm in circumstances like this. Hell, given their history if he’d tried to buy the company without keeping her on she could probably have sued him for sexual harassment.

  “I don’t want to work for you,” she said softly.

  “We have already discussed this. If you do not agree to stay on, I will walk away from the deal. And you will have to stay on regardless.”

  “Yes, but not to report to you.”

  His smile was a sneer. “There was a time when reporting to me pleased you very, very much.”

  Her eyes were glacial. “Ancient history.”

  “Is it?” One single step of his brought them together. His body so close to hers she could feel his strength emanating from him, his tightness like a coil. “Is this ancient history?” His lips collided with hers as they had that afternoon in his office, and as with then, she was frozen still, powerless to do anything but feel.

  This was so much worse, though. The surge of recognition and relief shocked her; as though her body had been in stasis, waiting for this. Every single cell inside of her reverberated and shook and she moaned as his mouth dominated hers. They had been perfect together.

  At least physically.

  Her body a complete answer to his.

  His hands wrapped around her, pulling her closer to him and then he was moving, pushing her backwards at the same time his hands pulled her shirt from the waistband of her skir
t. He didn’t bother to undo the buttons; he simply ripped it in the middle, popping buttons off. They scattered around the room, landing noisily on the floor, the desk.

  She groaned as his hands, so large and broad, caught her hips, and he dragged his mouth lower, sucking a nipple through the lace of her bra.

  “God,” she cried, as her body burst with flame and fire. This was so wrong, and yet she would wither and die if he stopped touching her. For the first time in a long time she felt alive.

  “Marco,” he corrected, a wry grin on his handsome face. Her whole heart skipped a beat. But then his hands were unhooking her bra with the consummate ease of a man who did so often. She tried not to think about that. He dropped it to the floor at their feet and, with unfettered access to her breasts, he dragged his mouth from one to the other, tormenting each dusky pink aureole in turn until she was whimpering over and over and over, needing more, needing him, incandescent with feverish desire.

  His fingers dragged down her back with insistence. He pushed at her zip and she stepped at the same time, freeing herself from the skirt.

  She always wore nice lingerie. At least, she had since she’d met Steve. Before him, she’d never had anything nice, nor anything new, and the luxury of wearing expensive underwear was one she would never tire of. It had always made Grace feel good to know she was wearing something special beneath her clothes. The pale pink silk g-string with lace rose embellishment down the front matched the bra he’d removed moments earlier.

  He stepped backwards for a moment, his expression almost thunderous, his cheeks slashed dark as he stared at her. A muscle jerked in his cheek and Grace was terrified that something had happened. That he was going to stop this madness. So she hooked her fingers into her underpants and loosened them. “I want you.”

  God help her, she did. And she didn’t, for a second, believe she wouldn’t regret it. She knew she would. But it was like having been starved for a month and then walked past a patisserie.

  How could she resist? Just a little taste of what they’d once been.

  “How much?” He asked, though the question was ragged.