It was time. She needed to tell him.
The first night at their seaside private villa, as they lay on the lounge under the cloudless sky alight with diamond-sparkling stars, he’d told her about his father and how he thought he might die young, too. She’d hugged him close and said, “So that’s why having a son as soon as possible was so important to you. As we’re only one year into our formal separation, we wouldn’t be divorced for another two years and you thought you’d run out of time.” Her body shook with stabbing hurt. “It didn’t matter who the mother was.”
He’d cupped her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “The moment you entered my den, just over six weeks ago, it mattered. That’s why I insisted on the deal. I instinctively knew I had to have you back. Just as I instinctively knew the first time I saw you that you were the one for me.”
Heat had flooded up her throat and her breathing almost stopped. “Then why were you so cold to begin with? I thought you hated me.”
He’d kissed every inch of her face and explained that he felt ashamed and selfish for intending to make her love a dead man walking. She’d kissed him back and said every person was a dead man walking. Everyone died.
“I’m stupido. I know. What do you expect? I’m a man.” He’d laughed. Then he’d laid her on the cushions and made slow, erotic love to her under the stars, proving to her just what a man he was. They’d been so happy over the following days that she’d chickened out of telling him.Why ruin the moment?a loud voice inside her head shouted.Tell him after the honeymoon, she’d told herself sternly.
Not telling him will only make it seem worse later, a smaller voice had replied.
Dante approached over the sand of their private beach. The water droplets glistening over his skin made him look magical. She was definitely under his spell and didn’t care. His eyes gleamed with undisguised need.
She stared back ahungry welcome.
He flopped down on his towel beside her. “My little flower looks as though she’s wilting in the heat. Go in for a swim.” He shook his head, sending water droplets cascading all over her.
Abby gasped at the feel of the coolness against her heated skin. “I was enjoying the view too much.”
“Then fair’s fair. It should be my turn to enjoy the view.”
She accepted his challenge. She’d see how long it took before he couldn’t resist joining her in the water. She reached for her bikini top. He stopped her. “You won’t need that.”
“Fine. I’ll need some more sunscreen then.” She purposely squeezed suntan lotion onto her hands and began rubbing it all over her naked breasts. He gave a low groan and reached for her.
She stepped back. “No. No. You said I needed a swim.” She walked in her thong bikini bottom, with hips swaying, toward the sea. She bet he wouldn’t let her get to the water’s edge before racing to join her.
She was almost at the water when she heard a mobile phone ring. She smiled at the curse issued from his lips. She knew he had to answer it. A man running a large business dynasty couldn’t just disappear. Dante had been pretty good at keeping work at bay. Usually he dealt with the interruptions quickly, delegating tasks to his two brothers-in-law or telling them he’d get to it later.
She shielded her eyes against the glare and looked up the beach. He stood and gave a hesitant wave before heading toward the villa. The call must be important. The water lapping at her toes was very inviting, so she decided to have a swim. Dante could be a while.
Her handsand feet had gone wrinkly, she’d waited so long in the water for Dante to return. But he hadn’t emerged backonto the beach. On her way back, she picked up her things and, singing softly to herself, made her way to the villa. Her stomach rumbled loudly. She hoped housekeeping had left the plate of freshly cut fruit she’d ordered.
Still singing, she entered the villa. She could hear Dante barking at someone on the phone. She noticed all the drawers and cupboards were flung open and Dante’s bags were packed and standing by the door. So much for being able to spare a full seven days off work. She couldn’t help the niggling annoyance.
Dante walked out of the bathroom. A wave of unease swept over her.
“Are we going somewhere?” she asked, disappointment ringing in her tone.
“No.”
“Then why are the bags packed?”
“My bags, not yours.”
“Oh. Was the call urgent then?
Dante swung to face her, hostility screaming at her from his stern features. “Care to tell me about Dr. Molinari?”
Her mouth went as dry as the Sahara under the baking sun, and she gripped the door handle for support. “How did you…” She stepped backward, flustered, confused, and appalled he’d spoken to Molinari before she could explain the situation.
“He rang to see how you were since you’d postponed your laparoscopic surgery. How long, Abby? How long have you known you have a problem conceiving?” He slammed his fist against the wall. “Did you know before you agreed to give me a son? Did you know before you married me?”
“No,” she cried, reaching for him. “No.”
He knocked her hand aside and looked at her in disgust. “Two nights ago, I poured my soul out to you in this very villa. Not once did you say, ‘Oh by the way, I might not be able tohave children.’”
