“Only on paper. You certainly made it clear I was a bride suitable for only one thing.”
He ignored her gibe. “There has never been a divorce in the Lombardi family and I’ll be damned if I’m the first. I will not make public what is Lombardi personal business.” He pushed ahead, knowing the reaction his next words would evoke. “Business comes first—always! I’ve a major business deal that requires I have my wife by my side. I want to buyPaolo Zanetti’s company. He’s a strict Roman Catholic. If he hears I’m divorcing he’ll never hand his company into my care.”
“So, it’s about two of your passions—children and business. Strengthening the Lombardi empire and a son to rule over it.”
“Why not kill two birds with one stone. Idowant a child to take over the Lombardi empire should anything happen to me. And since we won’t be divorcing, not if I want this deal, and I do, that means you’ll have to be his mother.”
Abby’s eyes glittered with icy distaste. “Even you couldn’t be that manipulative. There must be another reason…are you sick?”
His heart warmed, but he tried to conceal it. “Do I look sick?”
Her eyes swept over him, and his body responded with an urgency he couldn’t suppress. Her gaze lingered on the bulge at his groin and her face flooded with color as she took in his condition.
“You look pretty fit and healthy to me.” Anger flashed across her face. “So, we’ve come full circle. A child. Isn’t this why you married me in the first place? To obtain a brood mare?”
Her words made guilt rise up to choke him. Dante had known as soon as she’d slipped her tiny hand in his that she was perfect. Perfect for what he required. A beautiful, virtuous woman to be his wife and bear him children. A woman not experienced enough to test his heart.
He pushed aside his guilt. The clock was forever moving forward and time was not on his side. “You need money, I need my wife by my side, and a child would cement the family.”
She sank into the small antique chair opposite him, crossing one perfect leg over the other, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the skinbeneath her skirt.
“Why the hurry?”
“Where are my manners? Would you care for a drink?” He pointed to the brandy tumbler. “If we are to discuss a business arrangement, I suggest we fortify ourselves.”
She hesitated, but finally nodded. He crossed to the drinks cabinet, taking his time. How best to approach this situation? Calm and emotionless, as he lived his life.
Once he was reseated and both of them had a drink in hand, he started.
“When we met, you remember my brother had just been killed in a motorbike crash.”
She nodded. “It was one of my regrets, never being able to meet your brother. Your mother told me you were so very different but were best friends.”
Dante swallowed back his grief. Since his brother’s death, he’d felt like a part of him was missing. There had been only fifteen months between them. “We were different, but no one knew me like Roberto. He was my better half.”
He watched Abby take a large sip of brandy, her hands trembling. She had lost a brother and both of her parents. Yes, she understood his loss.
“Roberto’s passing was impossible to bear, especially for my mother. She’d still not recovered from the loss of my father, and to suddenly and tragically lose a son…” This time he took a gulp of the fiery liquid, letting the warmth ward off the chill of bad memories. “But it had consequences for my family—for me.”
Her nose screwed up as she frowned.
“My father’s will. Both my father and grandfather were dead before they reached forty. I believe that is why my father agreed to marry so young. He came from a rich, Italian noble family. He could have gone anywhere and done anything with his life. He never sowed his wild oats. He married my mother when they were both eighteen and remained faithful to her until his death.”
“I’m sorry I never got to meet your father.”
“He would have approved of you.”
“Even my leaving?”
Dante laughed. “Well, perhaps not the leaving, but the coming back he’d heartily endorse.”
“I’m not back, Dante.”
“Please, let me finish.” He cleared his throat. “My father was concerned for the Lombardi Group and for his family. His will stipulates I have to marry and have a son by the age of thirty-eight or the company goes to the eldest male relative with a son.”
He watched her face, hoping to see a light of understanding. Instead he saw anger glinting from within her eyes, the tawny amber darkening to a burned coffee color.
“That’s why you married me and why you’re so concerned with having a child as soon as possible. A son. The company.” She almost spat the word.
