She frowned. “I can’t change what I did. If you have so little faith in me, then you should probably leave right now. Remember my stress problem?”
Alessandro looked like he had plenty to say on this subject but refrained. As it turned out, high blood pressure was proving to have at least one upside.
He turned to face the counters, and she watched as he familiarized himself with her kitchen, inspecting her utensils and pans. This suggested that he himself was planning to make the meal, which surprised her, considering the fact that he had an army of staff at his disposal to take care of these things for him. But cooking was apparently one of the things he valued, something he had clearly decided not to fully outsource. That thought was a little depressing, considering how quickly he had talked about outsourcing the care of her and the baby to resorts and nannies.
Alessandro’s back was to her, and she watched his muscles move under his crisp, white dress shirt, triggering memories of what those muscles felt like under her hands, what it felt like when his arms were around her as he laughed at her stories and kissed her so tenderly. No, it wasn’t what his wealth could buy that was the hard to resist. It was the man himself.
By the time Alessandro tossed the pasta with fresh sausage, garlic-sautéed spinach, pine nuts and Parmesan, he was in control of his emotions again. He had been forced to control them after the bombshell of Ann-Sophie’s high blood pressure was followed by her comment that suggested that he was, in fact, a current stress factor.
The urge to pressure her was strong, to get her to follow him to the nearest church immediately and get this situation under his full control. Marriage would bring stability to this situation and to their child’s life—something he had never had. Right now, he was in no condition to consider what being a father would require of him; he would figure that out when the baby came. Instead, he focused on the way marriage would soothe the volcano of emotions that had been erupting since Massimo had walked into his office this morning.
Guilt, obligation and subtle exercises of power were some of his well-traveled negotiation routes, but these relied on creating increasing stress on the target, a method that was now out of the question. Alessandro needed to drastically reevaluate his approach.
He set the plates of pasta on the table, and she looked at the food with open desire. She took a deep breath of the mingling spices that wafted from the dishes. As she took her first bite, the tension eased from around her eyes.
“You can cook,” she said with a hint of surprise, and he noted that her voice had lost a little of its sharpness.
“Of course, I can,” he said, waving away the comment. “Meals give us three opportunities every day for pleasure. Why wouldn’t I take advantage of them?”
She gave him an amused smile. “Good point.”
Was this a negotiation path to marriage, one guided by pleasures? Foods, comforts, luxuries and physical desires… Some combination of these could sway with her.
“I used to cook more often when I stayed with my grandmother during the summers,” she said, a little wistfully. Then she gave a little laugh. “A lot of meatballs and boiled potatoes. Not like this.”
“I learned to cook from my grandmother, too,” he said. She raised an eyebrow, and he raised his hands in protest. “You don’t believe me?”
Ann-Sophie shrugged. “I’m just having a hard time picturing it.”
“It was an interesting summer,” he said darkly.
She rested her fork on her plate and tilted her head, watching him as if she was waiting for him to continue. It brought him back to moments ago, when, reeling from the high-blood-pressure revelation, and struggling to contain yet another surge of emotions, Alessandro had come close to pleading with her.Please. That one word had revealed far too much of the raw fear she had triggered, but it had also gotten through to her. The emotions he kept under tight control were another tool he could use, one that clearly got Ann-Sophie’s attention. This path was more dangerous, but he would never let himself get out of hand. Never again.
When he didn’t continue, she asked, “When are you planning to return to Milan?”
“This depends on many factors,” he said, holding her gaze. “Are you planning to return to Italy soon?”
Her forehead wrinkled, and she shook her head. “As of today, I’m on maternity leave.”
Judging from her frown, she was not happy about this. Interesting. “You are free?”
“Apparently.” She flashed him a tight smile. “My job is triggering higher blood pressure, so I am under doctor’s orders to reduce my stress.”
She gave him a pointed look those last words.
He studied her closer. “You have no plans for the next couple months except to take care of yourself and the baby, correct?”
“Correct,” she said, then gave him a wary look. “Please don’t follow that up with a marriage proposal.”
Alessandro ignored the comment and gave her a seductive smile because a more specific plan was forming, one that gave him more time to introduce her to the pleasures he could provide for her. “I have a different proposal. Our family’s home sits in the foothills of the Alps, amid a countryside that guidebooks call charming. The temperature is warm and mild this time of year, and you can enjoy a swimming pool, fresh-baked pastries from the local bakery, naps and anything else that you may like.”
Her eyes widened with unmistakable interest. Yes, pleasure was the right path. She claimed she didn’t want his wealthper se, but just as he had thought, she would enjoy the spoils of it.
“And this enormous house just sits empty?” There was a hint of censure in her voice that he couldn’t read.
“It’s a country retreat. I assure you, it’s well kept.”
She tilted her head to the side, and her gaze was penetrating. “And you, of course, will be busy working.”
