emitted a curt laugh and raised a dark brow. ‘So it’s just me? I should feel flattered that I made you so angry you felt you had to restrain me...?’
Rafaele frowned, losing the thread. ‘Angry?’ Had it been that obvious? His fit of jealousy and vulnerability?
But Sam was continuing. ‘I know you’re angry about Milo, Rafaele, but you can’t take it out on me like this.’
Half without thinking, Rafaele said, ‘But I’m not angry about Milo.’
He realised in that moment that he truly didn’t feel angry about that—not any more. It had faded and been replaced by a much darker anger...stemming from this woman’s unique ability to make him lose his self-control and lose sight of what was important to him. Anger that he felt so vulnerable around her.
But Sam seemed not to have heard him. She came closer to put the empty glass down and Rafaele could see the tantalising curve of her breast through the haphazardly tied shirt. Instantly his lower body was on fire, reacting. He had a momentary revelation: he was never going to get enough of this woman, not even in a lifetime. It would never burn out between them, only grow brighter.
Rafaele was stunned, his head expanding with the terrifying knowledge that he would never be free of this insatiable need. He was barely aware of Sam walking out of the room. His brain was working overtime, trying to take in the knowledge that had come to him earlier, before he’d really been ready to deal with it, that he couldn’t let her go. And now it was the most obvious thing in the world.
* * *
Sam gripped the bannister as she went up the stairs. Rafaele might have just said that he wasn’t angry about Milo...but he was still angry with her. It was as clear as day. Maybe it was because he wanted her and resented himself for it?
Any control she’d clawed back before Rafaele had appeared and during that brief conversation had drained away again, leaving her feeling shaky. Somehow she got to her room, closed the door behind her and sagged against it. Tears pricked her eyes. Again. More tears for the man downstairs whom she would probably never be able to read.
Sam was too drained to deal with buttons. Her body was made weak from pleasure and sensation. She ripped Rafaele’s shirt, making buttons pop and fall silently to the ground, and crawled into bed. In the morning she would shower and wash the scent of sex off her skin, but right now—treacherously—she didn’t want to. In spite of what had happened.
* * *
‘Rafaele said that we’ll be leaving in an hour for Rome.’
Sam looked up with a studied air of nonchalance at Bridie, who had just come into the dining room. ‘Oh?’
Bridie had Milo by the hand and he ran over to Sam, who picked him up and hugged him close, revelling in his sturdy body and sweet baby scent.
Bridie helped herself to some coffee and asked, ‘How was the function last night?’
When Sam had woken that morning and come downstairs Bridie, Milo and Umberto had evidently already eaten, because the detritus of breakfast had been at the table but they had not. To her intense relief it appeared as if Rafaele had eaten also, as his place at the head of the table had already been used.
‘It was...very swish,’ Sam replied, knowing Bridie would love to hear about all the gowns and luxury. She took the cowardly way out and detailed to Bridie all of those things, while trying to ignore the disturbing memories threatening to spill into her mind at any given moment.
* * *
It took less than an hour to get from Milan to Rome and they arrived by lunchtime. Rafaele had arranged for one of his assistants to meet them at the airport with a car, and Bridie was whisked off in it to the Vatican, for the private tour Rafaele had arranged for her—much to her delight.
Another car was waiting for them, and Sam saw that Rafaele was going to drive them himself as he deftly secured Milo into the child’s car seat installed in the back. It made Sam think once again of how seamlessly Rafaele had incorporated Milo into his life and her heart ached to think of what might have happened if she had told Rafaele from the start about her pregnancy.
Sam got into the car and her heart thudded heavily when Rafaele settled his powerful body behind the wheel. So far this morning she’d managed to avoid saying anything more than yes or no.
He glanced at her now and she had to acknowledge him. She turned and his gaze on her was intent. Her face grew hot as lurid images from the previous night came back.
‘Okay?’ he asked, disconcerting her because there was a quality to his voice she hadn’t heard before. It sounded intimate. Concerned.
Sam was sure she’d imagined it so nodded quickly and looked back at Milo, who smiled, showing his small teeth. He was clutching a floppy teddy bear that Umberto had gifted him on their departure. Sam had been surprised to see what had looked suspiciously like tears in the old man’s eyes as they’d left, and also a lingering glance or two at Bridie, who had looked a bit more flustered than she usually did.
As Rafaele negotiated their way out of the private airfield Sam said, ‘Your father...was not what I expected.’
Rafaele’s mouth tightened, but he said, ‘No...I was surprised at how he welcomed Milo so instantaneously.’
‘It was nice,’ Sam admitted. ‘After all, he’s his only living grandparent now. My father was only alive to see Milo as a baby, so they didn’t really connect and Milo won’t remember him. Bridie is like a granny to Milo, but it’s different when it’s blood...’
Rafaele looked at her, his face inscrutable. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It is.’
For the first time Sam didn’t feel that Rafaele was getting in a dig. He was sounding almost as if he was realising the same thing himself.
‘We should...’ Sam blushed and stopped. ‘That is, I should make sure to try and let Milo see Umberto as much as possible. Do you think he’d come to England?’
Rafaele’s mouth quirked and he slid another glance to Sam. ‘I think he could be persuaded—especially if Bridie is going to be there.’
Sam smiled, rare lightness filling her chest. ‘You noticed it too, then?’
Rafaele looked at her and grew serious. He took her hand from her lap and held it. Immediately Sam’s body reacted. She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. Memories of the bondage of last night came back. Arousing her. Disturbing her.
He said something crude in Italian and had to let Sam’s hand go to navigate some hairy traffic. When it was clear again he said, ‘Sam, we need to talk...’
‘No,’ Sam said fiercely, panicked at the thought of dissecting what had happened last night. She looked back at Milo, who was still happily playing with the toy, and then back to Rafaele. ‘There’s nothing to discuss.’
‘Yes, there is, Sam,’ he asserted, ‘whether you like it or not. Tonight we’ll go out for dinner.’
‘Rafaele—’
But he cut her off with a stern look.
Sam shut her mouth and sat back, feeling
