seducing me?’
‘Do I need to remind you how explosive our chemistry was?’
‘No, but perhaps I need to remind you there is more to a relationship—to a marriage—than what happens between the sheets.’
‘Or on a desk,’ Alessandro murmured, his eyes glinting.
Mia’s cheeks heated and she looked away. ‘Indeed.’
Alessandro settled back in his seat. ‘Like I said, we have chemistry, Mia. Let’s build on that.’
‘That’s hardly the foundation for a good marriage.’ In fact she feared it could be a disastrous one. What about shared values, aspirations, ideals? And besides, she had never wanted to get married, anyway. She’d never wanted to be so in thrall to another person, so under their control…and yet here she was. It filled her with a feeling of fearful hopelessness.
‘Chemistry and a shared love of a child is plenty,’ Alessandro returned. ‘More than many, or even most, have, and something we can build on.’
‘Did your parents love each other?’ she asked bluntly, and he stilled, clearly surprised by the question, before he gave a terse shake of his head.
‘My mother loved my father, but he did not love her in return.’
‘So would our marriage be one of love, eventually? Is that what you would hope for?’
Alessandro stilled, a guarded look coming over his face. ‘Our love of Ella…’
‘You know that’s not what I mean.’
‘What do you mean, Mia? Yesterday you told me you had never intended on marrying. Are you now telling me you want something different out of your marriage?’
She deflated, wondering why she’d pursued the point. ‘No, I’m not saying that. I’ve never wanted to fall in love.’
‘And neither have I, so I think we’re a good match.’
Yet why did that make her feel so despairing, so hopeless? She’d never wanted to marry, yet now that she might, she didn’t think she wanted a marriage devoid of affection. She felt trapped, choiceless, and she hated that. At least it was only for three months. It felt like the only silver lining to an otherwise towering, dark cloud.
‘My parents’ relationship was stormy and difficult,’ Alessandro said after a moment. She had the sense he was telling her something he didn’t relate often. ‘They never married, and, as I told you once before, my father walked out before I was born. My mother spent the next fifteen years beaten down by life, working dead-end jobs, moving from grotty flat to grotty flat, all in pursuit of some man or other…toxic relationships with wastrels or drunks or men who only wanted one thing.’ He sighed heavily, his gaze turning distant, as if he was lost or even trapped in a memory. ‘And she gave her heart every time, or so it seemed to me. It was no way to live.’ Mia heard a raw note of sadness in his voice that she’d never heard before, and it touched her, made her see him in a new and surprising light.
‘That must have been difficult for you,’ she said quietly, the aggression gone from her voice.
‘It wasn’t easy,’ Alessandro agreed, a dark note in his voice that made Mia’s heart ache. She had an image in her head of a little black-haired boy watching with wide, grey eyes as his mother invited another man into their lives, as they were forced to move, as life upended for him again and again. His childhood had been as challenging as hers, if not more so, just in a different way.
‘And so this is the alternative?’ she asked after a moment.
‘It’s an alternative.’ Alessandro met her gaze directly, his expression now one of firm purpose. ‘Give us a chance, Mia. I’m willing to. We can have a marriage of companionship and compatibility. It doesn’t have to be some terrible truce, or a sorry stalemate.’
‘A loveless marriage?’
‘Love is overrated. You must think that yourself, with your own background. Why fall head first into something that spins out of control when you can have something so much better?’
He made it sound so reasonable. So possible. Still Mia hesitated. ‘We still don’t even know each other, Alessandro.’
‘Which is why we’re giving it three months.’ He smiled and downed the rest of his champagne.
Three months, Mia thought, and then he’d expect her to marry him. And at that point, she had a terrible feeling she’d be the subject of another hostile takeover…impossible to refuse or resist. Alessandro would make sure of it.
Ella stirred in her seat, and Mia rose from where she’d been sitting. ‘She needs a top-up,’ she said. ‘And I’m really tired. I’ll feed her in bed and then go to sleep, if you don’t mind.’
‘All right.’ Alessandro had a thoughtful look on his face as he tracked her movements. She unbuckled Ella from her seat and scooped her up, breathing in her sweet baby scent, savouring the innocence of it. All this was for Ella’s sake, she told herself. Fighting Alessandro at every turn would only end up hurting Ella. For her daughter’s sake, she had to get along with this man. She had to give this—them—a try, even if everything in her still railed against it.
‘Please let me or a member of staff know if you need anything,’ Alessandro said solicitously. ‘Anything at all.’
She nodded, knowing she needed to make an effort even though part of her resisted. ‘Thank you, Alessandro,’ she said stiffly.
Surprise flashed across his features, followed by a ripple of pleasure, and then he nodded. Mia turned and walked towards the back of the plane with Ella in her arms.
He should have thanked her back, Alessandro realised belatedly as Mia closed the door of the plane’s bedroom behind her. She’d thanked him; he should have thanked her, for going along with his plans, for agreeing to so much. But he hadn’t thought of it, and the realisation shamed him, an unexpected, unwelcome feeling.
What he was doing was reasonable and generous. He was offering Mia far more than she could ever have on her own—a lifestyle of which she would have never been able even to dream. And yet…in some way he was taking her freedom. He recognised that, just as he recognised she was taking his. Still, it had been his idea, his will. He recognised that too.
Restless, Alessandro rose from his seat to prowl the living area of the plane, knowing he wouldn’t be able to work or settle to anything. He should be feeling satisfied, having arranged everything as he’d wanted it. Within twenty-four hours of arriving in California, he had Mia and his daughter back on a plane to Tuscany.
All was going according to his plan. So why did he feel so…restless? So dissatisfied and hungry, in a way he didn’t expect or understand?
He sat down again, pulling his laptop towards him, determined to work. But after only an hour he realised he hadn’t got anything done; he’d been staring at a spreadsheet of profit margins for at least twenty minutes.
With a near growl,
