“is served.”
She wasn’t sure which she wanted to inhale more—him or the coffee. She opened her eyes to find him dressed and clean-shaven. The kiss he pressed to her lips was long, leisurely, the kind that squeezed her heart. Curling her fingers around his nape, she hung on to the magic for as long as possible.
He finally released her, sprawling on the bed. “I bought pastries in the village,” he said, gesturing to the tray he’d tucked beside her.
“Is that a chocolate croissant?”
“What do you think?”
Yum. Her husband knew all of her weaknesses. She picked up her espresso and took a sip. Eyed him. Not as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as she’d first imagined with those dark shadows under his eyes. “Were you up last night? I thought I heard you.”
“I woke early.” He plucked a croissant off the plate. “An annoying habit I can’t seem to get rid of.”
She watched him over the rim of her coffee cup as he inhaled the croissant. “I had a thought on the walk back,” he said.
She lifted a brow.
“We’re going to have to renovate the Belmont locations before we fold them into the Ricci chain. Your clientele is a perfect match. Why not open Carmichael Creations boutiques in them?”
“You haven’t even landed them yet. Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”
“It will happen. It’s a perfect marriage of brands, don’t you think?”
He was serious about this. Her heart contracted. Once she would have given anything to hear him say that. To know he believed in her work that much. But their child needed to take precedence now.
“That’s a big compliment,” she said carefully, “but I have more business than I can handle at the moment and I want to remain hands-on. Plus, with the baby, I think we’ll have our hands full.”
“True.” His brow creased. “I suggested the hotel boutiques because you’ve always said you wanted a partnership between us. But the point is for you to be happy, Angelina. That’s what I want for you.”
A glow inside her sparked, grew to almost scary proportions. She’d never imagined they could be this good. This amazing together.
She didn’t want to be afraid of loving him anymore. She wanted to trust that this was going to work out, that they were meant to be together, just like he’d said that night in the Hamptons. Taking that last step, however, making herself completely vulnerable, was painfully hard.
His eyes darkened with a sensual heat that made her pulse leap. He nodded toward the half-eaten croissant in her hand. “You going to eat that?”
She shook her head. Put it down. He reached for her, covered her mouth with his in a kiss that was pure heat. Pure possession. She relaxed her grip on the sheets as he stripped them off her, working his way down her body, tasting, idolizing every inch of her.
It was the most leisurely, spine-tinglingly good buildup he’d ever lavished on her. The most perfect thing she’d ever experienced. By the time he joined their bodies, she was so far gone she was never coming back.
Mouth at her ear, his hand closing possessively over her breast, he started to move, seducing her with words as well as with his body. Heart stretching with the force of what she felt for him, she refused to consider the possibility her husband would never love her. She was through sabotaging her happiness.
THE WEEKS FOLLOWING her trip to Italy were as busy as Angie had expected as she caught up on the backlog of commissions that had come in. She ploughed through the work with the help of her fellow designers, knowing it was a good problem to have—growing pains for a business that seemed to have come into its own.
Burying herself in her work allowed her to achieve her other goal of putting her pregnancy into a manageable box and not let the fears eating away at the fringes of her psyche take control. The doctor had confirmed her pregnancy upon their return home, giving her a clean bill of health. She wasn’t going to fret about it. Or at least she was telling herself that.
Her husband, however, had clearly elected to take the opposite strategy. Although he was giving her the time to work he’d promised her, he had been monitoring her eating and sleeping habits like a hawk, enforcing periods of rest. When he happened to be around, that was. Ever since they’d come home, he had been working day and night to close the Belmont deal. Add to that another acquisition Franco was negotiating that required her husband’s counsel and Lorenzo wasn’t doing any eating or sleeping himself.
She knew it was an inordinately busy time, but the feeling that their life was sliding into its former self was growing stronger with every day. Their bond was too new, too nascent, not to allow the warning signals to affect her.
Another long day at the studio behind her, she walked into the penthouse just after eight, kicked off her shoes and made herself a cup of tea. Carrying it into the living room, she sat reading a book while she waited for her husband. But the book failed to keep her attention.
Weeks like this were the worst when Lorenzo was gone for nights on end. Old fears crept around her unsuspecting edges, insecurity set in. Given their dinners together at home had vaporized with her husband’s insane schedule and he refused to wake her up when he came to bed so late, she didn’t even have the comfort his passionate lovemaking offered, that seemed to make any obstacle seem surmountable.
The minutes ticked by, her agitation rising. Perhaps now that Lorenzo had had his fill of her, now that he’d gotten everything he wanted, he would lose interest again. Perhaps whatever client he was out wining and dining tonight was a convenient excuse to stay away. Perhaps the emotional distance she’d sensed in him since Portofino was a reality.
The clock struck ten. Discarding the book, she decided to take matters into her own hands. To be proactive rather than reactive. To take control of her relationship, something she hadn’t done the last time.
In her bedroom, she dug out the lingerie she’d bought earlier that week and slipped it on. The sexy cream-and-black baby doll that just covered her pertinent assets was fairly indecent. She stared at herself in the mirror, rosy color stinging her cheeks. The cream lace bodice did nothing to hide the bold thrust of her nipples, the silk encasing her curves a seductive caress that was pure temptation.
She pulled the elastic from her hair and let it fall around her shoulders the way her husband liked it. A slow smile curved her mouth. If this didn’t bring him running, nothing would.
* * *
Lorenzo arrived back at the table at the trendy restaurant in the meatpacking district, where he and his CMO were entertaining his Japanese business partners to find his phone sitting on his chair.
An amused smile curved his CMO’s mouth. “Figured you might not want the whole table seeing that,” he said, nodding toward the phone. He leaned closer. “PS—I’d go home if I were you.”
Lorenzo glanced at the screen. Almost choked on the sip of beer he’d taken. His wife dressed in a piece of lingerie he’d never seen before—an outrageously sexy piece,
