was an attractive man—oh, to hell with such an insipid description, he was utterly gorgeous. He had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen in a man, a real crystal-blue that made her think of calm, sunlit oceans. When he fixed them on her, though, her internal reaction was turbulent; a crescendo of emotions she struggled to understand.
The way he’d made her feel that night...
He was used to women throwing themselves at him. She wasn’t so naïve as to believe marriage would tame him. Theirs was not a love match. ‘Our loyalty will be primarily to our child but I do not want the humiliation of your liaisons being paraded on the front pages of the tabloids. All I ask is that from now on you choose your lovers wisely.’
He inhaled sharply before expelling the air slowly. If his jaw became any more rigid she feared it would snap. ‘Anything else?’ he asked icily.
She refused to drop her gaze. ‘Only that if we marry I won’t be taking your name.’
Now she knew how it must have felt like to be glared at by Medusa. Forget mere fire; she could feel her blood turn to stone under his deadly stare.
‘Why. Not?’ he asked through gritted teeth.
‘Because I like my name and I don’t want to have to start all over again. I’ve spent the past seven years building my career but it’s only been in the last few that my name has become famous for my work rather than my heritage and past exploits.’ Alessandra wasn’t prepared to fool herself. She might be famous at the moment for her photography but she didn’t have the longevity that would still make her name roll off fashion editors’ lips if she took months off. Her work as a photographer could quickly be forgotten, others taking her place.
More importantly, although this was something she chose not to share with Christian, figuring she’d pushed him far enough as it was, she didn’t trust that their marriage would survive. If she was a betting girl, she would give them until their baby’s first birthday. By then, Christian would be clamouring for his freedom.
‘You can keep Mondelli as your business name but in our personal life you will be Markos.’
‘Do not tell me what I can and can’t do. Marriage will not make you my keeper.’
‘I never said it would. However, one of the main factors in us marrying is to promote stability and unity. Sharing a surname is a part of that.’
‘If you feel that strongly about it, you can change your name to Mondelli.’
‘That is out of the question.’
‘Why? Because you’re a man? I never took you for a caveman.’
‘It’s the tradition of marriage.’
‘We’re not marrying for traditional reasons. As I pointed out last night, we’re living in the twenty-first century. Plenty of couples marry without taking each other’s surnames. I’m sorry if this disappoints you but I’m not changing my name. It’s non-negotiable.’
‘Our child will take my name.’ He stared at her, the fire in his blue eyes, normally so warm and full of vitality, now turned icy cold. ‘That is non-negotiable.’
‘I can agree to that,’ she said, matching his cool tone. It was one thing refusing to take his name for herself— refusing to let their child take his name too would feel as if she was being cruel for cruelty’s sake.
‘Good.’ The coldness in his eyes thawed a fraction. ‘Does this mean—finally—that you will agree to our marriage?’
‘After all this you still want to marry me?’ she asked, a tiny bubble of amusement breaking through the tension. If Christian wanted a wife he could walk all over, she was certain she’d just proved she wouldn’t be that woman. She didn’t want to be a harridan but she knew she needed to establish the ground rules first. She’d worked too hard to build a life that was all her own to give it up without a fight. For her baby it was easy, but for a man? No.
‘All I want is what’s best for our baby.’
‘As do I.’ If that meant marrying Christian, then so be it. Rocco had always described him as a man of his word—if she didn’t agree, he would refuse to confirm paternity until after the birth. In the meantime, her name would be dragged through the mud again. She would have to cope with swarms of paparazzi hounding her; read the lies that would follow as speculation grew over who her baby’s father was; listen to the taunts that would surely rain down on her. She would have to suffer it alone, just as she had the first time.
And it wasn’t just she who would suffer. Rocco would too and God alone knew her brother had suffered enough at her hands.
But, above and beyond all that, her baby could be the one to suffer the most. Imagining—knowing—what people were thinking of her, were saying about her... It would contaminate her, just like it had the first time. She didn’t want that bitterness and despair to infect her innocent baby.
No, whichever way she looked at it, marrying Christian was the obvious, practical thing to do. Her head knew it. Soon enough her twisted guts would believe it too.
‘How will our marriage work on a practical level?’ she asked, stalling the moment when she would have to say aloud the words agreeing to tie her life to this man beside her.
‘We will lead our own lives.’ His gaze bore into her. ‘Our marriage will be private. We can keep separate rooms and lead independent lives so long as we show unity in public.’
‘I can accept that,’ she agreed.
‘But on our wedding night and honeymoon we will need to share a bed.’ Christian stared at her without blinking, making sure she understood. Alessandra’s approach, blunt as it was, was for the best—neither of them wanted there to be any misunderstandings. They would both enter matrimony with their eyes open but their hearts closed.
Colour tinged her cheeks. ‘Surely we don’t need to go that far?’
‘I want our marriage to be seen as legal in every respect. To protect our child from undue scandal and speculation, people must believe we’re in love.’ He tried to think about their marriage with his business head, consider it as just another merger between two companies. In essence, that was what it would be—a merger. The profit would come from the child they would raise together.
He’d craved isolation since he’d been a small child sharing cramped living space with his mother. His homes were his sanctuary, his space. Even his live-in staff had separate quarters.
Alessandra had been the first woman he’d woken next to and felt a tug of reluctance at having to leave.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling so greedy for someone as he had that night, when he’d wanted her so badly it had been as if he were consuming her. If he hadn’t been concerned that she might be feeling the physical soreness he assumed women must feel after losing their virginity, he would have made love to her all night long.
Her eyes didn’t waver although more colour crept over her face. ‘When you say you want it to be seen as legal in every respect, are you implying that we need to have sex?’
‘No.’ His voice dropped, heat unfurling within him as a memory of a dusky pink nipple floated
