that moulded to the shape of her breasts and a pair of boy shorts. He felt his body respond, and in only a pair of drawstring pyjama bottoms he knew Emma would be able to tell if she lowered her gaze just as he’d lowered his.
‘She’s asleep,’ he whispered, and moved quietly out of the nursery, brushing past Emma as he did so. He sucked in a hard breath as her breasts nudged against his chest, and her hair whispered against his cheek. He inhaled the scent of her, sweetness and sleep, and he averted his face from the temptation of hers.
Emma closed the door behind him and they stood in the hallway, only a few inches separating them, the only light coming from a lamp Larenzo had left on in the living room, its warm glow spilling onto the floor.
It was so reminiscent of that night in the villa, the way things had shifted between them in the quiet and dark. Barriers had disappeared, defences had dropped. In that bubble of solitude and intimacy there had only been the two of them, seeking and finding both solace and pleasure.
And there were just the two of them now, standing so close together, the only sound the sigh and draw of their breathing.
‘What did it mean?’ Emma asked in a whisper, and Larenzo forced himself to meet her gaze, to hold himself still, when all he wanted to do was drag her into his arms, forget everything but this, them, for a little while.
‘What did what mean?’
‘The lullaby. I couldn’t make out the Italian. I’m rusty, I suppose.’
‘Oh... Sleep, sleep, sleep, cradle baby. Your mother is not here, she has gone away.’ Belatedly he realised how it sounded. ‘It’s the only lullaby I know. I didn’t even realise I knew it until I started singing.’
‘Is it from your childhood?’ Emma asked, and Larenzo blinked.
‘I suppose it has to be. But I don’t remember anyone singing me any lullabies.’ He heard the note of bitterness that had crept into his voice and he tried to shrug it off. No point in dwelling on the past, just as he’d told Emma. ‘Anyway, Ava seemed to like it.’
‘Thank you,’ Emma said softly, and she reached out and laid a hand on his arm. The touch of her fingers on his skin was electric, jolting his senses as if he’d stuck his finger into a socket. He held himself still, staring down at her hand, her slender fingers curled around his biceps.
She’d touched him like this back in Sicily. And he’d put his hand on hers, and for a moment he hadn’t felt alone. He’d felt as if someone was on his side, someone actually cared...
But that was a lifetime ago, and it hadn’t been true anyway. Their night together had been a moment out of time, out of reality. An aberration.
Larenzo forced himself to shake off her hand. ‘It was nothing,’ he said and without saying anything else he turned and went back to his bedroom.
* * *
Emma woke to sunlight pouring through the windows of her bedroom, and the sound of Ava gurgling with laughter from the adjoining nursery. She stretched, savouring the moment’s relaxation before the day with all of its demands began.
Then she heard Larenzo’s answering laughter and realised he was in the nursery with Ava. Just the rumbling sound of his voice as he talked to their daughter brought the memory of last night back with slamming force. Emma didn’t think she’d seen or heard anything as beautiful, as desirable, as Larenzo cradling their baby to his bare chest as he sang her a lullaby in lilting Italian.
Watching him in the darkened nursery, she’d wanted him almost as much as she’d wanted him that night back at the villa. Wanted to feel his hot, hard skin against hers, his lips on hers as he treasured and cherished her with his body...
For a few seconds, when she’d touched his arm, simply because she had no longer been able to keep herself from it, she’d thought he was battling the same kind of temptation. Thought, and even hoped, that he might give in to it. In that moment she’d known if he’d kissed her she’d be lost, just as she had been before. Nothing would have kept her from him.
But he’d walked away instead, and Emma had spent a restless night trying to banish the ache of longing inside her. Now she got out of bed and hurriedly dressed in jeans and a sweater before going into the nursery.
Larenzo was dressed in an elegant and crisp suit, and he’d already changed Ava’s diaper and was now wrestling her into a bodysuit. Ava was resisting him, her whole body rigid as she stared up at him in stubborn determination.
‘I think she’s winning,’ Emma said, and Larenzo glanced up, his mouth curving wryly.
‘There’s no thinking about it. It’s definite.’
‘Do you want me to—?’
‘Please.’ He stepped aside and with a smile Emma finished dressing Ava, who saw that the jig was up and relaxed her body as she blew a raspberry.
‘Clearly you have the touch,’ Larenzo observed.
‘Years, or rather, months of practice.’ She turned to face him, her heart bumping against her ribs as she realised how close he was. The woodsy scent of his aftershave tickled her nostrils and made heat lick low in her belly. ‘You look smart. Are you going somewhere?’
‘I have a few meetings at the office. But...’ He hesitated, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice. ‘We can have breakfast first, if you’d like. I went out early this morning and bought some bagels and coffee.’
‘Okay.’ Emma followed him into the kitchen, Ava balanced on one hip. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bagels made her mouth water. ‘So if you’re not CEO of Cavelli Enterprises,’ she asked, ‘what are you doing exactly?’
‘I’m starting a new company,’ Larenzo answered as he poured them both coffees. Emma settled Ava into her high chair with a few torn-off pieces of bagel. ‘LC Investments.’
‘And what are you going to do?’
‘I hope to invest in start-up businesses, the kind of places that might have trouble getting loans from one of the big banks.’
‘That sounds rather noble.’
He shrugged and handed her a mug of steaming coffee. ‘I have some sympathy for the underdog.’
Because he could relate? And yet Larenzo Cavelli was so powerful, so charismatic, so arrogant. He’d even seemed so back in Sicily when he’d been handcuffed and at the police’s mercy. Standing there now, one hip braced against the counter, his large hands cradling a mug of coffee, he managed to look like the lord of all he surveyed, his confidence careless and yet utterly assured. And yet this man had come from the street.
‘Did you feel like the underdog as a child?’ she asked after a moment.
Larenzo pursed his lips as he considered. ‘I suppose I would have, if I’d thought about it. I was just trying to survive.’
‘I’m amazed at how far you’ve come. You should be incredibly proud of yourself, Larenzo, going from street orphan to CEO.’
His mouth tightened and he shook his head. ‘I had some help.’
Who
