For a while the room was silent, save for the shuddering sounds of air being gulped back into their starved lungs, like two people who had just been saved from drowning. And when their breathing was steady he kissed her for a long time—until the need to yawn became unbearable.

‘Charming,’ she said, stroking a fingertip over the rasp of growth at his jaw as he opened his eyes and looked at her.

‘I do my best,’ he murmured.

She could hear the sleepiness in his voice and for a moment Justina lay in the warm circle of his arms and let sensation ripple over her skin. His lips were pressed against her neck, and in that moment she felt utterly protected. She wanted to tell him that nobody else had ever made her feel this way. She wanted to blurt out the secrets she’d held hidden in her heart for so many years.

But Dante had hurt her. He had hurt her badly. Why would she risk that happening all over again? Why jeopardise everything with an emotional outburst when it was far better to play safe? She needed to protect herself against the threat of heartbreak—as much for Nico’s sake as for her own. Because a heartbroken mother did not make a good mother. She of all people knew that.

So sleep, she told herself. Take this opportunity to rest. You’re tired, you’re a new mother and you’ve got a family dinner to get through tonight.

Dante heard the slowing of her breathing as she snuggled against him and he stared down at the ebony hair which spread like treacle over the pillow. He studied the dark curve of her eyelashes and the paper-pale skin against which they brushed. She was pressed so close that he could feel the beating of her heart, and something like certainty crept over him.

He thought about the baby who lay sleeping in the next room. He thought about the harsh and unequivocal words of his lawyer as he acknowledged one fundamental truth. That he wanted this...this family. Just like she’d said, he wanted it all. Nico. Her. All of them together.

And Justina was going to have to start seeing things his way.

CHAPTER NINE

JUSTINA WOKE ALONE from a restless sleep, where images of green mountains were interwoven with the intimate caress of a man’s strong body and a silence where there should have been a baby’s cry. Startled, she sat bolt upright in bed.

A baby’s cry!

Momentarily disorientated, she looked around, trying to get her bearings, blinking back her faint feeling of disbelief. She was in Dante’s family villa. More accurately, she was in Dante’s bed. She stared down at the empty space beside her. Only he’d gone. Where...?

She jumped out of bed, grabbing at one of the rumpled sheets to wrap it around her naked body before stumbling into the adjoining room to find Nico’s cot empty.

A whimper erupted from her throat as she fought to control a rising feeling of panic. Where was her baby? She rushed back into the bedroom and threw on jeans and a sweater, before slipping her feet into a pair of flip-flops as she ran from the room to look for him.

But the palazzo was vast, and although she called out Dante and Nico’s names in an increasingly concerned voice her calls were met with a resounding silence.

She ran outside, her eyes skating over the horizon, over the distant mountains and the sunlight which was gilding the leaves of the olive trees. Only then did she see him, down among the neat rows of the vines. A tall, dark man pushing a buggy, silhouetted against the classic Tuscan backdrop. Her heart lurched with relief, but she felt the shimmering of something else as she began to run towards them. Something which felt uncomfortably like fear.

‘Dante!’

She saw him stop. Saw him lean down as if he was saying something to the inhabitant of the buggy. And then he straightened up and stood, perfectly still, watching her run towards him until she finally reached them, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, her eyes raking over the cot. Her anxiety was only allayed when she saw that Nico was lying there, sleeping peacefully.

Dante heard the breathless accusation in her voice and something inside him hardened. ‘What does it look like?’ he demanded. ‘I brought Nico out for a walk in the fresh air.’

Her fears—which had seemed so real—now began to evaporate. ‘I thought...’

‘What did you think, Justina?’ he questioned acidly. ‘That I’d kidnapped our son?’

In the beauty of the Tuscan afternoon her response now seemed faintly ridiculous. ‘I woke up alone.’

‘I thought you could use the sleep.’

‘I’ve...’ She struggled to explain, wanting to wipe that cold, hard look from his face. ‘It’s all been a bit of an adjustment. Not just coming here, but getting used to having a baby around. This is the first time since he’s been born that he hasn’t been...’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘That he hasn’t been there when I’ve woken.’

Slowly Dante nodded as he acknowledged what lay behind her behaviour, but he also knew that her actions were motivated by something that went much deeper than maternal anxiety. He had never wanted nor asked for the judgement of a woman until now, but for the first time in his life he could see that he needed to give voice to the one question which had remained unspoken.

‘Don’t you trust me, Justina?’ he asked quietly.

Justina looked at him. She knew what she should say. She should tell him that, yes, of course she trusted him—because wouldn’t that smooth things over? He would smile, and then they would kiss, and then make a fuss of Nico. And to anyone watching from the house they would look like the perfect family. But this wasn’t some sort of play, she reminded herself. This was real life—and being in bed with him this afternoon had made some of her defences come tumbling down. She couldn’t keep hiding from the truth simply because it was painful. Dante had asked her an unexpectedly honest question which deserved nothing but an honest answer.

‘Actually, no,’ she said. ‘Not really.’

He stilled, because somehow hadn’t he expected—hoped for—a different response? ‘So me being there for you during the birth and afterwards counts for nothing?’

Her gaze was steady. ‘I didn’t realise you were doing it to score Brownie points.’

‘I wasn’t,’ he defended, indignation catching in his throat as he looked at her long dark hair which was blowing in the breeze. And suddenly he wanted to make it very clear to her exactly where he stood on the subject of other women. ‘Don’t you realise that I haven’t looked at another woman since I met you again at Roxy’s wedding?’

‘How would I know that?’ she asked quietly. ‘I’m not a mind-reader.’

‘Let me tell you what it was like when I saw you again after all those years,’ he said slowly. ‘You blew me away—just like you did before. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I kept telling myself to stay away from you. That we were bad for each other. I knew that. Only the temptation to come and find you was eating away at me.’

She didn’t say anything, because his words didn’t sound like affection or anything close to it. They sounded like addiction. Was Dante addicted to the emotional danger which had always existed between them? Was she?

‘And then I discovered you were pregnant,’ he said. ‘And my desire very quickly became anger. Anger that you didn’t bother to tell me. That you were prepared to keep me in the dark about the fact I was going to be a father.’

‘Surely you can understand why I did that?’

‘Not really, no. Was it power that made you keep it secret?’ he questioned. ‘Or control?’

Standing silhouetted against the dying apricot light of the Tuscan day, Justina thought that she had never seen him looking more indomitable, and yet his inherent arrogance almost took her breath away.