Chapter Nine
LILY SMOOTHED HER hands down the sleek fabric of her gorgeous blue dress.
Silk satin, the colour of a tropical sea.
Rocco had been right about Carmella being able to help.
She’d recommended a small boutique owned by a local designer and then ordered Rocco’s car to take her there.
When Lily had arrived, she’d seen the gown immediately.
Unable to help herself the way the glorious aqua-blue fabric slipped over her body, its clever draping allowing room for her slightly thickening waist. Even better, the dress and complementing sandals and a bag were on sale, so it didn’t put too much of a dent in her budget, which was the real win of the day.
She hoped for some wins tonight too. Steeling herself for whatever Rocco wanted to talk about.
The past days she’d felt in a kind of limbo, knowing that the baby was Rocco’s but waiting for the DNA test to prove it to him.
Now he was sure, she guessed the negotiations, whatever they were, could begin.
Lily stood at the full-length mirror in her beautiful bedroom overlooking the garden.
She’d miss it when she left. Just another change at a time when everything about her life seemed to be on moving ground, so what did it matter?
That was another tomorrow problem. Whilst not usually a procrastinator, soon she’d accumulate so many tomorrow problems she’d have a whole suitcase of them to take home with her.
Lily grabbed her silver clutch and checked her phone.
Almost time to go. She took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for what might be a difficult conversation.
She was prepared to be reasonable about everything.
Lily didn’t want to make an enemy of her baby’s father.
She wanted, as much as possible, for them to be friends …
Friends with benefits?
Where had that thought come from? No. She wound back her unruly mind.
Just friends. No benefits. Rocco was a handsome, urbane man who no doubt had women hurling themselves at him.
He wouldn’t want to be stuck with a woman whose only expedition to the wild side of life left her pregnant and throwing up on his footwear.
Especially when he could have glamazons like some of the models she’d seen adorning his arm in a few photos she’d spied on social media.
He seemed like a man in demand. Right now, she was a woman firmly on the untouchable pregnancy shelf.
She headed outside her room and made her way to the top of the stairs.
At the bottom stood Rocco, looking at something on his own phone.
Business, perhaps. One article she’d read about him described what his days looked like, helping to run his family’s famed furniture empire.
They’d sounded pretty punishing. No nine to five for this man.
Although she hadn’t witnessed much of that here.
Sure, there were phone calls she didn’t understand in Italian, which always sounded agitated—although it was a passionate language, so everything sounded a little more urgent.
But it hadn’t felt to her like he was running an empire.
Perhaps being in Rome rather than Milan meant different responsibilities?
As Lily began to walk down the stairs, he turned, his dark eyes fixing on her.
Rocco was magnificent in a perfectly cut steel-grey suit, finely polished black shoes, and a red-and-blue-patterned tie.
The way the clothes accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Her breath snagged in her throat.
The man could slay her with a look. His gaze carried a ferocity, an intensity, that almost melted her on the spot like ice left out in the midday sun.
‘You found a dress,’ he said, as she approached him at the bottom of the stairs.
Since falling pregnant, she’d kept her heels low, and the sandals she wore were no exception.
He towered above her. Though he didn’t seem to wield that height like a weapon.
It made her feel small and safe, not vulnerable.
She twirled, because she felt pretty. ‘It was on sale.’
The corner of his kissable mouth kicked up in a satisfied smile.
‘You look beautiful.’
It was as if a light switch had been turned on inside her, a bright glow right in her solar plexus. He’d said that to her before, on the night they met. But something about tonight seemed to hold so much more importance.
‘Thank you. You look …’ She waved her hand about chaotically, not sure what to say now she’d started talking. How could she ever comprehensively describe how he affected her?
He raised a querying eyebrow. ‘Like what?’
She didn’t think he was fishing for compliments, more like not letting her off the hook. Heat rushed to her cheeks. ‘The perfect businessman.’
‘I seem to have fallen in your estimation. Once, you threatened to call me Casanova. Let’s hope dinner can improve your impressions of me.’
That exchange between them seemed so long ago. Right now, Lily hardly remembered the woman she’d been back then. If he was expecting her tonight, he’d be disappointed … But Rocco was nothing but solicitous as he led her to the car. Opened the door for her, helped her in.
‘Where are we going tonight?’ she asked after he’d hopped in after her.
‘A little place I enjoy. It’s close and walkable, but I wasn’t sure of your shoes or energy level.’
It was a thoughtful and insightful comment that had an ember ignite inside of her.
Warming her to him even more. And he’d been right, after a short drive negotiating some chaotic traffic, the car pulled up in a side street.
Rocco offered his hand to help her out of the car.
As she placed hers in his, memories of how his hands felt against her skin came flooding back.
The slight roughness she relished. The way it teased at her skin.
How he’d explored every part of her body, made her sigh and scream.
There was no point to those thoughts. They might have a future together as co-parents of their child, but they didn’t have anything else. The minute they left the car she drew away from him.
He led her inside the building, where an elevator took them up a few floors to the busy venue.
They were met by an efficient staff member who knew Rocco by name and led them through the bustling yet elegant restaurant to a balcony outside.
A private area, screened off behind potted trees and decorative dividers that gave them seclusion from the rest of the diners.
Theirs was an intimate setting. Crisp white tablecloth and gleaming silverware, a small bunch of flowers at the centre of the table.
Flickering tea light candles. But that wasn’t what ultimately snagged her attention.
It was the view ahead of them. One of the most famous ruins of them all, lit up in beautiful, golden lights.
She walked to the balcony rail overlooking Rome, mouth slightly open.
‘That’s the Colosseum.’
‘Astute observation,’ Rocco said. His tone was playful, and she could hear the smile in it. Here was the man from the night of the ball. The one who was a danger to every part of her equilibrium.
Lily leaned forwards against the balcony rail. ‘That’s just. I can’t even. It’s beautiful.’
A wall of warmth teased at her back. The heat of him standing close.
Reminiscent of the night at the ball when she’d been watching the aerialist and her breathtaking performance with ribbons.
Rocco had reached out and touched her then.
Would he do it tonight? Butterflies took wing in her belly at the thrill of that thought.
The pleasure recollecting his simple touch sang along every nerve. Goosebumps sparkled across her body.
‘You enjoyed the Baths, I think,’ Rocco said, his breath teasing the back of her neck. She’d put her hair up in a messy topknot and thanked the heavens for her inspired choice. ‘I thought you’d enjoy this.’
She craved to lean back, to rest her head on his shoulder, let him take the weight of the world.
Her first trimester of pregnancy might not have been as hard for her as for some women, but it was all relative.
Nights she became so tired she didn’t even remember falling asleep.
Waking up on a couch with no memory of the moments between wakefulness and slumber.
Her consciousness being a light switch just flicked off.
Her only real support since she’d broken up with Richard and their friends had chosen him, was Maxine.
There were limits to that relationship given Max was her boss.
They were keeping in touch, but Lily hadn’t realised how much she’d wanted something more personal, another human to share her pregnancy journey with.
Who better than the father of her child?
In Rocco’s home she’d begun feeling healthier.
Her morning sickness subsiding. Carmella kept her well-fed with a handy supply of lemons should she feel a little under the weather.
Rocco had been insistent on the fluids, rest and nutrition mantra, and it had helped.
Still, what if things got difficult again?
What if the pregnancy became complicated?
That wasn’t something she needed to think about right now. She could enjoy this. A hopefully delicious dinner with a handsome man. Life was as simple or as complicated as you wanted to make it. Tonight, she was looking for simple.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m still getting used to all the history around the city. I’d like to explore the Colosseum …one day.’
Now that Rocco was assured the baby was his, there was no need to stay. An ache at the thought of leaving replaced the quiet bloom of warmth in her chest.
‘Perhaps when you’ve had the baby I could organise a private tour.’
The ache in her chest intensified. That was kind of him, and his comment presumed that she’d be back here. Perhaps that presumption wasn’t far wrong. There was no reason why they both couldn’t travel so Rocco could share time with their child.