Chapter Nine #3
‘I don’t understand,’ she asked, glancing around at the intensely private setting, tucked away from the rest of the diners.
With candles on their table, flowers, the soft hush of intimacy.
She’d believed this dinner was to talk about arrangements for their baby.
But maybe it was something else entirely?
This wasn’t just some ‘little place’ like he’d claimed.
This was a restaurant for celebrations, special occasions.
Making milestones … Lily’s breath snagged in her throat.
‘Let me make myself plain,’ Rocco replied. ‘Marry me and there will be no need to leave Italy at all.’
Lily’s eyes widened. She put her knife and fork down with a clatter on the plate.
Rocco took time to finish his own zucchini flower, carefully placing his knife and fork together.
He’d asked for the private space tonight so that he could have this conversation with her.
Marriage was the perfect solution. A relationship born of practicality, to care for the child neither of them had planned, but who was clearly wanted.
As for the passion …that was simply an added bonus between them. He was no romantic, not anymore. Carla had seen to that. He and Lily had a higher purpose now: to care for a child. A child he would not see afflicted by bitterness because of an absent father.
And without knowing it, Lily brought something else to his life.
A burst of unparalleled creativity. He’d been in a kind of stasis before meeting her.
It was like she’d jump-started him. There were even moments when he could forget about his family.
About Leo, and Rocco’s futile attempts to get in touch to find out more about a past he’d been ignorant of.
‘You cannot be serious,’ she said.
‘I am. We’re having a child. It’s the perfect solution.’
‘This isn’t the seventeenth century, Rocco. No-one’s going to force me to pin a scarlet letter onto my clothing or ostracise me because I’m not married to my baby’s father.’
As she’d said ‘my baby’ Lily placed her hand on her stomach. A regular move with her, signifying protectiveness. She clearly wanted the best for their child. She had to realise, so did he. It was an imperative for him.
‘Our baby,’ he reminded her.
‘Of course the baby’s yours too. I won’t exclude you from our child’s life. I came to find you, to tell you, because I believed that was important.’
The colour flushed high on her cheeks. A glorious blush made her glow, brimming with health. So different from the pale woman who’d collapsed into his arms the day she arrived on his doorstep.
‘You’ll want for nothing. I can look after you. Our baby will have my name, be my heir which carries significant currency.’
‘You think I can’t look after the baby?’ she asked, almost hissing through gritted teeth.
‘I have no doubt you can.’ He held up his hands in an effort to placate her. ‘What is the saying? It takes a village to raise a child.’
Members of the waitstaff took that moment to arrive.
Removing their empty plates, replacing them with another.
A delicious lobster risotto. He’d asked Carmella what Lily liked to eat.
He’d noticed an increase in seafood in their meals so guessed it might be a favourite.
Carmella had confirmed it, so he’d advised the restaurant.
Lily smiled at the waiter, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
‘Please leave us till I signal you,’ he asked the staff member in Italian. ‘We have things to discuss.’
The waiter nodded and slipped away.
‘You said you were estranged from your family?’
Her gaze dropped to her lap, her teeth raking over her lower lip.
‘Who’s in your village, Lily?’
She raised her head. Her bottom lip trembled. ‘I don’t want to get married. Been engaged, planned that. Didn’t work out.’
This much he knew from the investigations he’d had conducted. The question was why? What had the man done to her to put that bruised appearance on her face. ‘What happened?’
She looked out over at the Colosseum as if lost in a past full of pain. She’d been the same age as he had, when Carla had shattered all faith in relationships.
‘My fiancé—’ she spat out the word as if it were something spoiled in her mouth ‘—the man I was engaged to for almost two years. The man who was supposed to love and cherish me, was never planning on being faithful to me. Called me dull. I overheard him. I was nothing more than a stepping stone for his career.’
Rocco clenched his fists, released them. Flexing his fingers. He was overcome by the fiery need to inflict pain on the man who’d done that to her. He had the name. It wouldn’t be difficult to exact vengeance … Although Rocco had no idea where such strength of feeling had come from.
‘When I left, I lost everything. My friends. My family, who wanted me to marry him anyhow. So tell me, why should I ever go down that path again? What’s in it for me? Because I’ve wasted enough time on people who didn’t care.’
‘I can give you a village,’ Rocco said, his voice hard and certain. ‘I can give you truth. Respect. I don’t want love or romance. I won’t pretend that I do. What we have is more important. A shared vision to care for the baby we’ve created together, and passion.’
Lily picked up a fork. Toyed with the risotto on her plate. He wanted her to eat. To enjoy. Not to worry.
‘Was this gorgeous venue, the caring, all a ploy to get me to agree to marry you?’
A scorching bolt of anger shot through Rocco. Not at Lily, but at the man who’d convinced her she somehow wasn’t deserving of attention and consideration. He decided to offer her a truth, from his own life. The honesty she deserved.
‘I know what it’s like to be played for a fool. To believe in love. To discover it’s a lie. I never wanted marriage for myself, but our baby has changed everything.’
All he could think of was this child growing up apart from him.
Sharing half the holidays. Him a stranger to them if Lily moved back to London.
The knowledge of bitterness and hatred that Leo felt, because of their father’s rejection.
Rocco did not want that for his own child.
He didn’t believe Lily would want it either.
She sat there in her beautiful blue dress that, unbeknownst to Lily, he’d paid for most of in an arrangement with the store under the ruse of a sale, so her pride wouldn’t be damaged.
Her hair swept up in a messy knot on top of her head.
A fierce protector of the child she carried.
He craved to sculpt the smooth curve of her cheek, the elegant sweep of her neck.
The bulge of her belly. For now he’d planted the seed of an idea and he hoped that it would take root and grow.
Robust and strong as the baby they’d made together.
A sense of rightness settled over him, as it always seemed to when around Lily.
Something undone inside him began to stitch back together.
Another reason why a marriage was a perfect idea.
‘We don’t need to talk about any of this now,’ he said with a smile.
‘No decisions need to be made. We have tonight, a beautiful location. Excellent food and company. Enjoy. Eat. Feed that bambino of ours.’
Then later, he’d show her just how good they’d be together.
Rocco was true to his word. They didn’t talk any more about his marriage proposal. They shared a magnificent meal and talked about her job in Maxine’s gallery. A little about his own work. The conversation was light as a spring breeze. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said.
‘Marry me and there will be no need to leave Italy at all.’
The perfect stage had been set for a proposal; she saw that now. The quiet space. The romantic setting. Yet the whole idea was ludicrous …wasn’t it?
Her thoughts churned in the short car ride home.
Rocco had apologised, saying he had some work to attend to and was tapping away at his phone.
In the hush at the back of the car it was like she was cocooned, all too aware of his imposing presence.
His size, how solid and sure he was. The scent of him, intoxicating spice.
She simply wanted to nestle her nose into the crook of his neck and breathe him in.
He overwhelmed her, being so close. A danger to her in every way because, whilst most parts of her rejected outright the idea of marrying a stranger as utterly anachronistic, a tiny, secret part of her wondered what it would be like if this were real.
Not for love, because he wasn’t offering that, but for the passion.
She was dragged from her thoughts as they pulled up outside his home.
‘Wait here,’ he said to her, exiting the car and jogging round to her side. He opened her door and held out his hand. The light of the cabin illuminated his handsome features as he looked down at her.
‘I don’t need help.’
‘It’s dark, and the paths to my house are cobblestones and a little uneven. I don’t want you to trip.’
What objection could she have to that? It was a sensible suggestion, and refusal would just make her seem obtuse for the sake of it.
She placed her hand in his. His palm was warm, his touch, tender.
She thrilled at the sensation of his skin against hers.
Bringing back memories of their bodies entwined.
The intoxication of their lovemaking. A need to be in his arms, underneath him, bursting to life.
But passion and desire would cloud her mind. She had to be clear and rational about this. Romantic ideas were what had her engaged once before, fooled by a handsome man who didn’t really love her. At least Rocco was honest about his feelings. He wasn’t feeding her false dreams, but reality.
She left the car, his hand clasped round hers as they walked to the front gate. He keyed in the security code and let them both in, traversing the cobbled path to his front door where his hold was strong and sure. He gave Lily confidence he wouldn’t let her fall.
The house lay in semi-darkness, only a few lights on.