‘You love it here.’ A statement, not a query.
‘It’s where I come to relax.’
‘Do you?’ Taylor asked with a degree of cynicism. ‘Relax? Ever?’
‘The company of a good woman, family, provides a persuasive element.’
The mere thought conjured up an image she didn’t want to contemplate. ‘Marriage? All you’ll need to do is crook a finger to whoever takes your fancy from a long line of willing women.’
‘Indeed?’
Dante watched the fleeting emotions chase across her expressive features for the few seconds it took for her to control them.
There was no artifice or pretence apparent, but a strength of mind he could only admire. It was her determination to fight to the bitter end for what was right for Ben… something he counted on.
She intrigued him…cool, laid-back on the surface, and in control. Except she became a chameleon in his arms, sensually alive in a way that made him want more, so much more than she wanted to give.
Was prepared to give, he amended…and recognised the difference.
‘Make no mistake,’ Dante began with dangerous quietness. ‘It’s you I want as my wife.’
Helen Bianchin was born in New Zealand and travelled to Australia before marrying her Italian-born husband. After three years they moved, returned to New Zealand with their daughter, had two sons, then resettled in Australia. Encouraged by friends to recount anecdotes of her years as a tobacco sharefarmer’s wife living in an Italian community, Helen began setting words on paper, and her first novel was published in 1975. An animal lover, she says her terrier and Persian cat regard her study as as much theirs as hers.
THE ITALIAN’S RUTHLESS MARRIAGE COMMAND
BY
HELEN BIANCHIN
CHAPTER ONE
DO I have to go to kindergarten today?’
Taylor drew the dark-haired little boy close in a loving hug, felt his small arms curve round her neck in a gesture that tugged at her heart…and fiercely vowed to protect him at any cost.
Just three and a half years old, he’d had his world recently shattered beyond belief with the loss of both his parents in a car crash.
Ben d’Alessandri had become part of her life from the moment her sister, Casey, had announced her pregnancy.
Together, they’d shared setting up a nursery, choosing motifs, soft toys and baby clothes…indulgently sanctioned by Casey’s husband, Leon.
It had been Taylor who’d gowned up and added her encouragement to that of Leon as they supported Casey during the birthing process…and afterwards, witnessing Casey and Leon’s shared joy in the miracle of their baby son.
Two sisters, tragically orphaned in their teens, they’d shared a close bond, championing each other in their chosen pursuits…and celebrating the other’s successes. Casey had graduated in law and Taylor, a talented writer, had had her first book accepted for publication a year before Ben’s birth.
‘Why can’t I come with you and see Zio Dante?’
The mere mention of Leon’s brother’s name caused Taylor’s stomach to do a slow backward flip before settling into a state of unease.
‘You’ll see your uncle soon,’ she said gently, meeting his solemn gaze.
‘Promise?’
‘Yes.’ It was a given.
‘Today?’
‘I think so,’ she allowed cautiously. ‘Except we must remember he’s had a long flight from Italy, and he’s going straight to a business meeting.’
Ben nodded his head. ‘With you.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘About me.’
Oh, Lord, honesty to his level of understanding seemed the best way to go.
‘Of course,’ she teased. ‘Aren’t you just the most important person in the universe? A boy for whom your devoted aunt will slay dragons?’
‘And lions.’
Taylor placed her lips into the curve of his neck and blew a soft raspberry kiss, heard him giggle and brushed her lips to his cheek, loving the clean smell of soap, shampoo and freshly laundered clothes.
‘The entire animal kingdom if I had to,’ she assured solemnly and joined in his delighted laughter.
‘Zio Dante, too?’
It was all too easy to picture Dante in hero mode. His tall, broad-shouldered frame exuded male perfection, but it was his strong-boned facial features which drew attention.
Eyes dark as sin and just as dangerous, they alternately promised or threatened much.
The first time she’d met him had been the night of Casey and Leon’s engagement party when he had flown in from New York for the celebration.
All it had taken was a look, and the blood had fizzed in her veins, causing her emotions to go every which way as she fought against the instant electric attraction. Something which stole the breath from her throat and any coherent words from her mind.
He was a man who made her think of the forbidden. And how he could easily circumvent a woman’s objection… especially hers.
Except she’d consciously guarded herself against him, sensing that he knew she did so, for she’d been sure the teasing touch of his mouth to her own had been deliberate at the evening’s end.
The light sweep of his tongue along her lower lip, the faint nibble at its sensitive centre…and how the action caused her body to suffuse with languorous warmth.
‘Taylor?’
Oh, heavens, get a grip.
She made a dashing slash with one hand and summoned a fierce expression as she assured, ‘Zio Dante will slay them all with his mighty sword.’
Ben’s eyes grew round. ‘Does he have a real sword?’
‘No, just a pretend one.’
Taylor rose to her feet with Ben in her arms. ‘Now, young man. It’s kindergarten and lots of fun with the other kids. OK?’
‘I guess.’
She collected her bag, keys, locked the small two-bedroom apartment and together they took the lift down to the underground car park, where her Lexus sedan stood in its parking bay.
It wasn’t difficult to engage Ben’s attention during the short drive and, although he appeared pensive as she checked him in with one of the carers, he brightened almost immediately as two of his friends raced over to greet him.
His smile and wave as she left tugged at her heartstrings, and she hated leaving him. Except it was imperative he maintain a routine after the tragic loss of his parents.
Poor little fellow. She’d guided him through the grief of losing his mummy and daddy, and made him feel as secure as humanly possible in the ensuing weeks as they had both attempted to come to terms with the tragedy.
His tears had flowed freely as she comforted him…while her own were shed in the dark of night without comfort or solace of any kind.
Part