‘And you won’t touch my brother’s businesses in the meantime,’ she demanded, waving a single finger in the air to underscore her point. The silk of her camisole strained across her chest, emphasising the gentle curves there, so Antonio’s eyes momentarily dropped lower. ‘Swear you’ll leave Carlo alone.’
Antonio’s jaw clenched and he slowly drew his eyes back to hers in a way that set her pulse racing. ‘You do not trust that I want to do what is in our child’s best interests?’ he asked after a moment. ‘You are not the only one making a sacrifice here, querida. Believe it or not, marrying you is the last thing I would have wanted.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ she drawled sarcastically.
‘Marrying anyone,’ he corrected with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
‘That makes it so much better.’ She couldn’t help rolling her eyes, but frustration and impotence were burning through her.
‘You came to me today,’ he reminded her after a moment. ‘And I believe we have discussed what we are each willing to give to make this work. So? What is your decision, Amelia?’
‘I...’ What was the conclusion to that sentence? He was right: she’d come to his office today, and with every intention of marrying him. And, while she desperately wanted Carlo to be immune from this man’s vengeance, there was a far greater consideration.
Their baby deserved the very best. Materially, she could provide everything the child needed, but what of that gaping hole in the middle of Amelia’s heart, from her own childhood? What of her own desperate yearning for a father?
Her eyes landed on Antonio’s face, his devilishly handsome face, and she expelled a soft, slow breath. And then, with every sense that she was making a deal with the devil, she nodded. ‘Fine. I’ll marry you.’
There was a momentary response of triumph, a flare of reaction in his jet-black eyes, and then he moved on, with that rapier-sharp mind he was renowned for.
‘You’ll move to Madrid?’
Amelia blinked. She was still processing the monumental agreement she’d just entered into and he was already firing onto the next point of negotiation, without giving her so much as a moment to breathe.
‘But... I live in England. I have a job...’ she pointed out, but weakly, more weakly than she would have liked. Damn it, this was supposed to be on her terms and he was pushing all her buttons to get what he wanted.
‘The same could be said for me.’
She bit down on her lip, swallowing past a lump of uncertainty. Her whole world was about to change—she was having a baby. Fighting change was going to get her precisely nowhere. Leaving her job was inevitable—did it make a difference if that was in six months or now? From the perspective of the children she was teaching, it would be better for them to have a new teacher at the start of the year rather than halfway through.
She could leave her job—temporarily. But to move to Madrid?
She’d run a mile from this very world he inhabited.
Her time in Italy, as a diSalvo, had been harrowing. She thought of the women who’d befriended her as a teenager, using her as a way to get to her brother. The ‘friends’ who’d only been jealous—one in particular who’d got Amelia drunk and then taken unflattering photographs of her passed out and shared them across social media. Men who’d seen her as a new, shiny toy on their society scene and done whatever they could to get her into bed. Only she’d learned her lesson from Penny: Amelia was no one’s plaything.
And marriage? Marriage to a man like this? How many of the men who’d flirted with her and tried to tempt her to become their mistress had been married? Was that the kind of future she had in store? Marriage to a man like Antonio, but marriage in name only?
She’d run a mile from this world, and with very good reason. Her time in Italy had been miserable. And though she’d loved her father and brother, they couldn’t see that the way they lived wasn’t something she wanted any part of. They couldn’t see how ill suited she was for that lifestyle.
Her eyes swept shut as she thought of the life she’d carved out for herself and felt it disappearing from her, like a ship sinking into a silent, deathly ocean.
Perhaps her distress showed in her face because he was suddenly solicitous. ‘You will like Madrid, hermosa.’
‘It’s not about Madrid,’ she said frankly, worrying at her lower lip.
‘Then what is it?’
How could she tell him? To admit vulnerabilities to a man like Antonio was to give him a weapon with which to wound her. And she was smarter than that!
‘It’s just a lot to ask of me,’ she covered awkwardly. ‘Particularly when you aren’t even willing to consider moving to the UK.’
‘I cannot do my work from the middle of nowhere,’ he said simply.
‘And what of my work?’ She couldn’t resist asking, though she’d already made her peace with the sense of leaving her job sooner rather than later.
‘You are going to have to stop working at some point,’ he said with infuriating logic—as though six months was the same as six days! ‘Why not now?’
‘Because I love my job,’ she said, aware that she was being stubborn purely for the sake of it. She expelled a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, not noticing the way his eyes followed the simple gesture as though transfixed. ‘But I will think about it.’
His eyes glowed. ‘Good. Then it is done.’
Amelia blinked rapidly. ‘What’s done?’
He walked away from her, towards his desk, and retrieved something, then a moment later was standing in front of her. ‘Our engagement.’ He reached for her hand and she was too shell-shocked to react. He put something in it and she looked down to see a small velvet box. She flipped it open on autopilot and couldn’t help the small sound of admiration that escaped her lips at the sight of the ring.
An enormous turquoise gem, square-shaped, sat in the centre and it was surrounded by sparkling white diamonds on each side, so that it glistened and shone. The band was platinum and there were delicate swirls on either side.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said with a frown, because it was so much lovelier and more elegant than she would have credited Antonio with choosing.
He made a gruff noise of agreement then slid it onto her finger. They both stared down at it, and she was mesmerised by the sight of it on her finger.
‘It was my grandmother’s,’ he said after a moment. ‘She had eyes like yours.’
Amelia blinked at this reference to his forebear, as it reminded her obliquely of the feud that lay between them.
She didn’t want to think about it in that moment. It was hardly a romantic marriage proposal, but it was still a proposal and she would have preferred it not to be tainted by talk of the animosity that flowed between their families.
‘Thank you.’ She frowned. It was hardly an appropriate sentiment—he’d blackmailed her into this marriage, no two ways about it.
‘I’ve had the papers drawn and a judge has offered a special dispensation. Our marriage can take place within a week. I presume that’s long enough for you to wrap things up in England?’
‘You make it sound like finishing a meal, not resigning my job and shutting up my house.’
‘I know it is more complex than that, and yet I would prefer to be married as soon as possible.’ And with a sigh, and as though the words were being dragged from him against his will, ‘If your employer requires more notice, then I suppose you could return once we are married. We could stay in your house for a time, if we must.’
‘Gee,