She stared at him, confusion darkening her grey eyes. ‘Meet them? You’re not suggesting—’
‘Like I said last night—it’s time to lose all that wide-eyed innocence. I think you know exactly what I’m suggesting,’ he drawled. ‘We buy you a big diamond ring and I take you home to Naples as my fiancée.’
‘You mean...’ She blinked. ‘You mean you want to marry me?’
‘Let’s put it another way. I don’t particularly want to marry anyone, the difference is that I’m prepared to marry you,’ he amended.
‘Because of the baby?’
‘Because of the baby,’ he agreed. ‘But not just that. Most women are demanding and manipulative but, interestingly enough, you are none of those things. Not only are you extremely beddable—I find you exceptionally...agreeable.’ His lips curved into a reflective smile. ‘And at least you know your place.’
Molly stared at him, wanting to tell him to stop making her sound like the UK representative for the international society of doormats. Until she realised that once again Salvio was speaking the truth. She did know her place. She always had done. When you worked as a servant in other people’s houses, that was what tended to happen.
‘So what’s in it for me?’ she asked, thinking she ought to say something.
He looked at her in surprise. ‘It isn’t very difficult to work out. You get financial security and I get a ready-made family. I can pay off your brother’s debt in one swoop, on the understanding that this is the only time I bankroll him. And if I were you, I would wipe the horror from your face, Molly. It really isn’t a good look for a woman who’s on the brink of getting engaged.’ His voice dipped into one of silky admonishment. ‘And it isn’t as if you have a lot of choices, do you?’
Molly felt the sudden shiver of vulnerability rippling down her spine. He didn’t have to put it quite so brutally, did he? She swallowed. Or maybe he did. It was yet another cruel observation but it was true. She didn’t have a lot of choices. She knew there was nothing romantic about having to struggle. She’d done all that making-the-best-of-a-bad-situation stuff—seeing how many meals you could get out of a bag of black-eyed beans and buying her clothes in thrift stores. She knew how hard poverty could be.
And this was her baby.
Her defenceless little baby.
She was aware of her hand touching her belly and aware of Salvio’s gaze following the movement before he lifted his black eyes to hers. She searched their dark gleam in vain for some kind of emotion, and tried to ignore the painful stab in her heart when she met nothing but a cold, unblinking acceptance in their ebony depths. Of course he wasn’t going to feel the same way as she did about their child. Why wouldn’t he look sombre? Having his life inextricably linked to that of a humble little housekeeper was surely nothing for the Neapolitan billionaire to celebrate.
‘Very well. Since—as you have already pointed out—I have very little alternative... I agree,’ she said, and then, because subservience was as much a part of her life as breathing and because deep down she was grateful to him for his grudging generosity, she added a small smile. ‘Thank you.’
Salvio felt his gut clench, knowing he didn’t deserve her thanks. Or that shy look which made him want to cradle her in his arms. He knew he could have asked her to marry him in a more romantic way. He could have dropped onto one knee and told her he couldn’t imagine life without her. But why get her used to an attitude he could never sustain and raise expectations which could never be met? The only way he could make this work was if he was straight with her, and that meant not making emotional promises he could never fulfil.
But he knew one sure way to please her—the universal way to every woman’s heart. ‘Go and get your stuff together, nicuzza,’ he said softly. ‘We’re going shopping.’
* * *
Molly stepped out onto the icy Bond Street pavement feeling dazed but warm. Definitely warm. Who would have ever thought a coat could be so warm? Wonderingly she brushed her fingertips over the camel cashmere, which teamed so well with the knee-length boots and the matching brown leather gloves which were as soft as a second skin. She caught sight of her reflection in one of the huge windows of the upmarket department store and stared at it, startled—wondering if that glossy confection of a woman was really her.
‘Sì, you look good,’ Salvio murmured from beside her.
She looked up into his ruggedly handsome face. ‘Do I?’
‘Good enough to eat,’ he affirmed, his black eyes glittering out an unspoken message and Molly could do nothing about the shiver which rippled down her spine and had nothing to do with the icy temperature.
After a slow drive through the snow to London, he had brought her to one of the capital’s most famous streets, studded with the kind of shops which were guarded by burly security men with inscrutable expressions. But the faces of the assistants inside were far more open and Molly knew she hadn’t imagined the faint incredulity which greeted her appearance, as women fluttered around Salvio like wasps on a spill of jam.
He asked for—and got—a terrifyingly sleek stylist, who was assigned the daunting task of dressing her. Endless piles of clothing and lingerie were produced—some of which were instantly dismissed by an impatient wave of Salvio’s hand and some of which were met with a slow smile of anticipation.
‘It seems a silly amount of money to spend since whatever I buy isn’t going to fit me for very long,’ she hissed in a fierce undertone after nearly fainting when she caught sight of one of the price tags.
He seemed amused by her attempt to make economies. ‘Then we’ll just have to buy you some more, won’t we? Don’t worry about the cost, Molly. You will soon be the wife of a very wealthy man.’
It was hard to imagine, thought Molly as a feather-light chiffon dress floated down over her head, covering an embroidered bra whose matching panties were nothing more than a flimsy scrap of silk. As she appeared from behind the velvet curtain of the changing room to meet Salvio’s assessing gaze, she began to wonder if he’d done this whole transformation thing before. And she wondered whether she should show a little pride and refuse all the gifts he was offering.
But then she thought about the reality. Salvio probably came from an extremely wealthy family who might not take kindly to someone from her kind of background. Wouldn’t she feel even more out of place if she turned up looking like a poor relation in her cheap clothes and worn boots? Which was why she submitted to the purchase of sweaters and jeans, jackets and day dresses—and the most beautiful shoes she had ever seen. Gorgeous patent stilettos in three different colours, which somehow had the ability to add precious inches to her height and make her walk in a different and more feminine way.
And when they were all done and the glossy bags had been placed in the limousine which had been slowly tailing them, Salvio guided her past yet another security guard and into a jewellery shop where inside it was all light and dazzle. Locked glass cases contained the biggest diamonds Molly had ever seen—some the colour of straw, some which resembled pink champagne, and some even finer than Lady Avery’s vast collection of family jewels.
‘So what’s your ideal ring? What did you used to dream about when you were a little girl?’ asked Salvio softly, his fingers caressing the small of her back as an elegant saleswoman approached them. ‘Whatever takes your fancy, it’s yours.’
Did he have to put it quite like that? Molly wondered, moving away to avoid the distraction of his touch. The only thing she used to dream about when she was a little girl was making sure