Meghan laughed dryly. ‘Not really.’
‘No?’ Alessandro shrugged, spreading his hands. ‘You had a lot to think about, I suppose.’
‘Maybe I’d already made my decision,’ Meghan retorted, nettled a bit by his arrogance.
‘Maybe you had.’
He looked so calm, so urbane, dressed in pale cream trousers with a leather belt, a light green button-down shirt open at the throat, scuffed yet exquisitely made leather loafers on his feet. His hair was still damp and curly from the shower.
‘What do you think it was?’ Meghan couldn’t resist asking. She folded her arms, staring him down.
Alessandro chuckled. ‘Meghan, I don’t think what it was. I know.’
‘Oh?’ She was half inclined to tell him she wouldn’t marry him now. He didn’t have to look so certain!
‘You’d made up your mind before I had even left the room,’ Alessandro continued. The smugness was gone, replaced by simple soft honesty. ‘And if you hadn’t, it didn’t matter. Because I’d made up mine.’
‘You can’t force me to marry you!’
‘Who said anything about force?’ His eyes had darkened dangerously, and Meghan felt her pulse thrum in response. It didn’t take much to have her swaying into him, longing for his look, his touch.
She was conscious of Ana behind them, pots and pans clanking ominously as she moved around the kitchen.
He reached for her hand, pulling her to him slowly, even though she made a pretence of resisting. When she stood only inches away, their bodies still not touching, he brushed his lips against her palm.
‘You look beautiful like that—so natural, so unaffected.’
Meghan looked up, startled. ‘Sloppy, more like.’
‘No.’ Alessandro touched her cheek, trailing his fingers down to gently grasp her chin. ‘I meant what I said. You’re beautiful.’
‘Thank you,’ Meghan whispered. ‘You’re beautiful too.’
Alessandro smiled, and she saw it reached his eyes.
‘And you’ll marry me.’
She wanted to argue, to deny it simply to resist his autocratic dictates, but she couldn’t. It was true, and she wanted it to be true.
I can make you happy, she thought.
‘Yes.’
Alessandro’s smile deepened, and she saw a new satisfaction there, deeper than any she’d seen before. A hunger satisfied.
‘Thank you,’ he said simply, humbly, accepting her acceptance as a gift, a treasure. Meghan’s heart ached.
I can make you happy. Give me a chance. Even if there’s no love. The words buzzed in her mind. She almost said them, gulping them back, choking on air.
Alessandro smiled. ‘Let’s eat.’
Over breakfast, with Ana serving in courteous if rather stony silence, Alessandro informed Meghan of their plans.
‘We must leave for Milan after breakfast. I have business to attend to, and I want to introduce you to my family. The sooner they know you, the sooner we can get married.’ His expression darkened briefly before he turned brisk and businesslike again.
‘Why does it have to be so quick?’ Meghan asked. Her mind was spinning and she took a steadying sip of coffee. ‘We could take time to get to know each other. Be sure we’re not making a mistake.’
‘I’m not making a mistake,’ Alessandro replied with easy confidence. ‘And I want to marry quickly because I want you in my bed every night.’
Meghan flushed. ‘And we need to be married for that?’
He paused, his lips twitching. ‘You do. I won’t have you feeling guilty or ashamed about what happens between us. Ever.’
Meghan was conscious of Ana clearing their dishes. She didn’t think the housekeeper understood much English, yet surely Alessandro’s intimate caressing tone came across in any language?
‘Thank you for that respect,’ she managed stiffly.
Ana loaded the dishwasher while they finished their coffee, and then retreated to another part of the house. Meghan watched her broad back disappear with a twitch of unease.
‘She doesn’t like me,’ she said suddenly.
Alessandro glanced up from the newspaper headlines he’d been scanning once more. ‘Who? Ana?’
‘Yes, she disapproves of me. I can tell. She glared at me when I came into the kitchen.’ Meghan toyed with the handle of her coffee mug. ‘Is it always going to be like that?’
‘Not when we are married,’ Alessandro replied in a flat, final tone. ‘And you’ll discover that Ana doesn’t disapprove of you. She disapproves of me.’
Meghan looked up in surprise, but Alessandro had moved on. He swept the newspaper aside with unconcern and smiled.
‘There are other matters to attend to in Milan. You will need clothes—that haversack cannot hold much. I have a flat in Milan, but perhaps you would like to live somewhere new? I leave such decisions to you.’
‘I’m sure the flat you have now is fine,’ Meghan said faintly. She was reeling from the barrage of information. What was she actually going to do in Milan, in her new life?
‘You know, I was a teacher in Stanton Springs,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Languages. I quit my job when …’
‘A teacher?’ Alessandro glanced at her swiftly, assessingly.
‘Well, of course if you want to teach again in Milan I have no problem with it. Perhaps at one of the English or American schools? Something part-time, so you can travel with me if needed?’ His voice lowered, filled with promise. ‘I don’t want to leave you alone … or to be alone myself.’
She nodded. ‘Yes … part-time. I’ll look into it.’
‘Buon. But first my family, and the wedding.’
The thought of meeting other di Agnios sent a stab of fear through her. Taking another sip of coffee to quell the nerves rising queasily upwards, Meghan asked, ‘What exactly is your business? You mentioned the jewellery boutiques, the property and the finance, but are there other things as well?’
‘My grandfather started with the jewels. My father chose to branch out into property, electronics, shipping.’ He shrugged. ‘A piece of every pie. The jewellery, of course, is our flagship enterprise—what we are truly known for.’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘The man you met yesterday, as unpleasant as he was, owns one of the largest chains of department stores in the United States. We were negotiating a contract to feature Di Agnio jewels in select stores—our own boutique within the department store, as it were.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s no matter.’
‘It sounds like quite a big business deal,’ Meghan said after a moment.
‘There are other deals,’ Alessandro replied in dismissal. ‘And no deal, business or otherwise, is worth making if you lose your self-respect.’
‘Is that what we’re making?’ Meghan asked suddenly. Her hands tightened on her coffee mug. ‘A business deal?’
Alessandro frowned. ‘Marriage is a contract, certainly,’ he replied. ‘But I do not consider it business.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Having second thoughts, cara?’
‘What if I was?’
‘I would tell you it is too late. We drive to Milan within the hour.’