HELEN BIANCHIN - The Italian’s Ruthless Marriage Command

Hadn’t she witnessed evidence of it at every opportunity?

‘Ben will be pleased you managed to make it.’

The sparkling laughter he’d glimpsed had faded, replaced by polite friendliness…and he resisted the temptation to cup her cheek, smooth a thumb over her lips, feel them tremble a little beneath his touch.

Almost as if she sensed his intention, her body stiffened, and the edge of his mouth lifted a little with the knowledge she was aware of the electric tension existing between them.

‘I wouldn’t disappoint him.’ His voice was a silken drawl as his gaze lingered briefly on the pulsing beat at the edge of her throat, then shifted to acknowledge Ben’s excited wave. ‘It’s good to see he’s enjoying himself.’

‘Yes.’

Ben raced towards them, arms outstretched as he reached his uncle, and Taylor watched as Dante lifted him high against his chest to settle him in the crook of one arm.

‘We’re all getting a present,’ Ben enlightened with excitement. ‘And Tamryn says the party isn’t over yet.’ He transferred an anxious look from his uncle to Taylor. ‘We can stay, can’t we?’

‘Of course,’ Dante conceded easily.

It became a pleasant hour as the parents mixed and mingled while the children were supervised at play.

Drinks were offered, together with coffee, tea and canapés…and fairy lights illuminated the grounds as the sun faded beyond the horizon.

Dante rarely moved from Taylor’s side, projecting a unified front…one she chose to dissemble without much success.

It was almost seven when they collected Ben, bade Tamryn goodnight and thanked the little girl’s parents for the party invitation.

Ben was already beginning to droop as Dante hoisted him high onto his shoulders and accompanied Taylor out to the car.

It had been an exciting day for a little boy, who once they reached home, wanted only a glass of milk after his bath, and fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

‘Anna has prepared dinner,’ Dante relayed as they quietly closed Ben’s door behind them.

Togetherness was a fine thing, but Taylor was in overload, and a little wired from spending a few hours in his company.

‘I’m really not hungry.’

A statement which incurred an intense look. ‘You barely ate a thing at the party.’

‘I’m fine.’ He saw too much, divined more, and it put her on edge. ‘I’ll grab a banana, coffee, and spend time on my laptop.’

‘I’ll have Anna bring you a tray.’

She raged a silent battle for a few seconds, then ventured with extreme politeness, ‘I’m capable of doing that myself.’

Dark eyes speared her own, and held, almost as if he knew , then he inclined his head. ‘Your prerogative.’

‘Thank you.’

The air seemed to hold a curious tension…something she chose to ignore as she descended the stairs and made her way to the kitchen, where she apologised to Anna for her lack of appetite, then with a mug of fresh coffee in one hand, a banana in the other, she bade Dante and Anna ‘goodnight’.

‘Don’t work too late.’

Taylor sensed mild amusement beneath his indolent voice, and told herself she didn’t care if he thought she was avoiding him.

What was more, she’d work as late as she liked.

She occupied his home, but she was damned if he’d tell her what to do!

Consequently she entered the home office, opened her laptop, reread the previous day’s work and wrote…weaving characters, motive and suspense into script, becoming lost in the fascination of creative process.

Occasionally she rose from the chair, flexed her shoulders and executed a few calisthenics to ease the tension of repetitive movement.

The night hours were her most productive writing time, and when she’d lived in her apartment she’d often lost track of time, realising the lateness of the hour only when her eyes began to blur…

Now, however, she no longer lived alone…there was Ben, and the compelling man whose home she shared.

Dante, who had led her to believe they’d rarely see each other…except he was there , at every opportunity sharing her life and becoming a large, fundamental part of Ben’s.

So why did it bother her so much? Taylor attempted to rationalise on the edge of sleep…and failed to discover a sensible answer.

CHAPTER FOUR

TAYLOR watched as Dante swept Ben high against his chest as he prepared to leave for the airport…heard the young boy’s delighted laughter, and felt a pang of envy for the easy affection they shared.

It brought so vividly alive how much she missed Casey…the frequent phone calls, sharing , the unconditional affection and innate knowledge they were always there for each other.

A huge gap she attempted to bridge with love for her nephew.

It was enough, she assured fiercely…all she needed. Her writing career was an added bonus and the success it had brought her ensured she was busy and her mind occupied for much of the time too.

So why the longing for something more ?

The touch of a man’s lips on her own. Strong, warm arms enfolding her close. Affection. Trust.

The knowledge that she was safe.

‘When will you be back?’

Her voice sounded slightly uneven, and she caught the sudden sharpness in Dante’s eyes, then it was gone.

‘A week, perhaps less.’

Taylor summoned a smile as he released Ben down onto his feet. ‘Take care.’ The words seemed fairly innocuous as she caught her nephew’s hand and crossed the lobby at Dante’s side.

Gianni was seated behind the wheel of the Mercedes as Dante released one of the large doors and moved lithely down the few steps to slide into the front passenger seat.

Ben waved until the car swept through the electronic gates and disappeared from sight.

‘I wish Zio didn’t have to go away.’

She drew him close and dropped a kiss on his nose. Poor little scrap, he sounded quite forlorn.

‘He’s a very busy man,’ she offered gently, and met solemn dark eyes.

‘He promised he’ll call tonight before I go to bed.’

One thing she’d learnt was that Dante kept to his word. ‘I’m sure he will.’ She caught hold of his hand and bestowed a teasing smile. ‘Now, young man, let’s go have breakfast.’

After which she’d oversee his normal morning routine, help him dress, pack his knapsack, drive him to kindergarten…then she’d return to seek seclusion in her home office and write until it was time to go collect Ben.

It was a plan which should work reasonably well, if she managed to gain total focus on the twist needed to extend the suspense element in the story she was currently working on.

The ability to clear her mind and enter the fictional world of her characters required concentrated effort, and fortified with a cup of Earl Grey tea, she opened her current manuscript file and reread the previous day’s work, edited and made a few minor changes before tuning in to the creative process.

At midday she took a break and fixed herself a ham and salad sandwich in the kitchen, filled a glass with apple juice and chose to eat lunch on the terrace.

The sun held little warmth and there was a fresh breeze which hinted at late afternoon showers, borne by a bank of clouds hovering on the horizon.

There were days when she permitted her mind to wander during a lunch break…others when she preferred to keep the momentum going by printing out the morning’s hard copy and editing it as she ate.

Today there was a tendency to lapse into introspection and enjoy the sensation of freedom from Dante’s presence for several days.

Leading separate lives whilst residing beneath the same roof wasn’t really happening, Taylor reflected.