Chapter Five

HE NEEDED A WOMAN. It’d been too long since he’d lost himself in the pleasures of a female body. Tonight, more than any other, he could use the oblivion a few hours of bed play would bring. He was on edge, perilously so. When he’d walked into this apartment earlier and seen his baby playing on the floor with the nanny, he’d felt as if he’d landed on a different planet. He, Nico Cavelli, had a son. A son.

It terrified him in the oddest way. He still didn’t understand it. But for the first time since Gaetano had died, Nico wanted to walk away from his duty and his country and return to the carefree life he’d had as one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.

A life he understood. Being illegitimate, he’d never had to live his life a certain way. He hadn’t been expected to marry or produce heirs. He’d lived to excess, always pulling the attention away from Gaetano. Tiziana resented him for it, but Gaetano had been grateful. His brother wasn’t cut out for the spotlight, had dreaded his upcoming wedding to a woman not of his choosing.

Pain blanketed Nico. The night before his brother drove off the cliff, Nico had told him to be a man. To marry and do his duty and, for once, stop worrying about the public scrutiny.

Nico regretted that he’d not been more sympathetic, that he hadn’t listened to what Gaetano was trying to tell him. Because he knew, didn’t he, what had really sent Gaetano over the edge?

No.

Nico dragged his attention back to the woman standing in front of him, her creamy skin glowing in the refracted light from the chandelier as she bent her head to allow him access to the necklace. He needed to focus on her, to shove away the pain. She’d carried his child in her body, had given birth to a son who would carry on the Cavelli name. The knowledge made him possessive.

And more. The blood of his ancestors pounded through him, urged him to storm her defenses, to conquer and pillage, to make her his and plant his seed inside her again. She was his wife now. It was right that they make a brother or a sister to join Daniele. His boy would never be lonely, not as he’d been.

Until he was brought to the palace and had Gaetano to love, he’d had no one. Before her death, his mother had used him as a pawn in her game with the queen. And though Queen Tiziana tried to separate Nico and his brother, Gaetano’s love for him was mutual. They were practically inseparable until they were grown and life separated them naturally. And more than life, since Gaetano had chosen to take the final step.

Was it his fault?

“Basta,” Nico muttered, turning Lily in his arms, wrapping her in his embrace and lowering his head to capture her lips almost savagely. He would have a few hours peace, per Dio.

He took her by surprise—and yet on a deep, instinctual level she’d known what was coming. Lily’s head dropped back, her mouth opening beneath the onslaught of his before she could think twice about it. This kiss was like the one on the plane, but notched up by several hundred degrees.

This was what she remembered from two years ago, this all-encompassing inferno. A part of her knew she had to resist him—and yet she didn’t want to. She wanted to lose herself in the heat of him, wanted to feel again all those things she’d felt before. She hadn’t been with a man since that first time, hadn’t wanted to be with anyone.

In spite of her anger at the circumstances that had bound them together as man and wife, she sensed something deeper than just a physical need in him, something that cried out for contact and closeness. After what he’d revealed to her about his childhood, she was confused by the conflicting feelings crashing through her. Had he done it on purpose to elicit her sympathy?

She didn’t know, and she was on the verge of not caring why. He held her tight, his tongue stroking against hers, his mouth both gentle and fierce at once. He tasted like brandy, sweet and edgy and sharp.

Lily trembled involuntarily as he pressed her close, as the hard contours of his body fitted to the soft curves of hers. She had no doubt where he was taking them. There was something altogether bewildering about kissing this man she shared a child with. He was a prince and she was just a girl from the wrong side of town, but right now those distinctions didn’t seem to matter.

She wanted him, and she wanted to push him away.

His hands slid over her back, the curve of her hips, and then he found the hidden zipper at the side of her dress. Lily dragged in a rough breath. Should she let this happen? Could she stop him?

Did she want to?

“Lily,” he said against her cheek, his hot mouth skimming along her jaw, her neck. And then his lips were on hers again and she knew she was losing the battle with herself.

When her arms went around his neck, Nico knew he’d won. He would get her beneath him, get her out of his head and into his bed and place her where she belonged in his life. This crazy sense of being on a runaway train would subside and he could carry on the way he always had. Once he compartmentalized her, he would have peace again.

And yet something wasn’t right. The thought niggled at him, poked at the rawness in his soul until he had to force himself to examine what was wrong. And when he did, he knew it would be a mistake to take her like this.

His history with the Palazzo Cavelli was so twisted and painful that simply being inside it affected him in ways he couldn’t quite predict. After that farce of a dinner with his father and the queen, he was especially vulnerable to his bitterness. If he took his new wife now, it would be in anger.

Anger at his father, at Gaetano, at the queen—and, perhaps most of all, at Lily for deceiving him.

It was no way to begin.

He tugged her zipper back into place as he extracted himself from the kiss. She looked up at him in confusion, her pink lips lush and wet, a line forming between her brows. He put his hands around hers where they were still clasped about his neck, separated them gently and lifted them away.

“You should go to bed now, cara.”

When he let her go, she hugged herself, a gesture he’d noted she often did when unsettled. She looked vulnerable, confused.

He pushed his fingers through his hair, turned away from her. Away from temptation. God knew he was unsettled, too. His body throbbed with thwarted need. A long, cold shower was definitely in the cards for him tonight.

“I—”

When she didn’t finish speaking, he turned to look at her. “Si?”

She fingered the diamond collar. “I still need your help to remove this.”

“But of course,” he replied, making quick work of the clasp and moving away from her as the necklace dropped.

She caught it before it fell to the floor. “Where would you like me to put these jewels?”

“Put them? They are yours, Lily. Take them to your room; stuff them under your mattress or leave them lying on the dresser. It matters not to me.”

She clutched the sparkling ornament to her breast, her chest rising and falling a little faster with each breath. “I hope you aren’t congratulating yourself for what just happened,” she said, the color high in her cheeks.

He stifled a bitter laugh. “Hardly, cara.”

“Because you won’t catch me unaware again. Next time, I’ll be ready.”

Nico ignored the painful throb of his groin, the reminder he’d been so close to paradise and pushed it away. One thing he had to give her—even when she was uncertain or afraid, she barreled forward as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

“I do hope so, bellissima. It makes the game more fun.”

Lily punched her pillow and flopped onto her side. She’d gone to bed more than two hours ago, once she’d finished her report for the Register and e-mailed it off, and she had yet to fall asleep. She wasn’t certain what had been more humiliating—the dinner where she was ignored, or afterward when she’d practically ripped her clothes off and screamed “Take me” only to have Nico pull back inexplicably.

Inexplicably, hell. She knew why. He’d kissed her because he’d felt sorry for her after the way the king and queen treated her—or maybe it was because with her back to him, he’d been thinking of Antonella, thinking how he should be undressing her, kissing her, stripping her slowly and making love to his exotic princess instead of his ordinary wife.

Lily bit back a groan. Oh God, she’d really debased herself, hadn’t she? She thought of the way she’d clung to him, the way she would have done anything he asked in that moment—and felt shame suffuse her body like the glow of a hot coal. Twice today she’d been ready to do whatever he wanted simply because he’d kissed her.

She was pathetic. But no man had ever kissed her the way Nico did. Maybe she should have tried harder to find a boyfriend in the last year or so, find out if another man could affect her the way he did. But she’d always been so busy raising Danny and trying to make ends meet. She’d had no time for men.

And she was sorely regretting it at the moment. Maybe if her mother had tried harder to find another man, she wouldn’t have been so vulnerable every time Lily’s father rolled back into town and decided he wanted a place to stay. And a woman to take advantage of.

Lily turned onto her back, heard the contented gurgle of her baby in the crib nearby, and felt her exhaustion and anger melt into relief, even if only for a moment. Danny was her reason for being, her only reason for being. She would not lose her head over a man, and certainly not a man who didn’t care for her as she deserved. Nico was smooth, treacherous. He was a playboy prince, accustomed to women falling into his bed at the mere suggestion they should do so.

He was toying with her, punishing her perhaps. She would not allow him to humiliate her again.

The next morning didn’t start off so well. Lily awakened in her room alone, then panicked as she ran through the apartment trying to find where her baby had gone. In the moment she woke up, she hadn’t thought of the nanny; she only knew her baby was missing. Had he crawled out of the crib somehow? He was a little dynamo, had been known to escape his crib at home a time or two as he got bigger.

She’d been ready to tear the palace apart when Nico found her in the living area calling Danny’s name and on the verge of tears.

“He is not here, cara.”

Lily’s breath froze. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”

Nico’s expression grew frosty. “I’ve not kidnapped him, Liliana. He is fine.”

For once, Lily felt chastened. But only slightly. “I want to see him.”

“You cannot.” He checked his watch, then speared her with the full force of his stare. “We are retiring to my private palazzo for a few days. I have sent Gisela ahead with Daniele. They will meet us there. You must get dressed.”

Though Lily was furious with him for making a decision about Danny without consulting her, it did no good to rail at him. He merely shrugged it off and told her to hurry.

Now, she sat beside him in his silver Maserati and watched the miles fly by as they snaked toward their new abode. Montebianco was far more beautiful than she’d realized. At one point, they drove through a lush, almost tropical forest before emerging onto the coastal road. Around every corner, cliffs jutted out to sea, their white faces stark and beautiful. Below, the turquoise water lapped their bases.

In fact, the farther Nico drove, the less traffic they encountered and the fewer homes, except for those perched on the cliffs overlooking the Med. It was all so exotic, so exciting. She, Lily Morgan—no, Lily Cavelli—was zipping along the Mediterranean coast with a prince. Who would have ever thought it?

The sun was strong and bright, and Lily was thankful she’d gotten new sunglasses that wrapped around the corners of her eyes to minimize the light. She’d been uncertain how to dress, but she’d finally chosen espresso capri pants with a cream top and a pair of low-heeled sandals. Her French-manicured toes looked very elegant, she thought. Nico hadn’t commented on her attire, so she supposed what she’d chosen was appropriate.

“How far is it?” she finally asked after they’d been on the road for nearly an hour.

Nico glanced at her. “So you do remember how to talk.”

Lily shifted in her seat to look at him. “I was waiting until I could speak without the urge to shout at you.”

His mouth lifted in a grin that sent her heart skittering. “It took a long while, yes?”

“I’m sure the urge will return quite soon,” she replied. “This conversation may be brief.”

He laughed, a warm rich sound that she’d not heard since they’d sat together at a restaurant in the French Quarter two years ago. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed the sound. She’d been captivated with him then, and his easy laugh had certainly been part of the charm.

“We are nearly there,” he said. “You’ve wasted the entire trip pouting.”

“I was not pouting.”

“Indeed you were. I am quite accustomed to women’s moods, cara. I recognize pouting when I see it.”

Lily chewed her lip. Mention of his experience with women did nothing to enhance her mood. She chose to ignore it and move on. “What will we do in this new place that we could not have done in Castello del Bianco?”

Nico’s hands flexed on the wheel. “We will have some peace from the curiosity seekers, for one. And far fewer people to deal with. No king and queen nearby. We can play on the beach, take walks, swim. It is like your American vacations, yes?”

Vacations weren’t something she’d ever had time for, but she understood what he meant. She latched onto something he’d said. “What do you mean by curiosity seekers?”

He seemed to consider for a moment. “You cannot imagine our hasty marriage has not garnered attention.”

“No, of course not.”

He glanced at her again. “You are new to this, Lily, but you must realize that the media will go to extraordinary lengths to pry into our lives, to find stories to tell, and some of those stories may embarrass or anger us. It is something you learn to live with.”

“Don’t you fight when the stories are wrong?” The Port Pierre Register was small, and yet they always printed corrections when someone disputed an article.

He shrugged. “It is almost never worth the effort.”

“No one bothered you in New Orleans. I would have certainly remembered if you’d gotten media attention.”

“Si, this is true. But I was in the city anonymously, and my brother was still the Crown Prince. The American media are not so interested in European royalty, yes?”

Lily tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she watched him. “You have a brother?”

His jaw tightened as he concentrated on the road. For a moment, she thought he might not answer. “Had a brother, cara mia. He is dead.”

“Oh.” Impulsively, she reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Grazie. He died two months ago and I miss him every day.”

Lily swallowed a lump in her throat as she turned away. She’d been so focused on Nico as a tyrant and a playboy that she hadn’t imagined him to have a softer side, a side that felt deep emotion and experienced pain. Of course she knew he must, but she’d not expected he would let her see into his life like this. Not so soon anyway.

Just then, they rounded the final turn and a sprawling complex appeared before them. It was sleek, modern, not at all what she’d expected. “I thought you said we were going to a palace!”

“It is a palace—but it is my palace. I had it built a few years ago, and I consider it home.” He pressed a button in the car and the black iron gates swung open to admit them. Moments later, he pulled into a sleek garage beneath the house and shut off the engine.

Inside, the house was nothing like the ornate confection of his apartments in the Palazzo Cavelli. The furniture was sleek, modern. Soft leather couches, hardwood floors, plush Oriental rugs, and modern art. It was very masculine—and yet, it was beautiful in its restraint.

Nico looked at her. “We will probably spend a lot of time here, cara. If you wish to change something, this is possible.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I’m not sure I would change a thing. I like it.”

“Nevertheless, if you should change your mind.” He tossed his keys onto a table behind the sofa. “Now, if you wish to see Daniele’s room, follow me.”

The house was large, but not as big as the palace, so when they came to her baby’s room she wasn’t quite prepared for the sight that greeted her. Toys filled every corner of the room, giant stuffed giraffes, pandas, a bear—Lily’s hand went to her mouth as she took it all in. The furniture was grand—a plush couch, an entertainment center with a flat-screen television, a chair—but there was no crib, no dressers. Perhaps there hadn’t been time. He’d only learned he had a son two days ago.

Nico grinned at her. “It is a suite, Lily. Here.” He took her hand, led her through the room, into a palatial bathroom, and out the other side to another grand room—only this one had a crib, dressers, a changing table and a wall of bookshelves filled with children’s books. Gisela sat in a rocker, but she popped up and curtsied when they walked in. For the first time, Lily realized how young the girl was. She was barely twenty, Lily would bet. Far too young to know about babies. She made a mental note to speak with Nico further about this nanny idea.

“Mamamamamamamama!” Danny cried, wobbling toward her as fast as he could on his little legs.

Lily’s heart filled. She dropped to her knees and held her arms wide as her baby ran headlong into them.

“Mama,” he said contentedly as she stood and hugged him tight.

“Who’s my little Dannykins? Who’s mama’s baby? Is this mama’s baby?”

Danny giggled in delight as she pulled his shirt up and blew a raspberry on his belly. She laughed, then glanced at Nico. His expression was not at all what she expected. A mixture of pain and anger played across his handsome face. She turned away, cradled Danny against her as her heart picked up speed.

“Mama,” Danny said again, then began babbling something unintelligible. He stretched his arms out, trying to get down, and she set him on the floor again. He promptly toddled back to the little truck he’d been playing with on the soft carpet.

Nico watched Danny play, his nostrils flaring, his jaw tightening. He flexed his fingers at his side, though she didn’t think he was aware of it. It was as if he wanted to move, wanted to touch Danny—but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And it hit her that he must feel like a stranger in this little triangle. He was the one left out, the one looking in.

“He’s learning new words all the time,” Lily said softly, her mind reeling with conflicting thoughts. Danny was his son, and they were strangers. Could she bring herself to help him? She frowned, torn between the desire to keep Danny to herself, to protect him, and the knowledge that she was being selfish, that Nico was Danny’s father and her son deserved the best father possible. If Nico remained the outsider, how would that benefit Danny?

Lily swallowed her trepidation. “If you went and played with him,” she said, “it would help him get to know you.”

Beside her, Nico stiffened. His face, when she dared to look, was a blank mask. But his eyes—

Oh God, if his eyes were flames, she would surely be burned to a crisp in them right this second.

“It will take time,” she offered, trying to make him understand. “But you have to—”

Nico turned and left the room.