SHE SHOULD HAVE known he would come.
The dark, commanding man at her back door was the last person Brianna wanted to see. Though she should have guessed. Marco Dirici had a knack for showing up in her life unbidden and unwelcome.
Brianna peeked through the side window again. She knew it was him. The voice had confirmed it. Still, she couldn’t help but wish that maybe if she looked again it would be someone else standing there.
No such luck. It was definitely Marco, in the flesh. Not that she was surprised. He wasn’t the kind of man to stay away.
Brianna looked down at the worn gray T-shirt she was wearing and swiped at the dark smudges under her eyes. Great. Six long months since she’d last seen him and he had to catch her on a morning when she looked her absolute worst.
But what did it matter anyhow? She no longer cared what she looked like in front of Marco. Except that he was immaculate as usual. The leather jacket he wore brought out the black of his eyes. His dark hair fell over his forehead the way she remembered. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d taken great pleasure in gently stroking that wayward lock off his face, only to have it fall forward again.
“Brianna, open the door. I know you’re in there.” His voice sounded from the other side of the door, dripping with that sexy Italian accent that haunted her dreams.
“Cara, open the door,” Marco repeated. “I don’t want to have to ring the bell. Little Enzo is probably still sleeping.”
At the mention of her son, Brianna forgot all about her appearance and her apprehension. Two-year-old Lorenzo was the reason Marco was here.
Slowly, she unlatched the lock and stepped aside to let her husband in.
Marco brushed past her without so much as a glance.
“What took you so long? I had to go around the back when you didn’t answer the front door.”
She’d been in a deep sleep. Enzo had kept her up half the night refusing to go into his crib.
He gave her a stern look when she didn’t answer. “I thought the little old lady across the street was going to come at me with a broom. I’m positive she thinks I’m here to commit some kind of crime.”
Are you?
Brianna shoved the door closed and turned to face him. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“What do you think? I spoke to Nonna.”
Of course. She should have never made that phone call to Marco’s grandmother. But Brianna had been truly desperate for some advice from someone else who loved and cared about Enzo.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she answered.
“I grew tired of waiting for you to come to your senses,” he said. “And I missed my son. What did you expect me to do?”
A small part of her wanted to hear that he’d missed her as well. But that was such a silly thought. He wanted nothing to do with her. He never really had. As she stood aching inside at seeing him again.
If it was possible, he was even more handsome than she remembered. Those dark eyes she’d lost herself in so many times in the past were as deep as always. She couldn’t lose herself again. Not to this man. Not ever. She had given him too much of herself already.
“I didn’t expect you to do anything.” She walked over to the baby monitor on the counter and turned it up, just to give herself something to do. “Only to respect my wishes and give Enzo and me the time we need.”
“You’ve been gone for six months.”
“Nothing has changed, Marco. You’ve wasted a trip across the world for no reason.”
“You want a divorce, cara. I am not divorcing my child.”
Brianna stiffened. “That’s not fair. You know that’s the last thing I want.”
He let out a laugh which sounded far from amused. “Is that what you call hauling him thousands of miles away?”
She took a deep breath. “Look, when I left I promised you we’d come to a fair agreement about visitation. Until we do that, you can’t just show up here unannounced. You can see him at designated times or not at all.”
He was in front of her in an instant, hardly an inch of space separating them. “I don’t think so. You throw me crumbs and then have the nerve to threaten those measly bits. That I cannot allow you to do.”
Brianna’s heart pounded. She had to stand up to him. “Don’t fight me on this, Marco. I need to make a clean break.”
He took her hand in a gentle but firm grip. “I won’t let go of my son, Brianna.”
Any hope she had that Marco might have changed over the past few months evaporated. “And I don’t want that either. I’m sorry you don’t understand.”
He sighed and dropped her hand. “You’re right. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why your desire to cook for others in New York City overrides your desire to be my wife back in Italy. I certainly don’t understand why you needed to leave.”
He was certainly right about that. He never did understand. “I had no choice.”
“So you seem to believe.”
For the briefest moment, Brianna thought she saw utter weariness in his face. But the look was gone in an instant. Perhaps she had imagined it.
“No, you’re wrong. I couldn’t have been a good mother to Enzo being as unhappy as I was.”
“And this.” He gestured around the small house. “This is what makes you happy?”
Brianna crossed her arms in front of her chest. She didn’t know how to answer that. No, she wasn’t happy. Things hadn’t worked out at all the way they were supposed to since she’d moved back to New York. Mostly, and to her utter horror, her son had so far not adjusted well at all.
But those last months in Italy, things had just been getting colder and colder between them. In fact, they weren’t even pretending to be an actual married couple anymore. Simply two people living under the same roof. That was what happened when one tried to force a family into existence. She should have known better.
Still, she hadn’t expected to miss Marco as much as she did.
He looked at her expectantly. His next words made her wonder if he’d somehow read her mind about missing him. “So tell me what makes you happy, cara.” His dark, smoldering eyes fell to her lips.
He stepped closer. Brianna forced herself to look away. If she wasn’t careful, she could so easily fall into the Marco Dirici trap again. His voice, that look.
“Do you remember being happy at least at first?” he asked.
And what kind of a question was that?
As if she could forget. Her mind automatically recalled the first time he’d kissed her. They’d met only hours before. Yet, she couldn’t resist his charm and sheer magnetism. She hardly recognized herself that night and the following week after meeting him.
A small wailing sound from the monitor jarred her back and she glanced at the wall. “Now see what you’ve done? He’s awake. It’s at least an hour until his usual wake-up time.”
Marco sighed then stepped away from her. Was that a hint of