made her feel wanton gripped her. Almost every time she looked at Raffaele, she wanted him with an instinctive hunger she couldn’t suppress. He was fantastic in bed, that was all it was, she told herself; it was perfectly normal to crave pleasure. They shared his museum piece of a bed every night, for it was a lot more comfortable than it looked and she was as guilty of luxuriating in his body as he was in hers. Just good clean fun—well, maybe not quite clean, she conceded, thinking of some of the stuff they did, her mind drifting drowsily over X-rated imagery that once would have shocked her. And the most amazing thing about Raffaele, she thought wonderingly as he tugged her off the sunlounger, was that, in spite of that conservative, conventional vibe he put out so strongly, he was wildly and wonderfully uninhibited in bed.
‘You’re miles away...what are you thinking about?’
Her cheeks warm, Vivi grinned at him as he tugged her up the rear staircase that led to their rooms.
‘Seriously?’ Raffaele stressed, reading her expressive face, arousal pulsing through him instantaneously. ‘If this is what being pregnant does to you, bella mia... I hope you appreciate that I’m likely to want to keep you pregnant.’
‘No, not with the sickness and all the rest of it. You get one child off me and that’s your lot!’ Vivi laughed.
As she melted into the heat of him in the privacy of their bedroom, Raffaele recognised the joy that Vivi brought into his life and marvelled at that startling revelation, for it was not a sensation he had recognised or even expected to find since leaving childhood behind.
* * *
The obstetrician watched the screen as the nurse worked the wand over Vivi’s exposed stomach. Standing up, she addressed the nurse and the wand lingered while Raffaele’s hand tightened on Vivi’s, sending alarm kicking up through her. Was something wrong with her pregnancy? Had something worrying been spotted?
The older woman smiled down at Vivi’s anxious face and indicated the screen. ‘I can tell you that you have one healthy boy here and behind him his twin, who may or may not be another boy. We can’t get a good enough view yet to tell the second child’s gender.’
‘Second child?’ Vivi gasped in alarm. ‘You mean...there’re two of them?’
‘Twins,’ Raffaele confirmed not quite steadily. ‘We are going to be the parents of twins. Dr Fanetti suspects that that is what is causing your extreme nausea and may also explain why your pregnancy appears to be developing faster than normal.’
The rushing fast pulse of their babies’ heartbeats filled the room and, blinking, Vivi rested her head back in shock. Twins. Two babies. The very concept silenced her when adjusting to the prospect of even one baby had demanded so much from her.
‘This is really exciting news,’ Raffaele intoned. ‘We have never had twins in the family.’
‘A twin pregnancy is riskier,’ Vivi reminded him nervously, because she had listened to the obstetrician’s strictures, which warned that she had to be more careful carrying twins than she would’ve had to be with a singleton pregnancy. She would grow larger, get more tired and there was a greater chance of premature birth. ‘I’m stunned. Two children, not one, that’s a massive jump from having no children at all.’
‘We’ll have a team of nannies,’ Raffaele assured her soothingly. ‘You will have extra check-ups, more frequent scans and tests. Every possible precaution will be exercised on your behalf.’
Vivi was thinking that she could never ever have managed two babies alone and was belatedly grateful that she had agreed to give their marriage a fair chance. And it was working brilliantly, wasn’t it? Her heart was touched by his unashamed excitement about their children. How could she look past that? Any woman would value that in the father of her kids. Kids? Raffaele was so supportive and she hadn’t expected that from him, in truth hadn’t expected many of the things he had done. She got flowers all the time, she got gifts, was now the proud owner of several valuable and very beautiful pieces of jewellery. She was beginning to understand why Arianna adored her big brother and marvelled that she had misjudged him to such an extent when he had misjudged her two years earlier.
In retrospect the speed with which he had reached that misjudgement still surprised Vivi, because Raffaele was usually a much more controlled and cautious individual, yet he had leapt in to make positively clumsy wrong assumptions about her.
‘We could go out tonight to celebrate,’ Raffaele murmured, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss there, his beautiful eyes locked to her with undeniable appreciation.
‘Well, look at you,’ Vivi teased. ‘One child was a shock and two is a—’
‘A miracle,’ Raffaele slotted in cheerfully.
‘You really do like children.’
Raffaele grinned, pure masculine charisma in the sunlight. ‘If they’re ours, a mix of us both...sì.’
Vivi only just resisted the urge to stop in the middle of the street and kiss him. She wasn’t the demonstrative type, never had been, but sometimes there was something about Raffaele that made her want to hurl herself into his arms like a homing pigeon. Oh, go on, she urged herself, why not admit it? She was besotted with him because he made her so happy, made her feel beautiful, irresistible and special. Two years back she had been on track to falling for him for all the most superficial reasons: his looks, his sophistication, his charm. Two years on she looked for more from a man and Raffaele delivered on every front. She wasn’t ashamed of loving him. In fact, loving Raffaele made her feel whole, as if she had come full circle from the youthful insecurities that had frightened her off getting too attached to anyone beyond the safe circle of the sisters she trusted.
As they climbed out of the limo outside the palazzo, Amedeo came hurrying out to address his employer in a flood of Italian. Raffaele glanced across the lawn to where a large helicopter was parked, the pilot standing beside it. ‘Your grandfather’s here.’
Her brows rose. ‘Oh...that’s unexpected.’
Raffaele expelled his breath in a slow hiss. ‘And he’s probably in a rage, so let me handle him.’
‘Why would he be in a rage?’ Vivi asked blankly.
‘Actions I took as payback for something he did to me but, now he’s in the family, we’re rather stuck with each other and it wasn’t the brightest idea... I admit,’ Raffaele admitted tautly. ‘You go upstairs and I’ll deal with him.’
‘No, he’s my grandad and a shocking old grouch,’ Vivi countered. ‘I’m not leaving you alone to deal with him.’
Raffaele grimaced. ‘Vivi...there’s stuff you don’t know and this is not the moment for you to find out. Stay out of this...please.’
In shock at that admission, Vivi fell back a step, her tense face pale below her mop of curls. She still hadn’t had those curls straightened, she acknowledged absently as the giant mirrors in the hall threw back a myriad reflections of her hurrying figure. Why not? She hated her curls but Raffaele adored them, genuinely adored them, was forever trailing his fingers through them, rearranging them and admiring them.
But what didn’t she know? What did Raffaele not want her to find out? She hovered outside the grand salon they rarely used and even through the solid wooden door she could hear the roar of Stamboulas Fotakis shouting about losing millions of pounds. Millions of pounds? How was that possible? And what could Raffaele possibly have to do with that loss? Taking a deep breath, Vivi opened the door and walked in...
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