Home > The Italian's Stolen Bride(19)

The Italian's Stolen Bride(19)
Author: Emma Darcy

‘Give it time, Luc,’ she muttered, ducking her head to break the yearning she felt coming from the caress of his cheek.

‘Well, at least that’s not a no,’ he said on a sigh of satisfaction, and dropped his arm from her shoulder to take her hand again, squeezing it possessively. ‘I’m here to stay, Skye. The sooner you realise that, the sooner we can become a family.’

That might be true.

But Skye couldn’t bring herself to risk making any commitment to him when they’d only spent a couple of days together.

There was a long future ahead of them.

Let Luc prove what he said.

CHAPTER NINE

LUC rolled up the designs for the new apartment complex he’d been working on and set about clearing his desk. Today was the last day of Matt’s first school term. Tomorrow was Good Friday. Soccer on Saturday. And on Monday…an elated grin broke out on his face at the thought of it…on Monday he was flying Skye and Matt up to the Gold Coast in Queensland for a family vacation.

Skye’s lack of trust in him had been his trump card in breaking down her resistance to the plan. As a separated parent, he was entitled to have his son for a week of any school vacation. A family law court would certainly grant it to him. It was an argument that couldn’t be refuted but she was afraid of how he might use the time with Matt.

The power of the Peretti family weighed on her mind and he couldn’t blame her for worrying about what might happen if he introduced Matt to them behind her back. Not that he would, and the fear wasn’t spoken, but her tension over letting Matt out of her sight for so long and the very negative emphasis she’d previously laid on his family background, left Luc in no doubt about how she thought and felt.

It also assured him she would be tempted by his invitation to supervise every moment Matt was with him. He’d produced an internet printout on the three-bedroom penthouse apartment he’d booked, plus printouts on the major tourist attractions they could take Matt to—Sea World, Warner Bros. Movie World, Dream World…a family fun vacation all laid out to both of them so Matt’s eagerness for his mother to accompany them, and the lure of sharing in her son’s new adventures, added to the winning package.

‘Three bedrooms,’ she’d said pointedly, denying the other temptation he had very much on his mind.

‘Definitely three,’ he assured her, though he privately wanted only two to be used.

He intended a very deliberate seduction this time—no driven quickness about any of the lovemaking. Once he had Skye contentedly sharing his bed, feeling thoroughly loved, the step to marriage should not be such a difficult one for her to take. He wanted her as his wife. And Matt was not the only child he wanted to have.

He fiercely resented having missed out on his son’s birth, his babyhood, the toddler years. After he and Skye were married…Luc checked his own eagerness as he realised he knew nothing about how Matt’s birth had been for her, whether she would be keen to have more children.

They’d had such little private time to talk—mostly small snatches he’d deliberately manoeuvred. Skye avoided being alone with him whenever she could. Avoidance, however, would be much more difficult for her while staying in the same apartment for a week. After Matt went to bed…

Luc’s train of thought was abruptly broken by his father’s unheralded arrival—no call from his secretary, the office door swept open, and in he stepped with all the arrogant hauteur of a man who took authority as though it was his right.

Luc felt himself bristling into attack mode and deliberately adopted a relaxed air, leaning back in the chair behind his desk and viewing his father with whimsical curiosity. ‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ he drawled.

Since their confrontation over Skye at the Bellevue Hill mansion two months ago, they had only met in boardroom meetings with nothing but business on the agenda. Only current and future property development projects were discussed between them, across a table with all other heads of departments present.

His father viewed him now with barely contained impatience, obviously frustrated by Luc’s stubborn and rebellious stand against conforming to expectations. ‘We will be celebrating Easter Sunday as usual this year,’ he stated tersely.

Which meant a big gathering of Italian families for a highly festive lunch. ‘I’m glad Mamma feels up to it,’ Luc answered dryly.

His father’s mouth tightened in anger. ‘I’m amazed you have any consideration for her feelings since you haven’t seen fit to give her the comfort of a visit or a call.’

‘I’ve been too long on a one-way street with consideration of feelings, Dad. When it starts to go two ways…’

‘She is still grieving over Roberto.’

‘Then I’m not the son she wants with her, am I?’

‘You are the only son she has now.’

‘Don’t expect me to dance to that tune. Especially not on Roberto’s grave.’

‘He was your brother.’ The emphatic reminder was meant to sting and it did.

‘More your son than my brother,’ Luc flared back, losing his cool. ‘His allegiance was to you, not to me. He sold me out for your approval.’

‘He saved you from folly,’ his father thundered.

Luc sucked in a quick breath and forced himself to contain the violent emotions surging through him. There was no point in arguing against entrenched prejudice. Waste of time and breath. ‘Have you said all you want to say?’ he asked in a calmer tone.

He watched his father fight an inner war before coming to the conclusion that it was time to shift ground before bad blood was irrevocably spilled. ‘Your mother expects you to lunch on Sunday,’ he tossed out as though he himself disdained any need for his surviving son’s presence at the family table.

‘Are Skye and Matt invited?’

‘They are not,’ he snapped, refusing to give a moment’s consideration to the challenge.

Which was just as well, Luc thought, because he doubted he could persuade Skye into any meeting with his parents at this early juncture. ‘Then I won’t be there,’ he stated unequivocally.

It earned a furious glare. ‘Your mother will be disappointed.’

‘I’m sorry for her disappointment but it is of your making, Dad. Let’s get this in precise perspective.’

‘Perspective!’ His father snorted in disgust. ‘I can only hope your blindness soon passes.’

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