Page 16 of Pregnant in the Italian's Palazzo

Aria inwardly prayed for the ground to open and swallow her up. The man looked like a god in his designer suit and she was talking aboutcramps?

He touched her hand, stilling her thoughts as he waited for her eyes to meet his. ‘You look beautiful, by the way. I probably should have said that first.’

‘Thank you.’ She felt the butterflies swoop and dance in her tummy all over again as he leaned down to lay a featherlight kiss upon her lips. ‘I’m going to stop talking now, lest I start rambling about other bodily functions.’

‘Let’s not aim for the impossible.’ He smirked, leading her outside where a sleek silver sports car lay in wait.

He wore a full tuxedo for the occasion, and she hadn’t quite been ready for the visual onslaught of seeing him in formal dress. His hair, usually curled and unruly in its natural state, had been slicked back from his forehead in an effortlessly elegant style.

She found it hard to continue being annoyed with him when he was so obviously trying for her. She just wished she knew why. He had made it quite clear on the jet that night that he was comfortable in his workaholic bachelor lifestyle and she’d thought she had made her peace with that. They were polar opposites in most ways other than the bedroom, so really it was best not to get too attached. She could only assume that tonight was a peace offering of some sort before they parted ways. Her flight had been rebooked for tomorrow morning, her suitcase was neatly packed and her room already put to rights.

It was all very civilised really, she thought as she wiped what was most definitelynota tiny tear from the corner of her eye.

As they were served a five-course meal in Nysio’s stunning town house in Florence by a world-class chef, she wrestled with the steadily rising discomfort in her gut. She hadn’t felt any nerves on their first night together, or their second, so why was she feeling such unease now? Such was her digestive discomfort, she could barely manage a drop of wine and the sight of the pink-centred venison main course made her stomach heave a little.

‘Is everything okay?’ Nysio asked. His brow furrowed with concern when she stood abruptly from the table and walked to the open patio doors for some fresh air.

‘I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘Just a little warm.’

She was warm; she had been feeling overheated all week, in fact. But just as she moved to suggest that perhaps Nysio should take her home, the bell rang from the foyer and the butler came in to announce that the evening’s surprise entertainment had arrived.

The surprise turned out to be a private performance from a world-renowned opera singer and her accompanying Grammy-winning pianist husband. Nysio’s town house was far from small considering it had its very own ballroom in which to enjoy this auditory extravaganza.

The lights had been dimmed, and candelabra lit, making the room seem to glow with atmosphere as the first strains of music floated through the air.

The private show was short, but breathtakingly beautiful, and Aria was stunned as she learned of the many countries in which the duo had performed together, and the names of the numerous members of royalty and governments and celebrities they had performed for made her eyebrows rise into her forehead.

Even though she had dressed the part, wearing a knee-length fifties-style black gown and elbow-length gloves, she still felt the pressure of having to appear cultured in the way that these people clearly were. She had not been raised in this world, a fact that she had no reason to hide but, hearing Nysio discuss the elite university he had apparently attended alongside the beautiful opera singer, she prayed that the conversation would not move onto her.

He left to see them outside and she found herself feeling a little dizzy so she located the nearest place to sit, which just so happened to be at the beautiful piano at the edge of the dance floor. It was an antique Steinway, the black enamel so beautifully preserved and polished that she could see her own reflection in the case. She sat down, dancing her fingers playfully across the keys with a flash of memory.

The song was one she’d learned by heart years before, but it seemed her fingers needed no further notice. She played the simple piece in full, a smile filling her lips as she finished on a perfect chord. She didn’t notice she had an audience until she heard the slow clap from behind her.

‘When did you learn how to play?’ Nysio walked slowly into the room from where he’d perched against the doorway.

‘My father refused to pay for lessons because he said I would only quit and it would be a waste of money, so I bought a keyboard and taught myself a few pieces when I was a teenager just to annoy him. I haven’t played in years. I don’t read music or anything fancy like that. I’m not actually trained.’

‘You are full of surprises, Aria Dane.’

‘I like to think so.’ She gave a delicate curtsy, standing up from the instrument and swaying a little before she corrected herself. She still looked too pale, he thought as he moved to take her elbow and guide her out onto the terrace. She had barely eaten at dinner and there was something just a little off...

She moved to stand beside the stone balustrade, gazing out at their perfect view of the Duomo lit up in all its glory. He wondered if she liked it, if she was enjoying the evening. He’d thought that perhaps the champagne and flowers had been too much, but she hadn’t said anything to the contrary.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ she whispered.

‘Yes,’ Nysio agreed, watching the glitter of the skyline dance in her eyes. How fitting that this woman would be named for both the life force that filled his lungs and the most striking and poignant moment in any opera. As though she could be named anything less.

‘How come you don’t live here?’ she asked, turning to look at him and startling a little to find his eyes already trained upon her.

‘This place was a remnant of my old life. I have no need for it any more since I moved to thepalazzo. I have rarely left the palace grounds in the past decade, ever since...’

‘Since what?’

‘My father became suddenly unwell soon after my graduation from university, and my mother was struggling to care for him and keep him from becoming prey for the media. He has Parkinson’s and it is a difficult condition to live with, very unpredictable. He is a proud man, quite old school, and he wished to keep his illness private. I stepped in to take his place as the head of our family. So I don’t have much need for a party house any more.’

‘I beg to differ. This place is a wonderful space to entertain in. There is always a need to dance. To have fun. To enjoy occasions with friends.’

‘I have no time for any of those things. Once I stepped into my father’s place, I discovered issues with the finances and set about resolving them.’

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