Page 18 of Pregnant in the Italian's Palazzo

‘Perhaps.’

‘These things... You don’t have to tell me about them if you’re not comfortable. I won’t dig, if you’re worried.’

‘Did I say I was worried?’

‘There it is, that fragile ego.’ She smiled good-naturedly. ‘I just feel like someone needed to remind you of what the world actually sees. What your talents are, your value,’ she said softly.

His eyes met hers and she inhaled a breath at the sudden intensity she saw there. He took her hands, stepping closer so that they almost stood chest to chest.

‘Aria...I know that tonight is your last night here. But I brought you here...to this property to show you what might be if you reconsidered my offer from London.’

‘Isn’t that what we’ve been doing these past couple of days?’

‘Yes, but I was thinking of a more regular set-up.’

She felt her stomach drop instantly. ‘Please tell me you’re not about to suggest that I become some kind of kept mistress.’

‘That’s a very outdated phrase. I was thinking more of two consenting adults who live separate lives but regularly enjoy each other’s company.’

‘You want to...date me?’

‘I don’tdate.’ He practically growled the word. ‘I want to continue getting to know you, but I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.’

‘Oh, heaven forbid.’ She laughed, moving away from him.

He held onto her wrist. ‘I don’t think this has run its course yet, do you?’

For a moment, Aria thought she’d heard him wrong. That she was simply grasping onto a wishful hope that he might actually want her, truly want her. But then she heard that word again: yet. Meaning that he thought this would run its course eventually. That even if she stayed for a while, it was inevitable that he would eventually tire of her.

‘Do you feel fully satisfied?’ he asked, his low rumble coming from just behind her right shoulder. Soft lips touched against the side of her neck and she felt her heart throb a little. She couldn’t tell him the true reason why she needed to leave...not without risking something far more delicate than just her pride, something she didn’t want to examine too closely.

She turned her head to find him standing directly behind her, his brow furrowed as he tried to read her face. He struggled with that sometimes, she realised. She recognised that often he needed to hear the exact words from her, plain and simple rather than relying on guessing games. She loved how plain and honest he was. She loved being here with him, talking with him...

If she gave more of herself to him on his terms, he had all but written down in ink that he would take it. Passion, sex... But nothing more. She knew with heartbreaking clarity that something more, a deeper connection, was what she truly wanted. Yes, the sex had been amazing, but the man she had come to know over the past forty-eight hours was infinitely more attractive to her. And infinitely more unattainable.

But was she really prepared to walk away from him completely? Would this be the single moment she looked back on in her old age and wished that she had done differently?

She had promised herself that she would never again be made to feel disposable by a man. Prolonging this affair was only prolonging the inevitable moment that he would break her heart, a heart that, if she was honest, was already falling headlong in love with him. The longer she stayed here, the more it would hurt when he walked away.

Her tortured thoughts seemed to be having an effect on the rest of her body as she felt another violent surge of nausea sweep over her like a wave. Determined not to show how unsettled she was by his offer, she turned from him and leaned on the balustrade to try to compose herself. When she seemed to sway forward slightly, Nysio was right there beside her in a flash.

‘Be careful you don’t hurt yourself,’ he chided, placing his strong hands on her upper arms and drawing her towards him.

The world spun even more, and her sensitive stomach followed suit. ‘Nysio...I think I’m going to be sick.’

That was the only warning she managed to give him before she pitched forward and was violently ill all over his designer shoes.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEROOMWASbathed in darkness when Aria awoke. Even with the lack of light, she could tell that this wasn’t the same sofa she’d fallen asleep on earlier once she had stopped being sick. Alarm swept through her, followed swiftly by nausea when she tried to shimmy herself across the vast mattress to reach the edge of the massive bed.

The low rumbling sound of someone’s breathing made her freeze and alarm had her reaching out to the bedside table for any source of light. A dim reading lamp flickered to life above the bed, casting the room with a soft golden hue. A broad male frame loomed large in the shadows, taking up all of the space upon one of the silk-covered wingback chairs in the corner. It only took her a moment to realise it was Nysio.

He lay reclined with one arm thrown haphazardly above his head, an action that had evidently spread the edges of his robe wide open, revealing a tanned, toned torso. The chair was likely another priceless family heirloom passed down for hundreds of years, a chair she would bet was made for decorative rather than practical use and yet he was using it as a bed while she had apparently stolen his.

Aria shimmied the last few feet across the bed with as much dignity as she could muster until her feet finally dangled over the edge. The drop to the floor was ridiculously high, yet still she managed it and made her way slowly through to the en-suite bathroom. A light flickered on automatically above her head, momentarily blinding her, and she braced her hands on the cold marble cabinets for a moment in case any more of that strange dizziness returned. It didn’t.

In fact, she felt mostly fine, other than the noise of her stomach growling after the lack of food she’d consumed at dinner. But still, the thought of eating anything made her want to gag. Aria leaned back against the cool tiled wall and frowned.

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