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“And what of the gentlemen you entertain?”
True to form, Brianna thought. “I do not entertain anyone. Mrs. Schelling just jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
Marco’s stony glare didn’t change.
“In any case, I need to start getting dressed.”
“Am I to presume that I will be given the privilege of sitting for my own son?”
“Only if I’m to presume that you’d still like to.”
“Of course I do. But I have one question for you first.”
She somehow knew that he would. “By all means,” she said, not sure how much more conflict she could take in one morning.
“What exactly would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?”
There was that hint of accusation in his voice again. “I would have figured something out.”
“I’m afraid to guess what that would have been. Were you going to perhaps dump Enzo off on an unprepared neighbor? Or maybe you would have brought him to the restaurant with you where he would have been practically unsupervised.”
Oh, he was just too much. “All the neighbors love Enzo, first of all. Secondly, I have a backup sitter.”
“And how long would that have taken?”
He had a point. It would probably have taken long enough to make her late again. Enzo’s antics had made her late so often in the past, Chef Ansigne had just about lost all patience with her.
“Are you going to sit with him or not?”
“Of course. Don’t even pretend you have another option.”
Brianna refused to take the bait. “Fine, I’m going to run upstairs and take a shower.” She reached down to tussle Enzo’s hair. He’d come over to hug her leg, seeking comfort, no doubt.
She leaned over to his eye level. “Enzo, you’re going to spend the day with Papa. All right?”
Enzo shook his head and smiled.
Marco immediately went to him. “Why did he say no?” he asked Brianna. “I thought he remembered who I was.”
“He shakes his head when he means yes. He’s saying no when he covers his face with his arm.”
Marco smiled but it didn’t last. “It’s been so long, I don’t know any of his little quirks.”
Here it comes, Brianna thought. Another condemning tirade about how all that was her fault. But instead Marco stroked his son’s cheek and started to speak softly to him in Italian. Brianna hadn’t forgotten how gentle he could be, how tender.
She shook away the memories. There was no use for them now. Slowly stepping around Marco and Enzo, Brianna silently made her way to the stairway.
* * *
Marco heard the water come on upstairs. It would be very hot, he knew. That was how Brianna liked her showers. There would be steam rising off her silky, smooth skin. She was likely using a lavender soap, rubbing it over her curves.
Stop it.
But how? She was no less beautiful than when he’d fallen for her three years ago. It was taking everything he had not to go up to her now. He knew she would respond. No matter what had happened between them and how far they’d been apart, she was sure to respond. The way she responded to him had never been the problem.
He just wished he understood her.
The nanny’s words echoed through his head. Entertaining a gentleman.
The woman must have witnessed something to speak as she did. Had she found Brianna “entertaining” in the past?
He clenched his fists.
He had to consider the possibility. Despite being her husband, he hardly knew Brianna. When they’d first met on that fateful business trip to oversee expansion of the family’s North American operations, Brianna had still been training then, barely out of culinary school. One look at her had triggered an attraction unlike any he’d ever felt. Nothing he’d ever shared with any other woman even compared. Maybe that was why he’d behaved so foolishly that week and then had actually thought they might make it work.
Memories of that first night came back to him. Marco had made his way to the kitchen just to get away from all the noise and chaos of a rapidly growing melee. Also to perhaps find something to drink rather than the steady flow of champagne.
He’d nearly run into Brianna as he’d stepped through the door. She’d been a whirlwind of activity, in charge of catering the affair. Somehow, in a white chef’s hat and stained apron, she was still breathtakingly striking.
Plus, she’d been so genuine, so real compared to some of the other attendees at that party. He’d been drawn to her immediately. And then when she’d actually ordered him to season appetizers, telling him he may as well make himself useful if he was going to dally in the kitchen.
No one had ever approached him that way.
He’d insisted on taking her out that evening, surprised and relieved when she’d agreed. They’d made arrangements to see each other at least once during his weeklong stay, despite the urgent matters he needed to tend to. Instead, they’d seen each other daily.
Uncharacteristic as it was, he couldn’t seem to help himself despite the demands on his schedule. He’d found himself unable to focus on anything but a primitive need to have her.
A need that apparently still possessed him today.
But after they were married, his responsibilities had often kept him away from home. She was his wife. She may as well have been a stranger.
When did it change? When did their love affair become a cold battle? She’d told him he spent too much time working. Too much time away for his business. She didn’t appreciate the pressure someone in his position faced.
A tug on his leg brought his attention back to his son.
He crouched down to Enzo’s position. “Hey, little man.”
Enzo lifted up his empty cup.
“More juice?”
Enzo shook his head.
“That means yes, right?”
The boy covered his face.
“Well, now I’m confused.” Marco stood up with Enzo cradled in his arms. Setting him on the couch, he gave the boy a very serious look then sat next to him. “I believe that was your third nanny in six months, no?”
Enzo gave him a grin that revealed three upper front teeth. Marco started to smile despite himself. He tried to resume the serious expression on his face but gave up when Enzo grabbed a tuft of his hair. The boy had an amazingly strong grip. Pride in his son’s strength overrode his pain as Enzo tugged. Hard.
Marco knew he should chastise him but found he couldn’t. Too much time had passed since he’d seen his son.
Marco sighed. The sooner they worked out custody, the better. He needed to know he would see Enzo for a few days at least once a month. Anything less would be unbearable.
He and Brianna had no business being married, but their mutual business now was little Enzo. They would have to work to make sure the little boy grew up healthy and happy. It would be difficult, with a mother in New York and a father across the globe in Italy. But it was doable. As soon as Brianna came back from work tonight, he would tell her that. Then he would leave.
CHAPTER THREE (#u51e96b0f-8810-5a29-893b-a39b18e44998)
BRIANNA WISHED SHE could crawl back into bed.
In the few short hours since Marco had reentered her world, it had turned upside down. At work, she’d been flustered, clumsy and distracted.
And she’d been fired. After several warnings, Chef Ansigne had finally relieved her of her position as second line chef. Not that she was surprised. All the incidences of tardiness, then today’s repeated mistakes, had sealed her fate. Apparently, lumpy mashed potatoes and droopy salads were Chef Ansigne’s breaking points.
And now Brianna had to contend with her soon-to-be ex-husband. Had it only been just this morning he’d shown up at her door? She felt as though she’d lived a whole year since. She let a moment pass on the front porch before inserting her key and entering the house. There was no way she could tell him she’d lost her job.
The sounds of Marco and Enzo playing together resonated through the hallway, Marco’s husky voice punctuated by childish squeals of laughter.
She hung up her coat and made her way to the kitchen. The two of them were sitting at the center table, which presently held an array of toys. When Enzo saw her he lifted his arms and yelled, “Mama!”
Brianna went over and gave her son a fierce hug, avoiding eye contact with Marco.
“I thought you weren’t going to be home until very late.”
She shrugged. “I asked to leave early.”
“Hmm.”
Brianna looked up. “What?”
He’d rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his collar. His hair was already in disarray, the telltale lock falling forward over his eye. He looked devilish. And incredibly sexy. Her fingers itched to go smooth his hair back, to touch him. She clasped her hands together behind her back.
“Why did you ask to leave early?” he asked.
“Because I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed watching him all by yourself.” That was one doozy of a lie. She’d never seen Marco overwhelmed by anything. This was the man who had taken over the family business and doubled it in size. He knew several languages, could seal any deal, and he was an ace boater who won trophies every year.
And somehow he’d ended up married to an orphaned nobody who couldn’t keep a job.
“As you can see, we’re doing fine,” Marco said, then handed Enzo a toy train. “And you’re a bad liar, dear wife.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“But that’s what you are—my unemployed wife.”
The blood drained from her face. How could he know?
“You no longer have a job, do you?”
She swallowed. “Of course I do. There wasn’t that much—”
Marco didn’t let her finish. “Darling, your chef Ansigne called here. It appears you left your box of knives and tools behind. He’d like you to come get them as soon as possible as he needs the locker for your replacement.”
“Fine. I was fired today. Does that make you happy?”
“Of course not. But you don’t need to worry about finances.”
“That’s what you say.”
“It’s a fact. You’re the mother of my child. Technically, you’re still my wife.”
“I won’t be much longer.”
“Even so, there’s no need to rush. You and Enzo will always be financially secure. I’ll see to it.”
Of course he would see to it—it meant he could toss her aside with no guilt.
How in the world had she ended up in this predicament? Her career was on the cusp of taking off before she’d gotten pregnant. Apparently, a three-year break could be career suicide.
“Take care of your son, Marco. You have no need to take care of me. I can fend for myself. I always have.”
“Ever the independent one.”
“In any case, you don’t really need to concern yourself,” she said, just to spite him. “Seeing as our adventure is over.”
“Enzo, why don’t you go play with the train track we set up in the other room?” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. The child immediately obeyed. Which was very surprising, for Enzo.
Marco moved around the table and closed the distance between them. Brianna’s heart pounded as he approached. Why couldn’t she keep her emotions in check when it came to this man?
“As brief as our affair was to be, the fact remains that it resulted in a child.” His voice was cold and tight.
“It should have never resulted in marriage.”
“I apologize if my wish to legitimize my son put a cramp in your lifestyle.”
She sucked in a breath at those words. “What makes you think it did?”
Her regret came too late. The falsehood broke the last of Marco’s hold on his temper. In less than a second, he had moved to within inches of where she stood.
“You dare toy with me about such things?” he demanded, his breath hot against her cheek.
To Brianna’s horror, her wayward body immediately reacted. A curl of deep, scorching heat erupted in her belly and traveled slowly lower. She wanted to move but seemed unable to. All she could feel was his heat.
“Marco, just stop. I can’t fight with you right now,” she pleaded, totally depleted of energy all of a sudden. Having him here was wreaking havoc on her senses. A part of her longed for him, had ached to see him and feel him again. But another part, a more logical one, knew better.
That was the part she needed to focus on. It took all of her will to step away. Scooting back around the table, she fought to catch her breath.
Marco stayed where he was. She suspected Enzo’s presence in the next room was to thank for that. His breathing was harsh.
