Page 33 of Back to Claim His Italian Heir

He frowned. ‘But your mother neglected you?’

‘So they said. I don’t actually know. The case files reveal very little. And trust me, when you’ve gone through the foster system, you see how, despite the best intentions, good people sometimes get taken advantage of and bad people can get a free pass.’ She shrugged, and he knew she must have seen that in her own life. The broken wrist, the burns. How much had Emma suffered?

‘Whether that happened to my mother or not, I don’t know. She died when I was two, a car accident. And I never knew my father—so I suppose we have that in common.’ The smile she gave him was wry, determined, and made him ache because it felt so brave. ‘I was bounced around from foster family to foster family until I was thirteen, when I was considered too old and frankly too much of a handful for families, and so I ended up in a care home. They’re not as bad as you might think,’ she added quickly, before he could say anything. ‘In some ways, they’re better. You can stop trying so hard, to get a family to like you. Want to keep you.’

They had that in common too, he realised. Trying to win people’s love. All in all, it sounded like an absolutely wretched childhood. ‘And what happened then?’ he asked quietly.

‘I aged out of the system at eighteen.’ She shrugged. ‘Again, not as bad as you think. They give you some support, they don’t just dump you in it, although by that time it’s usually not enough. Most of us feel a little lost. I know I did. But I enrolled in a catering course—I’ve always liked cooking. I had dreams of opening my own restaurant one day.’ She ducked her head a bit, as if this was revealing too much. ‘But as it happens, I dropped out after a year.’

‘Why?’

‘This is starting to feel a bit like an interrogation.’ He thought she was trying to sound playful and not quite managing it.

‘I don’t mean it to be. You can ask me questions too, you know.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘Suddenly you’re an open book?’

He shrugged, determined to keep going. Keep trying. ‘I’ll try to be.’

She let out another breath as she turned to the window. ‘I don’t even know what to ask.’

‘Anything,’ he replied, hoping he meant it.

She turned to face him. ‘Have you ever been in love?’

Nico tried to keep his expression interested but bland as her question jolted through him.Had he?He thought of the affairs he’d had in the past, meaningless flings he’d never even tried to go deeper with, because he hadn’t wanted to take that risk, and in any case none of the women had seemed worth it. And as for Emma...well, he’d tried to convince himself he was in love with her, had let that notion carry him through his rehabilitation...but he knew now that you couldn’t love someone if you didn’t know them. What he’d felt had been infatuation, maybe even obsession, but not love, no matter how much he’d tried to convince himself otherwise. ‘No,’ he said, and knew he was speaking the truth. ‘Have you?’

‘No, definitely not.’ She spoke decisively. ‘All right, another question. Do you want to be in love? Fall in love?’

She clearly wasn’t pulling her punches. Nico hesitated, determined to be honest, even if it was risky. ‘Considering you’re married to me,’ he remarked lightly, ‘is the question you’re really asking, do I want to fall in love with you?’

A startled look passed across Emma’s face, like a bird taking flight. ‘I suppose,’ she finally answered slowly.

And how was he meant to answer that? Nico wondered, realising the trap he’d neatly laid for himself. He’d started out on this venture determined not to fall in love with Emma—the Emma he’d thought he’d known, that he couldn’t trust. He’d wanted the kind of arrangement where he reaped all the benefits and yet risked nothing, certainly not his heart. Right now that seemed like a poor exchange, indeed, especially when he was realising Emma wasn’t anything like the heartless gold-digger of his imagination. But was he ready to admit to her what—and how much—he did want? He wasn’t even sure he could admit it to himself. He wasn’t sure he knew...although he thought he might be beginning to suspect.

‘I’ll answer first,’ Emma said, before he could formulate a reply, ‘since you seem to be thinking about it. I’m not interested in falling in love,beingin love, at all. You might as well know I dropped out of that catering course because of a guy. No one important, really, but after I’d aged out of the system I was feeling a little lost, like I said, and I pinned all my hopes on him. Clearly a mistake.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘But it was more than that, really. The truth was, I was scared of failing. Better to quit than to fail—that, unfortunately, has been my motto for a lot of my life. But in terms of the guy... Eric...’ She took a steadying breath, let it out slowly. ‘I didn’t love him, not really, but I tried to convince myself I did, and unfortunately, he ended up being just like everybody else.’

‘Like everybody else?’ Nico probed, wondering just what that meant.

‘Not interested in sticking around for the long haul.’ She hunched her shoulders, tilted her chin, a heartbreaking combination of courage and hurt. ‘But even before that, I’d pretty much made my mind up about that sort of thing. I basically grew up on my own, and I’ve liked it that way. I don’t want to...need people like that. Emotionally, I mean. I choose not to, because...well, because it’s easier. There was one family who I thought...’ She stopped, shaking her head. ‘Anyway. That’s how I’ve lived my life, and that’s how I want to keep on living it. Friendship, affection, trust...all good.’ She gave him a determined smile. ‘But love, no.’

Which he could, unfortunately, understand. Hadn’t he been a bit similar—choosing not to try to win his father’s love because he realised he could never earn it? But it had been a hard and hopeless way to live, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it now, or in the future.

‘Don’t you have anything to say?’ Emma challenged.

‘I suppose I understand why you would feel that way,’ Nico replied after a moment.

‘And that’s okay with you?’ she pressed. ‘I mean, considering your own background, I sort of assumed it would be. That you’re not interested in...that kind of thing, either.’ She glanced at him, her amber eyes filled with uncertainty, but also, Nico thought, a wary sort of hope. But what was she hoping for? That he agreed with her—or that he didn’t?

‘Emma,’ he said finally, ‘we’re just getting to know each other now. It all feels a bit precipitous to put limits on our relationship, but certainly, I see your point. We’ve both been hurt before. It’s understandable that we’d both want to take measures to make sure that doesn’t happen again.’

She bit her lip, her uncertain gaze scanning his face. Nico kept his expression deliberately bland. ‘So it’s okay with you?’ she pressed again, and he nodded.

‘Yes, of course,’ he told her, because what else could he say? This was the only thing she wanted to hear, and he didn’t know his own heart yet. ‘It’s okay with me,’ he reassured her, and Emma nodded. As she sat back against her seat, Nico couldn’t decide if she looked disappointed—or relieved.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THISPLACEWAS, Emma thought, far from the first time, utterly amazing. She stood on the terrace off her sumptuous bedroom in Nico’s villa as she watched the sun set over the tranquil, aquamarine waters of the Mediterranean Sea lapping the white sand beach at the bottom of the villa’s landscaped gardens.