The Italian’s Ruthless Marriage Command. Helen Bianchin

exterior walls and, she saw when she entered the large lobby, cream marble floor tiles, beautiful rugs and solid mahogany furniture.

      A middle-aged woman came forward to greet them. Dante introduced her as Anna, whose husband, Claude, maintained the grounds.

      There were oil paintings gracing the walls, an elegant, sweeping double staircase, and a sparkling crystal chandelier hung suspended from a tall ceiling.

      Taylor was supremely conscious of Dante’s close proximity as he showed her through the house.

      The subtle tones of his cologne teased her senses, and, although he made no attempt at physical contact, she disliked the prickle of awareness stealing through her body.

      She covered it well, making appropriate comments as they moved through the ground-level rooms, all of which were spacious, beautifully furnished, before moving to the upper level, which did, as Dante had indicated, contain two distinct wings, each containing guest suites with adjoining en suites. There was also a media room, a family lounge and two home offices.

      It was, Taylor had to concede, a beautiful home, complemented by landscaped grounds, a large swimming pool with entry from the side of the house and completely enclosed with a solar-tinted glass roof and glass-panelled external walls.

      There was no valid reason why Dante’s suggested living arrangement couldn’t work…with certain iron-clad provisos.

      ‘Any reservations you’d care to voice?’ Dante queried as they began descending the staircase, and she met his dark, probing look with equanimity.

      ‘A few.’

      ‘Then let’s hear them.’

      She paused on one step and turned towards him, aware he copied her action.

      ‘I want to make it very clear Ben is the only reason I’ll accept your suggestion.’

      ‘So noted.’

      ‘The live-in arrangement is strictly business,’ she offered, and lifted a hand to cover the tell-tale thud at the base of her throat, ‘with all that statement implies.’

      Dante looked at her for a long moment, aware she held his gaze with determined resolve, almost silently daring him to be the first to glance away.

      Yet beneath the resolve he sensed unaccustomed wariness and a degree of fragility. Coupled with innate reserve, it was an interesting mix.

      ‘You have nothing to fear from me,’ he drawled, and saw a delicate pink tinge her cheeks an instant before she turned away and began stepping quickly down the stairs.

      Dante checked his watch, alerted Gianni, then he followed Taylor down into the lobby and led the way to the waiting Mercedes.

      It was a relatively trouble-free run from Vaucluse to Double Bay, and Dante turned slightly towards her as the car slid into a parking bay adjacent the kindergarten. ‘I’ll come with you.’

      She could hardly refuse without sounding churlish, and she managed a polite response. ‘Ben will be pleased to see you.’

      Dante’s presence drew attention as they crossed towards the kindergarten entrance, his tall, broad, impeccably tailored frame a stand-out from the few males gathered waiting to collect children.

      Within minutes the outer door opened, and a carer took up position to ensure each child was collected by their designated parent or grandparent.

      Taylor effected an introduction, drew attention to the fact she’d previously noted Dante as Ben’s legal guardian, whereupon relevant details were checked on the call-sheet, together with Dante’s mobile-phone number.

      ‘Please alter the residential address,’ Dante informed, and gave it. ‘Effective from today,’ he added smoothly.

       Excuse me?

      ‘Isn’t this a little precipitate?’ she said quietly as they moved aside, and incurred his dark gaze.

      ‘There’s no reason to delay settling Ben into his new home.’

      Taylor sent him a spearing look. ‘Tomorrow,’ she stated firmly. ‘It will allow him to become accustomed to the idea.’

      Minutes later Ben was summoned by the carer, whereupon he moved quickly to the entrance, leant into her hug, then a smile broadened his mouth as he caught sight of Dante.

      Without a word he raised his arms as Dante lifted him high against his chest and held him close.

      ‘Hello, Ben.’

      ‘Zio. You came. Taylor said you would.’ Ben looked at him solemnly. ‘Are you going to stay?’

      ‘Yes. Most of the time,’ Dante assured as he crossed the parking area.

      ‘Cool.’

      One word, conveying much, and Taylor felt her heart melt a little…as it had so often these past few weeks, when all she wanted to do was hug him close and will back his laughter and joy of life.

      Time. It will just take time, she assured silently as they reached the Mercedes, and she frowned with sudden anxiety. ‘Ben’s booster seat is in my car.’

      Dante spared her a glance. ‘I had Gianni organise one this morning.’ He opened the rear door, saw Ben safely buckled in as she slid in beside her nephew, while Dante took the adjacent seat.

      She knew she should credit Dante with forethought, but he was moving too fast, taking control…doubtless a power trait he’d skilfully honed as head of the d’Alessandri corporation.

      Laudable, but Ben wasn’t a corporate commodity, and she intended to relay her viewpoint at the soonest possible moment.

      A strange prickling sensation at the back of her neck caused her to spare a glance in Dante’s direction, and the breath stopped in her throat as she met his musing gaze.

      He couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking, surely? Oh, for heaven’s sake…it hardly mattered if he did.

      Taylor offered Gianni directions to her apartment, and she felt a sense of relief when the car slid to a halt at the kerb outside what had once been a stately double-storeyed villa which developers had converted into four apartments.

      ‘Thanks for lunch,’ she acknowledged quietly as Dante withdrew Ben and set him onto his feet on the pavement.

      Ben’s hand curled into his uncle’s much larger one as he looked up at her. ‘Can Zio come up and see my bike?’

      How could she refuse? ‘Of course. If he’d like to.’ She almost qualified it with ‘if he isn’t too busy’, and stilled the words before they could find voice.

      Did Dante sense her reluctance? Perhaps, although she told herself his thought process was of little interest.

      Her apartment was one of two situated on the upper floor, reached by a wide central staircase, and she unlocked the door, disarmed the alarm system, then indicated the hallway. ‘Would you like coffee?’

      ‘Thanks, that would be nice.’ He smiled down at Ben’s anxious features. ‘Let’s go see your bike, shall we?’

      The apartment was relatively spacious and pleasantly furnished. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, the usual utilities. Feminine, but functional, he noted as Ben led him into a room where floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined two walls. A home office, sans a desk, computer or the usual electronic equipment.

      Instead stuffed toys lined the bed, and there were several toy cars and trucks neatly parked together on the floor. A few childish prints were attached to the wall above the bed, together with an enlarged framed photo taken in happier times featuring Casey, Leon, Ben as a young babe and Taylor.

      Dante’s gaze lingered, settled briefly on Taylor’s features, noting her happy smile, the laughing eyes…as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

      ‘This is my bike.’

      Dante