The Italian Boss's Mistress of Revenge

by Trish Morey

  She shook her head. ‘That all sounds fine.’

  ‘Then it’s a deal.’

  In the days and nights that followed she could have all too easily believed their impending marriage was for real. Dante took her to the exclusive jewellery store downstairs to select a ring, and the manager was more than happy to show them the best. Mackenzi had only wanted something small—to spend a lot under the circumstances seemed wrong—but Dante disagreed and insisted upon the best. The ring they finally settled upon was both bewitchingly simple and yet dazzling in its beauty. Mackenzi loved it.

  The Quinns were delighted with the engagement news, insisting on taking them out to celebrate, making sure the papers were on hand to photograph the happy couple.

  And Mackenzi did feel happy, and apart from a bit of shakiness in the early mornings she had never felt better. Her pregnancy, still their own precious secret, was confirmed and shown as viable with an ultrasound scan that had taken her breath away. Dante sat alongside her, trying with her to make sense of the shadowed images, until finally the picture had become clear and they saw it together—the beating of their baby’s tiny heart. He took her hand and squeezed it, and her own heart filled to bursting as together they stared at the miracle of new life they’d created together.

  There was real hope for them, she decided right then and there. There was good in Dante, and they could build a future together based not just around a baby but grounded in love; she knew it.

  The Quinn deal was ultimately wrapped up, another property they’d viewed in Wellington contracted, and Dante returned with Mackenzi to Melbourne, installing her in his Toorak mansion with strict instructions to do nothing more taxing than to shop for her wedding dress. He even surprised her by flying her mother over to help her.

  He loves me, she told herself, trying on one more gown and looking at her reflection in the mirror as the dresser adjusted the spread of the short train behind her. He’d been so thoughtful, so considerate, lately and yet still he’d been the consummate lover in the bedroom, which had first brought them together that first night. He must love me.

  The dresser took a moment longer to fix a short veil to complete the outfit then stood alongside her and nodded appreciatively at the picture in the mirror. Mackenzi smiled. The dress hugged her body like a glove, the cream-coloured silk perfectly complementing her skin and hair colouring, the design simple yet elegant.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked her mother when she emerged from the dressing room a moment later. But she could read the answer in her mother’s tear-filled eyes as she stood there, hands pressed together as though in prayer. ‘You look so beautiful,’ her mother cried. ‘That’s the one.’

  Mackenzi did not have a shred of doubt that she was doing the right thing or that she was cheating her parents out of ‘the real deal’ with this rushed marriage. As far as she was concerned, this was the real deal, and she knew in her heart that they could make it work.

  There was nothing surer.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE WEDDING DAY dawned misty and damp, an early-morning shower leaving the air fresh and crisp, the clear sky bearing promise of a sun-kissed spring day. A perfect day for a garden wedding. Mackenzi stood on the balcony of her suite and breathed in the cool, clear air, relishing being back in the Adelaide Hills again, letting the classic atmosphere of Ashton House wrap its way around her. It was good to be home.

  She’d spent the night alone, as tradition dictated, and already she was anticipating the thrill of spending tonight and every following night with Dante, this time as neither his mistress nor his fiancée, but as his wife.

  Excitement fizzed in her veins, radiating out along her limbs until even her fingers and toes tingled. She hugged the feeling to herself. She was the luckiest woman alive.

  The morning passed in a blur of appointments—hairdresser, manicurist and make-up artists all wanting a piece of her, her mother clucking around organizing things like a good mother should. Mackenzi loved every minute of it. She was still in her robe, preparing to put on her dress, her mother and bridesmaid in the midst of having their hair done, when there was a buzz at the door. One hairdresser made a move to answer it but Mackenzi put a hand up. ‘I’ll get it,’ she said, as she was closest to the entry lobby. ‘That should be the flowers.’

  ‘Just make sure it’s not Dante!’ they called out in a chorus behind her. She laughed as she peered through the spy hole, her stomach dropping when she saw who it was.

  Adrian. Holding a box of flowers. She hadn’t seen him since that day he’d been ordered on the next flight out of Auckland. She hadn’t been looking forward to seeing him again, but he had organised her wedding, and today of all days she couldn’t be churlish.

  She opened the door, forcing something of a smile to return, although the way his eyes narrowed as they scanned her from top to bottom told her his view of her hadn’t improved any. She wished she had more than scanty underwear on under her robe.

  ‘Your flowers have arrived,’ he said tightly, holding out the box towards her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, giving them little more than a glance through the cellophane window. There would be time to admire them later. ‘By the way, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for everything you’ve done for me in organising this wedding.’

  His mouth angled up as his lips pressed together. ‘It was my job,’ he said, as if he undertook such menial impositions every day whether he wanted to or not.

  ‘Oh, well, thanks anyway.’ She put out her hands to take the box and he made a subtle movement, tugging it away.

  ‘I was surprised, quite frankly.’

  ‘Oh?’ she said, watching the box, wondering if she’d merely imagined or misinterpreted what had just happened. ‘What about?’

  ‘To find you still hanging around.’

  Now he had her full attention. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Only that I thought you would have given up, now that your cause is lost.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The deal you had with Dante, to sleep with him in exchange for him thinking about the future of this fine establishment.’

  The hackles at the back of her neck rose. Adrian knew the details of their deal? No wonder he looked at her as if she were soiled. But she wasn’t about to take the dirt from him. ‘But that’s old news, Adrian, it isn’t an issue any more. Ashton House is safe.’

  ‘Is it, indeed?’ His eyes grew malicious, his smirk more knowing. ‘You mean he hasn’t told you?’

  Fear washed through her, threatening to buckle her knees, not wanting to hear more but needing to ask. ‘Told me what?’

  ‘That the hotel is closing.’ He pressed the box into her hands and sneered. ‘Enjoy your wedding.’

  She turned and walked blindly back into the room, placing the flowers on the bed to the appreciative ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s from the womenfolk. She left them to it and picked up the phone, Reception picking up a few rings later—it couldn’t be true.

  ‘Natalie?’ she said, recognizing the girl and ignoring as tactfully as she could her questions as to how everything was going and how it was all so exciting. ‘What’s happening with the hotel? I heard a rumour it’s closing?’

  It’s a lie, she told herself while she waited, her heart thumping so loud she was sure Natalie would be able to hear it. It has to be a lie.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Natalie, and then with some trepidation, ‘I thought you would have known—’

  He’d lied to her! Mackenzi dropped the receiver in a clatter, turning, not bothering to check if it had landed on the cradle as she made her way to the wardrobe.

  ‘The flowers are simply magnificent,’ she heard her mother say behind her. ‘Don’t you think so, dear?’

  She grunted something in response as she dragged on a pair of jeans, pulling off the robe and throwing on a T-shirt and zipper jacket, slipping her feet into moccasins.

  ‘Mackenzi,’ her mother called. �
��What are you doing? The wedding…’

  She turned then, barely able to see anyone through a fog of tears. ‘I don’t think there’s going to be a wedding.’ And she fled.

  ‘What do you mean, she’s gone?’ Dante’s gut clenched down in panic. ‘Where?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ Mackenzi’s mother said. ‘She just rushed out of here like the devil was at her heels. And Dante?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘She said she didn’t think there was going to be a wedding.’

  He put down the receiver and roared his frustration. What had happened to make her take off like that? There’d been no indication, no clue that she was feeling disgruntled, quite the reverse. In fact, he’d never seen her happier than the last few days leading up to the wedding. What on earth had gone wrong?

  ‘Anything wrong?’ He turned to see Adrian letting himself into the room with their buttonholes.

  ‘It’s Mackenzi,’ he said, jabbing numbers into the phone. ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Gone?’ he said, putting the flowers down on the coffee-table and pouring himself a shot of whiskey. ‘You mean she’s changed her mind?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Dante said, frowning when he glanced at the time. ‘Not until I talk to her. Pick up. Pick up,’ he urged the other end.

  ‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ Adrian conjectured, tossing back his whiskey in one neat action, baring his teeth as it hit the spot. ‘Maybe you’re better to find out how flaky she is now, before you tie the knot.’

  ‘Shut up, Adrian.’ The phone picked up. ‘Natalie! Is that you? Have you seen Mackenzi?’

  ‘Isn’t she in her room? She called from there a little while ago?’

  ‘What did she want?’

  ‘It was really strange. She just asked if the hotel was closing. I thought it was odd she didn’t seem to know…’

  Oh my God! ‘And what did you tell her?’

  ‘Just that it was. She didn’t give me a chance to say anything else.’

  Could it be any worse? He thanked her and hung up in the space of less than a second, reaching for his car keys the next.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Adrian, already pouring his second whiskey.

  ‘To find her.’

  ‘Are you sure she’s worth it? You could do better than some slapper who exchanges sex for favours.’

  Dante had picked him up and slammed him up against the bureau before Adrian knew what had hit him, his glass of whiskey flinging contents in a sweeping golden arc around the room before tumbling down onto the carpet. ‘You don’t know anything about her!’ he said, regretting the moment on the plane when he’d trusted Adrian enough to share the secret of their intimate deal. And now Mackenzi was missing. Coincidence?

  ‘What do you know about Mackenzi running away?’

  Adrian’s arms flailed helplessly as he shook his head. ‘Me, boss? Nothing.’

  Dante snarled at him, smelling his fear, knowing he was lying. ‘Whatever possessed me to think you’d ever make a best man?’ He pulled him suddenly towards him and gave him a shove sideways that sent him tumbling into the sofa. ‘I want you out of here by the time I get back. And I never want to see you again.’

  ‘But boss—’

  ‘Never!’

  He powered the car out of the driveway, turning onto the tangled hills road on a hunch, hoping he was right. He had to find her. He had to bring her back.

  But the roads looked different from the last time he’d followed her; the fog had cleared away, the views over the surrounding hills were long and everything looked different. Every last thing.

  She must have left the hotel in a complete state. God, if anything had happened to her! If anything had happened before he had the chance to tell her.

  He thumped the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. Why had it taken him so long to realize? Adrian was so far off the mark, and yet it had been like a wake-up call, forcing him to realize what she meant to him. She was no slapper ready to exchange sex for favours, he knew that now.

  She was a passionate, vibrant woman.

  The mother of his child.

  The woman he loved!

  He shot past the turnoff before he’d realized, cursing as he had to double back, hoping it was the turnoff he needed.

  But was it already too late?

  Misty met her at the door, winding her way around her legs, pretending it was dinner time already like she always did, even though it was barely midday. Mackenzi reached down and picked her up, stroking her as she let herself into her house.

  ‘You might love me for my cat food, but at least you love me,’ she said, feeling a fresh batch of tears welling up and pressing to be launched. She forced the feeling back. She would not cry. Damn Dante Carrazzo to hell and back, but she would not cry!

  She put the cat down on the back of the sofa and went to her room. She’d left her better suitcase back at the hotel, but she had an older, dustier one on top of her wardrobe. She stood on a chair and pulled it down, blowing off the fine coating of dust before setting it down on her bed. She’d go away somewhere. She didn’t know where, but somewhere nobody could find her.

  Especially if nobody’s name was Dante Carrazzo.

  The phone rang and she jumped at the sound, but she didn’t answer it. It was better if people didn’t know where she was. She’d call her parents later, when she’d found herself a bolthole. She’d tell them she was sorry but it had been a mistake. She’d tell them she’d be okay. And somehow—somehow—she’d make them believe it.

  She tossed the last of her clothes in, not overly concerned what was there, and zipped the bag up, remembering the trouble she’d had last time when she’d packed to leave this house. No such difficulty this time. Wherever she was going, she wasn’t out to impress.

  Mackenzi was just lugging the suitcase down the hallway when she heard it—the powerful engine roaring closer, and the spew of gravel as it pulled to a screeching stop outside. A feeling of déjà vu cementing her insides. Dante! She turned, fleeing the other way down her hallway even as she heard the sound of a car door slamming and running footsteps up the path. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to listen to any more lies. Didn’t want him to know how much he’d hurt her.

  Because she was under no misconception why he was here. It wasn’t for her sake. It was because he wanted their baby. That was when this whole marriage idea had arisen. It had never had anything to do with her. And she’d tried to convince herself that he loved her.

  Fool!

  Her front door flew open. ‘Mackenzi!’

  She stiffened and turned slowly, watching him come closer, feeling like a rabbit caught in the headlights. ‘Go away!’

  ‘You have to listen to me.’

  ‘No! I’m done with listening to you. You lied to me. You did before, you will again.’

  ‘Mackenzi, please?’

  ‘Get out of my way. I’d like to leave now.’

  ‘I can’t let you do that, not like this, not before you give me a chance to explain.’

  She gave up trying to move anywhere down the corridor and fled into the relative space of her living room, aware he would follow her, knowing the second he did. Misty looked up warily as the warring factions drew nearer, the end of her tail flicking dangerously. ‘I told you, I don’t want to hear it! We had a deal and you broke it.’

  ‘I didn’t break it.’

  ‘You damned well did. You promised me you’d save Ashton House and I believed you. But you’re closing it. Adrian told me you’d already decided.’

  Dante cursed out loud. ‘Adrian is a malicious bastard. He’s toxic. I’ve told him to clear out.’

  ‘Oh, does that mean you got rid of Natalie too? Because she said the same thing. Don’t try to blame Adrian for your failings, Dante, because I’m over it. I’m over everything, as of right now.’

  He sighed then and she almost thought he was conceding defeat, his expression softening so markedly. ‘I wanted it to be a surprise,’ he
told her, his tone almost imploring.

  ‘What—that you’d decided to pull Ashton House down after all? I just bet you wanted it to be a surprise.’ But her tone was less savage than she’d intended, his change of mood throwing her off-balance.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not closing it to pull it down.’

  She tilted her head. ‘But you are closing it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But why? We had a deal. You promised me you’d save Ashton House. You promised! And I don’t matter to you. This baby doesn’t matter to you. No matter what you say or what you promise, all you’re interested in doing is in pulling Sara and Jonas Douglas down.’

  He covered his upturned face with his hands, but it couldn’t mask the agonized roar that sent chills down Mackenzi’s spine and had Misty fleeing from the room.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes wild in his flushed face, his neck corded and tight. ‘That was all I wanted. To pull them down. To make them pay for what they’d done.’

  More chills descended her spine, ripping her throat of voice, leaving her only with a croaking whisper. She wrapped her arms around her midriff. ‘What did they do?’

  He shook his head, his eyes closed, raking one hand through his hair. Then he opened his eyes.

  ‘Mackenzi,’ he said softly, looking suddenly exhausted, gesturing to the sofa. ‘I have to tell you something. Maybe something I should have told you a long time ago. But something I need to tell you if only you’ll understand. Will you hear me out?’

  She stood there uncertainly, not knowing if she wanted to listen, knowing she couldn’t listen if it meant hearing more lies.

  He smiled, if it could have been called that, crooked and halfway resigned. ‘Please,’ he insisted. ‘It’s important.’

  She nodded briefly and sat down on the sofa, thinking that maybe something in what he had to say would make some sense out of what had happened, realising it was important that for once he wanted to open up about the past.