A Baby to Bind His Innocent

by Michelle Smart

  He tried to breathe but his heart had expanded so much it had squashed his lungs.

  * * *

  Over a month later and, to Claudia’s delight, Ciro announced they were going to a gala at a trendy art gallery. With firm instructions to get herself a cocktail dress, she explored the women’s section of his department store with a fawning personal shopper hanging on her arm telling her everything she tried on looked perfect.

  Knowing perfectly well the shopper was ingratiating herself with the boss’s wife, Claudia hid her amusement and enjoyed the experience. She’d never shopped for clothes before without having to think about how her father would react to seeing her in them.

  Ciro, she knew, wouldn’t care what she wore. All the same, she wanted to make him proud.

  Things between them had changed immeasurably. She was in no doubt of the sincerity of both his guilt and his desire for her. He’d even cut short a five-day trip to Paris to three days. Heat engulfed her every time she remembered how he’d walked into the apartment, locked eyes with her and, without uttering a word, scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.

  Neither of them had mentioned the original agreement that she share his bed for only a few weeks. It hadn’t needed mentioning.

  She didn’t know if it was the intimacy of the act he’d performed on her that made her feel they’d reached a whole new level of closeness but she felt as if they were properly together, a team, a couple, partners. For the first time since the wedding, she looked to the future with hope in her heart.

  Their baby was due in less than six months. It wouldn’t be long before her body began properly changing. So far, her belly had developed a slight roundness but she’d been assured that would suddenly accelerate and she’d turn into a beached whale. If that made the passion between them dwindle to nothing then she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. She was confident that they’d forged a good enough friendship that when she moved into her own apartment, they could co-parent their baby as friends. If the passion between them still existed...they’d find a way to make it work, even while living under separate roofs.

  She hoped they could make it work but refused to take it for granted. She’d gone into their marriage blind. Now she refused to close her eyes. Ciro had broken her heart before. She would not give him the ammunition to break it again.

  She was coming to learn, though, that at heart he was a decent, thoughtful man. Sometimes she overheard him on the phone to his mamma. His patience and kindness with her made Claudia’s heart ache. The ache would grow to know it was her father who’d destroyed Ciro’s mamma’s life.

  Three weeks ago, he’d given her the numbers of three tutors who specialised in dyslexic adults. He’d inputted the details into her phone and then dropped the subject. No pressure.

  The tutor who’d sounded the friendliest was coming to the apartment on Monday.

  Ideas for a career were formulating in her mind too, a career she could do in her future home with the baby at her side.

  She took an age getting ready for the gala and when she was done and paraded herself in front of Ciro, his eyes widened and he wolf-whistled. She practically preened! If she’d ever mastered whistling herself, she would have whistled him because he oozed masculinity, his black dinner jacket emphasising his divine physique.

  The look they exchanged in that moment was red hot. If they’d been within hand’s reach of each other, their glamorous outfits would have been ripped off in seconds.

  So it was with joy in her heart that she arrived at the gala with her hand wrapped tightly in Ciro’s.

  The art gallery itself was nothing as Claudia had imagined. She remembered a trip to Florence as a child of twelve to the Uffizi. Huge frescoed ceilings, exquisite sculptures and vast oil canvases rang large in her memories. It had felt like stepping back in time to a distant age. This gallery rivalled the Uffizi for size but there the similarities ended. Everything here was white, the floors, the walls, the ceilings, everything apart from the art itself, which was as different from the Uffizi’s exhibits as night was from day. These pieces were modern, Ciro informed her. All guests were expected to enjoy them before the gala proper started.

  The problem, she quickly found, was that these creations needed explaining.

  Not being able to read hadn’t marred her enjoyment at the Uffizi because the art spoke for itself. Caravaggio’s Sacrifice of Isaac and Gentileschi’s Judith Beheading Holofernes—Imma had read the titles to her—had horrified Claudia with their violence but she’d known immediately what they meant and what they were portraying.

  Here, she didn’t have the faintest idea what the huge cube that was taller than Ciro was supposed to mean. Or the dangling six-foot sculpture of a wooden chair. Or what one of the rare canvases to occasionally line the walls was supposed to represent; all she saw were splatters of random colour.

  But, judging by the earnest talk around her as their fellow guests consulted their guide books, these were ‘works of art, darling’.

  ‘Do you actually like this stuff?’ she whispered to Ciro when she was certain no one was listening. His apartment was filled with the type of artwork she adored and which, when she had a place of her own and if she had the money, she would buy for herself.

  He grinned and dipped his mouth to her ear. ‘Awful, aren’t they?’

  Claudia gave a bark of laughter, absurdly pleased that they were of the same mind on yet another thing, then found her laughter muffled by Ciro’s lips crushing hers for a very short but very hungry kiss.

  The anticipation of what would happen when they got back home later thrummed through her veins. Judging by the lusty stares she kept getting from Ciro and the possessive way he kept hold of her hand, he was counting down the minutes too.

  An extremely eccentric-looking couple joined them, clutching guide books to their chests.

  ‘Have you been in the Angelino room yet?’ the man asked. He wore a bright purple and yellow checked crushed velvet suit and a neon green bow tie. Claudia was so taken with his outfit that she failed to hear his question.

  ‘Yes, we’ve been in there,’ Ciro said, gently squeezing Claudia’s hand. If her eyes got any wider they would pop out.

  ‘What did you think of the Gatsby piece?’

  That would be the floating hat, Ciro remembered. An ordinary, cream, Panama hat suspended between the wall and ceiling by seemingly invisible means. He thought quickly and remembered an old quote he’d read in a book one time. ‘Fantastic,’ he said with a beam, ‘is not the word.’

  ‘Quite,’ the man said with an approving nod before turning to Claudia. ‘And what do you think, young lady, of the Shadow piece?’

  ‘Is that the mannequin one?’ she asked, her hold on Ciro’s hand tightening reflexively. He’d read the titles of all the pieces to her.

  ‘Well, hardly a mannequin, but yes, that’s the gist of it.’

  How he would love to turn to the man and say, ‘It’s a mannequin with its head chopped off. I use that exact model to display the clothes in the women’s section of my department stores.’ But this was a networking night. He hadn’t paid forty thousand dollars for his and Claudia’s tickets to get into an argument with a man who might one day be useful to him. You didn’t get to the top of your game by being rude and alienating people. New York was a big city, but paths crossed in unexpected places and by unexpected means. Besides, the man didn’t mean any harm. Chances were he was scouting for opinions on the pieces so he could form his own opinions off the basis of them.

  ‘Please excuse us,’ Ciro said with a smile, ‘but we still need to visit the Rodrigo room before the meal starts.’ Whisking Claudia away, he said under his breath, ‘Shall we go upstairs?’

  ‘Definitely. I think I might die if I have to listen to any more.’ Their eyes met again, amusement dancing between them, locking them together as co-conspirators. They were still
laughing when they reached the second floor, which had been cleared of all ‘art’ to create a huge restaurant and dance floor. A rock band, famous for its hedonistic excesses, was tuning up on the stage, the drummer swigging from a bottle of vodka. As the evening went on, Ciro noticed the singer giving Claudia the eye. Lots of men were. He didn’t blame them. Dressed in a long sparkling gold dress with spaghetti straps and which dipped in a V to skim over her growing cleavage, her glorious hair worn loose and falling like waves, she looked spellbindingly beautiful.

  But it was more than her beauty that made him feel like the cat who’d got the cream. The shy woman who’d clung to his hand throughout their wedding celebrations and hung back to let him do all the talking had grown in confidence enough to instigate conversations and not just be carried along by them. A number of people at the gala had attended their wedding and, though he knew it shouldn’t surprise him, he was still surprised when she remembered their names without having to be prompted. What a memory she had. What a woman she was.

  Later, as he held her tightly on the dance floor, it suddenly came to him that he no longer saw her father whenever he looked at her. All he saw was Claudia, his beautiful, brave wife...

  His heart made a sudden lunge as his head sped forwards six months. To when she would leave.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AS CIRO HAD a week-long trip to Japan starting the next day, he insisted on taking Claudia out for dinner on Sunday evening. The restaurant he chose was a small, exclusive place famed, according to Ciro, for its excellent cuisine. It was only a short walk from the apartment, and they strolled the busy streets to it with their hands clasped together. For the first time since her arrival in New York, Claudia felt comfortable walking through it. She doubted she would ever think herself a native New Yorker but it was good not to feel like a complete alien in her new home city. She was certain that when the time came to move into her own apartment, she’d be able to embrace the freedom without fear.

  ‘I’ve had an idea for a career,’ she said when they’d finished the first of their nine-course tasting menu.

  His eyes sparked with lively interest. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I thought I could open a cake business.’

  He grinned. ‘Excellent idea. Marcy keeps raving about the cake you made for her daughter.’

  ‘She’s asked me to make her a Christmas cake and her sister’s asked me to make a cake for her wedding anniversary,’ she told him, unable to contain her pride. ‘Her cousin’s getting married next year and wants me to make the cake for that too. And they want to pay me for them!’

  ‘So they should. Do you want to open a shop?’

  ‘Gosh, no!’ She shuddered. Then she thought again. ‘Maybe one day,’ she pondered, thinking aloud. ‘When the baby’s older and not dependent on me as much. But for the time being I thought I’d go with word of mouth. I thought I could ask for testimonials from them and take lots of pictures to build up a portfolio, then when I’m ready and our baby’s older and I’m hopefully...’ she held up crossed fingers ‘...able to read more, I can get a professional website done. When it gets to that stage, could I speak to someone from your marketing team for advice?’

  ‘Of course. I said I’d give you whatever help you need. I meant it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She sighed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s just so frustrating that even now, when I have the chance to make something of myself, I still need help. It’s frustrating to know I’ll always need help.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it. I would never have created my own business if I hadn’t asked.’

  ‘Did you?’

  He nodded. ‘My first store was a derelict building six blocks from here. I saw its potential but I didn’t have the cash to buy it or do any of the things needed to remodel it or buy stock in or anything.’

  The waiter arrived back at the table with their second course, which to Claudia’s eyes looked like a giant langoustine artfully draped with skinny brown sticks in a white broth with a bit of lettuce on the side, and which took longer to describe than it must have taken the chef to cook.

  When she took her first bite though, her taste buds exploded and she made a mental note to beg the chef for the recipe.

  ‘How did you get the money?’ Claudia asked when they’d finished the dish, keen to hear more. ‘Did you go to the bank?’

  ‘Three banks turned me down. Then I remembered my friend Ollie’s father was a private investor so I asked him for the loan.’

  ‘And he gave it to you?’

  ‘Yes. I sold the store two years later—I came to dislike the location—and paid the whole loan back plus interest, and I had enough left over to get a mortgage on the building that became my flagship store. The rest is history. If I hadn’t asked for that loan you and I wouldn’t be sitting here.’

  ‘What would you have done?’

  ‘I don’t know. I knew I wanted to see the world and make a fortune. I knew I had a good business brain and an analytical mind. I had the potential and knew I would recognise the opportunity when it came along. And now I have lots of business interests.’

  ‘Other than the department stores?’

  ‘I invest in graduates like myself. If they have a business idea I can see working, then I invest in them. If you decide you want to open your own shop, I expect you to give me first refusal as backer for it.’

  ‘Only if it was a proper loan,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want to be a charity case.’

  ‘You’re the mother of my child. You’ll never be a charity case to me.’

  Their third course was brought to the table. Claudia hadn’t noticed them take the dishes from the second.

  Once she’d swallowed the first delicious bite, she said, ‘Can we look for an apartment for me after Christmas?’

  Green eyes found hers and held the stare before he had a drink of his wine. ‘That soon?’

  ‘We did say we’d look in the new year,’ she pointed out. ‘New York doesn’t frighten me any more. I’m learning my way around and becoming comfortable with it. I feel ready to make the move now. I’m not bothered about the location, although somewhere close to you would be great, and I’m not bothered about the size. All I’ll need are two bedrooms but if I’m going to make a success of the cake business, I’ll need a decent-sized kitchen.’ She pulled a rueful face. ‘I struggled for space when I made the birthday cake.’

  ‘Don’t you like my kitchen?’ he teased, although there was something in his eyes that bothered her.

  She tried to be diplomatic. ‘It’s pretty basic.’

  ‘Basic?’ He arched a brow.

  She smiled. ‘In proportion to the rest of the apartment it’s tiny. And its layout’s impractical if you’re trying to make more than one thing at a time.’

  ‘I thought you liked my apartment?’

  ‘I love it. I just hate the kitchen.’ Remembering that he’d remodelled the entire apartment to his specific tastes, she felt herself blush. ‘Sorry.’

  It had been many weeks since Ciro had seen such a dark stain of colour cover her cheeks.

  ‘Don’t be sorry. The kitchen was an afterthought to everything else I had done. It was rarely used before you moved in.’

  ‘You surprise me,’ she said drily.

  He grinned. ‘But if you hate it so much, I can get an architect friend of mine to look at reconfiguring things. The staffroom’s never used. We can knock into it and create a space that’s twice what we currently have for you.’

  Confusion flittered in her eyes. ‘Why would you do that?’

  He leaned across the table to take hold of her hand. He’d spent the day waiting for the right moment to broach this. That time was now. ‘Because, bedda, I want you to stay.

  Her eyes flickered.

  ‘I
want you to stay. When the baby comes. Stay with me. Be a family.’

  Now her eyes drifted down to their clasped hands. Slowly, she extracted hers and rested them both on her lap. ‘This is rather sudden.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.’ Since the dream he’d had of their baby and the knowledge that he could love it—that a part of him already did love it—Ciro had thought of little else. The strong feelings he’d experienced at the gala had only cemented what he already knew. ‘I don’t see the point in you moving into your own place any more, not now that things have changed so much between us. You and me...we’re great together. Our child will have two parents under one roof and you won’t have to navigate the world alone. I’ll be there to support you in everything you do.’

  It felt as if an age passed while he waited for her to respond. ‘I had no idea you were thinking along those lines.’

  ‘You must see it makes perfect sense.’

  She shook her head and reached for her water.

  ‘I understand your caution,’ he admitted.

  Her expression was wary. ‘Do you?’

  He drained his wine and stared at her intently. ‘I’ve treated you terribly. I blamed you for your father’s actions. I’ve been cruel. Horrible. My only excuse is that I’ve been grieving for my father.’ He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath to counter the torturous throb thinking of his father always produced. ‘His death is the single biggest pain I’ve felt in my life. I felt such guilt. I feel such guilt. I should have visited more. I should have picked up the phone more. I should have made myself more available. I made the fatal assumption of thinking he would always be there for me. Do you remember how you told me you can’t change the past? Well, that’s what I’ve been struggling with, because I want to change it. I want to turn back time and be there for him and shoulder that burden. I want to be there for my mamma too.’

  Claudia’s head remained bowed but he knew she was listening to every word.