But the moment she produced the sketches she’d made, and outlined her thoughts on what the pictures could convey, the room fell silent. When she finally finished speaking there was a buzz of excitement from everyone round the table.
‘It’s brilliant. Evocative, and yet with the style and sophistication you’d want associated with a premium product.’ The man Rocco had introduced as the managing director of the agency leaned forward to examine the pictures more closely. ‘That’s a great concept,’ he said, admiration in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘And those drawings are unbelievable. Who do you work for?’
‘Me,’ Rocco said immediately, his expression cold and forbidding. ‘I want your team to work up her concept, Luca. Can you do it?’
‘Of course.’ The man nodded. ‘We’ll have something for you to see at the end of the week, and I’ll send a team to Sicily to find a suitable location for the shoot. A beach restaurant or something.’
‘Why not film at the villa?’ Chessie suggested, and then carried on quickly as Rocco lifted an eyebrow in question. ‘You wanted to show that it’s exclusive, and what’s more exclusive than a private villa with an infinity pool? Not only is the oil a taste of Sicily, but it’s a taste of Sicily at its most exclusive.’
‘The suggestion being that by using the oil they’re gaining a slice of the lifestyle they covet? Aspirational …’ Luca waved a hand at his team, who were frantically making notes. ‘Yes, I love it. It’s clever. Plenty of subliminal messages. We can work with that.’
Rocco’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m not wild about advertising my property on international television.’
‘We’ll find another property,’ Luca said immediately. ‘It’s the principle that’s important. Luxury. Leave it to us.’
As they left the room, Rocco slid an arm round her waist and urged her into the lift. ‘Well, you wanted a job—and now it seems as though you have one. Have you any idea how much money I’m paying them for developing your concept?’ As the lift door closed he lowered his mouth to hers. ‘You were fantastic. You ought to demand a fee from me for your services.’
She slid her arms round his neck and smiled up at him, the adrenaline still whizzing round her body, still feeling on an incredible high. ‘It was fun. I loved it. I’d do it for nothing.’
‘We’ll go back to Florence, and then you can use the studio I’ve built for you to finish your drawings,’ he said as the lift doors opened into the suite. ‘Unless you’d rather go back to Sicily?’
She hesitated. ‘I don’t hate Sicily any more,’ she said quietly, wandering over to the windows and staring down the tumbling cliffs to the sea. ‘Whenever you’re ready to go back, I’ll go with you.’
‘Good.’ His tone was dry. ‘Because I have no intention of leaving you here. Where I go, you go. Especially as you now seem to be responsible for the future success of my olive oil exports.’
They returned to Florence, and she worked night and day for the next few weeks as the agency developed her ideas for the advertising campaign. And she loved it. She spent the day on the phone—sometimes to Luca, sometimes on a conference call with the creative director of the agency—and together they refined the drawings she’d given them and turned her basic ideas into a commercial campaign.
The only drawback was that she found it incredibly tiring. Frustrated that she had so little stamina, when Rocco was so fired-up and energetic, Chessie said nothing, but started taking a nap in the afternoons in order to give her the energy to be sociable during the evening. Even with the nap she found herself exhausted and ridiculously tearful, and she didn’t understand her own reaction.
Finally her life was everything she’d ever wanted.
She was drawing and using her art, she travelled with Rocco, and she knew he had plans to take her to New York very soon. And, although Rocco hadn’t actually said that he loved her, he was incredibly attentive and surprisingly caring for a guy who wasn’t exactly in touch with his own emotions.
So why did she keep bursting into tears?
What was the matter with her?
What more did she want?
The weeks passed, and finally everything was ready. The shoot had been successfully completed and her role was finished. Now it was just up to Rocco’s team to finalise distribution details.
With that in mind he flew to New York, but although he invited her to go with him she refused, too exhausted to contemplate such a long flight for such a short space of time.
He’d be back in two days, she reasoned. And in the meantime she could catch up on her sleep.
Her increasing tiredness was worrying her, and she made an appointment with a local doctor, determined to seek out the cause.
‘I’ve never felt like this before,’ she told him as she sat in his consulting room the following afternoon. ‘I just have no energy.’
The doctor examined her, took some tests, and then called her back into the room to give her the results.
‘You’ve been working hard, you say?’
‘Yes. Is that why I’m so tired?’
‘No.’ The man adjusted his glasses and gave a faint smile. ‘You’re tired because you’re pregnant, signora.’
‘That isn’t possible.’ For a moment Chessie just stared at him. ‘I can’t be.’
‘Why can’t you be?’ His voice was gentle. ‘You are married, are you not?’
‘Well, yes, but—’ Chessie broke off, her mind racing. Rocco used protection, but there had been those few occasions at the beginning … ‘But I had periods,’ she muttered.
The man gave a sympathetic lift of his shoulders. ‘Sometimes when your hormones are settling down it is still possible to bleed slightly. I have your test results in front of me. There’s absolutely no doubt that you’re pregnant. With your permission I’ll send you to a friend of mine who practises in the clinic just across the street. He’s a very well respected obstetrician and he’ll do a scan this afternoon. That will help us calculate your dates. Have you put on weight?’
Pregnant? Chessie bit her lip and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. ‘Not really. A bit, I suppose. But we’ve been eating out a lot.’ She’d been visiting various restaurants with Rocco.
Pregnant?
She waited to feel disappointment. Waited to feel as though her brief taste of life had been snatched away from her. But instead she just felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Her baby. Rocco’s baby. Their baby.
It wasn’t what she’d planned, but now that it had happened she was ridiculously pleased. Suddenly she just wanted to smile and smile.
She was finally going to have a family of her own. And it was going to be full of warmth and love. Nothing like her own childhood.
‘You’re sure?’ she said the words breathlessly, anticipating Rocco’s delight when she told him. She knew how much he wanted a son. ‘You’re really sure?’
‘Absolutely. Wait while I give my colleague a call, and then you can have that scan.’
An hour later she lay on a couch, staring at a roomful of high-tech equipment.
Rocco was going to be so surprised, she thought, as she watched the doctor study the seemingly incomprehensible shapes on the screen. So thrilled. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted all along?
Calculating that she must have become pregnant in those first few days, it came as no surprise to her when the doctor announced that she was at least four months pregnant.
That explained the tiredness and the sickness she’d felt when they’d been staying in Pompei.
The obstetrician scribbled something on her notes. ‘You weren’t planning to become pregnant yet?’
‘No, but it doesn’t matter,’ she assured him hastily, as she sat up and adjusted her clothes. ‘Rocco is dying to have a son.’
‘Well, he’s going to have to wait a little while to fulfil that ambition,’ the doctor said with a gentle smile, handing her a photograph of the scan. ‘It’s very obvious from this that you’re having a little girl. Congratulations.�
�
‘A girl?’ Chessie sat for a moment, staring at the black and white picture in her hand. ‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’ The doctor frowned. ‘Is that a problem?’
Was it? ‘No,’ Chessie said quickly, aware that the doctor was looking at her closely. She slid off the couch and slipped her feet into her shoes. ‘It isn’t a problem.’ Not to her. But to Rocco—
As she left the clinic to walk home the pleasure and excitement oozed out of her, and her mind was filled with a dark, anxious feeling of foreboding.
Rocco wouldn’t mind, she told herself firmly. But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, the voice of warning grew louder and louder in her head.
He’d talked about having a big family, and he’d talked about having sons, but not once in their relationship had Rocco ever mentioned having a girl.
She’d done exactly what her mother had done to her father.
She’d produced a daughter when what he’d longed for was a son.
Dizziness swamped her and she stood still for a moment, waiting for her head to clear before she walked in a daze back to the palazzo.
It would never work, she thought miserably. How could it? She’d grown up with a father who had longed for a son. She had first-hand experience of how it felt to be completely unwanted.
How could she take that risk with Rocco?
She wasn’t going to let that happen to her child.
Which left her with only one option.
CHAPTER NINE
SOMETHING was wrong.
In the car on his way from the airport, Rocco checked his watch for the fiftieth time and shifted impatiently in his seat as he attempted to contain his mounting frustration.
Thanks to a sudden crisis in one of his companies, he’d been forced to spend an extra day in New York, instead of returning to Florence as planned. Which shouldn’t have been a problem.
But Chessie hadn’t been her usual bouncy self on the phone the night before. It had been obvious that she had something on her mind.
He frowned slightly, acknowledging the flicker of worry that had been growing inside him since that phone call. Even though she’d obviously been trying to hide it, he hadn’t missed the fact that she’d been unusually tired lately, and suddenly he felt cold fingers of panic stroke his spine.
Was there something wrong with her?
Something that she wasn’t telling him?
Could she be ill?
No, surely not. She hadn’t lost any weight. If anything her gorgeous curves were even more marked—but he put that down to all the evenings they were spending in restaurants. Chessie was a strong, healthy girl, and her tiredness was undoubtedly due to their extremely active sex-life. Which meant that the problem lay somewhere else entirely.
Examining the facts and sifting through the options, Rocco came up with another possible explanation. Could Chessie be in love with him and afraid to tell him?
He slid a finger inside the collar of his shirt, waiting for the usual alarm bells to ring. Of all the statements designed to kill a relationship in a single instant, he’d always found I love you to be the most deadly.
But somehow the thought of Chessie saying those words made him feel warmth instead of the usual panic.
And why not?
There was nothing wrong with her loving him. She was his wife. She was supposed to love him.
Tonight he’d encourage her to be honest about her feelings.
Suddenly he wished he hadn’t stayed the extra night in New York. He should have been at home, getting to the bottom of the problem. Acknowledging his powerful need to see her again, Rocco was forced to face up to the uncomfortable truth that for the first time in his life he was missing a woman.
He missed Chessie.
But that really wasn’t so surprising, he reassured himself hastily. They’d spent a great deal of time together lately, and she was entertaining company. She had a fresh, unspoilt quality about her that he found refreshing after the numerous socialites he’d dated in the past. And the dedication she’d shown towards the advertising campaign had delighted him. It was obvious from her minute attention to detail that she was a perfectionist, and possessed exactly the skill-set that he demanded from anyone employed in his organisation.
The only difference was that she wasn’t an employee. She was his wife.
And no employee had ever affected his blood pressure the way his wife did. Never before had he disturbed his working day to indulge in hot, mindless sex, but he’d done exactly that with Chessie—and on more than one occasion.
By the time he strode into the palazzo a few hours later, he’d already planned how they were going to spend the evening. So he was surprised to see Chessie standing on the terrace, looking incredibly nervous.
Nervous?
He gave a faint frown as he discarded his jacket and loosened his tie. Why would she be nervous?
Was telling him that she loved him really that hard?
Chessie stood on the terrace and watched his approach.
He looked fabulous, she thought weakly, eyeing the iron-grey Italian suit and the arrogant tilt of his dark head. Like a conqueror returning from success on the battlefield. Had Rocco ever had doubts about anything? Was he ever unsure about anything?
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and put her hands behind her back to hide the fact that they were shaking.
She was doing the right thing, she told herself firmly. The only thing.
But everything would be so much easier if she didn’t love him.
He paused in the doorway, and for a moment she thought she saw his normally cool, almost bored expression soften into something gentle. Wishful thinking, she told herself firmly, bracing herself as he strolled across the terrace and dropped a lingering kiss on her mouth. Rocco had been deprived of sex for three entire days. For a man of his libido, it was natural that any woman would be a welcome sight. It wasn’t personal.
All the same, the reaction of her body was instantaneous, and she struggled to resist the temptation to collapse against him and let him do the rest.
It wasn’t going to happen.
Instead she took a step back and waved a hand at the table. ‘Do you want to eat straight away?’
He registered her deliberate attempt to put distance between them with a slight narrowing of his eyes. Then he lifted a hand and loosened his tie, his eyes flickering towards the table. ‘You’re hungry?’
He was obviously surprised that they weren’t ripping each other’s clothes off, and she could hardly blame him for that. Wasn’t that what they’d done repeatedly for the past few months? Wasn’t that what he expected?
‘I’m not particularly hungry,’ she said quickly, knowing that eating would be impossible for her. ‘I just thought you might be. You’ve had a long journey.’
His eyes rested on her face, his gaze disturbingly sharp. ‘I can see that something’s wrong. Why don’t you stop clenching your fists and biting your lip and just tell me? I’ve never been a lover of taut atmospheres.’
He constantly surprised her, she thought miserably. Just when she really, really needed to focus on his ruthless streak, he displayed an uncanny insight that came perilously close to sensitivity.
‘I—’ Her voice cracked, and she stopped and then tried again. ‘I need to talk to you.’ She might as well say it straight away. Why not? What was the point of waiting?
‘Of course you do. That’s entirely obvious.’ He smiled with his usual self-assurance. ‘Just say whatever it is that’s on your mind. Don’t hold back.’ ‘It isn’t that easy—’
‘I believe in plain speaking,’ he assured her, stepping forward and taking her hands in his. ‘Whatever you tell me is fine. I’m listening.’
Her tummy did a somersault. ‘I want a divorce.’
There was a taut silence, and then he released her hands and the indulgent look in his eyes changed to incredulity. ‘Is this some sort of joke?’
‘No. It’s not a joke. I—this marriage isn’t working for me, Rocco. I really do want a divorce.’
He took a step backwards, his hands spread in a gesture of disbelief. ‘You are in my bed several times a day, and when we’re not in bed we’re naked in a different venue. Just which bit doesn’t work for you?’
‘That’s just sex, Rocco. Marriage is supposed to be about more than sex.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Our marriage is about a great deal more than sex, and you know it.’
She did know it. But that knowledge did nothing to change her mind.
She knew she was doing the right thing, but telling him was proving even harder than she’d anticipated, and she was glad she’d spent the time thinking about her answer. ‘It isn’t really about us, Rocco. It’s not even about you. It’s about me. The person I’ve become. I just don’t want to be married any more.’
His handsome face might have been chiselled from stone. ‘Marriage isn’t something you dip in and out of.’
‘I know. That’s why I don’t just want a separation.’ It was proving impossible to look at him. ‘I want a divorce. I want to make it final.’
There was a long, throbbing silence, and then he paced the length of the terrace and stopped with his back to her, treating her to a daunting view of his broad shoulders. ‘Why?’
Surely the fact that he wasn’t looking at her should make it easier to speak the words she’d rehearsed? ‘For the first time in my life I’ve been able to do the things I’ve always wanted to do. And I’m loving it. I want my freedom.’ She almost choked on the words, and when he finally turned to face her his eyes were so cold that she shivered.
She felt what they’d shared slip away from them, and was suddenly enveloped by a desperate sense of loss and desolation. The usually warm, fragrant terrace seemed cold and inhospitable, as if a frost had descended in the middle of summer.
It was too late for them.
No matter what she said now, it was too late to mend the damage she’d done. She had to go forward. ‘Is it really so surprising?’ Her voice was a whisper, but it was the best she could manage. ‘I’ve just discovered life, Rocco. There are so many things I want to do. I can’t do them if I’m married.’
Ultimate Heroes Collection Page 46