Riccardo's Secret Child

by Cathy Williams

  His words flowed around her, confusing her. Was he right? Should she just acquiesce and go with the flow, then sort out the consequences when they arose?

  It took her a few seconds to register the distant trilling of the telephone.

  ‘Let it ring,’ he commanded as she struggled up. ‘We have to talk.’

  ‘I can’t let it ring. It might be Mum. It might be important.’ And she didn’t want to talk. Not yet. She didn’t know what she could say to him. She needed time. She hastily slung on her jeans and pulled the top over her head, leaving him sprawling on the sofa.

  The house felt cold as she hurried through it, desperate to reach the phone before it wakened Nicola. Unlikely, but a possibility and one Julia could heartily do without.

  ‘I was just about to ring off.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Julia was still breathing quickly from her race through the house. She had not buttoned the top of her jeans and she cradled the receiver between her head and her neck while she fumbled with them.

  ‘Don’t you recognise my voice?’ There was an amused laugh down the end of the phone. ‘So much for my unforgettable impact on the opposite sex.’

  ‘Roger!’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about you since the party, Julia. Would you like to come out with me? Movies? Theatre? A bite to eat afterwards?’

  ‘Roger…I…’

  She glanced furtively over her shoulder, half expecting to see Riccardo lounging indolently in the doorway. She had just had the most beautiful, meaningful experience in her entire life and he would be waiting for her, waiting to hear her tell him that she had caved in, was willing to have a fling with him and play at happy families until he decided the time was right to leave. He had spoken a lot about want and attraction but not one word had passed his lips, even in the depths of passion, about permanence or love or commitment.

  Her jaw hardened. ‘When were you thinking of going out?’ she asked, blinking back tears and telling herself furiously that she was doing the right thing.

  ‘Is tomorrow too soon?’

  ‘Tomorrow’s fine,’ she heard herself say.

  ‘Why don’t you give me directions to your house? I can be there to pick you up at—’

  ‘No! I mean, it would be a lot more convenient if I met you at…at wherever we’re going.’

  ‘OK.’ He paused and she could hear him thinking down the end of the phone. ‘There’s an excellent Italian…’

  ‘Not Italian. I’m…I don’t care for Italian food.’

  ‘How about French, then?’ He sounded mildly surprised and Julia wondered whether he was cursing himself for arranging a date with a woman who sounded bizarre down the telephone.

  ‘French is fine.’ Julia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. ‘What’s it called and how do I get there?’

  He gave her detailed directions, getting her to repeat them so that he could make sure that she knew where she would be going and then she said, ‘I’ll meet you there about seven-forty-five. Is that all right?’

  ‘Better than all right. See you tomorrow.’

  Julia walked slowly back to the sitting room to find Riccardo semi-dressed, with his trousers on, standing by the window, waiting.

  ‘Important phone call?’ he queried laconically, testing the water, but he knew, with a knot of anger and desperation in his gut, that he had lost her. She had that closed look on her face that spoke volumes. How? How, dammit? He wanted to break things, but he remained where he was, rigidly poised, looking at her.

  Julia shrugged. ‘I’m going to bed now.’

  ‘We have to talk,’ he grated and she gazed at him distantly.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘About us.’

  ‘There is no us, Riccardo. Yes, we’re attracted to one another, but there’s no us and I’m not willing to have a fling.’

  ‘And you’ve had time to make your mind up about that in the time it took for you to answer the telephone?’

  Julia bravely met his eyes. God, how easily she could move over to him, run her hands over the hard, muscled chest and lift her mouth to his.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Why don’t you stop hovering by the door and step inside the room?’ He knew that if she did she would come to him, but he realised, suddenly, that it would be an empty victory and he flushed darkly. ‘No, forget I said that,’ he told her roughly. His pride kicked into gear. She had turned him down. Twice. No more. He was finished running behind her. Women were a dime a dozen, he thought viciously. He didn’t need to pursue this one, whatever she did for him and however much of a challenge she was.

  Julia looked at him hesitantly until he said coldly, ‘I get the message loud and clear, Julia. So why don’t you go to bed and we’ll both be adult about this and pretend that nothing ever happened?’ His mouth twisted cynically as he turned away to stare out of the window, his back to her.

  It’s for the best, Julia thought as she headed up to her bedroom. So why did she feel so hollow? Tomorrow she would begin the dating game. She would be going out with a perfectly nice man, a nice, predictable man who did not swing from one mood to the next in a matter of seconds. And if Roger wasn’t the man for her then there would be another, and another, until she found one.

  The following morning she awoke at her usual time to find that Riccardo had already left for work. His car was not in the drive and the half-empty cup of coffee on the kitchen counter showed that he had been up and out long before seven-thirty, which was when she and Nicola had come downstairs.

  At lunchtime, still feeling peculiarly empty inside, Julia called him at the office and was surprised when she was put through to him.

  ‘I just want to find out whether you’ll be in tonight,’ she said, playing with the cord of the phone and talking quietly into the receiver because the staff room was full, with most of the teachers choosing to have their lunch at their desks.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m going out tonight and I want to know whether I should ask Mum over to babysit.’ In fact, she would have to get in touch with her mother later that day and explain the arrangement of Riccardo living in the house. At least she would be able to say, with her hand on her heart, that there was absolutely nothing going on between them, that Nicola now knew who he really was and so any so-called pretend relationship had ceased. The proof of that would be the presence of another man on the scene.

  ‘I’ll be home. What time are you leaving?’

  ‘Around seven.’

  ‘I’ll be back.’

  And that was the end of the conversation. She had demanded politeness from him and she had got exactly what she had wanted. His voice had been coolly courteous and Julia knew that his behaviour, when she saw him, would be as well.

  She spent the remainder of the day at school operating on automatic, teaching her classes without really being aware of what was going on around her. She collected Nicola from kindergarten at a little after three-thirty and, instead of returning to the house, took her to the shopping mall for a treat and then to a fast-food restaurant, where Nicola chattered on relentlessly about everything under the sun, asking thousands of questions about her father which Julia had to answer as brightly and normally as she possibly could. How long had this child been waiting for the missing jigsaw piece of her father to be slotted in? Forever, it now seemed!

  The house was in darkness when they returned at a little before six. So he wasn’t back from work yet. Julia was unutterably relieved. She went through the motions, bathed Nicola, and then, with Nicola lying on her bed watching television, Julia got dressed, feeling all the while as though she were heading for her doom instead of preparing herself for a date, an exciting date, she told herself, with a good-looking, pleasant, eligible man.

  And soon it would be the holidays. Nicola would be taken to Italy, without the necessity of needing a chaperon, and there she would see the sprawling family of which she was now a member and by whom she would be lovingly embraced.

&nbs
p; But there would be no void because she would be dating, dating, dating.

  She chose a sober but figure-hugging wool dress, short-sleeved with a scooped neckline, and the high heels, then she stood back and looked at herself. She looked glamorous rather than sexy and she was pleased with her reflection.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Nicola asked idly from the bed and Julia caught her eye in the mirror.

  ‘Oh, just for a meal out, honey.’

  ‘Who with?’

  ‘A friend.’

  ‘What friend?’

  ‘Father Christmas.’ Which evoked a response of thrilled excitement, and by the time they strolled downstairs Julia, at least, was smiling.

  The sound of the key in the door and the sight of Riccardo entering almost eradicated the smile from her face, but she staunchly maintained it as their eyes met. He was in his working clothes, a dark, impeccably tailored suit that he wore with easy panache. Julia stifled the flutter of awareness as she looked at him and kept the remnants of the smile on her face.

  ‘Nicola’s eaten,’ she said brightly, relieved when Nicola began describing their adventurous after-school activities of a shopping mall and burger.

  ‘And I’ll be back later,’ she threw in, edging towards the door with her jacket slung over her arm and her bag in her hand.

  ‘And where are you going?’

  ‘I have the telephone number here and my mobile number.’ She handed him a slip of paper and began opening the door, almost expecting him to try and stop her, but he was already turning away with uninterest, and his indifference sent an arrow of pain shooting through her.

  ‘Have a good time.’ With his back to her, he held out his hand for his daughter and Julia watched as the both of them left her standing by the door and headed towards the kitchen, with Nicola offering a cheery wave over her shoulder.

  It already felt like the final goodbye.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE French restaurant was just off the King’s Road and, aside from its name discreetly etched on a gilt plaque on the wrought-iron railings, it could have been a private residence. It breathed good taste. Just the sort of restaurant to appeal to a stockbroker. Nothing flashy, nothing ostentatious. Very English.

  Riccardo stood outside for a few moments, letting the cold air cool him down.

  He had had no intention of being here. He had watched Julia leave the house and thought that he had been superbly self-contained. Indifferent even. He had turned his back on her, signalling that he did not give a damn where she was going or who she was going with.

  He had put Nicola to sleep and had then proceeded to spend an hour in front of a stack of files, tapping his fountain pen on the table and frowning at the blur of writing in front of him.

  Who had he been kidding?

  He walked down the four concrete steps to the front of the restaurant and pushed open the door to find himself towering over a diminutive, smartly dressed waiter. His eyes quickly scanned the room which was loosely sectioned off into three eating areas, pausing when he saw the object of his search. She was sitting at a table in the corner, her face propped on the palm of her hand and looking at the man who was with her and who was talking animatedly about something.

  ‘You have a reservation, sir?’

  ‘No.’ Riccardo did not even bother to look at the man who was giving him an ingratiatingly apologetic smile.

  ‘Then I’m afraid—’

  ‘I’m joining those two people over there.’ He indicated Julia and her date with a jerk of his head.

  ‘We were not told that there would be a third party.’

  ‘Well, I’m telling you now.’

  ‘I’m afraid…’ The poor man’s sentence remained unfinished as Riccardo began closing the distance between himself and Julia.

  There was no lull in the low conversations as he strode past tables. The clientele were too well-bred to stare. He reached the table and only then did Julia look up, as he leaned forward and placed his hands firmly on the table-top, his body looming over them both intimidatingly.

  ‘Riccardo!’

  ‘Sir! I must ask you to leave at once. This is most un-orthodox!’

  ‘Bring me a chair,’ was Riccardo’s growling response and at the risk of causing an even greater stir, the waiter scurried off and returned with a chair.

  ‘What are you d-doing here?’ Julia stammered. ‘Roger, this is…Riccardo. He’s…he’s babysitting for me. You haven’t left Nicola in the house on her own, have you?’

  ‘Your mother is with her.’ He turned to Roger and bared his teeth into a menacing smile. ‘Why don’t you go, old boy? I’m taking over from here.’

  ‘What’s this all about, Julia?’ enquired a confused Roger.

  ‘Riccardo, please. What are you doing here?’ One or two of the well-bred eyes were slanting in their direction and she sank into her chair.

  ‘Yes, what the heck are you doing here? Julia, who is this man?’

  ‘Why don’t you tell him, Julia, darling?’

  ‘I say, this simply isn’t on.’ Roger signalled to the waiter. ‘This man is being a nuisance. Have him removed, please.’

  The waiter hovered uncertainly behind Riccardo who ignored his presence. ‘If you want me removed, Roger,’ he drawled, pushing his face further forward so that the sheer force of his powerful personality became a thinly veiled threat, ‘then I suggest you attempt to do so yourself.’

  ‘I don’t indulge in scraps.’

  ‘Then why don’t you either clear off or shut up?’

  ‘Riccardo, this is enough! You’re creating a scene and…and embarrassing everyone!’ Julia licked her lips nervously and felt a tremor of wild awareness as his black eyes met hers with burning intensity.

  He didn’t answer. Instead he sat in the chair, leaned back with his eyes narrowed on Roger’s blustering face and signalled a waiter over.

  ‘A whisky.’

  ‘This man is not joining us!’

  ‘Julia…?’ His black eyes swept over her flushed face, and in her moment of hesitation he smiled with tigerish satisfaction. ‘Your date is at an end,’ he said to Roger and Julia reddened as both men stared at her. Now was the time to firmly send Riccardo on his way, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t choose Roger because she knew with weary resignation that he was second best.

  ‘Roger, perhaps you’d better leave. I’m very sorry, but if you don’t we’ll all probably end up being thrown out.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But you heard the lady. Go.’ His whisky had been brought to him and he sipped it, casually dismissing the hapless Roger, who stumbled to his feet, dropping the starched linen serviette on the table in front of him.

  ‘Don’t expect to hear from me again,’ he told Julia, who smiled weakly at him, and as soon as he had walked off she leaned forward and said in a low, angry voice,

  ‘What do you mean by barging in here? How dare you interrupt my date?’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘Yes! No! We’ve had our starters. We were looking forward to enjoying our main course before you stormed in!’ She looked at that dark, handsome face and felt a wave of irrational love wash over her, leaving her weak.

  ‘Good. In that case, let’s get out of here and go somewhere a little less…’ he looked around him condescendingly ‘…stuffy.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere with you!’

  ‘Oh, yes, you are.’

  ‘Because you say so?’

  ‘Because you want to.’ He stood up while Julia gaped at his sheer arrogance, clumsily following suit when he tossed some notes on the table and beckoned their confused waiter across. ‘This should cover the cost of the meal, with a very generous tip.’

  ‘I do apologise…’ Julia began, but he was already taking her arm in his vice-like grip and steering her towards the door. The well-bred clientele had given up on their etiquette and were now openly staring as she was ushered through the restaurant.

  ‘You…you…you caveman!
’ she spluttered as soon as they were out of the restaurant.

  ‘I’d rather be a caveman than a wimp. I didn’t notice your knight in shining armour jumping in to your rescue.’ He hailed a taxi and ensured that she was left no choice in the matter of climbing in by blocking the open door with his big, muscular body, then he slid in after her and gave the driver an address.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To my apartment.’

  ‘There is no way under the sun that I am going to your apartment, Riccardo!’ The prospect of being somewhere with him on her own, without the protection of other people around, sent her nervous system skittering into mad over-drive.

  ‘Oh, yes, you are.’ He shot her a sideways glance and said unevenly, ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘We’ve already done that!’

  Why should she be interested in going over old ground? How many more times did she have to hear that he wanted her and that she should capitulate? How many more times did she have to listen to him tell her that the physical attraction that burned through their bodies like hot lava was just too big to resist?

  ‘No, we haven’t. At least, I haven’t.’

  There was something uneven in his voice that made her stare at him, but he wasn’t looking at her and her heart was slamming against her ribcage as they completed the remainder of the short drive in tense silence.

  ‘I won’t lay a finger on you, Julia,’ he said as they took the lift up to his apartment. Surprisingly, he still wasn’t looking at her and she felt a little flutter of dreaded excitement stirring in her blood. ‘I just want to…talk.’

  She followed him docilely into his apartment, only vaguely registering the classic minimalist styling of the confirmed bachelor. A bachelor wealthy enough to have the best of everything, but without the desire to improve on any of it. The entire apartment was wooden-floored, with a sunken sitting area to one side that was lavishly furnished with a black leather sofa and two chairs. The kitchen was open-plan and looked brand-new, as though the various appliances had never been touched.

  He was walking now towards a bar area that was an exquisite blend of various woods, so smoothly joined together that it appeared as if they were all from the same tree.