Melanie Milburne - The Italian's Mistress

by The Italian's Mistress (lit)

  The doctor wrote some notes on a clipboard and handed it to the hovering nurse before turning back to Lucio. ‘I heard this is your wedding day.’ He gave him an empathetic look. ‘Not the best way to start a marriage.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Lucio’s tone was dry.

  * * *

  Anna woke in a fuzzy, disoriented haze, her body feeling sore but without the stabbing cramps of earlier. She turned her head to find Lucio sitting beside her bed with his head in his hands.

  As if he felt her gaze he lifted his head and she was shocked by the haggard look to his normally impeccably groomed features. His hair was dishevelled, his jaw dark with stubble and his eyes horribly bloodshot.

  ‘Anna...’ She saw his throat move up and down in a deep swallow as he reached for her hands.

  ‘Is...is Sammy all right?’ she whispered through her dry throat.

  ‘I called Rosa and Jenny a while ago. He’s fine, had his breakfast and was nagging Jenny to take him to the park.’

  A small smile tugged at her mouth. ‘You look terrible.’

  ‘You should feel it from my side.’ He grimaced.

  ‘You look like you haven’t slept.’

  ‘I haven’t.’

  She looked down at their interlaced hands, his long fin­gers curling around hers, the golden band of their wedding rings shining in unison.

  ‘You scared the hell out of me,’ he said after a little silence.

  Her eyes lifted to his. ‘I’m sorry ...I didn’t even know I was pregnant. What with all the worry with Sammy, I got out of the routine of taking my pills and, as for my cycle, I had no idea where I was.’

  ‘I should have protected you,’ he said heavily. ‘I had no right to insist on a physical relationship without taking on that responsibility.’

  She lowered her eyes to their hands once more. ‘It doesn’t matter...’

  ‘Of course it matters! None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been so heavy-handed with you.’ He dropped her hands and swung away to the end of the bed to look back at her. ‘Do you know how much I blame myself for what you’ve just gone through?’

  Anna stared at his ravaged features, her throat closing over. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  His expression grew savage with self-disdain. ‘It is my fault. I’ve done nothing but harangue you from day one. You were under intolerable stress with Sammy and not sat­isfied that I came on to the scene with my outrageous de­mands.’ He gave her an agonised look and added, ‘I was too cruel to you the other night. Do you know how much I hate myself for that?’

  ‘No!’ she gasped. ‘You weren’t...that bad.’

  ‘Wasn’t I?’ He gave her a pointed look. ‘I threatened to call the police about the damage to my car but really you would have been better to have thrown that hammer at my head.’

  ‘I missed.’

  A reluctant smile hijacked his mouth. ‘You really were going to throw it at me?’

  ‘The car got in the way.’ She gave him an answering smile.

  He took her hands once more and gave them a gentle squeeze. ‘Forgive me, Anna—’ his voice was husky and deep ‘—please say you’ll forgive me for what I’ve done.’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she said, looking away from the intensity of his dark gaze.

  ‘You are too generous.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘Everyone makes mistakes.’

  She felt the tightening of his hands on hers as a stretching silence throbbed between them.

  He let her hands go and moved back to the end of the bed. ‘You are right, of course. How timely to remind me of it. You made one mistake and I have punished you for years, ruining my own life in an attempt to bring about the revenge I thought was most appropriate.’

  She felt herself edging closer and closer to tears, his rue­ful admission tearing at her emotionally. He felt remorse but not love. His guilt would bind them now, not his love.

  ‘Lucio ... I...’

  ‘No,’ he said, interrupting her. ‘Let me finish. We are married now and I can’t undo that in the immediate future.’

  Her heart squeezed painfully at the bitter resignation on his face.

  ‘I know it’s a lot to ask of you but I still would like you and Sammy to travel with me to Rome in three weeks’ time. My mother would love to see her grandson and Giulia would, of course, enjoy seeing you once more.’

  ‘And after that?’ she asked, her breath tight in her throat. ‘What happens when we get back to Australia?’

  He gave her a long, unreadable look. ‘After that we will separate. I will allow you your freedom which I should never have taken away from you in the first place. I will, of course, make sure you and Sammy are well provided for.’

  She didn’t want his money! Emotion clogged her throat and her eyes sprouted with moisture.

  Lucio’s gaze honed in on the brightness of her eyes and his mouth stretched into a thin white embittered line. ‘I can see the relief in your eyes. How you must be counting the days until this is over.’

  He turned for the door and it swung shut behind him, closing off the whispered sound that escaped from Anna’s trembling lips. ‘Lucio...’

  Anna found the next three weeks almost unbearable. Al­though Lucio treated her with exceptional politeness and even gentleness if the occasion arose, she knew he was probably ticking off the days when the pretence of their relationship would finally be over.

  Jenny was preoccupied with her charming beau and Sammy was enjoying living in a huge house with wall-to­-wall television and every toy he had ever dreamed of.

  Anna, however, felt increasingly lonely and isolated. Lucio had taken up residence in one of the spare rooms, leaving her to the cavernous loneliness of the master bed­room. He went to work early and came home late, citing on the occasions when she was still up that things were ex­tremely busy at the office.

  Of course she didn’t believe him.

  She felt so increasingly frustrated by his coolness she deliberately waited up for him a couple of evenings before they were to leave for Rome. He came into the lounge close to midnight, his shirt undone and his jacket over one shoul­der and his tie loosened. He didn’t see her at first and she thought he almost started when she rose from the sofa.

  ‘Lucio.’

  ‘Anna.’ He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and reached for a glass. ‘Fancy a drink?’ he asked without look­ing at her.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Why are you still up?’ He raised the glass to his lips and took a deep draught, holding it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘What about?’ He took another mouthful.

  She compressed her lips together, her earlier determina­tion to speak with him sagging in the face of his distant demeanour. ‘I was wondering what accommodation arrange­ments had been made for our time in Rome,’ she began.

  ‘We will be staying with my mother. My house is being let out currently.’ He turned to refill his glass before adding, ‘Don’t look so worried, Anna. I have told my mother about your miscarriage. She will provide separate rooms for us in order for you to convalesce in peace.’

  ‘I didn’t think—’

  ‘No, but my mother did. She already thinks I am a callous brute who should be horsewhipped for my treatment of you.’

  ‘You should have told her the truth.’

  ‘What? That I intend to divorce you as soon as we return to Melbourne? My mother is a devout Catholic—she would be horrified.’

  ‘You’ll have to tell her eventually,’ she pointed out.

  ‘In my own good time,’ he answered and drained his glass.

  Anna gnawed at her bottom lip as she watched him refill his glass. ‘I’ve never seen you drink so much before,’ she said.

  He gave her a glassy-eyed glare. ‘Do you have a problem with me drinking?’

  ‘No...I just thought—’

  ‘Don’t think, Anna.
It doesn’t change things one little bit.’

  ‘Are you angry with me?’

  ‘Why would I be angry with you?’ he asked. ‘You creep around this house, hardly daring to speak in case I snap your head off. Of course I’m not angry.’

  ‘I don’t creep around the house.’ She defended herself with renewed courage. ‘I just got the feeling you’d rather I stayed out of your way. You never come home, you don’t ...you don’t... share our room or­

  ‘Now that would be taking things way too far, don’t you think, Anna? You’re surely not offering yourself to me, are you?’

  She stared at him for a speechless moment.

  His eyes burned down into hers and the heightened colour on his cheekbones warned her he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to discuss things rationally.

  ‘You’ve had too much to drink,’ she stated baldly.

  ‘What if I have?’ His lip curled in a sneer. ‘What are you going to do about it, my sweet little wife?’

  She clamped her lips together on a stinging retort and turned to leave but one of his hands caught her and spun her back around to face him.

  ‘Not so fast, Anna.’

  ‘Let me go, Lucio.’

  ‘I don’t want to let you go.’ His eyes were feverish. ‘I never want to let you go.’

  She tried to pull out of his hold but his head was already coming down, his mouth so close to hers she had no choice but to shut her eyes against the glint of hatred in his.

  His lips crushed hers as his hands tightened on her upper arms to bring her closer into his body, the hard ridge of his arousal a heady reminder of how out of control he already was.

  She tasted the fire of cognac on his tongue as it drove through the cleft of her lips in search of hers, its command­ing presence mimicking the probe of his maleness against her trembling softness. She felt herself weakening with the

  flood of desire as it stormed through her, sending the blood thundering through her veins. Her breasts were jammed up against him, her nipples puckering at the feel of his hard muscled chest burning into hers.

  He eased her backwards until they were on the sofa in a tangle of legs and arms, his mouth still on hers, hungrily, greedily, passionately.

  She heard him groan as her hands went to his waistband, and felt him tense as she freed him, her small fingers shap­ing his potent length boldly, brazenly.

  ‘I’m not going to last if you do that.’ He sucked in a ragged breath.

  His agonised confession thrilled her and her fingers moved with even greater purpose, her stomach free-falling at the sound of his pleasure at her touch.

  He dragged her hand away and pressed her back into the sofa, tugging at her clothes until she was free, naked and silky with need below him.

  His fingers traced her gently, almost reverently, as if she were a precious orchid in his large hand. She could hardly breathe when he slid one finger inside her, stilling his move­ments until she accepted him further.

  She was becoming mindless with her desire for more. His finger wasn’t enough, not when she’d already known his full length and strength. Her body ached for his possession, a hollow ache that made her arch herself towards him.

  ‘Please...’ she begged unashamedly, her hands clawing at him frantically.

  ‘No, cara.’ He began to pull away. ‘I told myself I wouldn’t do this.’

  ‘No!’ She clutched at his retreating shoulders in desper­ation.

  He unhooked both of her hands with ease and stood up, his body still rampantly aroused, his dark eyes bright with unrelieved desire, but his jaw equally determined not to give in to it.

  He threw her his jacket and turned away, his breathing still laboured. ‘Cover yourself and go to bed, Anna.’

  She stared at the rigid wall of his back, shame at his rough rejection flowing through her like a red tide.

  ‘But I—’

  ‘Do not argue with me, Anna.’ His voice was harsh and she heard ‘the chink of glass against the cognac decanter.

  She ignored her scattered clothes to slip her arms through his suit jacket, the fragrance of his aftershave and individual male scent overwhelming her as she clutched it around her shivering body.

  ‘Lucio...’ His name escaped her lips on the back of a choked sob.

  ‘Get out, damn you!’ He swung around to glare at her, the glass in his hand nearly cracking in his white-­knuckled grip.

  She flinched at the obduracy of his tone, her chin wob­bling with the effort of keeping control of her disintegrating emotions. ‘D...did I do something wrong?’ Her voice came out as a thread-like whisper. She watched as he fought with himself, the taut line of his mouth indicating the fragile control he was only just maintaining.

  ‘You seem to be having some difficulty understanding me,’ he said through stiff lips.

  She ran her tongue over the tombstone dryness of her lips but didn’t respond.

  ‘I asked you to leave the room,’ he said. ‘I know you did.’

  ‘Then it would be in your interests to leave.’

  ‘I’m not frightened of you, Lucio,’ she said quietly.

  He gave her a malevolent look. ‘You are a fool to witness me in this mood.’

  ‘I’ve seen you in worse.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ He put his glass down with an unsteady hand and ran his hand through his hair. ‘You weren’t there when I saw the photos.’

  ‘You promised not to mention—’

  ‘I know what I promised!’ He slammed his hand down on the sideboard.

  She bit her lip to stop it from trembling, determined to stand her ground with him, even though it was costing her dearly.

  His eyes glittered as they held hers. ‘You are asking for trouble to be in the same room as me, Anna. I am not in control of myself and you are likely to suffer the conse­quences of that lack of control.’

  ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’ she asked, indicat­ing the cognac decanter and his glass.

  ‘I am drowning my sorrows; isn’t that how you say it in English?’

  ‘What are you sorrowful about?’ She held her breath for his answer.

  His shoulders moved up and down as he gave a heavy sigh and his hand reached out for the decanter once more.

  ‘I was a fool to come after you,’ he said, refilling his glass. ‘I thought I could make you pay but in the end I am the one paying.’

  ‘How are you paying?’

  He drank half the glass before answering in a slurred voice. ‘What we once had is well and truly dead, Anna. It is time we both accepted it. It is dead.’ He drained the glass and set it down with a definitive crack on the sideboard and before she could think of a single thing to say he turned and left the room.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE flight to Rome was made all the easier for Anna by the presence of Sammy, who sat between them in unabated ex­citement in business class. With his constant chatter she was relieved of the task of filling the awkward silences between herself and Lucio who, apart from his affectionate interac­tions with Sammy, mostly ignored her.

  Once Sammy’s eyelids drooped Anna tucked him into the generous seat and turned to the movie she’d selected on the console, her eyes staring fixedly on the small screen in front of her but seeing nothing and hearing even less. She was so conscious of Lucio one seat away, his hand around a drink, his gaze focused on a documentary on his own screen.

  They had barely spoken in the last two days. Even Jenny had commented on the cold war with a concerned look in her eyes. Anna had smiled and done her best to reassure her that things were fine but she knew she hadn’t been all that convincing. The truth was that the clock was ticking on their marriage and she felt each and every passing second like a hammer blow to her heart.

  The Leonardo Da Vinci airport in Rome was seething with milling crowds waiting for the arrival of their loved ones, amongst them Jovanna, Lucio’s mother, and Giulia, his sister, with her three young children in tow.

  ‘Anna.’
Jovanna enveloped her in a warm embrace, kiss­ing both her cheeks and holding her from her with tears in her eyes. ‘You have finally returned and where is my pre­cious grandson? Oh!’ She put both hands to her cheeks in delight as Sammy appeared from behind the screen of Lucio’s long legs. ‘But he is the very image of you at that age, Lucio!’ she crowed and scooped Sammy up into her arms.

  Giulia kissed Anna warmly and introduced her children, her twin two-year-old daughters, Pia and Paola, and her in­fant son, Antonio, who cooed up at Anna with a gummy smile.

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, tickling the baby under his chubby chin.

  Giulia’s expression clouded over as she touched Anna on the arm. ‘I am so sorry for your recent loss.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Anna lowered her gaze uncomfortably.

  ‘You will soon have another,’ Giulia reassured her. ‘Maybe one made in Rome, eh?’

  Anna wished she could crawl underneath the baggage car­rier. How shocked would Giulia be to hear the truth about her brother’s relationship with her!

  The drive back to Jovanna’s house was full of poignant memories for Anna. As they drove past the majestic ruins of the Colosseum she couldn’t help recalling the way Lucio had taken her and Jenny on a tour before moving on to the green slopes of the Celian Hill, his easygoing manner so different from the distant and cold figure who sat in a stony silence whenever they were alone.

  Sammy was showing clear signs of exhaustion by the time they arrived at Jovanna’s palatial home and after a bout of temper-driven tears was packed off to bed with a doting grandmother singing to him to soothe him.

  Giulia had left with her children after a promise to return the next day for a family meal, a gathering, Anna assumed with nervous dread, which would include Carlo and his ex­pectant wife.

  Lucio came into the lushly appointed sitting room where Anna was sitting on the edge of a sofa, her hands around a glass of orange juice.

  ‘My mother is in raptures over your son,’ he said, pouring himself a drink.

  ‘Yes...’ She bent her head to her glass, staring at the rim of pith with sightless eyes.

  ‘You have made her very happy,’ he added, turning to face her. ‘She had more or less given up on me having a child.’