Her smile was wistful. “It sounds lovely.”
“What’s Christmas like for you?”
“The opposite of loud,” she said, sipping her juice. “When my mother’s home, she cooks, but I’m afraid your Yaya definitely wouldn’t approve.”
“Why? Does she burn the panettone too?”
Another smile, involuntary and automatic. “No, worse. She follows the British Heart Foundation guidelines to the letter, meaning we have an absence of anything fatting whatsoever. It’s rather austere, actually.” She pulled a face. “Even the mince pies are made with filo pastry.”
“That’s bad?”
“Bad?” She made a show of clutching her chest. “It’s sacrilegious.”
His smile might have toppled her if she hadn’t been sitting down, for how powerful it was.
“Real fruit mince pies are a great British tradition. They should be made with the butteriest pastry, you know the kind that leaves a ring on the napkin if you put it down for even a second?” She closed her eyes, remembering the bliss of her first ‘real’ fruit mince pie.
“And when your mother’s not home?”
“Ah. Dad and I book into the local pub,” she grinned. “That’s a little better. They live in a small village in the Cotswolds – you know, one of those places with the tiny old houses lining the main road? The pub is called The Wandering Goose.” She shook her head affectionately. “They serve roast lunch with all the trimmings, Christmas poppers with cheesy jokes in them, and those paper crowns."
His eyes sparked with hers, amusement and shared memories flashing between them.
“Then pudding, custard, a little too much champagne and cider than is wise –,”
“Definitely than your mother would approve of?”
“Definitely,” she grinned. “In the afternoon, we do the Times crossword and wait for the Queen’s address. It’s quintessentially British, but very quiet, very ordered. Sedate.”
“And you’d prefer noise?”
“I would have preferred siblings,” she said, with a wrinkle of her nose. “You don’t know how desperately I wished for a family like yours, growing up.”
“Most of the time I’m envied for my family’s wealth, not my siblings and cousins.”
“I think wealth would come with its own problems,” she said, honestly. “I don’t really envy you that at all.” Then, her eyes shifted to the view, and she lightened her tone. “Except perhaps for your ability to own a patch of paradise like this.”
He didn’t say anything. She turned to face him to find his eyes resting on her face with an intensity that set fire to her soul.
The silence stretched and she felt a compulsion to fill it. “I always swore I’d have lots of children or none.”
Something crossed his features then, a dark look she couldn’t interpret. It was gone so quickly, banished by his smile, that she thought she might have imagined it.
“There were times when I wished I was an only child,” he said with a lift of his shoulders.
“I think all children fantasise about more space to themselves, but when you live it, it’s… I mean, for example, there’s no one to share secrets with, no one to help with mum and dad as they get older. I’m alone, really.”
Her voice, without her knowledge, had grown small, plagued with the loneliness she’d known all her life.
“Would you have told a sibling about him?”
Her eyes flared wide and an involuntary ache moved through her. “I…I don’t know.” She lifted her slender shoulders, focussing on the tabletop, trying to unscramble her thoughts. “I suppose that would depend on the sibling.”
“But in theory?”
“It’s hard to say. I have – had – friends. I’m close to my dad, in some ways. But I didn’t tell anyone because I just felt so…I couldn’t believe I’d let it happen. Even as I was still with him, believing he would change, I saw it from the outside, I saw how foolish I was.”
“Not foolish,” he contradicted.
“It’s hard to explain. I externalised a lot of it, as though it were happening to someone else.”
“That makes sense.” He reached across, putting a hand on hers, and she felt as though he was going to say something. He hesitated, and her breath snagged inside her lungs, as though it would be something important, something she desperately needed to hear. Then, he smiled, and the warmth that travelled through her was like the sun beaming into all of her pores. “I’ll run you to the cottage after breakfast.”
“I have a meeting this afternoon.”
She paused, midway through re-reading the chapters she’d written that morning, hovering her highlighter over the printed pages. “Do you need me to go?”
“Go?” He laughed. “No. Hardly.” Then, a furrowed brow. “I’m hoping it won’t take long. We’ll be in my office.” He nodded down the corridor. “In all honesty, it’s something I was hoping to put off until…next week.” She felt the subtext of that – until you’re gone – and it made her heart heavy. “But apparently it’s urgent.”
“I’m not keeping you here am I, Nico? I mean, if you need to go to Rome, we can…”
“We can?” He prompted, moving towards where she sat cross-legged on the sofa.
“We can finish this. Us. Early.”
He pressed a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to his and the look of confusion on his features had her heart beating in treble time. “Believe me, cara, that is the last thing I want.”
Her pulse throbbed in her body, making her limbs heavy and weightless all at once.
“Stay here. Swim. Wait for me. As soon as my meeting leaves, I will be fully at your disposal.” She put the manuscript aside, lifting her arms and wrapping them around his neck.
“And I’ll most definitely make use of you.”
“I should hope so.”
In dozens of nightmares, she’d heard Michael’s voice. It had followed her when she’d least expected it. In the supermarkets, on busses, in her sleep, in the shower. She was used to hearing phantom versions of Michael’s voice.
So when she heard him in Nico’s lounge room, she didn’t immediately react. Not outwardly, at least. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and not just because she was wearing soaking wet bathers, not just because she’d come from the warm sun outside and the water of the pool to the relative cool of the house.
It was his timbre, his depth; both were completely familiar and utterly spine tingling. She froze, and looked around, needing to reassure herself that she was imagining it. He couldn’t be here. It wasn’t Michael. It wasn’t him.
Except, when she angled her face, she saw him. Unmistakable, unforgettable Michael. She watched as Nico extended a hand, shaking Michael’s, and though Nico’s face was grim and his manner firm, he was nonetheless shaking the man’s hand. As one might a friend, or business partner.
Fight or flight instincts ran rampant through her body and yet she did neither. She froze, completely. Unable to move, unable to think, unable to speak.
“Maddie.” Nico’s voice came to her as if from a long way away. Her knees were trembling, her head felt as though it might explode. “Did we disturb you?”
“Madeleine?” Michael’s anger hit her in the solar plexus. It was subtle, but she was so conditioned to feel it, to understand it. She dug her fingernails into her palms and took a short step backwards, her body trembling in instant rejection of the possessive way he looked at her. Her skin was crawling with disgust.
“You know each other?” Nico’s surprise was obvious. Maddie dragged her gaze to his face, her mouth open, but completely unable to form words. As if sensing her panic, dear, loyal Dante came to her side, nuzzling her hand so she reflexively opened her palm and patted between his eyes.
“You could say that.” Michael took a step towards Maddie and a gurgling noise escaped her throat. So much for being different! She was just the same as she’d been in their relationship.
Afraid. Weak.
But no! S
he wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t. She’d grown since then, she’d changed.
“Michael?” Nico’s voice held a warning. If Maddie could have seen herself, she would have recognised that she was as white as a sheet, her eyes huge, her fear obvious, even from halfway across the room.
“What the hell?” Michael moved away from Nico, towards Maddie, so Dante’s ears pricked and he adopted a different stance. “Is this where you’ve been?”
Finally, she found her voice. “Where I’ve been isn’t your concern.”
“What did you say?” She flinched as though he’d hit her. Dante moved in front of her, blocking her from Michael. “How the hell did you meet Nico?”
“Would someone mind telling me what’s going on?” Nico was moving closer too, his worry obvious, his raised tone aimed at Michael.
“I…”
But she couldn’t speak. In that moment, all she could wish was that she’d told Nico the truth. He didn’t deserve this – to have it explode around him. She should have explained before now, she should have chosen the right moment and confessed.
“Up until a few months ago, Madeleine was my fiancé. Then I come home from work one day and she’s gone, without a trace. That’s what the hell is going on.” Michael’s fury was appreciable. Spittle formed in the corners of his lips. He stared at her in that vile way of his, and panic and adrenalin flooded through her. Dante barked: loud, shrieking barks that pierced the silence so Maddie didn’t see Nico move sideways a little, to the wall, where he pressed a discreet button just beneath a light switch. All her attention was focussed on the barking dog. Michael’s reaction to the noise was instant.
He lifted one leg, a powerful, strong leg, crushing it into Dante’s side.
“My God, Michael, No!” An impossible panic burst through her. Seeing Dante hurt was too much to bear. She crouched down, hugging the whimpering dog to her frame, glaring at Michael with disbelief and rage. But Nico was there, his hand on Michael’s shoulder, spinning him around to look at him, his own body radiating tension.
“This is him?” The question was obviously meant for Maddie, and he softened his voice accordingly, his attempt at speaking gently appreciated by Maddie even when she was acting on autopilot alone.
“Him who?” Michael demanded, pulling out of Nico’s grip, turning back to Maddie. She was vulnerable like this, but she wouldn’t let go of Dante. He needed her. She held him close, tears falling down her cheeks, her hand stroking the dog’s dark fur, trying to calm him when she was a riot of nerves.
“This is the guy?” Nico repeated.
She nodded, her eyes beseeching, her words stammered. “I should have told you. I didn’t know when we first met…”
“What the hell?” Michael, once more. “Was this some kind of sick plan to get back at me? You come to Italy and what? Screw one of my oldest friends?”
“It wasn’t like that,” but she was talking to Nico, needing him to understand. Fear and pain lanced her. Survival instincts but also a desperate need for Nico to know she hadn’t planned any of this.
“You little bitch. I have been looking everywhere for you. Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
At that, she drew her gaze back to Michael, the idea he’d been worried filling her with scorn. “I was safe the minute I walked away from you.”
“What the hell did you just say to me?” Michael moved closer, his expression menacing, and Maddie flinched, but she didn’t back down.
Nico’s voice was like ice. “Quiet. Do not say another word.”
Michael’s response intensified. “You think you can tell me what I can and can’t do, Montebello?” Michael reached down, grabbing Maddie’s hair and pulling at it, so Dante barked furiously and Maddie yelped. She lifted a hand to his wrist, scratching his skin and he brought the other hand down on her face.
The pain was familiar. A bright sensation behind one eye, and a dull ache in her cheekbone. But then Michael was being wrenched away, Nico’s response immediate. Size wise, they were comparable though – she couldn’t say who was stronger. Maddie screamed, her nightmares becoming reality as Michael lifted his fist once more and crashed it against Nico’s right cheek before swiftly bringing it to his chest. She saw Nico lurch backwards before he regained his footing and reached for Michael, grabbing his fist and twisting it behind his back.
“You dare punch a woman?” He demanded, twisting the arm harder so Michael winced. “You dare kick a dog?”
“I’ll kick you if you let go of me.”
“I’ll bet you would, you bastard.”
“You’ve been sleeping with my fiancé? How dare you?”
“What Maddie and I are to one another is none of your business. Your relationship with her is over.”
“It’s over when I say it’s over.”
“It’s over,” Nico roared, but another sound came to Maddie’s ears. Sirens, low at first and then closer, and she gulped in air, unable to comprehend that somehow, help was at hand.
“Go to the kitchen, Maddie.”
“Don’t you dare go anywhere, you bitch,” Michael contradicted, his eyes like ice when they pinned her. She was trembling and indecisive, knowing Nico was right – she wanted to run, to hide, but she couldn’t leave Nico and Dante was hardly in any state to move.
At that moment, Michael swore and lurched forward, trying to reach for Maddie, but Nico gripped him tighter, turning him away from her bodily, pushing him towards the door. Michael got free though and spun around, landing one more punch to Nico’s face. Blood came from his mouth. Maddie cried and stood up, patting Dante urgently then moving towards the men. She couldn’t let Nico get hurt because of her.
“Leave him alone! Damn it, Michael, this is between you and me. Nico has nothing to do with it.”
“You made it about him! I’m going to kill you, you little bitch!” Michael shouted, pushing at Nico once more before turning to Maddie. But Nico was there, inserting his body between them, one arm wrapping behind his frame to grip Maddie, keeping her protected by his larger bulk.
She felt the next punch connect to Nico. Then there was the sound of the door opening, footsteps, Italian voices, too many to comprehend, and they were no longer alone.
Nico was turning, dragging her to his chest. She could feel the rapid fire of his heart, see the blood on his shirt, and over his shoulder, at least four police dressed in military style gear pushing Michael to the floor and handcuffing him. Another man in a suit approached Nico, but Nico cut him short.
“Later,” he said in Italian. “Not now.”
“Fine,” the man responded. “The medics are outside.”
Nico pulled back, looking at Maddie. He winced visibly, his fingers lifting gently to her face, tracing the cheekbone. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m hurt? You’re hurt,” she said, and ridiculously, she laughed. A wobbly sound that turned to a sob, so Nico dragged her back to his chest, holding her there, stroking her hair.
“Dante!” she broke away from him, looking to the dog. “Oh, Dante.” The dog was lying on the ground. “He needs to see a vet.”
Nico stroked Maddie’s back, but to the Italian man he said, “Get Alessia, and Christo, yes, a vet.”
Nico held Maddie for a long time. He held her while Michael was dragged from the villa, shouting vile epithets at Maddie. He held her while almost all the carabinieri left. He held her until Alessia arrived, and only then did he guide her to the sofa, set her down gently and turn to the blonde woman.
“Nico!” She shook her head in consternation. “You’re badly injured!”
“Her first,” he said, nodding to Maddie. Maddie saw Alessia’s concern though, and something like camaraderie shifted in Maddie. They were united in their concern for Nico and it made Maddie feel a kinship with Alessia.
“I’m really not bad,” Maddie promised. “Nico copped the worst of it.”
“Sit,” he ordered, then to Alessia. “Help her. Please.” He put a hand on Maddie’s shoulder and his t
one was softened when he next spoke. “I’ll get you a cup of tea.”
Maddie didn’t argue.
She sat there while Alessia examined her, shining lights in her eyes, checking her reflexes, and finally stood back and nodded. “There’ll have a terrible bruise, but otherwise, you’ll be fine. Obviously if the pain gets worse, not better, have Nico contact me.”
She nodded then cringed as pain radiated through her.
Nico returned then, his face washed clean, his shirt changed, so outwardly at least he looked like his normal self. He handed a mug to Maddie. She took it gratefully, curving her fingers around the warmth, her teeth chattering in a delayed reaction to shock.
“I didn’t think you still saw him,” the words blurted out from her; she couldn’t stop shaking. “I thought you hadn’t seen him for years. I didn’t know who you were that day we met. I should have told, I should have told you before now, but I didn’t think…”
“Hush, hush,” he pressed a finger to her lips. “Quiet, cara. Sit here while I speak to the detective.” Then, to Alessia, “Will you stay with her?”
“Certamente, on one condition?”
Nico paused.
“I examine you next.”
He hesitated a moment but perhaps the look in both Alessia and Maddie’s eyes showed him he would be fighting a losing battle if he were to argue. With compressed lips, he nodded. “Fine.”
Another man arrived then, and after a few words it was apparent he was the vet. He moved to Dante, shaking his head in obvious disapproval, before turning to Alessia. He spoke in Italian and Maddie was too frazzled to translate.
“Inghiltera? English?”
He shook his head more slowly, so Alessia could translate. “His ribs aren’t fractured, but he’s in a lot of pain. He’ll need to go to the vet’s surgery for a full examination.”
Maddie gasped, lifting her hands to her lips. “Oh, no.” Tears formed in her eyes. If anything were to happen to Dante because of her…she couldn’t bear it. “Please let him be okay.”
At that, the vet nodded, and when he spoke, his tone was reassuring. Alessia translated. “He believes it’s just bruising. He’ll do an x-ray at his surgery and sedate him overnight to keep him comfortable. More than likely, Dante will be back to licking palms in a week or so.”
Billionaire Brides: An Anthology Page 59