She refused to think about the court case waiting for when they returned to Sydney. She knew the fight with Marcia would be dirty and long, but Gemma’s immediate problems had been solved, or at least would be once Isabella was given the all clear. Then and only then would she feel safe enough to tell Andreas how she had spent his money. Once her father’s estate was secured she would pay it back in full. That was her only comfort in the deception she’d had to continue for this long.
‘What was this I heard about huge credit-card bills?’ Lucia teased as she reached for her tall glass of fresh orange juice. ‘My brother said you are…what is it in English…a connoisseur of consumerism?’
‘That is correct,’ Andreas said with an unreadable look as he captured Gemma’s eyes. ‘Gemma has but one vice. She has a compulsion to shop.’
‘Then you are in very good company,’ Paolo said earning a playful dig in the ribs from his wife.
The lively exchange continued but without Gemma’s input. She felt the tension building behind her eyes, distorting her vision and making nausea rise in her throat.
‘Are you all right?’ Gianna asked after a few minutes.
Gemma gave her a weak smile. ‘I’m not feeling well. I think I’ve had too much sun.’
‘Perhaps you are pregnant,’ Lucia suggested. ‘I was sick almost from the first moment.’
‘No,’ Gemma said without thinking. ‘I couldn’t possibly be pregnant. It’s just a headache. I’ll lie down for a while and I’ll be fine.’
Andreas’s mother shooed him away once one of the girls had translated the situation and ushered her new daughter-in-law into the cool interior of the villa and helped her into bed, fussing over her just as a real mother would have done.
Gemma had a hard time containing her emotion at the gentle loving care she was being given, hating herself for the deceit that had led to a situation that was fast getting out of control.
She had seen suspicion in Andreas’s dark eyes when she’d made that little slip about shopping. How else would she have supposedly run up numerous bills?
Her stomach heaved in alarm. What she had always suspected was true.
He didn’t believe her.
But why hadn’t he confronted her with it?
What was he waiting for?
She had already told him she was in love with him, several times. She hadn’t been able to help herself. Meeting his family had made her fall in love with him all over again. She felt she knew him even more now that she was surrounded by those who loved and knew him best.
But he hadn’t said a thing about his own feelings. He had shown her passion and desire—yes, and he’d been exquisitely tender out of consideration for her painful past, although true to his promise he had not referred to that night again.
She couldn’t make him out. She was almost certain he had revenge on his mind but so far she saw no sign of it.
For some reason the lurking threat of it was all the more intimidating…
Gemma heard him enter their room later that evening, carrying a tray of food prepared by the family housekeeper.
‘My mother thought you might be hungry,’ he said, closing the door behind him with his foot.
‘I’m not.’
‘You should eat,’ he insisted. ‘If you are indeed carrying my child as Lucia suggested you must eat even when you don’t feel like it.’
‘I’m not pregnant.’
His eyes were very focused on hers. ‘You seem very sure of that.’
‘I know my own body.’
‘When is your monthly period due?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please, do we have to have this discussion now?’
‘Yes, I think we do.’ He put the tray down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed near her stiff legs.
‘I told you I’m not ready to have a child.’
‘Are you doing anything actively to avoid it?’ he asked.
‘You can inspect my toiletries for pills and diaphragms, but, no—I’m not doing anything actively to avoid it.’
‘It is not simply a mind-over-matter issue, Gemma. Unprotected sex normally leads to pregnancy in the matter of a few months if the sex is frequent enough.’
‘I’m not in the mood if that is why you’re here.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘If you think I am the sort of man who would insist on my conjugal rights when you are unwell then your opinion of me is something I will have to work on a little more assiduously.’
‘I’d like to be left alone,’ she said, turning her back.
There was a creeping silence. Gemma felt it coming towards her inexorably, like a curl of acrid smoke actively seeking her next indrawn breath so it could poison her lungs.
‘What did you do with the money I gave you?’ Andreas asked.
Gemma’s fingers on the sheet tightened. ‘I spent it.’
‘On what?’
‘Bills.’
‘I have your credit-card statements in my briefcase downstairs. You haven’t used a credit card for something like two years.’
Gemma knew she was trapped. She hunted her brain for a reasonable excuse for why she had dispensed with such a large amount of cash but her post-migraine head refused to co-operate. She tried to reassure herself that he couldn’t possibly have seen the flights she’d booked on her credit card as the statement wouldn’t be due until the following month, but how could she be sure? He seemed to have an uncanny ability to find things out about her affairs.
‘I will ask you again, Gemma. Do you have a drug or gambling problem?’
‘No.’
‘Is someone blackmailing you?’
God, she thought, mentally kicking herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
‘Gemma?’ he prompted.
‘No…I…I leant it to a friend.’
‘Who?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because…’
‘Because why?’
‘Because my friend needs me not to tell anyone.’ She flipped over to her back so she could meet his eyes. ‘I can’t tell you any more than that. I’m afraid you’ll just have to trust me.’
‘Is this friend going to pay you back?’
She lowered her eyes from the sudden intensity of his and whispered, ‘No.’
‘I see.’ His voice was tight. ‘So you gave away a hundred thousand dollars of my money that you are at this point not even sure you are going to get from your father’s estate to pay me back, to someone whom you will not reveal the identity of, and I am supposed to be content with that explanation?’
‘I will pay you back,’ she said. ‘I swear to God I will pay you back if it takes me a lifetime to do it.’
‘It should only take you nine months to do it,’ he said, getting to his feet, his expression white-tipped with anger.
‘I’m not a breeding machine,’ she tossed at him furiously.
He turned from the door and gave her a cutting look. ‘And I am not a money machine.’
The door clicked on his exit, the sharp sound feeling like a slap to Gemma’s still tender head.
She sank back amongst the pillows and fought against the despair that threatened to consume her, but it was hopeless. The stoicism that had been her trademark for so long was too far out of reach. Tears ran in streams down her cheeks, her only consolation that no sound accompanied their crystal progress…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALTHOUGH she was certain no one in Andreas’s family would have picked up on it, Gemma was conscious of his brooding anger and distance whenever they were alone. He put on a good show when family members were about, sitting on the arm of her chair, tending her needs just as devotedly as his brothers-in-law did to his sisters, but at night he slept well away from her in the big bed, not once reaching for her as he had done so many times before.
She lay awake for hours, aching to close the distance in the bed, but her pride felt too bruised. If he had told
her he loved her she would have thrown herself at him, perhaps even trusted him enough to tell him the truth about Isabella, but without that declaration she couldn’t risk he might seek the revenge he clearly wanted in the most devastating way of all. She tried to tell herself he would never act so despicably, but how could she be sure? Isabella’s own father had injured her for no reason at all. Andreas on the other hand had many reasons for wanting to inflict hurt on Gemma for what she had done to him. He had already bribed Michael out of marrying her; what other lengths would he go to in order to achieve his ends?
Two days before they were scheduled to leave, Lucia announced her baby was on the way, and within hours of her being admitted to hospital Gianna clutched at her belly and made the very same announcement.
The villa was in an excited uproar and Gemma was swept up in it, even though there was immense pain in it for her as she knew that what both Lucia and Gianna were experiencing was never going to happen to her.
Lucia gave birth to a baby boy at four that afternoon and Gianna delivered a little girl three hours later. The babies were beautiful and brought much needed joy to Andreas’s mother who had waited so long for grandchildren to fill the aching emptiness of her loss.
Paolo handed his baby son to Gemma to hold and she took the infant with hands not quite steady, unable to control the emotion clogging her chest. She gazed down in wonder at the tiny perfection of the infant in her arms, the little starfish hands, the minuscule perfection of his fingernails and his little rosebud mouth that seemed to be already searching for sustenance. She couldn’t speak even though she wanted to say how thrilled she was for them all, but the words couldn’t get past the aching lump lodged in her throat. Tears burned in her eyes and her chest felt heavy and aching with regret.
She was relieved when they were all ushered out of the hospital to allow the new mothers some rest.
Andreas was quiet on the drive back to the villa. He barely looked in her direction, his expression closed.
‘It was nice that you got to meet your niece and nephew before we leave,’ she offered into the silence.
‘Yes.’
‘Andreas…’ She moistened her mouth and tried again. ‘I really like your family. You are very lucky.’
He flicked a quick glance her way, but didn’t respond.
Gemma sat back in her seat and sighed. It was going to be a long trip home.
The flight back to Australia was exhausting for Gemma notwithstanding the luxury treatment the staff on Andreas’s private jet lavished on her.
She was relieved when they finally made it back to his house where Susanne had already turned back the bed for her.
‘I thought you might be a little jet-lagged,’ the housekeeper said. ‘Andreas seems to cope with it pretty well, but you don’t strike me as the resilient sort.’
Gemma gave her a wan smile. ‘I feel like the jet I’ve just been flying in has backed over me several times with the luggage still on board.’
Susanne gave her a comforting pat as she pulled the sheet over her. ‘It will pass. Close your eyes and get some sleep. I’ll leave a nice dinner for you when you wake up. Andreas has gone to the office; he should be back in an hour or so.’
‘Thank you, Susanne. You’re being so kind to me. I really appreciate it.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ she said. ‘What did you think of the Trigliani family?’
‘They were wonderful,’ she said. ‘I wish I’d had such a family when I was young. No wonder Andreas is so…so…’
‘So lovable?’
Gemma felt her chest tighten. ‘Yes…but he doesn’t love me.’
‘What was that we were saying about words and actions the other day?’ Susanne reminded her as she gave the bed a final pat. ‘Don’t go paying any attention to words unless the actions back them up.’
Gemma settled amongst the soft linen as Susanne left the room and thought about the housekeeper’s comment. Andreas hadn’t spoken of his feelings, but at times his actions hinted at very deep feelings, feelings perhaps he was not yet willing to articulate.
Could it be he had never fallen out of love with her, in spite of how she had treated him? That he was holding her at a distance now because he needed more time to learn to trust her? She had hurt him in the cruellest way; it would take a lot of courage to make himself so vulnerable again.
Gemma drifted in and out of a hazy sleep, the sunlight coming into the room making it hard for her to totally relax, and then, just as she thought she was going to finally drift off, she heard the doorbell ring downstairs.
She waited for Susanne to answer it, but, glancing at the clock by the bedside, realised the housekeeper would have left for the day at least an hour ago.
She considered ignoring the consistent peeling of the door bell, but it seemed someone was very determined to be acknowledged, so, rustling herself into a bathrobe, she made her way down the stairs to the front door.
‘Michael!’ She stared down at him in surprise. ‘I thought you were overseas.’
‘I’m leaving next week,’ he said, then, looking up at his partner standing next to his chair, asked him to wait in the van and that he would only be a few minutes.
Gemma watched as the other man walked back to the van parked outside before she opened the door wider so Michael could activate his chair to come in.
‘How are you, Gemma?’ Michael asked once they were in the lounge.
‘I’m fine. How are you?’ She gave him a hard little look. ‘Enjoying your newfound financial independence provided by my husband?’
He gave her a tortured glance before staring down at his hands. ‘I knew you would be angry with me but I thought it was the best thing. If it’s any comfort to you I only took the money because Andreas insisted.’
‘How very considerate of you.’
Michael looked uncomfortable, his gaze going anywhere but near hers. ‘I had a visit from your stepmother,’ he said after a lengthy pause.
‘Oh?’ Gemma sat on the edge of the sofa so he didn’t have to crane his neck in case by some sort of miracle he decided to meet her eyes. ‘What did she want?’
‘She told me she’s contesting your father’s will.’
‘Yes…I had heard that.’
He brought his eyes to hers. ‘Gemma…’ he cleared his throat and continued ‘…there are things about…that night that I remember.’
Gemma sat up straighter, her body suddenly tense and on high alert. ‘You’ve got your memory back?’
He looked away again and stared at the Persian rug on the floor, his voice a low mumble as he confessed, ‘I didn’t lose it in the first place.’
She stared at him speechlessly, shock filling her like ice in her veins. Her chest tightened with such pain she could hardly breathe. Why had he lied to her for all this time?
She took a convulsive swallow. ‘You what?’
‘When I woke up from the medically induced coma I was dazed for a long time. My father told me you had been charged with negligent driving and that I was certain to get a huge insurance payout as a result. He also told me you were suffering from amnesia. You didn’t remember a thing about the accident or what had occurred before it.’
Gemma felt as if something cold, hard and sharp was forcing its way down her spine, keeping her rigid in her seat. She couldn’t speak. The words she most wanted to ask were locked somewhere between her throat and her aching chest.
‘He told me that I wouldn’t be paid a cent if it came out that I was the driver,’ Michael added.
‘But you weren’t the driver,’ Gemma said, her brain feeling like wet cotton wool as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. ‘It was my car. I had come to your house that night. You told me that yourself. I was upset, you said, and you suggested we go for a drive as your father had guests at your place.’
Michael met her confused gaze. ‘Yes, you were upset. You’d had a monumental argument with Marcia. I was worried about you. You were hysterical, so I suggested
I drive instead. We switched seats but before we could put on our seat belts a dog came out of nowhere and I swerved to miss it and hit the tree instead.’
‘I wasn’t driving…’ Gemma couldn’t stop saying the words, even though they were only coming out as a faint, hoarse whisper. ‘I wasn’t driving…I wasn’t driving…’
‘No, Gemma,’ he said heavily. ‘The accident was my fault. I shouldn’t have started driving until we were both in our seat belts but I didn’t stop to think. I just wanted to take you away someplace safe so you could tell me what had happened between your stepmother and you.’
Gemma finally managed to stop mechanically chanting long enough to think to ask, ‘And did I tell you what the argument was about?’
He shook his head. ‘No, you were crying so hard I couldn’t get it out of you. I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you but the only person who can tell you what happened that night if you don’t remember it yourself is your stepmother.’
Gemma felt her whole body slump in defeat. She pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to think, wishing she could squeeze the memory out of the recesses of her brain, but it was all a blank.
A hopeless, useless blank.
‘I’m sorry, Gemma,’ Michael said into the painful silence. ‘I should have confessed the truth a long time ago, but I needed that money. I know you will find it hard to forgive, but I figured you came from a wealthy background. I had nothing. The insurance payout has set me up. I can live more or less independently now.’
‘You betrayed me…’ Gemma found it hard to even say the words, unwilling to admit them out loud. The one person she had trusted over all others had in the end betrayed her.
‘I didn’t intend to,’ he said, his voice cracking slightly over the words. ‘Things just got complicated. I thought it was the best way out. You didn’t remember the accident or what led up to it, the doctors said it was unlikely you ever would. I kind of figured my secret would be safe. Your father paid your bail. There was no other choice for me.’
Bedded and Wedded for Revenge Page 15