‘I have to leave soon,’ Claudia said. ‘Tomorrow. I think.’ As much as she would like to stay in this serene sanctuary, real life needed to be dealt with. Her time here, though, had not been wasted. She had learned much about herself and about her father. Questions she had never thought or dared ask before had been asked, and truthful answers given.
Those truths had broken her heart all over again.
Sister Bernadette gave a smile that perfectly conveyed her sympathy and understanding. ‘We will miss you.’
‘I will miss you too.’ She covered the elderly nun’s hand with her own. ‘I cannot thank you enough for taking me in.’
‘You are always welcome here, child.’ Sister Bernadette gently squeezed Claudia’s hand and got to her feet. ‘I must prepare for vespers.’
Claudia watched her walk away feeling she could choke on the emotion filling her heart.
How she wished she could stay but it was impossible. Three weeks into her sanctuary she’d taken the test that had changed the course of her life.
She was pregnant.
Placing a hand on her still-flat belly, she closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. Now that the shock and pain of Ciro’s betrayal had dimmed to a dull ache, her path was clear and real unfettered freedom beckoned.
After two weeks spent thinking and planning and channelling her literary heroines, she knew what she had to do.
She had to leave Sicily. Whatever happened, she would not raise her child here. Her father’s reach was too great. She would be at his mercy—and so would her child.
She would never be at his mercy again.
And nor would she go running to Imma, not unless the worst came to the worst and it became absolutely necessary. She prayed for her child’s sake that it didn’t come to that. She prayed that she could build a cordiality with her enemy.
Claudia had thought a lot about her childhood these last two weeks and how desperately she had longed for her mamma. She would never willingly put her child through that.
But from now on, she would be at the mercy of only her own decisions and choices. She would not be answerable to anyone. She would be like Elizabeth Bennet and take control of her own life.
As terrifying as it was, she had to go to New York and start a new life in the city her child’s father called home. He had as great a responsibility to their child as she had and she would do her best to make sure he lived up to it.
Much as she wanted to take that freedom immediately, she knew she wasn’t ready to live in a city as scary as New York on her own just yet.
Just reaching for her phone set her heart off at a canter. She spoke into it. ‘Unblock Ciro.’ Like magic, her phone unblocked him. She spoke into it again. ‘Call Ciro.’
She only had to wait two rings before it was answered. ‘Claudia?’
Her skin tingled and her throat closed to hear his rich voice. For a moment, she couldn’t make herself speak.
‘Claudia?’ he repeated. ‘Is that you? Are you okay?’
It was his fake concern that cleared her vocal cords. ‘Hello, Ciro.’ As she spoke his name, a fat bee landed on the lavender beside her bench. For some unfathomable reason, the sight of it made her smile. ‘Are you in New York?’
‘Yes. Where are you?’
‘Sicily.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. I want you to sort a flight to New York for me. We need to talk.’
‘Has something happened?’
‘You could say that.’
‘I’ll send my jet over.’
‘A scheduled flight will be fine. I don’t care where I sit.’
‘I’ll have you on the next flight out.’
‘Make it for tomorrow. There’s something I have to do first.’ She disconnected the call before he could respond and breathed deeply to quell her racing heart.
Ciro paced the arrivals area of the airport surrounded by assorted people holding makeshift signs with random names. There was a family to the left of him, a father and two small children. From the excitement evident on the children’s faces and their manic energy, they were waiting for their mother’s arrival.
There was a manic energy in his veins too. It had been there since Claudia had broken her silence and called him.
As the wait lengthened—the storms currently hitting the east coast had turned flight schedules on their head—he found his attention lingering on that family. The life Ciro lived meant children were rarely on his radar. He’d always assumed he’d marry and have kids one day when he was ready to slow down, but that one day had always been far enough away for him not to bother thinking about. His gut told him he needed to start thinking about it right now.
If, as his gut was telling him, Claudia was pregnant, how could he reconcile being father to the grandchild of the man directly responsible for the death of his own father?
Agitated, he bought himself a coffee and had taken his first sip when a tranche of travellers emerged. Amid the crowd, dressed in slim-fitting jeans, a long blousy cream top and an artfully placed blue silk scarf, her long dark hair tied in a high ponytail, was Claudia.
Ciro’s heart thudded against his ribs. His mouth ran dry.
Their eyes met.
Claudia ordered her suddenly jellified legs to keep going and tightened her hold on her overnight case and the strap of her handbag. It had never occurred to her that one look at Ciro would still have the power to make her heart flip over and her lungs shrink.
And then she was standing before him, gazing into the green eyes she’d once stared at wishing she could swim in them, wondering how it was possible she’d forgotten how deeply attractive she found him.
She hadn’t forgotten. She’d buried it away, ashamed of an attraction that had been built on such heinous lies.
He gave a slow incline of his head then leaned down to pick up the case she didn’t remember placing on the floor. The movement set off a waft of his woody cologne and for a moment the world spun as memories of their wedding night flooded her. They were memories she’d buried away along with her attraction for him.
‘How was your flight?’ he asked with overt politeness as they walked to the exit. ‘Was there much turbulence?’
‘Some. It could have been worse.’ She’d been too busy worrying about seeing Ciro again to worry about the frequent bouts of turbulence they’d flown through.
‘Have you got a coat? The weather’s atrocious.’
She shook her head, not looking at him. She hadn’t thought to check the weather conditions, had assumed New York would be basking in similar glorious heat to Sicily.
He put her case back on the floor and, keeping hold of his coffee cup, handed her the long black thing he’d been holding. ‘Here. Wear this.’
It was a long waterproof overcoat. Everything in her recoiled at the thought of wearing something that belonged to him and she shook her head violently and thrust it back at him. ‘No, thank you.’
His chiselled jaw clenched, the firm mouth forming a tight line. Then he picked her case back up and strolled out of the exit without waiting to see if she followed.
Hurrying after him, Claudia took one step outside and found herself instantly soaked by the deluge falling from the dark grey sky and almost knocked off her feet by an accompanying gust of wind. Only a strong arm wrapping around her waist kept her upright.
There was no recoiling this time, only a surge of warmth, which she had no time to analyse for Ciro had swept her forwards to a waiting oversized four-by-four, his huge frame shielding her against the worst of the elements. Moments later she’d been bundled into the massive vehicle. The door closed, muting the noise of the elements lashing down on them. Ciro, his dark hair flattened by the rain, his expensive suit drenched, tapped on the raised partition between them and the driver set off.
The car was warm and in no time at
all the chill from the downpour that had soaked her lifted.
‘How long will it take to get to your apartment?’ she asked, looking out of the window. Conditions were so bad she could see nothing but wet grey.
‘With the weather and traffic as it is, hopefully no more than a couple of hours. I would have used the helicopter but in these conditions...?’ His shoulders rose in a ‘what can you do?’ shrug.
A few, long minutes of excruciatingly uncomfortable silence followed until Ciro broke it. ‘Where have you been?’
‘In a convent.’
His burst of incredulous laughter sliced through her, laughter that stopped as quickly as it had begun. ‘Seriously? You were hiding in a convent?’
‘I needed a place where I could think and cleanse myself from your lies and my father’s behaviour.’ Twisting to look at him, she found her heart twisting too and exhaled slowly, placing her hand on her stomach, reminding herself of the need to remain strong and calm.
His breathing heavy, he took a while to respond. ‘I apologise for what I did to you.’
‘You mean marrying me on a lie?’
His head jerked a nod. ‘I thought you were part of your father’s plot against mine.’
She thought about that for a moment. ‘We had an English nanny when we were growing up and she taught us that two wrongs don’t ever make a right. Did no one teach you that?’
Ciro turned his head and found himself trapped in the dark depths of Claudia’s stare. Every inhalation taken since getting into the car had found him breathing in her scent. It was the same perfume that had coated her skin on their wedding night and it coiled inside him, unleashing memories that had haunted his dreams ever since she’d gone into hiding.
He clenched his jaw and willed away the surging heat in his veins. ‘What would you have done if our roles had been reversed? Wouldn’t you want vengeance on the man responsible for the death of your father? Wouldn’t you want to take back what had been stolen from you?’
Her chest rose, eyes narrowing slightly before she gave a slow shake of her head. ‘I would never set out to humiliate or destroy anyone. I wouldn’t involve anyone else. I could never live with myself if I hurt someone.’
‘Then you’re a better person than me, Princess. If someone hurts me or those I love, I strike back twice as hard. Steal from me and I will take it back with extras. Your father did both.’
‘And how’s your vengeance working out for you? Do you feel better in yourself now you have your family home back?’
‘I feel great.’ To accentuate his point, he spread his arms out and hooked an ankle on his thigh.
The weight of her stare penetrated him for the longest time before a smile crept slowly over her face.
‘Do you know, you are a terrible liar?’ She actually laughed. ‘“There are none so blind as those that will not see.” I was so desperate to believe you loved me and so desperate for some real freedom from my father that I blinded myself. And deafened myself too.’ Another short burst of laughter. ‘If I had opened my eyes I would have seen the lies. If I had opened my ears I would have heard them. Your voice and body language tell the truth whatever comes out of your mouth.’
The proverb she’d quoted hit him. He’d been as guilty of it as she. The woman he’d believed to be stupid had, he realised, an insightfulness that saw right through him.
‘What do you want to talk about?’ he said roughly. ‘We’re not going anywhere so let’s talk about it now.’ The car hadn’t travelled more than a mile since they’d left the airport. At the rate they were going they’d be lucky to make it to his apartment before nightfall.
‘Haven’t you guessed?’
His chest tightened into a ball. ‘You’re pregnant?’
She nodded. ‘I took the test two weeks ago.’
‘You’ve waited two weeks to tell me?’
‘I needed time to think.’
‘You should have told me immediately.’
She raised her shoulders and pulled a rueful smile. ‘And you should have used contraception.’
He blew out a long puff of air and dragged his fingers through his hair. There was a painful roiling in his stomach similar to the feeling he’d had when he’d left his loving family in Sicily for a new life in America, but far stronger. There was no excitement amid the trepidation this time. Only dread.
He was going to be a father. He was going to be father to a child with Buscetta blood.
‘You’re okay with this?’ He met her stare again. Claudia’s calmness was as disconcerting as the news she really was carrying his child.
‘That we’re having a baby? Yes. I’ve always wanted to be a mamma.’
‘You wanted this?’
Her face scrunched with thought. ‘When our child was made I thought we loved each other so at that point, yes, I wanted a baby.’
‘And now? After everything that’s happened?’
‘That doesn’t change anything.’
‘You still want it?’
‘Of course. Don’t you?’
He muttered a curse under his breath. ‘How do I know what I want? You’ve had two weeks to think about this.’
‘You’ve known since our wedding night we could have made a baby.’
‘Having suspicions is very different from having facts.’
‘Agreed. But you have thought about it.’ She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily before fixing them back on him. ‘I need to know if you can love a child that’s the blood of your enemy.’
Her astuteness caught him off guard. Again.
‘And please don’t lie to me,’ she added before he could formulate a response. ‘Whatever happens in the future I will not accept anything less than complete honesty from you.’ Her scrutinising eyes did not leave his face. If he was to lie, she would know...
‘I don’t know,’ he finally answered. ‘I never meant to bring a child into this.’
She pondered this for a few moments. ‘Thank you for being honest.’
‘How can you be so calm?’ he asked, his incredulity finally reaching breaking point. ‘I’ve lied to you, I’ve got you pregnant, I tell you that I don’t know if I can love our child and you sit there as if we’re discussing a new car.’
There was the faintest flicker in her eyes. ‘Would you prefer me to rant and rage at you?’
‘You’re the one demanding honesty. That would be a more honest reaction than this serenity you’re displaying.’ Anger he could deal with. Anger meant he could shout back and displace some of the guilt that lay so heavily on his shoulders.
She pulled out the hairband holding her ponytail together. ‘I’ve worked through my anger.’ Her chestnut hair tumbled down. He remembered the scent of it. Remembered how it had driven deep into his bloodstream. ‘You’re the father of my child and I can’t change that.’ She massed the long, silken locks together and gathered them on her shoulder. Still staring at him, she continued, ‘I can’t undo the lies you told. I can’t change anything. But I can influence the future and do my best to make sure our child has the best possible start in life that it can.’
His throat had caught. He had to cough to clear it. But, damn, she was plaiting her hair...and he was remembering all the heady feelings that had rushed through him when he’d unplaited it.
Damn it, he didn’t want to remember. He wanted to agree a plan on how to proceed from this point, drop her off at his apartment then go out and get rip-roaring drunk. Alone.
‘You’re right,’ he said, straightening. ‘I have thought about what should happen if you’re pregnant. As you’re insisting on honesty, I tell you now that I don’t want our child to be raised in Sicily with your father’s influence.’
‘I don’t want that either.’
‘You don’t?’ This from the daddy’s girl who’d refused a date with him until she’d got her
father’s approval first.
He waited for her to elaborate but she continued plaiting her hair.
‘I’ll set you up in an apartment,’ he said. ‘If we live in the same city it will make it easier to—’
‘For now, I will live with you.’
‘What?’
She wound the band at the end of the long plait and jutted her chin. ‘Only until the baby’s born. I’ll need support through the pregnancy and you’re the only person I know here. I’ve never been to America before. I don’t know the city. Living with you will give me time to adjust and it will give us the time we need to build some form of relationship that’s not built on hatred. We don’t know each other. All we know are the fronts we showed each other during our courtship—I’m willing to admit that I put on a front too.’
The air in the car seemed to have thinned.
‘And how can you develop feelings for our baby if you’re not there to share the pregnancy?’ she continued, clearly unloading all the thoughts she’d spent weeks developing while he was stuck playing catch-up. ‘You’re always travelling. If we lived apart I’d need to schedule time with you like we did before.’
‘I don’t want to live with you,’ he said bluntly.
She didn’t even flinch. ‘I don’t want to live with you either. Believe me, I feel nothing but contempt for you but my feelings don’t count any more and neither do yours. I grew up without my mother and I’ve always felt there was a huge piece of my life missing. I don’t want that for our child and I don’t want it to be born with warring parents. You were prepared to live with me to get a house—are you seriously telling me you won’t live with me for a short while for your child’s sake?’
Ciro didn’t answer. How could he live with this intoxicating woman even with an end date in sight? Every time he looked at her desire ripped through him but that desire was tinged with revulsion. He accepted that she’d been innocent of her father’s criminally underhand activities but she was still Cesare Buscetta’s daughter. How could he reconcile the two competing parts, the desire and the loathing, without losing his mind?
‘I’ve spent two weeks thinking about this,’ she said into the silence, ‘and I think we both owe it to our child to try and find a way to get along in friendship rather than hatred. I don’t expect it to be easy but let’s give it until the baby’s born.’
A Baby To Bind His Innocent (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Sicilian Marriage Pact, Book 1) Page 6