by Penny Jordan
‘Despite that rather uptight exterior you’re a hot little thing, aren’t you, Catherine? Maybe a marriage of convenience might have some compensations after all.’
Her first instinct was to lash out, to slap that taut cheek, to leave tangible evidence of the scorching shame that imbued her. But somewhere deep inside something moved her: somewhere deep inside she knew this was not the real Rico that she was witnessing now. The real Rico had held her last night, and the real Rico was so much more than the man goading her now.
It was the only reason she didn’t walk away.
‘I will think about it.’ As his eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to argue she broke in and something in her voice told him to keep quiet. ‘I will think about it,’ she repeated, and his hand dropped to his side. She was almost daring him to disagree, because one word, one more pompous show of arrogance, and this discussion would terminate.
Her back might be to the wall, but she would not be rushed.
‘I’m going to the hospital now, Rico. I’m going to speak with the doctors and find out how Lily’s doing and then I’m going to spend the day with her. Now, if you want to come with me then that’s your prerogative, but I don’t want to hear another word about marriage.’
He nodded, a small curt nod, and Catherine let out the breath she had been holding. She gave a small nod of confirmation back, relaxing a touch as she finally gained a semblance of control.
‘Of course when making your decision there is one other thing you need to consider.’
The viper was back, striking when her defences were down. Grabbing her wrists and pulling her towards him, Rico ran a hand over her stomach in a curiously possessive gesture.
‘If you are carrying my child, Catherine, you can forget any rubbish about being a single parent. You will put out of your mind in an instant any suggestion of a marriage of convenience followed by an amicable divorce. If you are having my baby, this marriage will be for ever.’
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE’D never felt more cold.
Even with the late-afternoon sun shining on her face, even with Lily in her dark-suited arms, soft and warm, smiling and cooing, utterly oblivious to her devastation, Catherine felt as if ice ran through her veins, shivering as she stood at the graveside, barely taking in the words as the coffins were lowered.
The service had passed in a dizzy, nauseating blur. The outpouring of grief she had witnessed from the Sicilian contingent—the frenzy of Marco’s relatives, wailing and sobbing, the sheer exhausting emotion that had filled the church and graveside—was such a contrast to the icy reserve that held her together, yet she envied them. Envied their honesty, the cathartic cleansing their outpouring must surely deliver. Instead Catherine’s emotions had seemed to implode within her, immobilising her as she stood dry-eyed at the graveside.
The newly dug ground, the vile earthy stench in her nostrils made her want to call out for them to stop, to say that someone, somewhere, somehow had made a terrible mistake, that surely this hadn’t been meant to happen, surely some master plan had gone seriously wrong. There was so much left unsaid, so much life still to be lived, so many wrongs to put right. But what good would it do? Even if it had been a mistake, even if the powers that be had this time got it wrong, it was a mistake that would have to be swallowed.
No rewind button to be pushed. Too much had been done to change things.
And somewhere in the abyss of her grief she could feel Rico’s hand holding hers, closing in around her icy flesh, squeezing just a little too tight, and she held on, loath to let him know just how much she needed him, but powerless to let go.
‘It’s over, Catherine.’
The crowd was dispersing, heading back to the endless line of black cars, but still she stood, not wanting that to be it, not wanting Rico’s words to be true. It was hard to fathom that this was how it all ended.
‘Lily needs to be fed.’ It was the first time she had spoken, and her lips shivered around the simple sentence. ‘Maybe I should…’
‘Jessica will take her home now.’ She watched him raise his hand, watched as Jessica came over, smiling awkwardly as she took her charge.
Jessica couldn’t yet meet Catherine’s eyes, and both women were uncomfortable in each other’s presence. The furious row with Janey and Marco was still uppermost in their minds, that last meeting too near to be relegated to history just yet, but too raw and painful to explore with any hope of objectivity. As Catherine handed Lily over she felt guilty at the relief that flooded her. Guilty at how relieved she was that Rico had been able to persuade Jessica to come back and care for Lily. Grateful she wouldn’t have to deal with Lily just yet, when it was still taking a supreme effort just to remember to breathe.
Today was too hard.
‘We need to face my family now.’ Rico broke into her thoughts. ‘It is best Lily is not present for this.’
She wasn’t up to this today, but Catherine knew they had no choice. Antonia had already made her feelings clear on the subject. The spiteful rows at the hospital were still ringing in her ears, and the venom of her verbal attack when Lily had been discharged into Rico and Catherine’s temporary care was as horrible in hindsight as it had been in the present. With a weary nod she walked back to the waiting car, quietly grateful his hand still held hers.
‘This isn’t going to be pleasant,’ Rico warned as she stared blindly out of the window, tears pricking her eyes at the sight of the two lonely mounds of earth, the flowers already wilting in the hot Australian sun.
‘None of this is pleasant.’
* * *
Under any other circumstances arriving at Carlos Mancini’s family home would have been intimidating, to say the least. In Toorak, one of Melbourne’s most affluent suburbs, the huge mansion was barely visible from the street. Huge boxed hedges dwarfed the massive black gates that slid open as the limousine approached, but today her mind was too full of all that had been lost to let its opulence overwhelm her. Today the vast stone walls covered with creeping ivy only reminded Catherine of the tombstones in the graveyard and the wreath she had just laid.
Accepting a brandy, Catherine sipped on it. She was not a big drinker, not a drinker, but the warmth of the liquor seeped through her and she braced herself for the inevitable small talk—the awful low murmurs about how well the service had gone, how awful it was to meet under such circumstances. She was determined to hold up her end, for Janey to have a presence here today, no matter how small.
‘Dove` Lily?’ Antonia’s voice carried across the large foyer, and even though Catherine spoke not a word of Italian in this instance no translation was needed. Everything stilled, the hushed reverence normally reserved for such events changing instead to a strained silence as every eye turned to Rico and Catherine.
‘She was tired.’ Rico shrugged, carefully choosing a drink from a passing waiter. ‘After all, Antonia, she was only discharged from hospital this morning.’
‘Well, she should be here,’ Antonia responded, matching Rico’s English. ‘It’s her parents’ funeral, after all.’
‘No.’ Rico’s voice was very calm, but there was an edge to it that had the hairs on Catherine’s neck standing to attention, and though it galled her she had a certain reluctant admiration for Antonia when she maintained her disdainful glare towards her stepson. ‘She shouldn’t be here. No six-month-old should have to attend her parents’ funeral.’
‘That isn’t what I meant and you know it, Rico. Your father is in the study; perhaps we should discuss Lily’s future there.’
Catherine’s mouth dropped open. Oh, she wasn’t naamp2;¨ve, and Rico had left no room for doubt that this discussion was imminent, but she’d been sure there would be at the very least an attempt at pleasantries.
‘Let’s get this over with,’ Rico murmured, guiding her by the elbow towards a large imposing room. But Antonia clearly had other ideas, shaking her head the second they entered. ‘Questo e solo per famiglia, Rico.’
; ‘Catherine is family,’ Rico responded easily, refusing to join Antonia’s blatant mind-games. ‘She’s Lily’s aunt.’
‘Then she’d better get herself a solicitor.’ Antonia flashed him a look that was pure malice, and Catherine privately wondered if this conversation might be best left misunderstood.
‘I have no doubt she intends to,’ Rico said, with a note of dryness that was clearly for Catherine’s benefit. ‘But given the fact that Lily has been entrusted into both Catherine’s and my care, I suggest it would be prudent if she stays and polite to have this discussion in English.’
‘You’ve only been granted temporary care,’ Antonia corrected. ‘The social worker was very clear about that when I spoke with her; this isn’t finished by a long shot. Heaven only knows what lies the two of you fed that social worker. Why on earth she would think you could provide better care than Carlos and I is beyond me.’ This time it was Catherine who was the recipient of Antonia’s withering stare. ‘Don’t think I don’t know where you’re coming from, young lady.’ Her lips curled into a sneer. ‘You’re a guttersnipe, just like your sister.’
She flicked her eyes away, clearly ready to move on to seemingly more important things, but for the first time since entering the house, Catherine found her voice.
‘I can understand that you have issues with me, Antonia.’ The voice was shaky, but her resolve was steel. ‘However, Marco wasn’t the only person buried this afternoon. It was my sister’s funeral also, and, given that it is my sister’s daughter we’re discussing, I’d ask that you all show Janey some respect, at least where Lily’s concerned.’
Her words seemed to reach Antonia. Her expression softened slightly and she gave a brief nod that Catherine took as an apology before turning her attention back to Rico.
‘Your father and I have discussed this at length,’ Antonia stated. ‘In fact we’ve barely slept since the accident.’
‘How exhausting for you,’ Rico drawled, but his sarcasm was wasted.
‘It has been,’ Antonia agreed, fishing a small lace handkerchief from her heavily tanned bosom and dabbing at a tear Catherine couldn’t see. ‘But that’s not the issue. The issue is Lily’s welfare.’
‘Agreed,’ Rico said, but his expression was anything but receptive.
‘Lily needs security.’ Antonia looked over to her husband, who smiled warily back. ‘And your father and I are the ones who can give her that.’
‘Are you sure it isn’t the other way round?’ Rico’s voice cut like a knife, his black stare withering, and Catherine was eternally grateful that for once she wasn’t the recipient of his simmering anger.
‘This has nothing to do with money,’ Antonia insisted, gesturing to the opulent study, with a beautifully manicured hand, then fingering the heavy jewels around her neck. ‘Your father and I are hardly in the poor house.’
‘But you are heading into financial trouble.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Antonia’s eyes were bulging and her well made-up face reddened as Rico eyed her disdainfully.
‘I’m not the one being ridiculous,’ Rico replied without a trace of emotion. ‘I’m not the one jetting around the world in my own private plane with an entourage of staff. I’m not the one flying to Paris to update my wardrobe or deciding on a whim to head over to New York to see the tennis.’
Even in her numb state of grief Catherine felt a surge of shock at the sheer lavishness of Antonia’s existence.
‘You’re living beyond your means,’ Rico said, his voice darker now.
‘How would you know?’ Antonia flared, but Rico merely shrugged and for the first time addressed his father.
‘I know because I bought out your portion of the business. I know because I still do your accounts, Dad, and at the end of the day valuing properties is my bread and butter. As nice as this is, as divine as your Queensland holiday home might be, and all the other little nest-eggs you’ve got stashed away, the simple fact of the matter is that you cannot afford this lifestyle indefinitely. Some day in the not too distant future something will have to give.’ The harshness left his voice then, and a note of exasperation crept in as he implored Carlos to listen. ‘Have you read any of the paperwork I gave you, Dad?’
‘I haven’t had time.’ Carlos Mancini’s voice was still heavily accented. ‘And today is not the day for money talk. Today I lay my son to rest.’
‘Fair enough.’ Rico nodded, but from previous experience Catherine knew the conversation wasn’t over—knew Rico wasn’t going to just walk away now. ‘If it really isn’t about money then let’s make a deal before the solicitors get involved—before this leaves the family and becomes open gossip for every journalist in Australia.’
He paused for an age before continuing. The heavy clock on the mantelpiece ticked so slowly Catherine would have sworn it was faulty, so long did each passing second drag.
‘We all agree that Lily’s money stays in trust for her until she’s twenty-one, and that whoever gets custody finances Lily’s upbringing by their own means.’
‘Lily will need an education.’ Antonia was choosing her words carefully but her agitation was palpable. ‘You can hardly expect your father and I to fund—’
‘The sad thing is,’ Rico broke in, ‘I don’t expect a thing from the two of you. The saddest part of this whole discussion is that Lily is nothing more than a means to an end for you, Antonia.’
Catherine simply didn’t know where to look, it was horrible watching as Antonia flushed ever darker, her mouth pursing. Rico’s father was fishing in his suit for a handkerchief and wiping his brow, and she felt sorry for him, remembering that at the end of the day, Carlos Mancini had buried his youngest son today. But Rico clearly wasn’t taking that into consideration, for he didn’t let up, was ruthless in his pursuit as he carried on talking. ‘Lily would provide a nice little pension for the pair of you, as well as getting you out of the hole you’ve dug yourself into.’
‘Oh, we didn’t dig,’ Antonia soon recovered and stood up, her eyes bulging as she faced her stepson, veins standing out in her neck as she choked out the words. ‘You buried us, Rico. You put us in this hole the day you bought your father out of the business for a pittance.’
‘Hardly a pittance,’ Rico drawled but his icy reserve only exacerbated Antonia’s fury.
‘You knew the company was about to take off.’ Antonia was practically purple now. ‘You knew the fortune it was going to make, and yet you bought out your brother and father for a tenth of what you would now. And you have the gall to stand there and gloat, the tenacity to breeze in and tell us that we’re in financial trouble when you’re the one with blood on your hands.’
Catherine’s eyes shot to Rico as she waited for him to say something, for him to defend himself against Antonia’s vile accusations. But he just stood there, his face impassive, not a bead of sweat on his brow, and not for the first time Catherine wondered what she had got herself into, wondered at the lengths Rico was clearly prepared to go to in order to claim what he assumed was rightly his.
‘So far, Antonia, you’ve said two things that merit comment.’
Finally, Catherine thought. Finally he’s going to put her in her place, clear the slur on his name. But the hope that flared was extinguished as Rico continued.
‘The issue is Lily’s welfare, and, yes, Lily, does need security, which I’m more than capable of providing.’
‘You!’ Antonia sneered. ‘A man who has had more girlfriends than I’ve had hot dinners? A man who spends fifteen hours a day in an office? When are you supposed to see her, Rico? Are you intending to e-mail her a couple of times a day? Read her a bedtime story over the telephone?’
‘And you’re such an expert on parenting suddenly, Antonia?’
This time Rico’s sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed.
‘You were eighteen when I married your father, Rico. Hardly an age for fairytales and nights around the fire with a cup of cocoa. So cut it with the sob stories. I was good to you.’
‘You were good for nothing, Antonia!’ Rico’s voice was pure venom. ‘And, yes, I was eighteen. Yes, I was old enough to get on with my life, to walk away from the woman who had destroyed not only my mother’s marriage but ultimately her life. But Marco was twelve—a twelve-year-old boy you treated like dirt on your shoe. You moved in and he was shipped out to boarding school the next month. The next month,’ he repeated, emotion finally rearing its head, his voice a loud roar. ‘Is that what you intend for Lily?’
‘She’s a baby,’ Antonia retorted. ‘She’s years away from school. It’s not even an issue at the moment. You’re not having her, Rico. I’ll sell the plane if I have to, but I’ll fight you till the end for her.’ Her eyes met Catherine’s, locked on them for an uncomfortable moment, and suddenly everything didn’t seem quite so crystal-clear any more. The picture Rico had painted of a money-hungry woman was suddenly not quite so plausible. ‘Your sister would want the best for her daughter—surely you can see that?’
Catherine gave a small nod.
‘Let’s put the money aside for a moment.’ Antonia’s voice bordered on reasonable, and again Catherine nodded, determined to hear all sides, to make a rational decision when all the cards were on the table. Lily’s future was too precious for egos and finances to get in the way. ‘Children should have two parents. That might sound old-fashioned, but I firmly believe it—as I’m sure the courts do—’
‘For once we agree on something,’ Rico’s voice broke in, and Catherine shot him a furious look.
‘Antonia was talking, Rico. I think we should at least hear what she has to say.’
‘I’m tired of listening to her crap.’ Taking Catherine’s hand, he held it for a moment, slowly turning it over in his palm before holding it up. ‘Notice anything?’ His malevolent tones had shivers running down Catherine’s spine, and there was nothing tender in the way he held her. ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate us, Father?’ When Carlos just sat there in stunned silence he addressed his stepmother. ‘Antonia? Aren’t you going to welcome the newest addition to the Mancini family?’