“He’s heavy,” Marco said with undisguised pride. He reached into the bag and pulled out a box. It was the latest ‘it’ toy for children. A toy designed to look like an iPad that had bells, whistles, textural definition and was almost impossible to get. Ben made an appropriate squeal of delight and immediately began to run his fingers over the dials, laughing gleefully when it made a honking noise.
“Where did you get that?” Grace couldn’t help asking, moving closer to see the details.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re waitlisted all over the city.”
Of course, she knew the answer. He was Marco Dettori. What he wanted, he got.
“I have a shopper,” he said dismissively, as though it were no big deal.
“Okay, coffee!” Emma’s bright intrusion was welcome. Grace felt as though her nerves were stretched to breaking point. She turned to the nanny, relieving her of the tray. “Thank you,” she said, placing it in the middle of a table then removing her own cup. She took a large sip, savouring the flavor of caffeine and waiting for some hint of wakefulness to assail her.
As the minutes passed speedily, Grace saw more and more similarities between Marco and Ben. The way they tilted their heads when deep in thought, a sardonic smile that came naturally to them both, and a bond that was as obvious it was heart-breaking. She caught Emma’s eye at one point, the curiosity unmistakable.
Was there recrimination there, too? Did she also blame Grace for keeping this secret?
Did she even know?
Grace’s eyes drifted towards them again and her heart clenched. Of course Emma knew. It was patently obvious that these two men were father and son. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning away.
“Emma?” Her voice quivered a little. “I’m going to take care of some emails. Will you let me know once Ben’s settled for his nap?”
“Sure thing, Grace.”
Grace walked from the room quickly, keeping her attention focused on the hallway beyond the conservatory before turning into the mudroom and slipping on a pair of Hunter boots. It was a cool morning and the grass would still be wet.
She pushed outside gratefully, breathing in the crisp air, letting it saturate her lungs and blow out the cobwebs of her brain.
Even at the time, she’d doubted her decision. But it had been so easy to believe she was making the right choice. Her own childhood had been filled with people who hadn’t wanted her. How could she inflict that same fate on her baby? And Steven had wanted Ben. He had made that obvious from the moment she’d told him of her pregnancy.
I know you’re not in love with me, Gracie. That’s okay. I love you enough for both of us. And I love this baby. His hand had curled over her still-flat stomach. I want to look after you both.
Hot tears slid out of her eyes. How pathetic that was! Grace had left that poor, fragile girl behind when she’d gone to college. She’d got her law degree, she’d worked her ass off, and then what? She’d sold out to an offer of help and support at her first true test of independence?
But if we do this, it’s for real. I will be this child’s father. No one can know that’s not the case. Not the baby, no one. We’ll be a family, Grace.
Just like she’d always wanted. A proper family. And who better to form a family with than a man who adored her? Who worshipped her?
What do you say?
“Grace? Grace?”
Should she have said ‘no’? Steven had loved Ben, and Ben had adored Steven. For a short while, they’d been a family, and it had been a happy and good time in her life. But had she always felt this kernel of guilt? This sense that she had a grenade in her chest with a slow-burning fuse? Or had she believed her own press? That Marco wouldn’t have wanted a thing to do with a baby?
“Grace?”
She blinked, wiping away the last tell-tale tear and pasting a smile on her face as she spun towards the voice. Emma was making her way across the lawn.
“Ben’s settled. Marco asked me to get you to meet him at his car.”
Grace frowned. “His car?”
“Something about house-hunting?”
“Oh.” Grace’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions…”
Emma laughed and shook her head. “Not as many as you might think.”
Grace arched a brow enquiringly and Emma shrugged. “I can put two and two together, you know.”
“Right.” Grace bit down on her lip. “He’s parked …”
“Out the front. You’ll need a coat. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s cold out.”
Grace looked down at the sloppy jumper she was wearing and realized that yes, she was cold. Other senses were numbing her, preventing her from realizing. “We won’t be long.”
“It’s fine. Ben’s exhausted. He’ll probably sleep ‘til noon.”
Grace grabbed the first coat she laid her hands on, a navy parka with faux fur trim and wrapped it around her mid-section, swapped for normal shoes and then made her way through the house, towards the vestibule entrance.
It was an enormous house, like all the others in the area. She’d loved it from the first moment she’d stepped inside. It so perfectly signified success, safety, security – all of the things that had been glaringly absent for most of her life.
And she loved that Ben was growing up with that – those securities.
She pulled the door shut behind her and stepped onto the paved path that led to the street. Marco was propped against his car – something black and sleek that looked like it would outrun a cheetah with ease – his legs crossed at the ankles, his eyes focused on her as she walked. How could she not be self-conscious? He didn’t look away as she got nearer, so she didn’t either.
“I thought we were going to have lunch,” she said when she was right in front of him, the words coming out miffed instead of how she really felt – totally out of control.
“If you are hungry, we will get food.”
“I’m not.” She hadn’t eaten all day but her stomach was still in knots. He reached behind him and opened the door to his car for her. The simple gesture took her breath away. Not because he was generally lacking in chivalry, but because he was somehow able to imbue even that declaration of civility with a hint of impatient rage.
She slid in and instantly wished she’d suggested she drive. In her car. A vehicle that was so much less him. The leather was black, the dash wood-panelled and polished to a sheen. And it smelled of him. Something indefinable and pervasive that set her pulse skittering and made her abdomen clench with reminders of how he had been inside of her.
They’d never do that again.
They couldn’t.
“Where are we going?”
“We need to speak.”
“I… I said that,” Grace responded with frustration. “That’s what I said. I suggested lunch.”
Marco pulled the car away from the house with ease, driving slowly out of consideration for the suburban nature of the street. “I didn’t know him last night,” Marco said softly. So softly that the words held a gentle threat.
“And you do now?” She murmured, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap in an approximation of calmness.
“I know that I can’t leave him. That we are right to raise him together. I know that I want him to grow up with my family, in my city, amongst his people.”
“I’m his people,” she said with a shake of her head.
His lips were tight, forming a grimace. “You’ll be there too.” As though it was the very last thing he wanted.
She bit down on her lip. “I can’t. Marco, please, I know you’re angry with me but don’t take it out on Ben.”
“Angry with you?” His fingers gripped the steering wheel until they were white. “Yesterday I was angry with you. I was angry at you for leaving Rome. For marrying Cox. What I am right now goes so far beyond anger. I have no word for it.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
“How could you ever think
keeping him from me was the right decision?”
“I told you, I tried …”
“Don’t! Don’t say that again. We both know that was a pathetic attempt to assuage your conscience. If you had really wanted to tell me, you would have found a way.”
Chastened, she turned and looked out of her window as the suburbs blurred past. He was right. She’d been grateful, in a way, that his response had saved her the necessity of being honest with him. It had been such an easy ‘out’. At the time, she’d been able to justify her decision, but now? She swallowed, the bleak sadness in his eyes ripping her heart wide open. “I wish I’d told you.”
“Do you?” He grunted. “I would never have let you marry him.”
She closed her eyes, pressing back into the seat, and more tears rolled down her cheeks. She’d cried a lot since Steven died. Not in front of anyone. She was always careful to wait until she was in the privacy of her own room. But she’d lost her husband, best friend, co-parent and biggest support. More than that, she’d lost the security she’d thought she’d gained in marrying Steven. Her life had been marked by uncertainty and she had believed that Steven was safety and security all wrapped up in one sensible package. That he was an inoculation against anything bad ever happening to her.
And then he’d died.
“How did it happen?”
She blinked her eyes, staring straight ahead. “Well, my guess would be a condom didn’t work.” It was a pithy response to a stupid question.
“I meant, how did he die.”
“Oh.” Her eyes fluttered closed once more. “I presumed you knew.”
“Car accident,” he said with a grunt. And she wondered then if his uncharacteristic caution on the road was out of deference to her. She’d driven with him in Rome, when he’d treated every street like his own personal race track.
“So you know.”
“What happened, in the accident?”
“Oh.” She swallowed, the details etched into her mind as well as her name and love for Milk Duds. “Someone ran a stop sign. He was already in the intersection.” She ran a finger over the hem of her jacket, feeling its little speed bump stitching. “The paramedics said he died instantly. I like to think he didn’t even know. Like he was hit and it was over. I hate to think of him suffering.”
Marco’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “I’m sure it was quick,” he said, and she was surprisingly comforted by his assurances.
“It was just a normal Tuesday afternoon. He was on his way home. Emma was with Ben. I was picking up take out on my way from the office…”
“You didn’t work for him then?”
“No.” She shook her head. “After … after Rome, I came back and got a job at Woodsworthss,” she named one of the biggest global investment banks.
Marco nodded. He knew that. He’d been contacted for a reference personally. It had been strangely fascinating, the way he’d kept the woman from HR on the phone, just because in talking about Grace he was somehow feeding the obsession that had taken hold of him.
“When I had Ben, I took just a month off. He was a good baby, but I loved my job, and we’d already found Emma to help with nights…”
“Why?”
“He didn’t sleep well,” she murmured. “He was a nightmare sleeper, actually.”
Marco nodded, filing the information away. He had barely any knowledge of his child, so that each little breadcrumb was delicious and new.
“You didn’t miss him?”
“Being back at work? Oh, all the time,” she nodded. “Are you kidding me? Emma set up a webcam in the lounge so I could log in and see him any time I wanted to. It was hard.”
“You and Cox didn’t need the money,” Marco pointed out. “Why not take longer?”
“I told you, I loved my job,” she shrugged. “And it’s not the kind of role you can leave for too long. I had high-profile clients that I’d spent a long time warming up, getting to trust me. And the company was reasonably flexible with my hours.”
“And when he died? I imagine taking over Aztec was more demanding.”
“God, yes. I’ve been doing twelve hours and then coming home and trying to get time with Ben. It’s such a juggle. But Emma’s amazing. It wasn’t supposed to be a live-in position, but somehow, that’s what it morphed into.”
“Would she come to Rome?”
Grace spun her face to his, her mind reeling. “We can’t just move to Rome.”
“Why not?” He took his eyes off the road briefly, slashing her with the seriousness in his face. “It’s my home.”
“Your home is …” Beautiful. Perfect. Paradise. Majestic. Glorious. “So far away.”
His exhalation was haughty. In the small part of her mind capable of functioning, Grace wondered how it was possible for even a breath to judge her. “You have described a life in which you are so busy you barely get to see our child. You just said yourself what a juggle it is. So move in with me. Take time off. Do whatever you want.”
“I am doing what I want,” she said, knowing even as the words left her mouth that it wasn’t completely true. She’d never wanted to run Steven’s business. It wasn’t her thing.
“Do you know what I am thinking of?”
“What?” It was snappy. She softened it with a small sigh.
“The way you were on my balcony. Do you remember, Grace? We had bruschetta and wine, and laughed and talked. Then, you were happy.”
She had been. She had been both euphoric and content – a strange combination of different forms of happiness, for one was energetic and pronounced and the other was peaceful - almost slumberous.
“It was so long ago,” she said, surprised at the crispness to her words. “I was a different person then.”
“But you react just the same in my arms. Whatever it is between us, neither of us can control it.”
She startled, turning to face him, her eyes enormous and her lips parted. He pulled the car to a stop at traffic lights on the edge of the city and met her gaze. Heat exploded between them and Grace felt moist need pool between her legs. She clamped her thighs together, but it didn’t stave off her desire to have him.
“I hate that I want you, even after this,” he said seriously, the words heavily accented and filled with bitter self-loathing.
His words were doing strange things to her gut, making her ache with need and hunger and desire and sadness.
“I hate you for what you have done, make no mistake about it. I want you in my bed, but I will never forgive you for keeping my son from me.”
Five
“YOU’RE STAYING HERE?”
The penthouse apartment of the Waldorf was every bit as remarkably grand as Grace might have imagined, had she spent any time doing so. Her eyes went from one piece of luxurious decadence to another – the sumptuous gold curtains that hung like clouds of stardust, the grand piano in one corner, sofas that seemed like they were made from gossamer, wallpaper that looked hand-painted and enormous marble tiles.
“Si.”
She spun back to him, catching him in a moment of unguarded reflection. His face was haunted, his expression impossible to interpret. Except that something in him made her sad. Made her sorry.
So why didn’t she apologise again, and try to make him understand?
Because he wouldn’t.
She’d robbed him of something unique and special; something he’d never get back. His eyes flicked to hers.
And she felt the truth of his words. Hatred barreled towards her; she shivered.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“We need to talk. Away from that house you lived in with him.” His eyes flashed with something new. Something dangerous.
“Why?”
“Because.” He shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on a hook by the door and then moving deeper into the beautiful space. He was somehow incongruous here – large and feral, with sharp edges that could bust the fineness of the room.
“That’s
not an answer.”
“I’m asking the questions.”
She blinked her eyes wide. “Oh, so this in an interrogation now?”
“You don’t think I’m entitled to answers?”
She bit down on her lip, locking her sassy response deep in her throat. “I do.” She clasped her hands in front of her and spun away, moving towards the sofas. She didn’t sit down though; it would have felt like a concession of strength and she already seemed to be at a disadvantage. “I just don’t know what you want to know. So tell me. Ask your damned questions.”
His nod was tight. “When did you find out you were pregnant?”
Grace’s finger traced the velvet detailing of the sofa distractedly. “Not for months. Two and a half months at least, after I got back.”
“And were you with him during that time?”
She swallowed past the lump of frustration in her throat. “No.”
“So it was only once you found out you were pregnant that you fooled him into marriage?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said emphatically. “I didn’t fool him. I … confided in him.”
“And it didn’t occur to you to give me the same courtesy?”
“Come on, Marco. You were furious when I left Rome…”
“Because you shouldn’t have left,” he responded sharply. “I wanted you to stay.”
“You wanted me in your bed. Just like you do now. That wasn’t enough.” She angled her face away from him. “What we shared that night…” the memories were enough to burn her alive and yet she shivered once more, a coldness pervasive deep in her soul. “It terrified me.”
A muscle jerked in his cheek but she didn’t see it. She wasn’t looking at him. Marco, however was staring at Grace, analyzing her every movement and emotion, her expressions and her heart. “So?” He said at length, prompting her to continue.
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