by Lynne Graham
‘How was I supposed to like you?’ he shouted at her in a sudden eruption of rage. ‘Some stranger’s bastard masquerading as my own daughter? It was intolerable that I should be forced to pretend but I was responsible for your mother because I married her. There was no one else to take care of her and I had to think of Gina and Bella’s needs. I did my duty by you all but it was a lot more than your wretched mother deserved!’
The door behind Ava opened. ‘Thomas, I think you’ve said enough,’ the female voice said quietly. ‘It’s not the girl’s fault that you had to put up with so much.’
It was his wife, Janet, her stepmother … no, not her stepmother. These two people were actually no relation to her at all. The shock of that realisation punched through Ava and left a big hole where she felt her brain should be. She turned in a clumsy circle. ‘I should leave.’
‘I think that would be best, dear. You remind Thomas of a very unhappy time in his life,’ Janet informed Ava in a reproachful tone.
Ava walked straight back out onto the road, feeling as if she had concussion because she couldn’t think straight. The secret was out: she finally knew why her father had never liked her and her mother had always preferred her sisters. Evidently she was ‘some stranger’s bastard’, not a legitimate child of Thomas Fitzgerald’s first marriage, not to mention being a constant galling reminder of his wife’s infidelity. No longer did she need to wonder why the man had persisted in calling her ‘Ginger’, why she had been sent off to school, shunned and excluded from the family when she messed up: she wasn’t a part of the family and was barely entitled to call herself by the name Fitzgerald. All her life she had been a cuckoo in the nest and now she knew why and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. No amends that she could make, no bridges she could possibly build. The family reunion she had prayed for was nothing more than a silly girlish pipe dream.
Vito flew back to the castle in his helicopter, warned the pilot he would be returning to London within the hour and strode from the helipad towards the front door. There he spotted Damien Skeel lounging up against the bonnet of his four-wheel estate vehicle and he frowned.
‘I suppose you don’t happen to know where Ava is?’ Damien asked hopefully. ‘I was supposed to pick her up at one but apparently she went out and she must have forgotten about the arrangement.’
‘Where were you taking her?’ Vito was relieved that he was neither insecure nor possessive when it came to women. Growing up with an emotionally unstable father had taught him to despise such behaviour.
‘To choose the Christmas tree for the castle from the estate plantation,’ his estate manager informed him with a smile. ‘And I hoped to fit in lunch.’
Ava was still keeping their affair a big dark secret, Vito registered, and his dark golden eyes smouldered at the realisation. He breathed in slow and deep. ‘I’ll choose the tree with her tomorrow,’ he heard himself declare.
The blond man frowned in surprise but nodded coolly. ‘If you see her, tell her I was sorry to miss her.’
Not as sorry as you might have been had you not missed her, Vito reflected with gritted teeth. There were times when Ava infuriated him and this was one of those occasions. Was she attracted to Skeel? Was that why she refused to acknowledge her relationship with Vito? His lovers usually went out of their way to boast about sharing his bed. Given the smallest opportunity they showed him off like a prize and proudly posed by his side for photos. But not Ava. Ava attached no strings and imposed strict boundaries. He was, in retrospect, amazed that he had been invited to share her bed. She never, ever asked him what time he would get back home. And she wouldn’t phone him, didn’t even text. He walked out of the castle in the morning and, for all she knew, he might have been dead five minutes later. But then all that made her one hundred per cent perfect for a guy like him, he reminded himself staunchly. No demands, no avaricious streak, no hidden agenda. What you saw was what you got with Ava and Vito knew how rare a quality that was.
His keen gaze tracked a sudden glimpse of movement on the drive and he registered that it was Ava. On foot and dressed like a bag lady in her jeans and horrible jacket, but even at a distance nothing could outshine her grace of movement or the delicate beauty of her features against her coppery hair. He supposed they were about to have the mother and father of all rows and felt surprisingly insouciant about the fact. He was very focused and persistent when he wanted something, he would wear her down.
‘Ava …’ Vito greeted her from the wide shallow run of steps at the castle entrance.
Lost in a reverie, Ava glanced up and blinked in surprise. Was it that time already? Surely he shouldn’t be home in broad daylight? Like a vampire he was usually only available during the hours of darkness. For a brief moment, she was snatched from her hopeless thoughts by Vito’s sheer charismatic appeal. He was truly stunning from his cropped black-as-night hair to his hand-stitched shoes and designer suit. The minute she saw him she wanted to touch him but always quenched the urge, determined not to feed his ego. If he could be cool, she could be even cooler.
Vito threw his big shoulders back and gave her a blinding smile that in a normal mood would have made her suspicious. ‘We’re going shopping …’
Her lashes fluttered because she didn’t know what he was talking about and really couldn’t be bothered asking for clarification. Everything felt so far removed from her that a glass wall might as well have separated them.
‘And since you’re here, let’s leave right now,’ Vito proposed, descending the steps and closing a hand over hers.
It was second nature to Ava to yank her hand free and say in dismay, ‘No—someone might see—’
‘It’s not like I’m trying to shag you on the front lawn!’ Vito flamed back.
‘Don’t be crude,’ Ava told him.
Vito expelled his breath in a furious hiss. He thought of all the years he had spent with normal women, greedy, vain, untrustworthy women, who would never have dreamt of pushing him away. And then there was Ava. He stopped dead and closed his arms round her like a prison.
‘What you … doing?’ she mumbled, all at sea again, an odd distracted air about her.
Vito took advantage. He never failed to take advantage when the right opportunity offered because Ava didn’t drop her defences very often. He scooped her up against him so that her feet parted company with the ground and brought his mouth crashing down on hers with devouring eroticism, and that explosion of high-voltage sensation broke through her barriers and she blinked in bewilderment, suddenly depth-charged out of her state of shock. His tongue snaked against hers and a helpless shiver ran through her. He was so incredibly sexy, she thought dimly, swept away by the throbbing swelling of her breasts and the hot dart of pulsing warmth between her thighs. He just touched her and she wanted to chain him to the bed. He rocked against her, letting her know that he was equally aroused, and that was when she recalled that they were still in full view of the castle windows and she shimmied down the length of him like a fleeing cat.
‘No! I don’t want to be seen doing this with you!’
They were already more than halfway to the helicopter. Vito decided not to make an issue of it, although where had not making an issue of Harvey got him? Harvey kept on giving him a paw and nudging him expectantly. Harvey was pushy, desperate to be noticed now that he was sentenced to sleeping downstairs at night, and he stalked Vito round the castle when he was at home. ‘He likes you,’ Ava had said appreciatively but it was not an honour that Vito had sought.
‘Where are we going?’ Ava prompted suddenly.
‘London … shopping,’ Vito proffered casually, wondering why she wasn’t putting up a fight about the prospect.
‘In a helicopter?’ Her head ached with the force of the self-discipline she was utilising to hold her flailing emotions in check.
‘It’ll give us more time.’
‘I’m not really in the mood.’
‘It’s your birthday tomorrow. This is my treat,’ Vito p
ronounced.
Presumably he wanted to buy her a present and if he had organised the trip for her benefit she didn’t want to be difficult about it.
‘Is there anything wrong? You’re very quiet,’ Vito commented, leaning down to do up her seat belt for her when she ignored the necessity.
‘Thanks.’ Ava forced a smile, striving to behave normally. ‘No, there’s nothing wrong.’
The helicopter rose noisily into the air. Nothing short of physical force would have dragged the truth from Ava about what she had learned from Thomas Fitzgerald earlier that day, she conceded painfully. Apart from the embarrassing reality that the older man still worked for Vito, such a private and wounding revelation had no place in a casual relationship. That was not what she and Vito were about and she would adapt to the sordid discovery that she would never know who her birth father was without anyone’s help. But a shopping trip …? Strange, she reflected wearily. She had always assumed that most men didn’t like shopping, but at least the pastime would provide a useful distraction from the burden of her unhappy thoughts.
Vito had requested that a personal shopper meet them at Harrods. He cast a questioning glance at Ava as the woman tried to engage her in a discussion about her likes and dislikes but Ava’s responses were few and her lack of interest patent. Determined to make the most of the occasion, Vito got involved, chose his favourite colours, nodded and shook his handsome head when outfits were displayed on hangers and freed from the threat of Ava’s interference, announced that everything was required. With all the animation of a shop window dummy, Ava tried on several garments. That achieved, the outfits began to pile up because Vito shopped as fast as he worked. The personal shopper called in two co-workers to help while Ava continued to hover in an apparent world of her own. Vito stifled his exasperation and decided that unlike most women she had little interest in what she wore. Handbags and shoes joined the pile, along with a beautiful green velvet designer gown, which Vito knew at a glance would be perfect for the party. In the lingerie department, determined to see the back of the gingham pyjamas, he looked to Ava to finally take part in the proceedings because he could not credit that she would let him do the choosing, and he was stunned to see that silent tears were rolling down her cheeks. She seemed totally unaware that she was crying in a public place …
CHAPTER EIGHT
AT Vito’s request they were shown into a room with seating and the concerned team assisting them promised to rustle up a cup of tea.
His hands on her slim shoulders, Vito settled Ava down into an armchair as if she were a sleepwalker. He lifted a handful of tissues from a box on the table and pushed them down into her tautly clenched hands. ‘Per l’amor di Dio … what has happened?’ he demanded, gazing down at her.
Ava pressed a tissue to her face to dab it dry and wiped her eyes. ‘Nothing,’ she said gruffly. ‘I’m sorry—’
‘No, I’m sorry I dragged you out when there’s obviously something very wrong. I should have seen that you were acting strangely,’ he ground out rawly. ‘This was supposed to be a treat, not an endurance test that distresses you, bella mia—’
Ava stared woodenly down at her knotted hands. ‘I’m really sorry … how embarrassing for you to have me behaving like that in public. I’m surprised you didn’t walk off and leave me.’
Vito crouched down in front of her and tilted up her chin so that he could better see her reddened blue eyes and the pink tip of her nose. ‘Am I that much of a bastard? I will admit to a split second of very masculine panic but that’s all.’
Ava encountered beautiful dark golden eyes fever bright with frustration. He hated being out of the loop: she knew that much about him. ‘It’s not something I can talk about, I’m afraid. I’m all right now, though. The pressure inside me just built up too high and I didn’t even realise I was crying.’
‘Are you pregnant?’ Vito demanded with staggering abruptness.
Ara was taken aback by the question, an involuntary laugh was dredged from her tight throat. Evidently that was his biggest fear. ‘Of course I’m not and as we’ve only been together a week, how could I possibly be pregnant?’ she whispered just as a knock sounded on the door. ‘Or even know that I was?’
‘It happens,’ Vito said darkly, thinking of Olly, whom his father had sworn had been conceived after a single night. He vaulted upright to open the door and accept the cup of tea that had arrived, settling it down on the table by her side.
‘We’ve been too careful. That’s not the problem,’ Ava told him dully as she sipped gratefully at the refreshing brew.
‘But what is the problem?’ Vito growled.
‘It’s nothing to do with you or our relationship and I’m getting over it already,’ Ava insisted staunchly, wiping her eyes with determination and blowing her nose, still wincing at the embarrassment of having lost control to such an extent in front of him. ‘You see? I’m absolutely fine.’
‘You’re anything but fine,’ Vito contradicted without hesitation. ‘You’re not yourself at all. Let’s finish up and get out of here, but don’t think you’ve heard the last of this. I need to know what’s wrong.’
Her face tightened. ‘We don’t have that kind of relationship.’
‘What kind of a relationship do we have?’ Vito shot back as she set down the tea and stood up, composed again.
‘Fun, casual,’ she declared.
Dark colour highlighted his strong cheekbones. ‘I can handle problems.’
‘You couldn’t handle this one and why would you want to anyway?’ Ava asked frankly. ‘It’s not like this is the romance of the century or serious or anything!’
Vito went rigid, his hard jawline clenching, his wide sensual mouth compressing into a surprisingly thin line.
‘And now you’re offended because I’m not supposed to be that blunt, and maybe you’d just like to say goodbye to me here right this minute!’ Ava completed on a rising note of anger.
At that invitation, Vito’s eyes flamed burning gold. ‘Che cosa hai? What’s the matter with you?’
‘I’m giving you an escape route.’
‘Shut up,’ Vito told her in a seethingly forceful undertone.
Ava drew herself up to her full five feet four inches. ‘What did you just say to me?’ she demanded.
‘Zip it!’ Vito bit out with unmistakable savagery. ‘Let me tell you what we are going to do. We will complete the shopping trip and leave.’
Ava parted her lips, ready to let loose another volley of the angry aggression that had come out of nowhere to power her mood. Without warning, a rush of screaming anxiety engulfed her next, when she belatedly appreciated that she was actually trying to talk herself out of staying with him for what remained of the week. To her horror, she couldn’t accept that prospect, couldn’t face the idea of saying goodbye there and then. That acknowledgement shocked her sufficiently into clamping her mouth shut on her dangerously provocative tongue. What the heck was wrong with her? What difference this week or next week? But the threat of separation from Vito managed to flood her with such appalling fear that she couldn’t answer her own question.
‘I’ll take you straight back to the castle when we’re finished,’ Vito pronounced.
She caught a glimpse of them together in a tall mirror and reddened, thinking that she looked more like a messy teenager than a grown woman in her jeans and jacket. He had to be mortified to be seen out and about with a female that badly dressed and all of a sudden, in spite of the emotions still bubbling inside her like a witch’s cauldron, she was ready to make concessions. Her birthday treat? She had thrown his generosity back in his face and wrecked the outing.
Concealing his surprise, Vito watched from a discreet distance as Ava selected lingerie, unwilling to give her an excuse to lose her temper again. What the hell was going on with her? He wondered if he would ever understand her, wondered why he should even want to when he was usually up and out at the first sign of complications in an affair. But she had never been
moody with him before. She vanished into a changing room with a bundle of garments.
Ava stripped, glanced in dismay at a couple of tags marked with eye-watering prices and wondered if he was insane to be spending so much money on her when they only had another week together. But it could be a good week just like the first if she could only stop thinking about the ending that would come with it. Her mouth down curved at the lowering thought that she was certainly in the mood to please as she put on a dress: he liked dresses, dropped hints like bricks around her about feminine clothes, loved her legs. And her bottom and her breasts. Just not her! Her eyes prickled. She couldn’t even blame him. His brother was dead because of what she had done. What she had now with Vito was the most she could ever have because he would never be able to surmount that barrier between them.
Vito’s was not the only male head to turn in the vicinity when Ava reappeared, a slim chic beauty in a form-fitting dress, jacket and high heels.
‘Am I allowed to jump you in the limo?’ Vito growled, hot golden eyes pinned to her face.
Ava laughed. She knew she looked good, hadn’t frankly known she could look that good in a new outfit and was very aware that she had him and the helpful saleswomen to thank for it because she had virtually no experience of either choosing or wearing more decorative formal clothes.
‘No,’ she told him, suppressing the memories of Thomas Fitzgerald, her late mother and her wretched childhood. She would get over it, adapt to the new knowledge about herself, much as she had adapted to other things.
Having emerged from the shop, a procession of bags and boxes already piled into the limousine awaiting them, Vito closed an arm round her spine. Suddenly a man called out Vito’s name and he halted in surprise. A blinding flash lit them up and a man with a camera shot them a cheeky smile before taking off into the depths of the milling crowds on the pavement.
‘My word, why did he want to take a picture of us?’ Ava asked as Vito tucked her into the car.
‘He’s probably paparazzi.’ But the incident sent a vague sense of unease filtering through Vito because he was not accustomed to that kind of press intrusion in his life. ‘I can’t imagine why he wanted a photo of us.’