by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate
‘What are you saying?’ she gasped incredulously.
‘I’m saying that kid isn’t his.’
‘Stop talking nonsense,’ she snapped. ‘Of course Pietro is his son.’
He thrust his face close to hers and spoke in a rasp.
‘Pietro’s real father was my brother. He and Gina slept together the night they met, and pretty often after that. Then she found herself pregnant, but he died two days later in a boating accident. And the next thing we heard she was marrying Ferrone. You don’t have to be a genius to work out what happened. She had to find a father for that baby so she jumped into Ferrone’s bed.’
Sally wanted to scream No! No! No! It isn’t possible!
But there in her mind was the memory of Damiano, his voice filled with emotion, telling her of the first time Gina had come to him.
‘I thought I’d lost her for ever. But on the night of the ball a miracle happened.That night she became mine. She gave herself to me with all the love in her nature.’
But her love had gone to another man, and she had made shameless use of Damiano’s adoration. Sally could no longer tell herself that it wasn’t true.
‘Why did you come here tonight?’ she demanded.
‘Because the time has come to tell him. I was about to make a deal with a very wealthy man, until Ferrone stepped in and made him a better offer. I’ve taken quite a loss, and I’m going to make him sorry.’
‘No, I won’t let you.’
‘You couldn’t stop me. Look.’
He took out a photograph and thrust it into her hand. Looking at it, Sally felt all her nightmares come true.
There in the picture was Gina, her arms around a young man who was also embracing her. But it was the man’s face that devastated her.
It was Pietro’s face. Even given the difference in ages the likeness was so great that she could no longer doubt this was the boy’s father. Her last hope died.
‘With that picture I have all the proof I need,’ he said. ‘I’m looking forward to showing it to him.’
Her answer was to tear the picture into little scraps.
‘Now where’s your proof?’ she snapped.
‘You don’t think I was stupid enough to bring only one? I’ve got another. And it’s too late for you to stop me. Look behind you.’
She did so and saw something that horrified her.
Damiano was standing there, and from his stony look she could tell that he’d heard every word.
‘Show me the other picture,’ he said in a voice of ice.
With a cynical expression the man drew out the copy and thrust it at Damiano.
Watching Damiano’s face as he studied the picture, Sally wished she could fade away to nothing. He had no choice but to admit the truth.
‘Look at my brother,’ the man sneered. ‘He’s got the same face you see on that boy. Now what are you going to do?’
‘Nothing,’ Damiano said. ‘If you were hoping to give me a shock you’re going to be disappointed. This is no surprise to me. Now get out.’
‘You think you’ve won, don’t you?’ the man sneered. ‘But the truth is still the truth and it’ll always be there.’ He raised his voice. ‘You’re not that boy’s father. You never were and you never will be. And you’ll always have to live with it.’
‘Get out of here,’ Damiano said in a voice of ominous quiet, ‘before I make you sorry you were born.’
The man fled. Damiano went to sit on the stone bench, dropping his head into his hands. Sally went to sit beside him and put her arms around him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to take this pain away from you. You said it came as no surprise to you, but I can’t believe you actually knew.’
He raised his head to look at her.
‘No, I didn’t know, but I’d suspected. Gina became pregnant so quickly after her return that I was bound to wonder.’
‘All these years—’
‘I refused to believe it because I didn’t want to. And it seemed cruel to suspect her when she was dead and couldn’t defend herself. Now I know and everything is different.’
Was there no way to ease his pain? she wondered. But then something came back to her. Incredibly, she knew something that might help him. After a moment’s hesitation she came to a sudden fierce decision.
‘Yes, everything is different,’ she said. ‘In one way—’ she paused, taking a deep breath to summon up her courage ‘—in one way, things are better.’
He stared.
‘Better? What can you mean?’
‘You told me once that you felt to blame for her death, that you gave her the child whose birth killed her. But you didn’t.’
‘I—’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Damiano, you must understand that. You said the feeling of guilt haunted you, but you have nothing to feel guilty about. You didn’t kill her. It wasn’t your fault.’
Still he stared, thunderstruck.
‘It’ll take time for you to get your head around it,’ she said, ‘but you’ll find that the darkness soon starts to lift.’
He took her face between his hands.
‘You say the darkness will lift, but I know now that that began to happen the day you came into my life. I discovered something else tonight, listening to you. You fought that man, to let me keep my dreams of Gina, although she must have always been a trouble to you.’
‘I’d have done anything to stop that man hurting you.’
‘Even if it meant you paid a price?’
‘Even then. Because I love you with all my heart. I hoped you’d come to understand that without my saying it.’
‘I’ve been so blind. I never realised—to think the truth about you—about us—has always been there, facing me. To have your love—’ He was suddenly tense. ‘I do have it, don’t I? You did say that?’
‘You have my love now and you always will have.’
‘And you will always have mine. It’s as though my heart and mind have suddenly become clear, seeing and understanding everything about you, and me—and Gina. This must have been what she wanted to tell me on her death bed. I vowed to protect our son, but she was going to tell me he wasn’t mine.’
‘No,’ Sally said quickly. ‘She would never have been so cruel. She was going to tell you that she loved you. You saved her from disaster and made her last months happier than she could have dreamed. In the last moments of her life her heart was yours.’
He stared. ‘You can’t be sure of that.’
‘I can because I can’t imagine knowing you and not loving you. She loved you, my darling. And she wanted you to know that, so that if this day ever arrived you would still have her love to rely on.’
‘But now I have yours. You might have seized the chance to kick her out of my life and own me completely. Instead—’
‘I don’t want to own you. I want you to give me your love freely, or not at all.’
‘Has there ever been another woman as generous as you?’ he breathed.
‘It happens when a woman truly loves a man.’
But Damiano didn’t believe her. In his eyes and his newly awakened heart the generosity she showered on him was hers alone, and he would cling to her for his survival. There could be no life without her. But with her a glorious future was opening before him.
‘What about Pietro?’ she asked. ‘Will this affect your love for him?’
‘No, because I’ve always had this slight suspicion that he wasn’t mine. I couldn’t be sure but I came to feel a bond between us that didn’t depend on my being his father in every sense. That bond has grown over the years, and it won’t die now.’
‘Will you tell him?’
‘One day I may hav
e to. If that man comes back I don’t want Pietro taken by surprise. But not yet. Let’s go and say goodnight to him.’
But as they passed Pietro’s room they stopped, appalled by the sound of violent sobbing coming from inside. Damiano threw open the door and they saw the child lying on the bed, his face buried in the pillow.
‘Pietro,’ his father cried, dropping down beside him and trying to take him in his arms.
‘Go away,’ Pietro cried. ‘You’re not my father.’
‘Of course I am. Come here.’
But Pietro fought him off.
‘You’re not!’ he screamed. ‘I was outside, I heard what they said. You’re not my father, you don’t love me. You don’t, you don’t, you don’t.’
Damiano looked up at Sally, his face full of desperation. She took a deep breath. Their whole future depended on this moment. Sitting down on Pietro’s other side, she took him in her arms. He made no attempt to fight her as he’d fought Damiano.
‘You’re wrong, my darling. Papa does love you, and that’s what makes him your father. The rest—whether he fathered you at birth—simply doesn’t matter. After all, I didn’t give birth to you, but you call me Mamma because you know I love you as a mother, and you’ve accepted me as your mother, which means all the world to me.
‘Your father here has loved you all your life, because you’re a wonderful son. That’s what makes him your father—your father of the heart.’
Pietro looked up at her, clearly taking in what she was saying, and mulling it over seriously.
‘What happens now is up to you,’ she told him. ‘Do you accept him as your father, or will you refuse and break his heart?’
Pietro looked back and forth between them. Damiano was watching Sally as though she held all his life in her hands.
Which in a way she did, she thought. She gave him a significant glance, nodding in Pietro’s direction, hoping he would understand.
He did. He took the child’s hand and said gently, ‘Will you accept me as your father, if I beg you to?’
Slowly Pietro nodded. The next moment he was enfolded in Damiano’s arms.
‘Thank you,’ she told the child. ‘That means everything to Papa, because he loves you more than anyone in the world, and he always will.’
‘But not more than you,’ Pietro said innocently from within the shelter of Damiano’s embrace.
‘Much more than me.’ She met Damiano’s eyes and mouthed, ‘Tell him.’
He tensed, sensing how much this mattered but unwilling to say the words. He knew now that he could never love anyone more than her, even if he’d only just realised how deeply.
‘Say it,’ she urged silently again.
‘It’s true,’ he told Pietro. ‘You come first with me, and—and you always will.’
Sally was smiling with approval and the sensation made him dizzy with relief and happiness. He was a man who’d always insisted on being in control, but now even that side of him was glad to yield to her. He was in her power, and for the first time in his life he didn’t mind the subjugation.
She was stronger than he was. She would keep him safe. He was content.
The three of them remained together for an hour. It was only when Pietro had gone to sleep that they could say things that needed to be said.
‘Do you like the mask I’m wearing now?’ she whispered.
But he shook his head.
‘To me you have never worn a mask,’ he said. ‘I looked at you and saw the woman I was fated to love for the rest of my life. That is no mask, and it never will be.’
He drew her closer into his arms.
‘Te vojo ben,’ he said, uttering the Venetian words of love that she had longed to hear. ‘Te vojo ben.’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A GROOM WORTH WAITING FOR by Sophie Pembroke.
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CHAPTER ONE
‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, he’s coming here?’ Thea Morrison clasped her arms around her body, as if the action could somehow hide the fact that she was wearing a ridiculously expensive, pearl-encrusted, embroidered ivory wedding dress, complete with six-foot train. ‘He can’t!’
Her sister rolled her big blue eyes. ‘Oh, calm down. He just told me to tell you that you’re late to meet with the wedding planner and if you aren’t there in five minutes he’ll come and get you,’ Helena said.
‘Well, stop him!’
No, that wouldn’t work. Nothing stopped Flynn Ashton when he really wanted something. He was always polite, but utterly tenacious. That was why his father had appointed him his right-hand man at Morrison-Ashton media. And why she was marrying him in the first place.
‘Get me out of this dress before he gets here!’
‘I don’t know why you care so much,’ Helena said, fumbling with the zip at the back of the dress. ‘It’s not like this is a real wedding anyway.’
‘In two days there’ll be a priest, a cake, some flowers, and a legally binding pre-nup saying otherwise.’ Thea wriggled to try and get the strapless dress down over her hips. ‘And everyone knows it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in the wedding dress before the big day.’
It was more than a superstition, it was a rule. Standard Operating Procedure for weddings. Flynn was not seeing this dress a single moment before she walked down the aisle of the tiny Tuscan church at the bottom of the hill from the villa. Not one second.
‘Which is why he sent me instead.’
Thea froze, her blood suddenly solid in her veins. She knew that voice. It might have been eight years since she’d heard it, but she hadn’t forgotten. Any of it.
The owner of that voice really shouldn’t be seeing her in nothing but her wedding lingerie. Especially since she was marrying his brother in two days.
Yanking the dress back up over her ivory corset, Thea held it tight against her chest and stared at him. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ But there he was. Large as life and twice as... Hell, she couldn’t even lie in her brain and finish that with ugly. He looked...grown up. Not twenty-one and angry at everything any more. More relaxed, more in control.
And every inch as gorgeous as he’d always been. Curse him.
Helena laughed. ‘Eight years and that’s all you have to say to him?’ Skipping across the room, blonde hair bouncing, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss against his cheek. ‘It’s good to see you, Zeke.’
‘Little Helena, all grown up.’ Zeke returned the hug, but his gaze never left Thea’s. ‘It’s good to see you too. And rather more of your sister than I’d bargained on.’
There was a mocking edge in his voice. As if she’d planned for him to walk in on her in her underwear. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the country! Flynn had told her he wouldn’t come and she’d been flooded with relief—even if she could never explain why to her husband-to-be. But now here Zeke was, staring at her, and Thea had never felt so exposed.
She clutched the dress tighter—a barrier between them. ‘Well, I was expecting your brother.’
‘Your fiancé,’ Zeke said. ‘Of course. Sorry. Seems he thought I should get started with my best man duties a few
days early.’
Thea blinked. ‘You’re Flynn’s best man?’
‘Who else would he choose?’ He said it as if he hadn’t been gone for eight years. As if he’d never taunted Flynn about not being a real Ashton, only an adopted one, a fall-back plan. As if he hadn’t sworn that he was never coming back.
‘Anyone in the world.’ Quite literally. Flynn could have appointed the Russian Prime Minister as his best man and Thea would have been less surprised.
‘He chose his brother,’ Helena said, giving Thea her usual are you crazy? look. She’d perfected it at fifteen and had been employing it with alarming regularity ever since. ‘What’s so weird about that?’
Helena hadn’t been there. She’d been—what? Sixteen? Too young or too self-absorbed to get involved in the situation, or to realise what was going on. Thea had wanted to keep it from her—from everybody—even then. Of course with hindsight even at sixteen Helena had probably had a better idea about men than Thea had at eighteen. Or now, at twenty-six. But Helena had been dealing with her own issues then.
‘So, you’re here for the wedding?’ Thea said.
Zeke raised his eyebrows. ‘What else could I possibly be here for?’
She knew what he wanted her to say, or at least to think. That he’d come back for her. To tell her she’d made the wrong decision eight years ago and she was making a worse one now. To stop her making the biggest mistake of her life.
Except Thea knew full well she’d already made that. And it had nothing to do with Zeke Ashton.
No, she had her suspicions about Zeke’s return, but she didn’t think he was there for her. If he’d come back to the family fold there had to be something much bigger at stake than a teenage rebellion of a relationship that had been dead for almost a decade.
‘I need to get changed.’
Keeping the dress clasped tight to her body, Thea stepped off the platform and slipped behind the screen to change back into her sundress from earlier. She could hear Helena and Zeke chatting lightly outside, making out his amused tone more than the words he spoke. That was one thing that hadn’t changed. The world was still a joke to him—her family most of all.