by Lynne Graham
Within five minutes of that picture being taken, Kathy’s mobile phone rang. It was Sergio. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Ella arrived without you. Where are you?’
‘Enjoying dinner. I’m having a hen-night,’ Kathy told him chirpily.
‘It feels like you’ve been kidnapped. I don’t know what Maribel and Tilda are playing at, but it’s inappropriate to stage that kind of event this close to our wedding,’ Sergio informed her with censorious cool.
Chagrined colour surged into Kathy’s cheeks and she excused herself from her companions to move to a more private area where she could speak without being overheard. ‘I wasn’t aware that I asked for your opinion!’
‘My opinion comes free of charge. You have to be exhausted; you’ve only just recovered from your delivery. Just tell me where you are. I’ll come and collect you,’ Sergio responded, his hard shell of self-assurance impervious to her furious response.
‘Forget it! Wouldn’t that be a great way to thank Maribel for her kindness in organising entertainment for me?’
‘Is that why Maribel sent me a photo of you in a very short dress? And told me not to wait up for you because you were going clubbing?’ Sergio queried, unimpressed. ‘My take on this would be that this is payback time for the stag cruise I organised for Leonidas—’
‘Well, even if it is, you can be sure that we’ll be doing something more fun and more intelligent than getting off our faces on booze and carousing with half-naked dancers!’ Kathy blazed down the phone in an incandescent rage before she cut the connection. ‘You know why? We’ve got more class and imagination!’
As Kathy stalked back across the restaurant her phone pulsed and lit up. She switched it off quickly and thrust it into her bag. He was so incredibly bossy. Did he think she was a feckless teenager in need of a curfew?
‘Was that Sergio on the phone?’ Bridget enquired.
‘He wants us to have a brilliant time!’ Kathy fibbed with a set smile.
The women entered the nightclub by a rear entrance where they were welcomed by the management team. Flanked by a platoon of security guards, they were swept into an interior extravagantly modelled on a Moroccan Kasbah with exotic lights and very private seating areas embellished by colourful silks and fat cushioned divans.
Kathy was coming off the dance floor with Nola when a tiny curvaceous blonde in an eye catching white short suit intercepted her. ‘I’m Grazia Torrente,’ she announced. ‘Abramo’s wife.’
A bemused smile crossed Kathy’s expressive mouth, because she had not appreciated that Grazia would be so much smaller than she was. Nola excused herself and returned to their party.
‘I’ve been dying to meet you ever since I heard about you. Come and sit down with me.’ Grazia linked arms with Kathy in an intimate fashion and made it quite impossible for her to walk away again without administering a pointed snub.
Kathy disliked the lack of choice extended to her, but natural curiosity about Sergio’s former fiancée won. ‘How did you know who I was?’
Languorous turquoise-blue eyes rested on her and the chill there sent a frisson of unease darting through Kathy. ‘You’re out on the town with an army of bodyguards in the company of Maribel Pallis and the Crown Princess of Bakhar? Who else could you be but Sergio’s bride? As to how I found you, I have connections.’
‘I’m sure you do and it would be lovely to sit and chat, but I can’t leave my party for long. We’re leaving soon,’ Kathy responded.
‘Sergio is only using you to punish me, Kathy.’ The tiny blonde’s turquoise eyes were bold and sharp as knives, her voice full of soft scorn. ‘He’s not a forgiving man. I let him down when I married his loser brother and now I have to pay the price and watch him marry you. It really is that simple—an almost biblical act of revenge. Only when Sergio decides that I’ve suffered enough will he snap his fingers and allow me back into his life on a permanent basis.’
Flushed and taut, Kathy studied Grazia, whose perfect features were framed by silken wings of silvery blonde hair. The other woman was even more beautiful than she had looked in pictures. ‘I think you’re the one with the problem. Maybe you never got over Sergio—’
Grazia vented a sarcastic laugh. ‘I’m warning you. You’re way out of your comfort zone—a clueless little English girl with no idea how a complex man like Sergio operates. You’re caught up in something that has nothing to do with you and you can’t win because I will always be the girl he idolised at eighteen.’
‘For goodness’ sake, you’re married to his brother!’ Kathy breathed in reproof, losing patience with the blonde’s drama and standing up to leave.
‘I’m in the process of divorcing Abramo—as Sergio told me to do,’ Grazia declared with a pitying smile. ‘Don’t be fooled. Sergio may act like he despises me, but he is still determined to have me. So, he’s marrying you to give his daughter his name, just like his father did a generation ago for Abramo. But what’s a ring on those terms worth? A comfortable divorce settlement? Sergio can afford it.’
Kathy walked away feeling hollow with uncertainty and angry that she had even listened. But the news that Grazia and Abramo were divorcing had come as a shock. Even so, she reasoned, that did not necessarily mean that there was an ongoing connection of any kind between Grazia and Sergio. Her temples were tight with tension. She lifted her hand to massage the taut skin. Maribel suggested that perhaps it was time to call it a night. Bridget asked Kathy if she was tired and she admitted that she was.
Grazia told a good story, Kathy acknowledged unhappily. Sergio had enough powerful pride, ferocious strength of will and a dark, deep secretive nature to nourish the concept of revenge. He kept his emotions in a private place. And nobody knew better than Kathy how closely love, hate and sexual hunger could interconnect until it was impossible to define the boundaries. Grazia did indeed have terrific connections, since not only had she known where to find Kathy that evening, but she was also one of the select few who knew about Ella’s existence.
Leonidas and Maribel Pallis owned a huge country house outside Siena. Kathy scrambled out of the car, eager to see Sergio even if it meant a confrontation. But there was no sign of the men. Maribel took Kathy to the nursery to see Ella, who was sleeping soundly in her cradle. Kathy was then shown into the superb private suite set aside for the bride’s use and left alone. Feeling incredibly weary and free to finally show it, Kathy simply sagged like a worn rag doll. Even the thought of getting undressed was a challenge.
The door opened and she jumped. A tall dark male appeared on the threshold and her heart pounded like a road drill in an instant leap of pleasure and relief.
‘I won’t say I told you so,’ Sergio murmured lazily.
Her attention closed in and clung to him. He was the image of natural elegance in a well-cut jacket and designer jeans. She stamped down hard on an anxious thought about Grazia, determined not to panic into asking stupid questions that would only create friction. ‘About what?
‘Maribel and Tilda have no idea how exhausted you are, delizia mia. You had a difficult birth and weeks of round-the-clock worry about Ella, and it will take time for you to get over that.’
Guilt assailed Kathy, for when he had phoned her earlier she had assumed that he was objecting to her going out on the town when it was obvious that concern had motivated him. ‘I could’ve said no to the night out.’
‘How often do you go for the sensible option around me?’
A dulled flush of chagrin lit Kathy’s drawn features, for it was true. She was so vigilant in fighting her own corner that her choices often related more to a statement of independence than practicality. He moved forward and lifted her up into his arms with easy strength to carry her through to the bedroom where he set her down on the bed. She fought an urgent desire to touch the arrogant dark head momentarily level with her knees as he bent to tug off her shoes. She wanted him to stay; she wanted him to stay so badly she dug her hands like talons into the bedspread. But she said nothing b
ecause she was determined not to be a clingy, needy woman.
‘You need all the rest you can get for the wedding.’ In the act of straightening, Sergio paused to swoop down on her ripe pink mouth and claim it in a kiss that startled her and rocked her with a pleasure that made her pulses race. ‘And for me, dolcezza mia.’
She lay in bed in the darkness drowsily reliving that erotic thrill. At the same time she was ashamed of herself for not telling him about Abramo’s visit or Grazia’s poisonous forecast. Keeping secrets from the guy she was about to marry didn’t feel right. On the other hand, if she wasn’t careful he might think she was the jealous type, liable to turn into a bunny boiler. She was painfully aware that he didn’t love her and was only prepared to marry her for Ella’s benefit. What if a reference to Grazia sparked off a change of heart on his part? Kathy despised herself for being so fearful. When had Sergio become so precious to her that the prospect of life without him loomed like a death sentence?
Kathy was truly enjoying her wedding day.
Maribel’s efficient planning had ensured that everything ran like clockwork, from the moment Kathy wakened to a delicious breakfast in bed to the arrival of a parade of beauticians eager to groom the bride to perfection. The pure white off-the-shoulder dress clung to her delicate curves and small waist before flaring out into a full skirt and a swirling embroidered train worthy of a royal wedding. The gown was rather more adaptable, however, than its traditional style suggested.
Mid-morning, Kathy employed reverent fingers to examine the magnificent jewellery that had been brought to her. It had arrived complete with a note from Sergio asking her to wear the emerald and pearl suite worn by generations of Torrente brides. Kathy slowly shook her head in wonderment. ‘I’ll glitter like a Christmas tree.’
‘Who wouldn’t like the problem?’ Bridget quipped.
‘It will look amazing. That’s a spectacular set and your dress is plain enough to carry it,’ Nola opined.
The church was an ancient medieval building shaded by massive trees on the slopes of a sleepy hill village. When Bridget and Nola assisted Kathy from the limo, Sergio was waiting outside to give Kathy a glorious bouquet. As Sergio descended the steps the bridal couple were so busily engaged in looking at each other that in the exchange the flowers almost fell to the ground.
‘I like the dress,’ Sergio breathed tautly.
Kathy collided with his dark deep-set eyes. Lean, strong features serious, he was so dazzlingly handsome and so achingly familiar that she felt almost dizzy with delight. She didn’t even notice Bridget putting out a hand to steady her hold on the flowers. Moving into the dim cool of the church with the heady scent of roses heavy on the still air and the magic musical notes of a harp swelling to greet them, Kathy was conscious only of Sergio.
An interpreter translated every word of the lengthy service for her benefit. Every word had meaning for her and she could feel a kind of peace stealing over her: her life and her future seemed more promising to her than it had in a very long time. She wanted to believe that the dark times were over. She had her precious little daughter and now she was marrying the man that she loved. Just at that moment she refused to qualify those beliefs with a single negative connotation.
Walking down the aisle on Sergio’s arm and out into the sunshine, Kathy was radiant. ‘How do you feel?’ she asked him.
‘Grateful it’s over,’ Sergio murmured with all the off-the-cuff immediacy of serious sincerity. ‘I don’t like weddings, dolcezza mia.’
That sobering little speech engulfed Kathy like an unexpected deluge of cold water. It made her feel foolish and naïve. It knocked her right off her fluffy bridal cloud of contentment and back down to earth again. ‘It’s going to be a long day for you, then. Leonidas and Maribel are really pushing out the boat for us.’
Sergio laughed softly as he lifted Kathy into the wonderful fairy-tale flower-bedecked carriage awaiting them. ‘Maribel knows how I feel about weddings. She has a terrific sense of humour and she’s making the most of the opportunity.’
His irreverent attitude did nothing to raise her spirits. Drinks were served back at the imposing house where many more guests were arriving. Innumerable introductions followed and when the swamp of people seeking them became too pressing, Sergio swept her off to take a seat at the top table in the magnificent ballroom. Kathy paused only to remove the detachable train from her gown. She laughed in appreciation when she saw that the wedding décor was based on a chess motif with witty touches—that idea could only have originated with Sergio. She was pleased that he had had the interest to make that choice.
After the two best men, Leonidas and Prince Rashad had made brief and amusing speeches, Bridget said just a few words in which she described Kathy as the daughter of her heart. As she spoke the two women exchanged a look of warm affection and Sergio later asked his bride when she had first met the older woman.
Kathy tensed. ‘I don’t think you want to know.’
‘You’re my wife,’ Sergio said levelly. ‘There’s nothing you can’t tell me.’
Kathy resisted the urge to remind him that he had refused to listen when she had told him that she wasn’t a thief. She was all too well aware that plenty of other people would share his scepticism.
‘Bridget’s daughter died in custody ten years ago. She took her own life,’ Kathy told him in a hesitant undertone. ‘Ever since then, Bridget has volunteered as a prison visitor. We met when I was in hospital in the second year of my sentence. She’s a wonderful woman and she became my lifeline.’
Sergio closed a lean masculine hand over her slim fingers, which she was involuntarily clenching and unclenching on her lap in an unconscious betrayal of tension. ‘I’m grateful she was there for you, dolcezza mia.’
After the meal, Kathy went off to freshen up. It was time to allow her highly adaptable wedding gown to enter its final reinvention. She removed the full constricting skirt of her dress to reveal a shorter, more fitted skirt and returned with Maribel to the ballroom in fashionable style. When he saw her, Sergio stilled in surprise and admiration before moving forward to greet her, brilliant dark eyes intent on her stunning face. He swept her out onto the floor to dance. ‘You look spectacular in the family jewels.’
‘So would most women.’
‘But they wouldn’t have your hair, your face or your astonishing legs, bella mia,’ Sergio husked. ‘You look gorgeous.’
Two hours later, Kathy came downstairs with Maribel after checking on Ella, who was sleeping soundly. Maribel and Tilda had put their children to bed, but not without some protest. Sharaf, Bethany and Elias had made a concerted and comical effort to push bedtime back another few minutes. With her green eyes sparkling and laughter still on her lips, Kathy was in the best of spirits when she returned to the ballroom. That mood took a sharp downturn at the same moment that she spotted the exquisite blonde seated at a table by the edge of the dance floor.
It was Grazia. At first Kathy couldn’t believe the evidence of her own eyes. It didn’t help that a whole host of people were also exhibiting surprise at the appearance of the bridegroom’s one-time fiancée. Indeed, as Kathy watched with growing disbelief, Grazia responded to the attention with little nods and smiles and even lifted a hand in acknowledgement very much like visiting royalty. Evidently she was a late arrival.
‘What’s wrong?’ Maribel Pallis asked, because Kathy had stopped dead and fallen silent.
‘Was Grazia Torrente on Sergio’s guest list?’
‘I’ll check.’ Maribel signalled a staff member. ‘Who is she? A relative?’
‘She’s still married to Sergio’s brother, but Sergio used to be engaged to her,’ Kathy framed shakily, high spots of colour beginning to bloom over her taut cheekbones. ‘I can’t believe she had the cheek to come to our wedding—’
‘Are you sure you’re not mistaking her for someone else?’ Tilda prompted.
‘No chance! Once met, never forgotten.’
Both women follo
wed the path of Kathy’s gaze and Maribel exclaimed, ‘My goodness, isn’t that the same woman who approached you at the club last night?’
Kathy shifted her hands in a hasty dismissive gesture. ‘Don’t worry about it, Maribel. I’m being silly.’
But that was only a polite plea for Maribel’s benefit, because Kathy did not want to make her hostess feel that she was in any way responsible for Grazia’s unwelcome appearance. No, Kathy knew exactly who she should be tackling on that score and she wasted no time in tracking down Sergio. She found him talking business in a secluded corner with Leonidas and Rashad.
Kathy headed for Sergio like a high-velocity bullet aimed at a target. ‘Could we have a word?’
Leonidas Pallis gave her an amused appraisal. ‘That sounds ominous.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Sergio drawled, smooth as glass.
‘Trust me,’ the Greek tycoon urged his friend with lazy mockery. ‘I’ve been married longer.’
‘Leonidas,’ Prince Rashad interposed on a wry note.
Sergio strolled back into the crowded ballroom by Kathy’s side. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Did you invite your ex-fiancée to our wedding?’ Kathy questioned tautly.
Sergio stilled. ‘Who are you referring to?’
Suspecting that he was deliberately sidestepping a direct answer to her query, Kathy lifted her coppery head high. ‘Grazia! Who else?’
‘I wasn’t aware that you even knew she existed,’ Sergio remarked in the most deflating tone.
Kathy folded her arms in a defensive movement and recalled how keen Grazia had been to ensure that Kathy knew exactly who she was. ‘Oh, yes, I know all right. She’s creating quite a stir.’
His lean, dark, handsome face cool and unrevealing, Sergio looked across the ballroom. Grazia was leaning back against a table flirting like mad with a bunch of young men, her aura of sensual allure a magnetic draw. Even in the middle of a crowd she was a high-profile presence who attracted attention. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what the problem is.’