by Penny Jordan
‘Today’s the day…’ Caitlyn could hear the excitement laced with fear in his sister’s voice. ‘We’re on our way to the hospital now. I’ve tried to get hold of Lazzaro at home, and on his mobile—he’s not with you, is he?’
Caitlyn was saved from having to answer by Lazzaro giving a rather irritated sigh and snapping his fingers for her to hand over the phone. But when he spoke to his sister his voice was light and easy—though Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice every bit of his body language said otherwise.
‘How are you?’ Lazzaro greeted his sister. ‘That’s fantastic!’ He paused and laughed. ‘Well, don’t be—you know they say the second labour’s always much easier.’
Since when was Lazzaro such an expert on childbirth? Caitlyn thought, irritated. But clearly Antonia, in her present state, had no trouble voicing it!
‘You should know by now that I’m an expert on everything!’ Lazzaro responded. ‘I thought you weren’t due for another week.’ His fingers were tapping on his thigh as Antonia answered. ‘It’s just bad timing at this end—I can’t cancel this weekend. It’s been booked for ages.’
And Caitlyn watched—watched as he lied through his very white teeth, and didn’t even blush as he proceeded to lie a whole lot more.
‘I wish I could, Antonia, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You are to let me know the second there’s news. Good luck!’
Clicking off the phone, he handed it back to Caitlyn without a word—then turned again to the window as Caitlyn’s mind whirred like a merry-go-round. Oh, she’d heard Lazzaro lie to women—had lied to them on his behalf on more than a couple of occasions—but what she couldn’t fathom, what she was having trouble comprehending, was that he’d lie to his own sister. A sister who, over the past week or so, Caitlyn had spoken to. A sister he seemed genuinely fond of—his sister, who was clearly in labour.
He didn’t have to cancel this trip—they hadn’t even been expecting him!
Lazzaro could sense her disapproval, and for once it unnerved him—though his assistant’s approval was usually the last thing he required as he got on with the business of being a Ranaldi. Yet he was tempted to tap Jeremy on the shoulder and tell him to stop the car and let him out. He wanted out of the car and away from the bloody lot of them.
Tapping his fingers impatiently, Lazzaro dismissed the odd impulse. He didn’t really want to be alone with his thoughts today of all days. It wasn’t Caitlyn’s disapproval that was gnawing at him—it was his own dread and loathing.
He was trying to centre himself. It was as if he was surrounded by a million scattered compasses, and the needles which had hovered without direction for so long were suddenly settling, all homing in as the universe moved the world along, as everything aligned to bring things to an unwelcome head. A new life was coming into the world—a new life that meant his shattered family would have to meet, might talk…
That he might have to face the dead.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE entire day was to be exhausting.
Oh, the resort was fabulous—as they swept up the pebbled drive the lush green of the golf course was a rare sight after the long drought-filled summer. Water was spraying into the sun, and on appearance alone the temperature seemed surely to have dropped a few welcome degrees.
Before his sister’s telephone call, when Lazzaro had been capable of talking in more than single syllables, he’d explained that a lot of his overseas clients tired of the city and hotel life—no matter how luxurious—and often went away for the weekends. Lazzaro had shrugged. Why not ensure that their spending money went straight into his account?
The building was cool and welcoming as they entered—understated, yet utterly luxurious—and from the second they set foot into the cool, pale lobby, and were then shown to their luxury suites, Caitlyn could see why he wanted it!
Glancing at the vast white bed, it was all Caitlyn could do not to peel off her shoes and just collapse on top. She felt as if she’d worked a full day and it wasn’t even nine o’clock! Still, there was no time to feel sorry for herself. Brimming with energy, Lazzaro tapped on her door about eight and a half seconds later and set her to work.
If Caitlyn thought she’d seen him in action before, today he was absolutely formidable—interviewing key staff as Caitlyn took copious notes, scanning the books as the accountant coughed and fiddled under Lazzaro’s very direct line of questioning. Even lunch wasn’t relaxing. They’d barely been seated when Lazzaro took an impromptu tour of the kitchen, and then proceeded to order the one thing on the menu that wasn’t available.
‘You look pleased with yourself.’
‘I am…’ Lazzaro responded, swirling an asparagus head in butter, then popping it in his mouth. ‘Because, despite appearances, this place needs a lot of work.’
‘But it’s divine,’ Caitlyn countered.
‘It will be,’ Lazzaro affirmed. ‘But I’ve managed to knock at least a couple of zeros off the asking price—they need to sell, and fast.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because it’s my job to know. Today has been extremely worthwhile.’
‘Good.’ Caitlyn concentrated on her food as she spoke. ‘So, does that mean we’ll finish up soon?’
‘Why? Do you have plans tonight?’
‘No, but you might.’ Forcing herself, she looked up at him. ‘We’ve got a lot of work done today. If we push on, maybe we can head back to Melbourne, and you could—’
‘Have you any idea how much this place is worth?’ Lazzaro interrupted, and though the figure he gave was impressive, Caitlyn remained tight-lipped. ‘I am hardly likely to make such a decision before I have seen more of the resort’s workings myself. Anyway—’he tried to lighten the tone ‘—you have a massage booked, and I really should wander over to the golf course.’
‘I can’t really picture you as a golfer.’
‘I’m not.’ Lazzaro gave a small unworried shrug.
‘You can’t just bluff your way through a game of golf.’
‘Bluff?’ Lazzaro frowned.
‘Pretend you’re good…’ Caitlyn attempted.
‘Ahh, but I’m very good,’ Lazzaro said, standing up. ‘I just hate the bloody game—it’s not my fault I’m excellent at it.’
There certainly were perks to being Lazzaro Ranaldi’s assistant, Caitlyn thought as she lay down on the massage table. Having been exfoliated practically to the bone, and peeled, tweezed and waxed till there wasn’t a superfluous hair or skin cell left on her body, it was time for the skilled hands of the masseur to massage away all her tension. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax, tried to close her mind to the jumble of thoughts—and it did help. But only for a little while. Because just as she was almost relaxed, just as she was about to sink into mindless oblivion, it was as if two hands dived in and pulled her up, forcing her to the surface, back to the constant whirl of her thoughts.
When finally she was wrapped in a fluffy robe, sipping a ginger, camomile and lemon tea in her room, Caitlyn honestly wondered if she had the strength to face Lazzaro at dinner tonight. The man whose company she had craved for two years was just too exhausting, too bewildering for her today.
Maybe she could ring in sick?
No such luck. Her phone trilled and, glancing at the caller ID, Caitlyn knew she was going to have to face him.
‘Hi, Antonia!’ Caitlyn said warmly. ‘How are you?’
‘Great…though I really wanted to talk with Lazzaro. I’m having no luck getting him on his mobile, and his room phone just keeps ringing out.’
‘He’s playing golf,’ Caitlyn said helpfully. ‘He probably didn’t take his phone…’ Hearing the sigh on the other end of the line, imagining how she’d feel if she had such a massive piece of news to share, Caitlyn relented. ‘I’ll go and knock on his door, and if he’s not there I’ll pop a note under.’
As she opened her door to do just that, Caitlyn jumped with nerves. The man himself was striding past, frowning as she called
out to him—‘It’s Antonia…’ Slinking back into her room, embarrassed and awkward, Caitlyn sat down and sipped at her disgusting tea as Lazzaro took the call—the call he’d clearly been dreading.
‘Fantastic…’ For once Lazzaro’s usually clipped voice was effusive. ‘You’ve already told her? She must be thrilled!’
If Caitlyn closed her eyes, if she just listened to his words, she’d believe him—could almost envision him pumping a fist into the air at the joyous news. Only Caitlyn’s eyes weren’t closed, and she could see Lazzaro—leaning against the wall, his shoulders hunched, his forehead resting in the palm of his hand, his profile rigid, a muscle flickering in his cheek as he took in the ‘happy’ news.
‘I’m sorry, Antonia—it’s just one thing after another. We’re stuck here tonight and most of tomorrow. You should be with Malvolio anyway…Well, I am buying this golf course—it seems prudent that I at least give it a go. But I’ll be there as soon as I can, and I’ll let…’
Caitlyn watched as his free hand bunched into a fist, saw the little bit of colour that was left in him literally drain away. His Adam’s apple bobbed a couple of times before he managed to carry on. ‘How was Mum?’ He closed his eyes on the excited chatter, raked his hand through his hair and dragged in vital oxygen.
‘Of course I hope to see them. It just depends on when we go to Rome…I’m glad you’re calling him that—no, really. I’m fine with it now…’
Just for a second his voice broke, and so evident was his pain, so abject his misery, Caitlyn had to force herself not to go over—had to literally stop herself from walking over and taking the phone from his hand, telling Antonia he would call back later.
But Lazzaro recovered quickly, nodding blindly and forcing himself to go on, his cheery voice absolutely belying his hopeless stance. ‘Luca would be very proud.’
‘A boy?’ He didn’t look over, just clicked off the phone and stared out of the window into the darkening night. She rued answering the phone—rued that he had taken the call in front of her. She knew, just knew, that this was a side to Lazzaro that he had never wanted her to see.
‘They’ve called him Luca.’
Normally congratulations would be in order. Everything told her they weren’t here.
‘After my brother…my twin…’ He turned just enough to look at her, his eyes holding hers, accusing, almost, and suddenly Caitlyn was nervous. ‘Did you ever meet him?’
‘How would I have met Luca?’ Caitlyn croaked, with no idea why she was blushing guiltily when she hadn’t done anything wrong, why he was staring at her as if she had.
‘When you were doing work experience, of course.’ Lazzaro’s eyes narrowed. ‘When did you think I was referring to?’
Did he know Roxanne was her cousin? Caitlyn could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, and despite the massage that had practically rendered her unconscious, and despite a scalp soaked with lavender oil, every muscle in her body was taut with tension.
‘I don’t know…’ She attempted a shrug. ‘But, no, I never ran into him. Look, do you want me to book transport?’ She was attempting normal, attempting professional, trying to do what a good personal assistant would in these circumstances. ‘If we get the helicopter—’
‘Tomorrow.’ Luca shook his head. ‘There is too much to do here.’
He didn’t elaborate—because, Caitlyn realised, he couldn’t. The lies he’d told Antonia didn’t match with the truth—and now she knew for sure that today wasn’t about sampling the delicacies that would be on offer to his elite patrons. Today served one purpose and one purpose only.
Escape.
And that was reinforced when Lazzaro snapped back into business mode, demanding that she pull out her planner and, despite her rather inappropriate attire, proceeded to go through his schedule.
‘We are supposed to be flying to Rome next week. Rearrange things—tomorrow would be better.’
‘But what about your sister?’ Caitlyn asked. ‘Don’t you want to arrange some time so that you can see—’
‘I do not need you to organise my private life—that I can take care of myself,’ Lazzaro interrupted. ‘Could you arrange a gift for the baby—and of course flowers…’
‘You want me to buy your nephew’s gift?’ Caitlyn tried to keep the slightly ironic note from her voice. This from a man who almost in the same breath had told her he could handle his own private life? ‘Do you have any idea what you’d like to get him?’
‘None,’ Lazzaro snapped. ‘That will be all.’
As he stood to go, she halted him. ‘Lazzaro, can I—?’
‘Make a suggestion?’ he sneered. ‘Are you going to suggest that perhaps I should shop for my own nephew? Or that I should delay going to Rome so that I can spend some time with my family? You know, I really do not need to hear your advice, Caitlyn.’
‘I wasn’t about to give it,’ Caitlyn said evenly. ‘I was just going to ask if I could have my phone.’
Every question that had flashed into her mind, every question she would never have considered voicing, Lazzaro had just answered—and seeing this proud, strong man look awkward, even for a moment, seeing embarrassment actually taint his features as he offered her her phone, Caitlyn wished she knew him well enough to ask them—wished somehow she could help him.
‘I know it must seem…’ His voice trailed off, his voluntary attempt at explanation fading before it began. ‘You just don’t understand.’
‘I know I don’t.’ They were both holding the phone, both holding onto this inanimate object, both staring at it, both looking at it—neither letting go. Behind the strength of his voice she could hear the pain. Behind the terseness she could hear fear. ‘I wish I could say the right thing.’
‘You can’t.’ Letting go of the phone, he dragged his fingers through his hair. She half expected him to walk out without another word—could feel the tension in him, the indecision, and nodded when he asked if he could use her bathroom.
He felt sick as he went over and over the conversation with Antonia. He hoped to God he’d sounded happy enough about the news. His mother would soon be on her way—with her latest boyfriend on her arm, no doubt. Running the tap, he splashed water on his face, then did it again, taking in the lipsticks and perfumes that adorned the surfaces. It was easier to focus on nothing than what was in his head. Contraceptive pills, toothpaste—ordinary things, just so out of place in this strange, strange moment.
Baby Luca was here, bearing the name that drenched him in sweat each night, filled his nightmares. The name that he choked on was one he’d have to say daily now…He could see the beads of sweat on his grey complexion—could feel the bile rising within him, no matter how many times he washed his face. God, should he cancel dinner? For the first time he truly didn’t know if he could manage normal for an evening—yet at the same time he didn’t want to be alone.
‘I wish I could help.’ She was standing at the open bathroom door, walking in behind him, staring at his reflection in the mirror. And he stared back at her—infinitely better than staring at his own face—so much easier to focus on her beauty than deal with his own demons.
For a moment she’d seemed bold—but as he turned around to her, suddenly she was shy. Lazzaro lifted her chin with his fingers—staring down at her when, as if opening the lid on a velvet box, her eyelashes lifted to show two brilliant sapphires…entrancing, dazzling…bewitching.
The same eyes as Roxanne’s. The shade of blue identical. Hell, sometimes he forgot, actually forgot that she was using him—actually forgot his conversation with Malvolio, actually forgot that she’d lied and schemed her way into his life. She was probably lying and scheming right now—right now, at this very minute—trying to worm her way into his heart, trying to get inside his head. Right now, when it was so hard, so very hard to be alone.
When Luca had died he’d sworn never to let a woman get close—never to let a woman under his skin in the way his brother had. But, staring at Caitlyn, blind
ed by her beauty, it was scarily easy to renegotiate with himself, so very tempting to take the comfort he needed now, to lose himself in the urges he had been resisting since the moment she’d stepped back into his life.
They were the same shade of blue—only he could see a swirl of black around each iris that intrigued him. He’d never stared into Roxanne’s eyes like this—had never been lulled into the dizzy whirlpool of attraction with Roxanne, never wanted to lower his head to hers the way he did now, towards Caitlyn’s…
Only he’d sworn that he wouldn’t.
Supremely focussed, incredibly driven, self-control was something he had never had to knowingly exert. He worked hard and, when time allowed, he had the funds and the stamina to play equally hard. His dark good-looks ensured an endless smorgasbord of suitable playmates, and his conscience was rarely if ever pricked.
He never promised anything of himself.
So why the dilemma? Why, when never had he craved oblivion more, was he hesitating?
She did something to him—altered his usually direct thought processes until they were scattered to the wind. Her image darted into his mind’s eye over and over throughout the day, and her scent reached him even when she wasn’t present—overwhelming him, just as Roxanne had Luca.
This was a woman who could get under his skin.
His lips were so close that if she moved a mere inch they would be touching. Only still he hesitated. Still he wrestled with something deep inside. And if life was a series of choices, in that split second Lazzaro’s was made: he would lose himself in her, would drown in the balmy oblivion of lovemaking, would bathe in the warmth of her body—only on his terms. He knew he was strong enough to hold back, to take only what he needed tonight and nothing more.
‘I don’t bite.’
Foolish words, perhaps, but they actually made things easier for him, reminded him of the woman he was dealing with. No matter how sweet her exterior, inside she was as hard as nails—would use him as a means to an end.