by Tricia Jones
“I don’t know, but I’ll manage somehow.” Faye spoke her thoughts aloud. Truly she hadn’t given a thought to having to pay off Teo’s creditors. “I can take another job, or get a better paid one. For your information, I keep myself and my daughter perfectly well. There’s no way I’d resort to your preposterous suggestion.”
“Hardly preposterous.” He took a step forward, forcing her to back up against an old stone wall. “I will honor my brother’s debts and provide for you and my niece—”
“Oh, don’t tell me.” Faye raised her hand to stop his flow of words. “It’s your duty, your responsibility. If you think for a moment I’d marry you just to pay off some debts…do you think I’m that mercenary, Enrico?” Her voice shook as she tried to smother the hurt. “Do you think I’d stoop so low as to buy a father for my daughter?”
Ice trickled down her spine. She could never tell him Melita was his daughter, not now. He was monstrous, suggesting marriage purely for financial reasons. Did he think so little of her that he could insult her with such calculating ease?
What if he found out Melita was his? Here he was suggesting marriage as a way to care for his niece, just think what lengths he’d go to for a daughter. He would make demands she could never hope to fight. He would take charge. Take over. Before she knew it, her desires for her daughter would take second place to his.
Enrico stared at her with something bordering contempt as he retrieved the bleeping cell phone from his belt and spoke into it.
As Faye’s mind churned she watched Enrico’s face pale. He barked orders in Italian and Faye strained to concentrate on what he was saying. The skin over his forehead and cheekbones had tightened, his long fingers gripping the phone.
Faye deciphered two words.
Doctor and hospital.
God…please…no…
She grabbed his arm. “Melita?” Her throat tightened painfully. “Rico, is it Melita?”
He rubbed one hand along her upper arm as the other pushed the phone back into his belt. “She was kicked by one of the horses. We will go straight to the hospital.”
“But she’s all right?” Faye’s voice hitched as emotion closed her throat. “My baby’s all right?”
Enrico didn’t answer, seemingly only intent on getting them back to the car. He got behind the wheel, turned the ignition and reached across to fasten her seat belt.
His hand moved over hers. “She will be fine, cara.” He gave her hand another squeeze, as Faye prayed with everything she had that he was right. That her baby was safe.
Twice Faye ordered Enrico to calm down. He hadn’t exactly raised his voice or rammed his fist onto the specialist’s desk, even though at times Faye feared he might do both. His temper was tightly reigned, evident by the tension in his shoulders and the hard, unwavering line of his jaw. Plus his voice had fallen an octave or two, always a dangerous sign.
“I want more tests carried out before we take her home,” he demanded again. “Even if you have to call in extra staff to do them, I want them done now.”
The specialist looked decidedly anxious. “But there is nothing wrong with the child, Signor Lavini,” the specialist said for the umpteenth time, until even Faye was assured. “Just a few bruises and some minor scratches. She is more shaken up than anything else, and more worried about being disciplined by her mother.”
She’d be disciplined well enough, Faye thought as she watched Enrico pace the specialist’s office. Her daughter would be well and truly punished for sneaking out of her bed to tell the horses that she wouldn’t be able to see them for a whole weekend as Uncle Rico was taking her sailing. Yes, she’d certainly be punished, as soon as Faye was through hugging her with relief.
“My niece is not leaving until she has had more tests.” Enrico flattened his palms on the specialist’s desk and leaned ominously forward making the big man’s face lose color. “There may be internal injuries, complications you cannot begin to know about. She is not as robust as other children. She was a premature baby.”
Icy fingers raced up Faye’s spine as her stomach pitched dangerously. To her horror both the specialist and Enrico turned to look at her and for one crazy moment she thought they’d been party to the sound of her thundering heart.
She didn’t know what she was supposed to say, couldn’t actually say anything because her mouth felt dry as dust.
The specialist’s concerned voice speared through the silence. “How many weeks was your daughter when she was delivered, Signora Lavini?” When Faye merely stared at him he prompted, “Did her premature birth lead to any complications?”
Faye tried to swallow. “I…”
She looked at Enrico, at his stern expression and furrowed brow, and wanted to die on the spot. “It… I… She was…” Oh God. How could she tell him the truth right here, right now? How could she just say that, no, there were no complications because her daughter had been born almost to the day nine months after conception? A beautiful, healthy baby girl, with her father’s eyes and the same strength of character that had people bending to her indomitable will.
Enrico obviously took her nervous stuttering as a sign of distress over her child because he turned back to address the specialist. “Just look at her records,” he snapped. “You must have access to them. I arranged for the transfer of medical records for both my niece and her mother.”
He did what?
Instinct flared, pushing Faye to challenge him, demand to know what right he had to do such a thing. But the specialist was typing on his keyboard, deferring to Enrico for correct spellings of names and pieces of information required to access medical records. Faye shot to her feet and moved in front of Enrico, her fevered brain prompting her to get between him and the computer screen, deny him access to the bombshell that would any moment pop on screen and throw everything into turmoil. The specialist’s animated fingers continued to tap and Faye feared that in a few moments the secret she and Matteo had long protected would be revealed.
She didn’t want it exposed in this way. She needed to prepare Enrico, make him understand the reasons for her decisions. There had to be time to try and make him understand…
But he gently nudged her out of his line of vision, peering over her shoulder at the computer’s monitor. Faye knew she had to act fast.
She wedged herself between Enrico and the desk, standing firm when his eyebrows drew together in an irritated frown. “I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere?” His frown deepened and she knew he was about to refuse. “Please, Rico. It’s important.”
The specialist provided unwitting support. “This will take some time, I think. There is a small garden at the end of the corridor, you may use that if you wish.”
Enrico kept watching Faye but turned his head slightly to reply. “Alert me as soon as you have the records on screen.”
The silent corridor echoed only with their footsteps as they made their way to the patio garden. It might have been the late-night air lifting the hairs on her arms, Faye thought, as she pulled the wrap close. But the shivers running over her flesh had more to do with fear and even more unsettling, shame.
When Enrico made to shrug out of his jacket, she shook her head. She couldn’t let him make the chivalrous gesture when she was about to confess such cruel duplicity. Couldn’t rock his world while his jacket, warm with the scent of him, lay draped around her shoulders.
Gathering herself, Faye looked down at the pond’s gently trickling water feature and tried to remember her rehearsed speech. She couldn’t seem to recall a single word, but she made herself face him. He deserved seeing her treacherous face when she turned his world upside down.
Her mind felt empty, along with her heart. He looked achingly handsome standing there facing her. So tall, so formidable. And she loved him with her very soul. Every single piece of her belonged to him. Always had. Always would.
But soon he would hate her forever.
Tears threatened, but she swallowed them back through a tight
throat.
“I’ve lied to you.”
His shoulders drew back, his hands finding their way into his pockets.
“I’ve lied to you about Melita. She wasn’t a premature baby. She was born right on time and a very healthy weight.” The words tumbled out on a single breath, the truth spilling from long years of restraint. She took a breath, keeping her eyes on his as she said the words that would change everything. “She’s yours. Melita is your daughter.”
He looked at her with a blank expression, as if he hadn’t heard her or she was talking gibberish. But behind his guarded eyes Faye knew his brain worked overtime.
Processing…processing…
She filled her own fevered brain with a silent prayer for his compassion.
Then he narrowed his eyes. “It is impossible,” he said, his tone flat and businesslike. “Impossible.”
Faye shook her head, then covered her throat with the palm of her hand as if to ease the tightness there. “It’s true. She’s yours. I had her almost nine months to the day after we…”
His face drained of color. “You were using the contraceptive pill.”
The cold practicality of his statement was a painful stab to her heart. “I wasn’t. I lied about that as well.” Her voice broke as she struggled to get her emotions under control. It was hard enough telling him, but watching his almost impassive response broke her heart.
Then his nostrils flared. “Why?” he demanded. “Why are you saying this?”
“I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I want you to know the truth.”
His eyebrows snapped together in a deep frown. “I do not believe you.”
She’d been prepared for that, at least she thought she had. But seeing his fierce expression and the look of contemptible disbelief, she knew that no amount of preparation could have armed her against it. Her courage sank to her feet while her pulse raced alarmingly.
“It’s true,” she said, making herself look at him. “I didn’t tell you at the time because…because I knew how you felt about…I knew you didn’t want—”
“You seem to know a great deal, Faye.” He scrubbed one hand across his jaw, then lowered his arm and frowned again. “If this is some attempt to ensure I continue to provide a home for you and your child, you waste my time. I have already offered you marriage.”
“And I was about to turn you down.” She wanted to hit back at him for the insult, but knew she deserved it. He had every right to let off steam, and she had to take just about anything he wanted to dish out.
She kept her tone low, appeasing. “Do you think I’d lie about something as important as this?”
His laugh was humorless. “Am I supposed to dignify that with a response?”
She looked away. “I know I lied before, but I had my reasons.” She looked back. “This is the truth, I promise you.”
Tension speared from his body. “What reasons?” he demanded, his hard jaw lifting. “This I really have to hear.”
His tone shifted lower with each word and Faye’s stomach gave a terrifying lurch. “You…you didn’t want children.”
His response was a lift of his eyebrows.
“Well, I thought you didn’t,” she added quickly, clasping her hands together at her waist. “You certainly didn’t want children with me.”
His continued silence was more menacing than the harshest of words, his lack of denial more hurtful. Pain stabbed low in her heart. “You…you said it was a mistake.”
“It was.” He turned then and started to pace the small patio. “Dio!”
Now he wasn’t close, wasn’t spearing her with that uncompromising glare, she could let out a breath. “You said no woman would ever trap you, no woman would ever play you for a fool. What was I to do, Rico? Come and tell you I was pregnant? That I’d lied to you about being on the pill and hey, what do you know, I’m having a baby.” She had to stop because she needed a steadying breath. “And what would you have done? Sacrificed yourself by demanding marriage, that’s what. Then where would we have been? You would have been right in the middle of a loveless marriage, trapped and hating me for it. As for me—”
He whirled, flares of heat scoring his high cheekbones. “As for you? You would have been equally trapped, would you not? Trapped in a marriage with a man you despised, who in a drunken stupor had taken you against the wall. So what did you do? Lie and cheat some more.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“No?” He moved toward her, nostrils flaring. “What story did you tell Matteo? Did you decide on the premature angle? Or perhaps you told him I took you by force.”
When he kept coming toward her Faye took a step back. “Rico…don’t…”
“Did he know the baby was mine?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after your marriage?” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue, breaking her heart a little more.
“Before.” She kept her voice even as her back hit the wall. “Teo knew Melita was yours.”
He stopped right in front of her, his hard gaze shooting tiny arrows into her soul. “So it becomes clear, the real reason he demanded I keep away. Not only did he have to deal with the knowledge we had sex, he also knew you were carrying my child.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“As you keep saying.” The leashed anger she’d felt building in him lowered his voice to almost a growl. “Then tell me how it was. Tell me how in hell my brother handled the fact his wife was pregnant with my child?”
What did she say to that? How could she reply? She couldn’t tell him the truth, that Matteo married her because she was pregnant with his brother’s child. Because she knew Enrico didn’t love her, didn’t want her, although she’d loved him with every piece of her heart and soul. Because she couldn’t bear to have him look at her every day of their lives with a mixture of hate and contempt, merely because his fierce Italian pride demanded he do the right thing and marry her.
Neither could she tell him Matteo had his own reasons for marrying her. To throw a smokescreen over his homosexuality and thus deny his father that particular avenue of merciless derision.
“Did you not think I had a right to know?” Enrico demanded, breaking into her silent reasoning. “I understand you loved my brother, but did you not think I had a right to know you were pregnant with my child.”
What was she supposed to say to that? That she didn’t love Teo, that she loved him? It was what she wanted to say, so badly her throat, her heart and spirit, ached with it. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk Enrico knowing how she felt about him, all the while knowing all he felt for her was duty and responsibility.
“Teo and I talked about it.” That much was true. “It seemed the best thing all round.”
Faye watched as he started pacing again, the tension in his body like that of a big cat preparing to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Although in this case the prey was anticipating being eaten alive at any moment. Faye’s stomach revolved and she folded her arms around her waist willing back the nausea.
He stopped pacing. “Is that why your marriage failed?” he demanded. “Because my brother could not handle raising another man’s child? Or perhaps because his bride offered herself to another man mere weeks before her wedding night?”
Faye swallowed as tears stung. “Stop it.” She dropped her gaze to the hard line of his jaw. “I didn’t offer myself.” She’d had enough of his cruel sarcasm and harsh words. “I tried to calm you down after the fight you had with your father, I wanted to comfort you. I don’t remember offering anything else.” Her face burned as anger fuelled her retaliation. “Perhaps you should stop a minute, consider your part in this. You’re hardly blameless.”
Her words seemed to hit him like a cold blanket. He stared at her, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. Then he raked a hand through his hair. “Why in God’s name did you not come to me when you separated? Why did you not tell me then, let me support you and…and…my child…?”
He went
to a stone bench and sank down. “My child,” he whispered, as he leaned forward and dropped his forearms across his thighs. He stared at the ground. “Dio, she is mine.”
There was a sense of reverence, of wonder and awe, in his voice and encouraged by it Faye went to sit beside him. “I know you’ll never be able to forgive me but I—”
“You have photographs?” He turned to look at her. “Pictures of her as a baby, a toddler?”
“Yes.” She tested a smile. “Hundreds.”
He nodded. “What sort of child was she?” Before Faye could answer, he raked a hand through his hair again. “Dio! What sort of father am I? What sort of uncle? All that time and I never once demanded to see her.”
“You sent her cards and presents,” Faye soothed, ignoring the stab of guilt and remorse. “Not once did you miss a Christmas or…her birthday.”
“Ah, yes, her birthday.” His voice was pure stone as he turned on her, anger flashing where moments ago there had been reason. “How exactly did you decide on the date you would use for my benefit? Did you toss a coin? Throw the dice perhaps? A date plucked out of thin air to keep me well off the scent? Or did you celebrate her real birthday then have another for the benefit of the man you decided would have no part in her life?”
They had decided on the latter, and that, coupled with the implied premature birth, had kept him off the scent. But now shame and guilt pressed down on Faye.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wanting to rest her hand on his arm but knowing he would throw it off. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Sorry?” Fury rose in his voice. “You are sorry?” He shot to standing, then reached down and grabbed her arm to yank her against him. “You have denied me my child. You have lied, schemed, cheated. You have let another man raise my flesh and blood. Stolen from me years of my daughter’s life. And you are sorry?”
He pushed her back and for one terrifying moment Faye thought he was going to strike her, such was the anger pulsing from his tense body. “Rico, please try and understand—”