‘Really?’ Megan doubted his conviction. And she noticed that he didn’t say that Serena knew that he loved her. It was always missing. The one thing she most wanted to hear. She was a total part of his life. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Anyone could be a part of your life. Edwina the cook was a part of his life. As was Amy, and William, and now Kate.
‘Truly. You’ll see tomorrow. She’ll probably be over early to oversee the final details. I—’
‘No!’
Her sudden and savage exclamation brought his chin up with a jerk.
‘I won’t have that woman doing things that I should be doing. I’ll see to everything—and I won’t let you down,’ she added caustically as she saw the beginnings of doubt creep across his face.
‘You’re jealous!’ he accused with a swift smirk.
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ she tossed smartly. ‘It’s just that I don’t think your business life and private one should intermingle. Serena can do what she likes in the office, but not here.’
He shrugged and his hands dropped from her shoulders. ‘Very well, I’ll leave it to you.’
‘How many are you expecting?’
‘About fifty.’
More than she’d thought. But there was a ballroom that would hold them all easily. She’d better go and see Edwina, check on the arrangements, see if there was anything she could do. ‘Are you working today?’ For once she wanted him out of the way.
‘I thought I’d pop in for an hour or so.’
‘Mummy, Mummy, we’re having a party.’ Charlotte charged into the room and threw herself at her mother.
Megan whirled her around and kissed her soundly. ‘It’s not for children, sweetheart.’
Her daughter’s bottom lip began to drop.
‘But if you’re a very good girl, maybe Daddy and I will let you stay up for a little while. What do you say, Daddy?’
He lifted Charlotte into his arms, the first really natural gesture Megan had seen. ‘For one hour, but that’s all.’
‘Are we having jelly and ice-cream?’
‘It’s not that sort of party, princess.’
Charlotte frowned. ‘What sort then?’
‘People drink and talk and dance, and at midnight everyone sings Auld Lang Syne and—’
‘She won’t understand any of that,’ interrupted Megan. ‘It’s just a lot of grown ups, sweetheart, who do lots of boring things.’
‘No children?’
‘None at all.’
‘I don’t think I want to come then. Will you still read me a bedtime story, Mummy, or will you be too busy?’
‘I’ll never be too busy for you, my little darling.’
‘And you, Daddy, will you read to me too?’
It was the first time she’d asked Luigi and Megan held her breath as she waited for his answer. She prayed he wouldn’t reject her.
‘Only if you tell me which story you want.’
‘Yes, yes, the one about the little girl sliding down the rainbow.’
‘Then I’ll read it to you,’ he said, ‘but you’ll have to help me because I’m not very good at reading to little girls.’
‘Mummy’s good at it. She’ll help you.’
Megan smiled weakly. The thought of sitting side by side with Luigi reading to their daughter should have filled her with immense pleasure, but it didn’t—because she knew he wouldn’t have his heart and soul in it. He wasn’t doing it because he wanted to, but because Charlotte had demanded it.
When Luigi finally left for the office Megan went in search of Edwina. William was already filling the ballroom with holly and mistletoe gathered from the estate, and Edwina was beside herself with excitement. ‘It’s been many a year since we had a party here, long before Mr Luigi took over. Oh, it’s good to see the house being brought back to life again.’
Soon, Megan was immersing herself in the preparations. Even Charlotte helped, carefully watched over by a hovering Kate. Apparently Edwina had been baking and freezing for days and there was only the fresh food to be prepared as soon as it was delivered. The drinks arrived—enough cases of champagne and wine to last a lifetime, thought Megan, but she couldn’t help getting caught up in the excitement of the occasion.
It was pandemonium at times, but with the gardener to help William, and both Amy and Megan helping Edwina, by the time Luigi came home all was ready. And there was even plenty of time for them to sit with Charlotte while she had a light tea. Afterwards Kate bathed her while Megan decided which of the dozen or so delectable dresses Luigi had given her for Christmas she was going to wear. Then they both sat at their daughter’s bedside and took turns in reading to her until she fell asleep.
Megan was impressed by Luigi’s rendition of The Rainbow Children. She had imagined a dull monologue; instead he’d put exactly the right inflection into his voice for each of the characters. She said as much to him.
‘I imagined that if I’d ever had anyone read to me that’s what I would have wanted.’ There was a gruff grimness to his voice as he spoke, reminding her what an awful and loveless childhood he’d had. And it made her wonder whether she was being too hard on him.
But the moment they were out of Charlotte’s room he spoilt it all by saying, ‘Serena’s going to be here early. She needs to check that—’
‘Serena needs to check nothing,’ Megan told him tersely. ‘We’ve all worked like Trojans today and if there’s something not quite right then it’s too late to do anything about it. Phone and tell her.’ She didn’t want the other woman parading all over the place as though it was her rightful duty. Not while she was living in this house!
Megan took extra special care getting ready. She had a strong feeling that Serena would try to outdo her, that she would want to be the star of the evening. Of course, she might be wrong, but she couldn’t forget the way the other woman had spoken to her. “I think Luigi will be available if you tell him who I am.” “He’s a fool not to have divorced her.” If that didn’t tell her that Serena had designs on him then nothing would.
She was glad now that Luigi had given her some beautiful dresses for Christmas. She’d decided on the red one, bearing in mind what he’d said about the colour suiting her. It was far more sophisticated and daring than anything she’d worn in the past, but as she slid the soft material over her head and smoothed the folds over her breasts and hips, she began to feel a different person. More elegant than ever before, full of confidence, totally in charge of her feelings. She could be whoever she wanted to be. And that person was Luigi’s wife. In every respect!
Look out, Serena!
Their guests were arriving at eight. At a quarter to she was ready. Luigi tapped on her door and entered, and he took her breath away. His cream tuxedo and black trousers emphasised his fine physique and complemented his Latin colouring. She had never seen him so devastatingly handsome and crazily she wanted to rip off his clothes and make love to him.
‘Megan, you look ravishing.’
Not half as ravishing as you, she thought, swallowing hard and moistening lips that had gone suddenly dry. In fact her whole mouth was dry. She needed a drink, a good stiff drink.
Luigi was looking at her as though he’d never seen her before, appraising every inch of her body, starting with the strappy, high-heeled silver sandals and her scarlet painted toenails. Over the long, softly flowing skirt which swirled about her ankles but clung lovingly to her slender hips, following it up to the deep vee which finished just below her breasts.
It was almost as though he was touching her. Wherever his eyes went she felt a burning sensation, and when he paused on the swell of her breasts she ached for him to touch her. It would have been so easy for him to cross the space that divided them and take what she was willing to give.
But he didn’t move. He seemed transfixed. She wondered whether he had ever actually seen the dress before. Whether he had picked it personally or had his shop assistants pack half a dozen or so in her size. Probably so. But at
this moment she didn’t care.
It was doing things to both of them that should never be allowed. She was thankful for the light support built into the dress that hid her peaking nipples. She didn’t want anyone but Luigi to know how aroused she was. But she wanted him to know it; she needed him to want no one but her this evening.
The back of the dress dipped low as well, though he couldn’t see that yet. He would find out when they danced together, when his hands held her close, when she felt the strong beat of his heart against her own. When they declared to the whole world that they were man and wife and no one could put them asunder. Lord, she was running ahead of herself. Was she ready for this yet? Was Luigi ready? Or was she doing it simply to spite Serena?
The dress was sleeveless and ruched on the shoulders, and beaded with intricate embroidery. This one dress alone must have cost him a small fortune. But she loved it.
‘We’d better go down before I rip that thing off you and carry you to my bed,’ he said gruffly.
Megan couldn’t even speak. She simply nodded and smiled—weakly, and as she walked towards him her heart pounded like a sledge-hammer within her breast. ‘Thank you for the dress, Luigi,’ she said in a faint whisper.
‘Thank you for wearing it. You look sensational. You’ll knock everyone dead tonight, and I shall be so proud to introduce you as my wife.’ He tucked her arm into his and together they walked along the landing and down the stairs.
Megan felt proud and she walked tall, and when the first person she set eyes on was Serena she grew another couple of inches.
At least she presumed it was Serena. Who else would be standing waiting at the bottom of the stairs? Their first guest to arrive, tall, slender and sophisticated with stunning flame-red hair and eyes only for Luigi.
Megan was able to study her and she didn’t like what she saw. The woman was beautiful, and she knew it, and she had a poise that Megan had never possessed. Until she wore the red dress! It was a magic dress, as Charlotte would have said. It turned her into a different person.
Serena had green eyes, cat’s eyes, which could spit fire if she so chose, and her dress was green too, a deep emerald taffeta, pinched in tight to emphasise her tiny waist, smooth over her stomach, but full at the back. And there was not an inch of bosom showing. It was a very clever dress. It moulded Serena’s high, taut breasts to perfection. Tantalising but not revealing; making a man want to find out for himself what lay beneath.
Megan turned to see whether Luigi was as entranced as Serena obviously hoped he would be, and to her delight found that he was looking at her. He put his hand over hers where it lay on his arm and squeezed tightly. ‘Serena,’ he whispered below his breath.
‘I guessed,’ she replied in a husky voice.
‘You have nothing to worry about.’
‘I’m glad about that,’ and she smiled lovingly into his face.
By this time they had reached his PA and Megan saw the swift coldness that entered her eyes.
‘Megan, I’d like you to meet Serena, without whom my work would never flow freely. Serena, my wife.’
‘The one who walked out of your life?’ came the chilling response. Implying, thought Megan, that she had a nerve walking right back into it.
‘The very same,’ declared Megan cheerfully, ‘but I’m here now—for good.’ And she held out her hand.
The woman looked at her steadily for a few long seconds, as though trying to read her mind, wondering whether she was telling the truth, or whether it was all an act for her benefit. Truthfully, Megan wasn’t sure either. They still had a lot of sorting out to do. And she couldn’t help but wonder what Luigi had told her about his wife’s return. Judging by Serena’s careful scrutiny, Megan had a feeling he hadn’t been entirely truthful.
But whatever, tonight Luigi was hers. Serena wasn’t going to get a look in. Megan had never been the possessive type, but a woman had to draw the battle line somewhere.
Serena reluctantly shook her hand, but it was a very light, cool, impersonal touch, and she pulled quickly away. ‘Luigi tells me that you’ve personally overseen arrangements here.’ And she looked around her, as though hoping to find fault.
‘Naturally,’ answered Megan with forced exuberance. ‘Come and look in the ballroom. I know you’re going to love it.’ In actual fact she knew nothing of the sort. It probably wasn’t to Serena’s taste, but there was no way she was going to give this other woman the opportunity to say so. ‘And the food,’ she continued, ‘is perfect. Luigi has a treasure in Edwina. Between us we’ve provided a buffet that no one can fault.’
She very lightly touched Serena on the elbow and urged her in the direction of the ballroom. Over her shoulder she looked at Luigi and found him looking at her in stunned admiration. Round one to me, she thought.
And then the rest of the guests began to arrive, all of them curious to meet Luigi’s wife. She was the centre of attention, much to Serena’s chagrin. Megan saw her trying to be polite and friendly but constantly glancing in her and Luigi’s direction. ‘I think,’ she said softly to her husband, ‘that Serena’s feeling her nose pushed out of joint.’
‘Nonsense,’ he declared, looking across at his assistant. ‘Serena’s in her element. She knows everyone here.’
He was so blind, thought Megan. Perhaps he had been speaking the truth when he said that there was nothing going on between them. But couldn’t he see that the woman was in love with him? Weren’t men’s antennae alerted to that sort of thing? Didn’t they take advantage? She wasn’t sure that their relationship was purely the business one he would have her believe.
Luigi had hired a three-piece band and as the evening progressed Megan found herself whisked around the dance floor by several of Luigi’s business colleagues and friends, all pumping her for information about their reconciliation. She was deliberately evasive. ‘Delightfully so,’ said one of her partners. ‘I never even knew Luigi was married,’ said another. ‘Except to his work.’ At which she was supposed to laugh. Unfortunately she didn’t find it funny and gave a weak smile instead.
The buffet was an unmitigated success, although Serena only picked at it distastefully. Megan was talking to one of Luigi’s business partners, keeping half an eye on what was going on around her, when she saw Serena dart over to her husband and take his arm. Luigi had only that second finished a conversation with someone else. Clearly the woman had been biding her time, had probably been doing so all evening. In fact Megan had made sure there was no opportunity for the two of them to get together, finding grim satisfaction in doing so.
Now she watched them closely and when she saw him lead Serena out of the room, his guiding hand lightly on her back, her heart felt as though it had turned to ice.
Megan wanted to follow but her companion of the moment was in the middle of what he clearly thought was an amusing story and she couldn’t be rude enough to walk away. She watched the doorway, though, for their return, and long minute followed long minute. Ten minutes, twelve. Fifteen. What the hell were they doing?
Just as she knew that she could wait no longer they came back, Serena looking very smug, Luigi’s eyes searching for hers. When he saw her he headed immediately in her direction, but Megan didn’t want to speak to him, she didn’t want to smell Serena’s perfume on him, or see a smear of make-up on his collar, or lipstick on his cheek. She dashed smartly away, pretending not to have seen him, heading through one of the other doors and into a downstairs cloakroom.
A big mistake!
Serena followed.
CHAPTER NINE
MEGAN was checking her make-up in the mirror when the door opened and Serena entered, a confident smile playing about her lips and a light of triumph in her vivid green eyes. She looked like a cat who’d stolen the cream!
She sauntered over to Megan, but before she could say anything Megan blazed into attack. ‘If you think that a five minute grope with my husband gives you any rights over him you’re very much mistaken.’ Immediately the w
ords were out she regretted them. What had happened to her new-found poise? She oughtn’t to have let Serena see that she was jealous.
Serena smiled, totally unperturbed. ‘A five minute grope? I think I have slightly better taste than that. And so has Luigi, though perhaps you don’t know him as well as you think. I bet he hasn’t told you that he’s still carrying on his affair with me. I don’t mind being a kept woman. An illicit relationship is far more exciting, don’t you think? Or perhaps you wouldn’t know.’
Megan’s stomach muscles clenched so tight that they hurt, as did her heart—it felt as though it had been crushed between two pieces of stone. ‘Whatever you say, whatever Luigi promises you,’ she retorted coldly. ‘The truth is that I am the one he comes home to at night. I am the one he loves. I am the one who has given him a daughter. And I shall never let him go again. Never!’
She had hesitated over the word loves. Luigi didn’t love her; he loved no one—not even Serena. Or did he? Was this glamorous girl the reason he’d never proclaimed his love? She looked deep into Serena’s eyes and saw the supreme confidence. This woman was so very, very sure of herself. Sure of Luigi’s love! But Megan refused to give in to her fears. She faced Serena with her head held high, no doubt at all on her face that she was the one Luigi loved.
‘I think perhaps you’re underestimating Luigi,’ said Serena, her voice low and sultry. ‘He doesn’t like to be stifled, he doesn’t like to be held down by a child. He’s a free spirit; he was happy in the years you were gone. We were happy. He’s changed since you came back. You’re a burden to him, Megan, I think you ought to know that.’
For a brief moment Megan closed her eyes. Despite all his denials, Luigi was still carrying on with Serena. He had never stopped. He was a liar and a cheat—and yet she still loved him. But enough to continue living with him? That was the question she had to ask herself.
‘I’ll leave you now to brew on those facts,’ said Serena in a sugar-sweet voice. ‘Perhaps they’ll make you think twice about nesting with Luigi for, believe me, you’re wasting your time; it will never last.’
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