In response, Alfredo clapped his hands. “Swim! Swim!”
Cleopatra’s heart pulled. “Do you like to swim, huh?”
“Swim! Swim! Slippy fish! Swim!”
“Aw,” she tilted her head to his, brushing a kiss over his curls. “And so we shall, darling one.”
“He has your smile,” the waiter said as he moved away, earning a look of surprise from Cleopatra. Her heart tightened and she smiled, but it was a smile of sheer longing.
In only a month, she’d fallen completely head over heels in love with Freddie, and she was beginning to feel the stirrings of something she’d never anticipated. Cluckiness. A desire to have her own family, for real. Her desire for this to be real.
It is real, she reminded herself forcefully, drinking her coffee without looking at Freddie. She was the only person in this little boy’s life who loved him, who would do anything for him, and everyone deserved that. She’d never had someone to fight in her corner and there had been times in her life when she’d desperately wanted someone she could lean on. Someone who’d be there for her.
She’d be there for Freddie.
Come what may.
Reassured, she held his hand and began the walk home, along streets that were lined with terracotta buildings, window boxes overflowing with flowers, bright red and purple and pink with waxy green blooms, ancient window frames with peeling paint, a fruit and vegetable vendor set up in carts out the front of a shop on the corner. On a whim, she stopped to buy Freddie some strawberries in a brown paper bag. They could accompany his lunch.
Benedetto had an army of invisible staff. As she approached his townhouse, she thought, not for the first time, that it was actually a fortress of sorts. The gates swept inward upon her arrival, and she knew now that it wasn’t automatic. Someone in the office was watching the security feed. She lifted a hand and waved her thanks, then bent down to hear Freddie better.
“There’s magic in the gates.”
She laughed and picked him up, holding him to her hip and squeezing him tight. “I think there might be, terramoto.”
He’d gambled on this arrangement, but a month after marrying Cleopatra Ash-Cooper, Benedetto had to admit, it had been an inspired stroke of genius. He watched her in the security feed, rubbing his palm over his chin so his stubble grated a little. The way she swept down to lift the little boy, their faces each a study in joy and serendipity.
They were happy.
Alfredo was happy.
And for the first time since Veronica and Jack had died, for the first time since he’d been left alone to care for a devastated child, he breathed a little easier. He’d needed a partner in this, that was all.
A partner? That implied equal effort, and with Cleopatra at the helm, there was nothing for him to do. She was an able enough parent for both of them.
Except…his friends had left the child to him and surely they’d expected he’d have at least a little to do with Alfredo.
With a surprising rush of guilt, he moved closer to the screen on autopilot, watching as Cleopatra paused, midway to the house, and pointed upwards, to the sky. Instinctively, he wondered if they were looking for him, but no. Her finger’s trajectory surely indicated an aeroplane.
The little boy clapped his enthusiasm. Something shifted inside Benedetto, something uncomfortable and tight. He scowled.
He was neglecting his godson, and he shouldn’t. Just because Cleopatra was capable of caring for the child didn’t give him a free pass.
With that renewed resolution, he shut down the security feed and returned to his work.
“Careful,” she murmured, as the fearless little boy pushed away from the wall. He kicked his legs and water splashed, and then, with Cleopatra’s heart in her throat and her body ready to spring into action any second, he powered himself across to the other corner of the pool. It wasn’t far. Just a metre or so.
Nonetheless, his over-confidence in the water was a reason for extreme vigilance. He had absolutely zero fear. He had no idea that he would sink like a stone if he wasn’t careful.
A lack of fear in a child could be a very terrifying thing for an adult to see, and Freddie was classically fearless. Fortunately, Cleopatra had enough experience to know that children like Freddie needed to be allowed to explore, to find their own limits, to discover a hint of fear and learn to respect it. And so she let him be, but always stayed close by, ready to catch him if he fell.
“Come to me,” she encouraged, holding her hands about a couple of feet from his sturdy little body. His eyes twinkled at the challenge and he kicked off, gliding on the top of the water like a top. She caught him, smiling, and swirled him, so he laughed.
And then, the laughter stopped. A look at his face showed an expression of shyness. A coy look she hadn’t seen on the little boy before.
“What is it, Freddie?” She ran her finger through his hair. He didn’t blink away.
She followed the direction of his gaze and then her own expression shifted. Her lips parted and heat, unmistakable, filled her veins. Despite the lovely temperature of the water, it was as though she’d channelled the strength of the sun and it was firing through her.
He was watching them intently, and she had no idea how long he’d been standing there for. His jet black eyes were focussed on her and despite the warmth in her body, goose bumps spread over her flesh. They’d barely seen one another, this past month. Not since that dinner on the terrace. Every now and again they’d passed in a corridor or he’d surprised her while she’d been making a coffee, but that was the extent of their interactions.
This was different.
“Hi.” The word was barely audible.
“Ciao.”
“Ben.” Freddie’s eyes beetled and Cleopatra’s heart turned over for the little boy. His godfather. She had to ignore whatever weirdness was taking place in her body and remember how important it was that Freddie have a relationship with Benedetto.
“Would you like to have a turn?”
He lifted a dark brow, making her feel stupid and childish.
“Swimming with Freddie,” she prompted, outwardly undeterred, even as her pulse was running faster than she could bear.
“Freddie?” At this, Benedetto’s lip curled, amusement on his face.
“Yes.” She tilted her chin defiantly.
His eyes narrowed imperceptibly and then he shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sure. Why not?”
She hadn’t expected that; her throat was instantly dry. She turned to look at Freddie, forcing a smile to her face. “There, Freddie. Benedetto is going to come swimming with you.”
“Ben! Ben! Ben!”
Freddie’s excitement caused Cleopatra’s chest to cleave in two. The little boy was so incredibly sweet, so full of emotion and feeling. She couldn’t explain why there’d been so many nannies before her, none of whom could manage his occasional – and very age-appropriate – tantrums, but Cleopatra was firmly of the opinion that there was nothing but loveliness in the boy.
“Yes,” she answered, spinning Freddie through the water, smiling as he laughed, the sound a kind of heaven.
A moment later, there was a muted splash and the ripple of the water as Benedetto dived in. Her eyes flared wide – a cursory inspection showed his clothes had been shucked and discarded on the edge of the pool.
Her heart was thumping against her ribs so loudly she wondered if it might burst right out of her chest, and her hands were trembling.
When Benedetto broke through the water’s surface, he was at her side, so close she could see the flecks of black in his eyes, so close her heart wobbled and her pulse fired and her stomach swooped. His dark hair was slicked back from his face like a pelt and water droplets made his thick lashes all spiky around his eyes.
“Here.” She pushed Alfredo towards him quickly. She couldn’t look at him a moment longer; he was like a kind of solar eclipse.
Benedetto reached for Freddie, his hands so much larger than Cleopatra’s, cur
ving capably around the little boy’s sides. Freddie smiled, but it was a slightly shy smile, a look of shyness that had Cleopatra’s heart aching for his.
How alone he must have felt, before she arrived.
This suspicion was confirmed a moment later, when she swam to the edge of the pool and went to pull herself out of it.
“Cleo! No!”
She turned back in the water in time to catch Benedetto’s eyes on her in a way that sent heat trailing over her flesh.
“Cleo stay.”
“Yes,” Benedetto’s voice was drawled from him, low and gravelled. Her pulse pricked. “Cleo stay.”
His lips lifted into the hint of a smile but she couldn’t return it. It was like she’d been filled with lava. Her body was boiling hot and weak.
“I was just going to watch you from the deck chairs,” she murmured.
“No.” And there it was – the hint of Freddie’s temper. But she couldn’t mind it. She understood it came from his deep insecurities, his fear of being abandoned that his parents’ inexplicable and – at his age – incomprehensible disappearance from his life had caused.
“Okay,” she smiled reassuringly, paddling back towards them. She could feel Benedetto’s eyes on her the whole time. When she was close, she made the mistake of flicking her gaze towards him.
It was like being lashed with a whip. She trembled, a tremble that started low down in her abdomen and worked its way through her whole body.
“He likes to swim,” she said, to cover the reaction, needing to bring things back to an even keel and figuring Freddie was the best way to do that.
“He didn’t used to.”
Curiosity barbed through her. “Really?”
“Mmm.” He moved Freddie’s little body through the water, from one side to the other.
Cleopatra watched with silent approval. It was nice to see them together like this. It was nice to see Benedetto spending time with his godson.
It was nice to see Benedetto, full stop. And so much of him?
She quelled the instant, irrational – and hugely unwelcome – thought. But guilt made her skin prickle all over.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” The words surprised her. She wished she hadn’t said them, particularly when his lips shifted in what felt like a slightly mocking acknowledgement of her comment.
“No.”
“I… not that I should have. Or would have.”
Oh, God. She wanted the pool to develop a sinkhole and swallow her all the way to Australia, spit her out on the shores of Bondi.
“I mean, you’re busy and I’m…” Oh, God. Stop talking.
“My wife?” He prompted, and surprised her then by putting a hand out, so his thumb lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to face his and hold them.
She swallowed; it didn’t help. Her throat was as dry as dust.
His thumb padded over her lips and she made a gasping sound as they parted, the touch unexpected and fiercely, desperately necessary.
Her traitorous body was like fire; she was burning up.
“In name,” she reminded him, unnecessarily. As if Benedetto di Fiori would have forgotten such a crucial point of their agreement. As if he truly saw her as his wife!
“Yes, in name,” he agreed, but didn’t move his hand. His thumb lingered and she could barely breathe – adrenalin left no room for oxygen in her lungs.
“Cleo.” Freddie clapped between them. “Cleo’s name.”
Cleopatra blinked and took a step backwards, so she could better focus on the little boy. But her lips burned from the memory of his touch, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.
She made a point of keeping her distance from them. She needed to, for her sanity’s sake, and also from a self-preservation perspective. Proximity to Benedetto made her forget who she was, and who he was. It made her forget about the sensible terms of this marriage, so that she wanted to push her body closer to his and feel all of him.
Pink suffused her cheeks.
She put a bit of distance between them, allowing him to swim with the little boy without her interference. It also allowed her to watch, to enjoy the sight of Benedetto laughing at something Freddie had said, to see them connecting.
Her heart broke whenever she thought of how much this little boy had lost, and it soared to see what he had – Benedetto would realise how lucky he was to have Freddie in his life. He just needed to get past his initial fear of being the guardian to a child, to grow more comfortable in this role.
He had to, because Freddie needed Benedetto.
“You know,” Benedetto murmured, some time later, “I cannot think whether his mother would have approved or disapproved of the nickname Freddie.”
“Alfredo is too fancy for a little boy,” she said with a natural smile.
“My godson was named for me.”
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
His laugh did something funny to her insides. “Don’t be. I happen to agree with you.”
“It’s a lovely name,” she back stepped. “Just very formal.”
“Yes,” he murmured, nodding, but it was dangerous once more, she felt sparks chipping from him to her, filling her with electricity. Fortunately, Freddie was showing all the signs of tiredness, so she took her opportunity for escape.
“I should put him down for his nap.”
The little boy rubbed his eyes in response.
“Should you?” Benedetto was closer, so that if she moved just a little, their legs would brush under water and suddenly, she wanted that more than she could say.
What the heck was happening to her?
“He’s tired.”
“And yet, the water is so nice.”
It was. Everything about this was nice. No, not nice. Naughty might have been a better word for it. Not that she had any experience with that – she felt naughty. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was pushing at a boundary and it scared and excited her all at once.
“I have to get him to bed,” she said, as Freddie smothered a yawn with his chubby little hand.
“Then why do you not come back afterwards?”
Her eyes skidded to his. Her heart slammed into her ribs. Her lips parted. Heat burst through her. “I…”
“Just a swim,” he murmured, encouragingly.
She swallowed hard. Benedetto closed the distance between them, handing a now-wriggling Freddie over, placing him into her arms. As he did so, his hand brushed her side and she had to bite back a small moan.
“I can’t.”
He stayed close, looking down at her with eyes that saw way too much. “Why not?”
Why not, indeed? Because she was afraid that if it was just the two of him, she’d do something stupid? She’d make a fool of herself by throwing her body at his?
“I…have to get him to sleep. He’s exhausted.”
Coward, she railed against herself as she spun away. His soft laughter chased her all the way inside.
‘Intrigued’ wasn’t sufficient. He was ‘intrigued’ with technological developments of sheet metal. He was ‘intrigued’ by the latest satellite readings he’d seen, or the research coming back from his genetics lab.
He was dangerously fascinated by his wife, and he hadn’t seen that coming.
Nor had he seen how tempting her shyness would be. Her shock at the obvious desire that weaved between them, the sparks that spoke of a chemistry he wanted, now, to explore.
This was madness. A madness he had to control.
Except Benedetto, famed for his willpower and ruthless determination, felt for almost the first time in his life that he might want something more than he could control that urge.
He thought of his wife and sensual heat burned through him. But sex was sex, and there were any number of women who could satisfy him on that score. Ignoring the blade of disgust that sliced through him at the idea of taking anyone else to bed, he ran through a list of possibilities.
He needed a source of distraction, that was al
l. A way to forget his wife for a while. He needed to conquer this, and so he would.
5
THE DAY’S HEAT HADN’T cooled with the setting of the sun. Now, some time after dinner, Cleopatra sat in her room and acknowledged she was hot in part because of the summer’s evening, but also, because of the way Benedetto had looked at her.
The way he’d spoken to her.
The offer he’d made her.
To join him in the swimming pool – just the two of them and the strange feeling that some kind of force, so much bigger than they were, was pulling her to him.
Now, in the privacy of her room, she let out a soft moan and paced towards the window.
Rome sparkled beneath her, so many perfect, ancient cupolas in the distance, the city as mesmerising as ever. She stood at the open window and breathed in the air, trying to cool down. It didn’t work.
What she wanted was some ice cream.
Or a swim. Except going back to the pool felt weirdly like returning to the scene of the crime; she wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t. She wasn’t brave enough to face the water – she knew she’d feel regret, regret that she’d not had more courage, that she hadn’t simply agreed and returned to swim with him.
She changed quickly, pulling on a loose maxi dress, pale pink and yellow, and knotted her hair into a bun high on top of her head. She refilled her water bottle and tossed it into her handbag – large enough to accommodate all of Freddie’s accoutrement for their outings – and moved out of her room.
The house was silent – it was almost midnight. At the door, she flicked on a light so she could check she had everything she needed, right as the door opened inwards.
She startled, adrenalin bursting through her.
Benedetto stood there, his expression showing as much surprise at seeing Cleopatra as she felt at his sudden appearance.
“Oh, hi.” She took a step backwards, her eyes feasting on him in a way that she was powerless to prevent.
He was wearing a suit – and he looked so handsome, so utterly, sinfully gorgeous. All tall and dark and strong and powerful, and suave without looking as though he tried at all. It was simply something in his bearing, a manner he had, that was all sophistication. And yet, there was something wild about him as well, something almost feral.
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