‘Is she here?’ Ariana’s voice contorted with disgust. ‘Did you bring that bitch here?’
‘God help him!’ Dante said by way of response, and his sister’s angry tirade was briefly halted.
‘Who?’
‘Whoever ends up with you!’ Dante responded, and then watched as Ariana shook her hands free and with a sob ran back towards the helicopter.
‘Damn!’ Dante hissed, loathing his sister’s anguish, while angry at her too and knowing there was still more hurt to come when she found out about the baby.
The baby!
He still jolted at the very thought he was to be a father.
A father.
He looked towards the holm oaks and knew he needed to speak with his own. He turned and walked towards the lake.
Dante stood at his father’s grave and truly did not know what to say.
Sorry for the scandal with your wife?
Sorry that we are having a baby?
Sorry for bringing shame to the family?
Except he wasn’t entirely sorry for the scandal. Dante was well aware that he would love another repeat of the mistake with Mia.
And as for the baby...
No, he would not apologise for a life made.
But for bringing shame to the family he would apologise. Except even that confused him, because his father had always smiled at Dante’s reckless ways and had told him to live his own life, as long as he hurt no one.
Except a relationship between him and Mia could only cause hurt all round.
So he stood, hoping for answers, or inspiration, or a feeling of forgiveness to descend, but there were only more questions.
‘I thought you blew up your marriage over Mia,’ Dante said. ‘I thought you were drunk on lust and had lost your mind. It would seem I was wrong and for that I am sorry.’
Dante didn’t get it.
Perhaps he never would.
‘Was it my mother who had an affair?’ Dante asked, but of course there was only silence.
‘Was Mia supposed to appear as your revenge affair?’
He was met with silence again.
CHAPTER TEN
‘SHOULD I TAKE lunch up to Signora Romano?’ Sylvia asked, when Mia failed to put in an appearance for lunch.
‘Perhaps ask Mia what she wants,’ Dante said. ‘After all, she is not my Signora Romano.’ He smiled up at Sylvia who, of course, would have seen the news. And such was Dante’s smile that when she tried to fire him even a slight look of reproach, she was completely disarmed and instead clipped him over the head with a far friendlier hand than Ariana’s had been.
‘You need ice on that cheek,’ Sylvia said, for she had of course been witness to Ariana’s brief visit.
She had always been far more than a housekeeper.
‘Always making trouble,’ she fondly scolded Dante.
Sylvia had been good to them. When his mamma had left for Roma on one of her many trips, Sylvia had taken over the role of matrona with the twins.
But then Dante found that he frowned, his good mood tainted with the impossible thought that Sylvia and his father...
No.
Instantly he dismissed that thought. Sylvia and her husband were happy, but though he dismissed it, one unsettling thought as to that scenario remained: his mother had not been happy. Even during long, endless summers, when her husband and children had been here, she would find reasons to flit back to the city...
There was more to it, Dante was sure, and today he intended to find out what had truly caused the demise of his parents’ marriage. That meant he and Mia needed to talk.
‘Sylvia, why don’t you take the rest of the day off once lunch is done?’
‘But what about dinner?’
‘I’m sure we can manage. In fact, can you please tell all the staff to finish up for the day?’
Dante wanted absolute privacy; he wanted to have things out with Mia.
Lunch was a rather more casual affair when Mia finally descended than the one just before the funeral, but the table had been set up with the same exquisite care. Mia took a seat opposite Dante, her eyes drawn to the livid fingerprints on his cheek.
He looked stunning, even bruised. He wore black jeans and a thin black jumper and was unshaven, and it dawned on Mia she had never seen him in anything other than a suit. Even when he’d used to visit the hospital or drop by the house to visit his father, it had always been on his way back from or headed to work.
It felt odd to see him casually dressed, but in an unsettlingly nice way.
Why did she have to fancy him so? Why couldn’t she deal with him in more familiar, practical ways?
‘What did Ariana have to say?’ Mia asked, as she picked at her starter.
‘Nothing that needs repeating.’
‘Did you apologise?’
‘I never apologise for my sex life.’ Dante shook his head. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘Well, she shouldn’t have slapped you.’
‘No, though I can’t blame her really. She was also here to deliver a slap from my mother. It probably was my mother who sent her or, if not, who encouraged her.’ He dismissed the incident with a wave of his hand. ‘I can’t be bothered with their drama right now.’
‘Have there been any more articles?’ Mia couldn’t bring herself to look and her phone was still off.
‘There have been,’ Dante said. ‘Though they are all in the same vein.’ He brought her up to speed on other things that had transpired while she’d rested. ‘An extraordinary board meeting has been called for nine a.m. tomorrow. I am to explain myself, apparently.’
‘What will you say?’
‘I don’t know,’ Dante admitted. He had never before felt nervous about facing the board, but he was now—not that he would admit it. ‘The photos should never have happened. I should have been more careful.’ Then he added, ‘Again.’ He was weak where Mia was concerned, Dante realised.
Two years spent holding himself back must have worn down all his reserves because, even with the problem they faced, even with his suspicious mind, he wanted her again. But there were serious issues that needed to be faced now. ‘The fact is, Mia, there is more that will soon be exposed than whatever those photos suggest.’
‘I can’t bear it,’ Mia gulped, but then fell quiet as their plates were cleared away, only resuming when Sylvia left. ‘It was bad enough being picked apart in the papers when I married your dad, but at least they were just implying I was a gold-digger. This is my very private life that’s being discussed.’
Dante had to suppress a smile, deciding it would be inappropriate, but by very private, he assumed she meant sex. ‘I think it is best you stay here for now, for a few weeks at least, and that way when word gets out, you will be shielded.’
‘I’m not staying here, Dante, hiding away. My family is in England and I need to work.’
‘Please.’
‘Oh, that’s right,’ she retorted. ‘I trapped you. Hooray, I never have to work again! Well, guess what, I don’t want your millions. I want my privacy, and I do not want my baby’s start in life to be some titillating article online. I am going to call work tomorrow and...’ Her voice trailed off as Sylvia came in to serve the next course and they switched to inane chitchat.
Their main was chicken, but Mia declined, and just picked at fennel, orange and watercress salad, which, though light and refreshing, seemed at odds with the subject matter, for her own carelessness was weighing heavily on her mind.
Yes, it took two and all that, but her mistake had changed his world and when they were alone again she told him a simple truth. ‘Dante, I messed up with the tablets. I’m sorry that I didn’t know. And I’m sorry I’m not sophisticated enough to be on the Pill, or carry condoms, or anything like that...’
‘It is me who should
have taken better care.’ Dante halted her. ‘I apologise for that.’
They had been utterly lost in each other, Mia knew. ‘I was flustered and careless, but I did take the morning-after pill, Dante.’
Was he mad to believe her?
Possibly, but for that part at least, Dante did. ‘I know.’ He looked at her for a long moment and then gave her a slow smile. ‘The baby must really want to be here.’
‘Yes,’ Mia said, for she had come around to thinking the same, although it had taken her several days to do so. ‘But, Dante, I can’t just hide away here, waiting for word to get out. I’m supposed to be starting work tomorrow. I can’t simply not show up.’
‘Is the job with Castello?’
She nodded and when she did so Dante shook his head. ‘Castello’s a sleaze; I already told you that. He either fancied you or he gave you the job out of curiosity about me.’
‘Oh, so I couldn’t get it on my own merits?’
‘Well, I doubt it was for your excellent Italian, given the predicament we’re in. And it can’t be based on your reference, because I gave you a shocking one.’
Her mouth gaped. ‘You’re not allowed to do that.’
Dante shrugged insolently as he held her gaze. ‘I am, as long as it’s accurate.’
‘What did you say?’ she asked.
‘That you were a poor timekeeper...’ He watched her fight not to smile. ‘And I said you were a little slovenly in your habits...’
‘You’re not serious?’
‘Well, you did leave your underwear on the floor of my lounge.’
He loved the way she blushed as she asked, ‘What else did you say?’
‘That in all fairness I could not recommend you to an old family friend.’ Yet as nice as this conversation was starting to be, Dante held firm. ‘You’re not working for him Mia.’
‘I’ll decide that, Dante.’
She was a different Mia without his father or family here.
They were different and the closer they got the more he wanted her. But there was still so much to sort out, for though he believed her about the contraceptive mistake, Dante still felt he was being lied to.
Always.
‘Mia, what were you doing, married to my father?’
The sliver of orange on her tongue felt like sand as he asked the inevitable question and she took her time to chew and then swallow as she worked out how best to answer him.
Or rather how not to answer him. ‘Dante, I think we have enough to sort out with the press and my being pregnant without discussing your father.’
‘There is nothing that can be sorted until I understand what you were doing with him. A torrid affair I might not like, but I could better understand it, yet you never slept together. Were you supposed to be some warped attempt to salvage his pride because my mother was sleeping with my old high school tutor?’
Mia was suddenly reminded of the hot-and-cold childhood game, and had to fight not to blink as she thought, How warm you are, how warm you are...as Dante inched ever closer to the truth.
‘How did it start, Mia?’ Dante persisted. ‘How did the two of you...?’
‘We met at work.’
‘I meant,’ Dante snapped, ‘how was this sham of a marriage conceived—tell me, Mia, how does a trainee executive assistant, with only passable Italian, get the role as my father’s PA, mistress, and then wife?’
He wanted his father’s memory to rest, yet these questions were buzzing and swarming and he needed to hear the truth, yet Mia refused to answer him. He was getting nowhere, and Dante pushed back on his chair and stood. ‘How the hell are we supposed to sort this when you can’t trust me enough to be honest?’
‘It’s not that.’
‘Then what?’
Mia pressed her fingers into her temples. She felt railroaded and unsure how to proceed. All Mia knew was that she had to work out, carefully, whether or not to tell Dante the whole truth.
And if she did, how to tell him?
‘Mia?’ Dante pushed, but when nothing more was forthcoming, exasperated, he strode off. ‘I’m going out.’
‘Where?’
But Dante didn’t answer.
He badly needed some advice.
Dante could have walked to Roberto’s; it was just a twenty-minute or so stroll to where he lived, but in case there were any dramas with the press, he took the car. Roberto had given him good advice on a couple of personal predicaments in the past.
Except it didn’t look as if Roberto was home.
Remembering that Roberto had been unwell, Dante negotiated the pots of orchids on the porch to peer through a window, but found the drapes were closed.
What if he’d fallen? Dante thought. What if...? But his concern momentarily faded as Roberto came to the door.
‘Dante!’ Roberto greeted him. ‘This is a nice surprise.’
‘Hey,’ Dante said. ‘I thought for a moment you were out.’
‘No, no, I was just having a rest.’
‘How are you feeling?’ Dante asked, troubled by Roberto’s complexion.
‘Better, though I could not have made it there last night. So, tell me, how was the ball?’
‘You haven’t heard?’ Dante raised his eyebrows because Roberto was usually sharp and the first to know what was going on with the Romanos. ‘Roberto, I need some advice.’
‘Then come in.’
Dante tried not to frown as Roberto let him in, for the place wasn’t in its usual neat order and neither was Roberto, who he was sure was wearing yesterday’s clothes, for they were rumpled and less than fresh. The drapes were closed too and there was the smell of stale whisky on Roberto’s breath, but Dante made no comment.
‘We’ll go through to the study...’ Roberto said, and waved him through.
It was a little messy with the smell of cigarettes hanging in the air, and the study was rather dusty. ‘Excuse the mess,’ Roberto said. ‘I haven’t been in here for a while.’
‘It’s fine,’ Dante said. ‘What did the doctor say?’
‘The usual.’
‘Which is?’ Dante pushed, troubled by his appearance.
‘I am to take up a hobby.’ Roberto gave a wry laugh. ‘Start walking, stop smoking, cut down on whisky.’
‘And are you going to take his advice?’
‘I am pondering it,’ Roberto sighed. ‘He says it is common for a man to become depressed when he retires. Now, what can I do for you, Dante?’ Roberto asked as he took a seat at his desk.
‘I’m not sure,’ Dante admitted. ‘It’s regarding Mia.’
‘She’s not contesting the will, is she?’ Roberto frowned.
‘No,’ Dante said, ‘There are bigger issues than that to be faced. I found out last night that Mia is pregnant.’
‘No.’ Roberto immediately shook his head. ‘That is not possible.’
‘Well, she’s told me that she is.’
‘Then she is a fool to play that game.’ Roberto angrily thumped the desk. The usually reasonable lawyer was suddenly angry. ‘Why will she not let Rafael rest? Tell her from me there will be no quick settlement. A simple DNA test—’
‘No, no,’ Dante interrupted, ‘Roberto, you misunderstand. She is not saying the baby is my father’s. The fact is...I slept with Mia.’
‘You?’
‘Yes.’ Dante knew how it sounded, but he never played coy and certainly not with the family lawyer. ‘On the night of the funeral.’
‘But you used protection?’ Roberto checked, confident he had, for Dante was no fool.
‘No.’
‘Dante!’ Roberto let out a long weary breath, but then rallied.
‘Then I give to you the same advice that I gave a moment ago. Until there is a report from a doctor stating that she is pregnant, we do nothing. And the
same until we get the DNA result. She probably isn’t pregnant and just trying for a quick settlement...’
‘Mia is pregnant.’ Dante was adamant in his defence of her.
‘Well, it might not be yours. I had a client once where the woman—’
‘Roberto,’ Dante interrupted angrily, already sick of the inferences and hearing Roberto doubt the baby was his. ‘How many times do I have to say it? Mia is pregnant and the baby is mine.’
‘Calm down.’ Roberto frowned, no doubt unused to seeing Dante like this.
Except Dante was not calm.
‘We’ll sort it.’ Roberto attempted to soothe him.
But his talks of settlements and alimony did nothing to soothe Dante.
‘Just back off,’ Dante said, even though he had been the one to seek out Roberto’s counsel. ‘I will deal with Mia.’ And he would, but for now he had other questions he had come here to ask. ‘Roberto, I need to ask you something. Did my mother have an affair?’
‘What’s this got to do with Mia being pregnant?’
‘You tell me,’ Dante returned. ‘I don’t get how the divorce was so quick and so clean when they’d had thirty-three years together.’
‘Because both sides wanted a clean break and both sets of lawyers worked hard to facilitate that.’
‘But was my mother the one having the affair? Is that why it was all rushed through, in a misplaced effort to save my father’s pride?’
‘Leave it, Dante.’
‘Why? You must have helped arrange this marriage of convenience between my father and Mia. Was it to save face because my mother was the one who was about to leave?’
‘Just leave things, Dante. Please. Let your father rest.’
‘No.’ Dante was as belligerent as he was frustrated and he pushed back the chair and stood. ‘I want answers, and if you refuse to give them to me then I’ll go elsewhere.’
‘Come back here,’ Roberto said, but as Dante stormed off he followed him. ‘Just let things be,’ he called from his door as Dante climbed into his car.
But Dante wasn’t listening. He refused to let things be.
Mia wouldn’t tell him, and neither would Roberto.
That only left one person.
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