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The Sicilian's Bought Bride
CAROL MARINELLI








The Sicilian's Bought Bride

Carol Marinelli















Contents


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

COMING NEXT MONTH




CHAPTER ONE


‘THEY wouldn’t have suffered.’

‘Of course they wouldn’t have.’ Catherine could hear the bitterness in her own voice, see the flicker of confusion in the young nurse’s expression, but she was too raw, too exhausted, and frankly too damn angry to soften the blow, to spare anyone’s feelings.

‘My sister and her husband refused to suffer anything. Why worry when you can have a drink? Why dwell on your problems when there’s always family to bail you out?’ She shook her head fiercely, pressing her fingers against her eyeballs and trying to quell the scream that seemed to be building up inside her.

She knew the poor nurse didn’t have a clue what she was going on about, that she was just trying to be kind and say the right thing, and that the car accident had happened in an instant, that it had been over for Marco and Janey before the skidding vehicle had even halted—but her words simply weren’t helping. Instead they were touching nerves so raw that every last word made Catherine flinch as she tried and failed not to envisage the final moments of her sister’s short life.

Maybe later, Catherine told herself, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself. Maybe later, when she could think straight—maybe in a few weeks—those words might bring some comfort. But sitting alone in the hospital interview room, exhausted and shellshocked, trying to fathom all that had happened, they brought no comfort at all.

‘I really am sorry.’ The nurse handed her a small manila envelope and Catherine held on to it tightly, feeling the hard shape of the metal inside it.

‘So am I.’ The bitterness had gone from her voice now, and Catherine gave the nurse a small nod of thanks. ‘You’ve all been wonderful.’

‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

Catherine shook her head, couldn’t even manage an answer, and again she was left alone. Tearing the brown paper, she slid out the contents, staring curiously dry-eyed at the three pieces of jewellery in her palm, tracing the outline of each precious piece as every one told its story. An awful sense of déjà-vu descended as she eyed the solitaire diamond ring Janey wore, that had belonged to their mother—the same ring that had slid out of an envelope and into her hand eight years ago. But familiarity brought no comfort. The crash that had killed her parents and the lessons it had taught offered no barrier to the pain she felt now.

It was actually eight years and two months ago, to be precise.

Eight years and two months since she had been handed her parents’ belongings along with more responsibility than any nineteen-year-old deserved. But the endless meetings with solicitors and accountants as they attempted to unscramble the chaos her parents had left in their wake had been the easy part.

Dealing with a wayward sixteen-year-old—her sister Janey—had proved the greater feat.

Catherine stared at the ring for a long moment and suddenly she was back there, standing at her mother’s dressing table, wishing her thick, dark, curly hair could be as smooth and as straight as her mother’s and Janey’s, wishing her solemn brown eyes could sparkle blue like theirs.

Instead she had inherited her father’s looks—his personality too.

Well, most of it. She was serious, studious, yet she wasn’t weak as her father had been, didn’t cave in the way he had. One giggle from their mother, one tiny pout of her pretty mouth and John Masters had been lost—would agree to whatever his lovely Lily wanted to put the smile back on her face.

And Janey had been the same—she had possessed the certainty that her looks would get her whatever she had wanted, the same take it or leave it attitude that had held men intrigued, the same inner confidence that someone would always pick up the pieces of the chaos she created—and up till now it had worked.

The glint of the massive sapphire that caught her eye next reminded Catherine so much of her sister’s blue eyes that for a second it hurt, physically hurt, to hold the engagement ring Janey had worn with such glee. She had been sure it was her ticket to the fast lane, an end to the financial mess she had got herself into, a way out of the problems that had been just too big for Catherine to sort out this time, however hard she tried.

‘Marco’s amazing!’ Catherine could hear Janey’s dizzy, slightly breathless voice as clearly as if she were in the room now. ‘Oh, Catherine, you should see where he lives. It’s right on the beach—and when I say on the beach, I mean it’s literally on it. You step out of the patio and on to the sand. His garage alone is as big as your flat.’

Catherine couldn’t have cared less what size Marco’s garage was, but she had let Janey ramble for a while, listened to her excited chatter, hoping that it would calm her, that if she let her go on for long enough the euphoria might somehow wear off and that she could find out some more important answers.

‘What does he do?’ When Janey didn’t answer she pushed further. ‘For a living—what does Marco do?’

Janey gave a small shrug, tossed her hair and poured herself a drink.

‘He has fun.’ There was an edge to Janey’s voice, a defiant look in her eyes as she stared at her older sister. ‘His mother died when he was a teenager,’ Janey explained, but without a hint of compassion. ‘Just as ours did; only the difference is Bella Mancini actually left something for her children…’

‘You mean she left money!’ Catherine’s voice held a warning ring. Lily might not have been the most conventional mother, but her love of life and her passion for her children had left a void that could never be filled, and no amount of inheritance would have lessened the pain of losing her.

For Catherine at least.

‘Oh, spare me the speeches,’ Janey spat. ‘I don’t want to hear again how money isn’t important. I don’t want to hear again how you worked two jobs while you went through teacher training college—but didn’t mind a bit just as long as we were together. If our parents hadn’t forgotten to pay their life insurance premiums you wouldn’t have had to work so hard. You wouldn’t have had to sell the family home and move into a pokey little flat…’

‘I didn’t mind,’ Catherine insisted.

‘Well, I did,’ Janey snapped, her eyes narrowing. ‘I hated being poor and I have no intention of spending the rest of my life chewing my nails over bills. Marco can look after me now, the same way his mother looked after him. Bella Mancini was a property developer, and when she died the business went to her children.’

A flash of recognition offered a ray of hope. The Mancini empire! Oh, Catherine wasn’t exactly into reading the business pages of the newspaper, but even without a shred of business acumen she’d have needed to live in a cave for the last decade not to know about the Mancini empire and the stranglehold it held on the Melbourne property market.

The drive along Port Phillip Bay was littered with their latest acquisitions—the smart navy signs telling anyone who cared to see, that this bayview property was being developed by Mancini’s.

To make it in the cut-throat world of property development would take stamina, intelligence and, dare she even say it, responsibility. Which, Catherine realised, were the very things Janey needed in a man to keep her on the straight and narrow.

‘So Marco’s into property development? He’s part of the Mancini chain?’ Catherine asked, trying not to sound too keen. She had learnt long ago that her approval was the kiss of death for any of Janey’s relationships. But the hope that Janey’s latest boyfriend might actually posses a scrap of responsibility was doused as quickly as it flared.

‘Marco’s sold his share of the business to his brother Rico,’ Janey corrected, with a note of irritation that Catherine refused to acknowledge. She was determined to find out more about the man Janey was involved with, and was liking him less with each revelation. ‘When Marco turned eighteen he was all set to go on board, but by then Rico had decided that he wanted to “grow” the business, to work sixty-hour weeks—’

‘That’s what people do, Janey,’ Catherine interrupted, but Janey tossed her blonde hair and took another slug of her wine.

‘Why?’ she asked, with a glint of challenge in her eyes. ‘Why would you bother when you’ve already made it? Marco’s rich in his own right; he doesn’t need to work and so he doesn’t—it’s as simple as that.’

‘So he lives off his inheritance?’ Catherine shook her head, bewildered. ‘He’s never even had a job?’

‘You sound just like his brother,’ Janey sneered. ‘And I’ll tell you the same thing Marco tells Rico. He doesn’t sponge off his family; the money is his to spend.’

‘But what sort of a man—?’

‘Oh, what would you know about men?’ Janey spat back spitefully, ‘Who are you to give me advice?’

‘I’m your sister.’ Cheeks flaming, she had tried to keep her voice even, determined not to rise to the venom that appeared every time she tried to reel Janey in. ‘I care about you, Janey, and whether you like it or not I’m concerned about you. Since Mum and Dad…’ Her voice trailed off for a second. She didn’t want to rake up the past, didn’t want to go over those painful memories, but knew that now it was called for. ‘I’ve done my best for us, Janey. I’ve tried as hard as I can to be there for you, and I’m asking you to listen to me now. I just think it’s all too soon. You’ve only known this Marco for a couple of months. Why are you rushing into things? Why not wait a while and see how things—?’

‘I’m pregnant.’

The words were enough to still Catherine, enough to shed a whole new different light on the rumblings of their argument. But even though the news had floored her Catherine deliberately didn’t look shocked; she even managed to bite her tongue as Janey took a long sip of wine, knowing now wasn’t the time for a lecture.

‘Then I’m here for you,’ she said again. ‘We can sort this out, Janey. Just because you’re pregnant it doesn’t mean you have to marry him. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.’

‘You really are stupid, aren’t you?’ The sneer on Janey’s pretty face was like a slap to Catherine’s cheek. ‘For a schoolteacher you really are thick—do you know that? As if I’d get knocked up by accident.’

‘Knocked up?’

‘Pregnant.’ Janey gave a malicious laugh. ‘Don’t think for one moment, Catherine, that I don’t know what I’m doing. Don’t for one second think that this baby is an accident.’

‘Janey, I’m sorry.’ Catherine stood up. ‘I wasn’t suggesting you don’t want your baby. I just never thought you…’ She struggled helplessly for a second. ‘You’ve never shown any interest in babies.’

‘And I don’t intend to start.’ Janey’s eyes narrowed spitefully. ‘Do I really have to spell this out, Catherine? I’ve never had it so good. I can go into a shop, any shop—and not look at the price tags. I can walk into the best restaurants without checking the prices. And if you think I’m going to let it end then you don’t know me at all.

Maybe Marco does love me, maybe this would have carried on indefinitely, but I’m not prepared to take the risk. So I’ve created my own little insurance policy.’ She patted her stomach, but without a trace of tenderness, laughing mirthlessly at Catherine’s shocked expression. ‘And if you’re worried about my lack of maternal instincts, then don’t waste your time; Marco can afford the best nannies. I won’t have to do a thing. So you can save the big sister lectures, save the boring speeches—because I don’t need you, Catherine.’

Even a year later the words hurt.

The shiny cool gold of Janey’s wedding band held its own batch of memories—only this time they weren’t exclusive to Janey.

Rico, smart in his dark suit, pausing a fraction too long before handing the rings over, his hand hovering over the Bible before dropping them down in an almost truculent gesture. For Catherine had come the welcome realisation that she wasn’t alone in her doubts about this union…

‘How are you doing?’

The nurse was back, providing a welcome break from her painful memories, and Catherine gave a tired smile, standing on legs that felt like jelly and smoothing down her skirt as she picked up her jacket.

‘I’m fine, but I think I’d like to go to the children’s ward and sit with Lily.’

Lily.

A wave of bile threatened to choke her as she thought of her niece, orphaned and alone in the children’s ward, and for a moment she wrestled with a surge of hatred—hatred for her sister that was surely out of place now she was dead.

‘They said they’d call down when they were ready. It shouldn’t be too much longer. I know you must be exhausted, dealing with all this on your own, but at least we’ve finally managed to locate Marco’s parents. Apparently they’re holidaying in the States; that’s why it’s taken so long.’

‘His father and stepmother,’ Catherine corrected. ‘His mother died a long time ago.’

‘Well, they’ve been contacted.’

Catherine gave a weary nod. She hadn’t expected the Mancinis to drop everything, and even though she knew a lot needed to be organised and a lot of choices needed to be made, secretly she was relieved nothing would be done tonight.

Tonight was hard enough.

‘Someone called Rico’s coming, though; he rang on his mobile and said for you to wait here…Are you all right, Miss Masters?’ Catherine could see the nurse’s mouth moving, the concern in her face as Catherine swayed slightly.

‘I’m fine. It’s just…’ Her pulse seemed to be pounding in her temples and her tongue was dry as she ran it over her lips. Legs that had just found their bearings seemed to be collapsing beneath her again as the nurse pulled the chair nearer and guided Catherine into it.

‘Take some slow, deep breaths, Miss Masters, and keep your head down. That’s the way. You’re just a bit dizzy, that’s all, which isn’t surprising after all you’ve been through. I’ll get you some water. Just wait there. It’s all been such a shock for you it isn’t any wonder you’re feeling faint.’

Catherine gave a weak nod, burying her head in her hands and feeling a vague stab of guilt at the nurse’s kindness.

Today hadn’t really been a shock.

It was agony. It hurt more than she could even begin to bear. But the nurse was wrong again. The sad end to these lives hadn’t been a shock. The way Marco and Janey had lived their lives, flaunting society’s rules, sure that money would protect them, that rules didn’t somehow apply to them…today had been inevitable.

It wasn’t the accident and its aftermath that had caused her near-faint—although, Catherine admitted, it would certainly have contributed to it—it wasn’t even the long interviews with social workers, trying to map out a tentative path for Lily, and it had very little to do with the fact she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was all down to the fact that Rico was coming. After all these months she was finally going to see him.

‘Rico,’ she whispered his name out loud, dragging in the stuffy hospital air and closing her eyes, allowing her mind to drift away for a slice of time, drift away from this awful room and the awful day to the beauty she had once witnessed. The horrors of the days receded as his face came into focus—a face she had pushed out of her mind for a year now, refused to dwell on, forcibly removed from her consciousness, but a face that had always been there, slipping into her dreams at night, supposedly unwelcome but shamefully, gratefully received.

He had made her laugh.

The wedding she had dreaded had turned out to be the most exhilarating, heady night of her life, and it had all been down to Rico.

It had been Rico who had come up to her as she’d sat, seemingly aloof but actually tense and awkward at the head table, watching confused and bewildered as Janey and Marco made a mockery of everything sacred and twirled around the dance floor.

Rico who had turned her world around.

‘I need you to talk to me!’ The urgency in his voice had caught Catherine completely off guard.

‘Me?’ Turning, she had opened her mouth, questions bobbing on her tongue as to why the most eligible of eligible bachelors should suddenly be paying attention to her. ‘Why?’ Catherine asked rudely.

‘I’ll tell you in a moment, but I really need for you to talk to me,’ he insisted. ‘I know this is probably the last thing you need right now, but I want you to look as if you’re engrossed.’

She already was! It wasn’t hard to give Rico Mancini her full attention, wasn’t exactly a feat to stare into those dark, dark eyes and appear mesmerised. He had turned his chair so he was facing her. His knees casually apart he dragged her chair forward an inch or two, effectively caging her in, an earnest look on his face as he moved in closer and begged in low, urgent tones for her to stay put.

‘What on earth’s going on?’ Catherine giggled, embarrassed and pleased and suddenly excited all at the same time.

‘Would you believe me if I told you the minister’s wife was coming on to me?’

‘Esther?’ Her mouth dropped open and her eyes automatically flicked across the room to gape in open disbelief at the paragon of virtue, dressed in twinset and pearls, her newly set hair lacquered firmly in place. She was scarcely able to believe Esther was capable of coming on to anyone. Mind you, Catherine mused as Esther’s gaze wandered anxiously in their direction, from the effect two minutes up close with Rico was having on her, maybe even ministers’ wives weren’t immune.

‘Don’t look!’ He put a hand up to her cheek, forcing her attention.

‘I’m sorry.’ Catherine was flustered, jumping a mile as he touched her, her cheeks stinging red as a blush worked its way upwards. She desperately tried to keep her voice even. ‘Surely you’ve misread things!’

‘That’s what I told myself,’ Rico agreed. ‘That’s what I kept on telling myself as she started fiddling with the buttons on my jacket….’

‘She didn’t!’

‘That’s not the half of it.’ He gave a small shudder and Catherine started to laugh. ‘If your sister had settled for a good Catholic wedding, then none of this would have happened.’

‘That’s Janey for you,’ Catherine said dryly, and for a second so small it was barely there they shared a knowing smile.

‘I excused myself, of course—said I had to get back to my girlfriend; so if you don’t mind I’m going to have to borrow you for a while.’

‘Borrow away.’ Somehow she smiled. Somehow she accepted the champagne glass he offered with hands that were amazingly steady, given her heart-rate!

It had been the best night of her life—even if it had been a false togetherness; even if it had been just for Esther’s benefit he’d made her feel special. Made her feel as if she was the only woman in the room.

Later, alone in his hotel room, those dark, brooding and suspicious eyes had softened, gazing into hers as that strong, inscrutable face had moved in to kiss her. She could still almost taste the velvet of his lips, smell the heady tang of his cologne, feel her fingers in that jet hair as she had drowned in his kiss, responded to his urgent demands in a way she never had before. His kiss had fueled responses, unfamiliar, yet achingly welcome. Her breasts had pushed against his chest, her groin had pressed into his as his hand had worked the buttons of her dress, his frustration mounting as the tiny pink buttons proved too much for the frenzy of emotions that had gripped them. He’d ripped the pale pink tulle till her shoulders had been exposed, and she hadn’t cared—hadn’t cared he’d ruined her dress. She had hated it anyway, hated Janey for forcing her to wear it.

She had stood exposed but curiously excited, her dilated pupils struggling to focus, as one olive-skinned hand moved the fabric apart. The contrast of his dark skin on her soft white breast had caused her breath to catch in her throat, a tiny groan of ecstasy escaping as he’d buried his face in her bosom, his lips hot on her stinging nipples, flicking them with a firm tongue. The blood had rushed down—not to her breasts, though, down to her groin, and then the flicker of her first orgasm, as impatient hands slid up her legs, tearing the tiny panties aside. His fingers had snaked inside her wet warmth, his breath hot and hard as he sucked on her breasts, and she’d shuddered in the palm of his hand, lost in the frenzy of it all, stunned at how easily her body had responded, scarcely able to fathom how she could yield so much to him.

He had seemed to understand how overwhelmed she had been, had held her afterwards, and for that slice of time, for one tiny moment, life had felt safe.

‘We have to go back down,’ he whispered into her hair as the world slowly drifted back into focus, seemingly understanding that this was alien for her, that she was feeling overwhelmed by the frenzy of emotion that had gripped her.

But even Rico’s tender embrace wasn’t enough to stop cruel reality invading, the sting of shame to prickle her senses. She barely knew this man, had met him only that night, and yet here she stood in his arms dishevelled, her groin still curiously alive, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed. Her arousal was still only a whisper away, yet he quelled her doubts in an instant, reading her mind as if she were a book.

‘Don’t regret this.’ His voice was a low, delicious throb of reassurance in her ear. ‘You are beautiful—this was beautiful.’

‘I shouldn’t have—’

‘Hush.’ His own arousal still pressed into her and she felt a stab of guilt: No longer the situation, but at her own selfishness, sure all the pleasure of the moment had been hers.

One woefully inexperienced hand tentatively moved down, clasping the steel of his erection, terrified of her own boldness, yet sure it was expected.

‘Catherine, no.’ His voice was breathless, his hand clamping over hers like a vice, and she flushed with embarrassment, terrified she had hurt him, sure he could feel the inexperience of her touch. ‘We must go back, I am the best man and you are the bridesmaid. It is my brother’s and your sister’s wedding.’

‘But I haven’t…’ She swallowed hard. ‘You didn’t…’

‘There is time for that later.’ His accent caressed her like a warm blanket on a cold night, and the glimpse of tomorrow, of another time, satisfied her craving in an instant. ‘After the bride and groom leave I have to go to the airport, I have to go to the States, but before then we will talk—arrange to see each other again.’ He kissed her then, slow and hard, but laced with tenderness.

She held onto his words all night, like a precious jewel clasped close to her chest, and it made the night bearable—made the night she had dreaded suddenly exciting.

‘Well, you’ve changed your tune.’

Helping Janey out of her wedding dress and into her leaving outfit, Catherine was barely able to keep her hands still enough to undo the zipper.

Rico was downstairs waiting for her. In an hour or so she would be in his arms again.

‘See—I knew if you actually let your hair down you might enjoy yourself.’ Turning, Janey stared for a moment, taking in the dark, dishevelled curls, the glittering eyes and flushed cheeks. ‘How come you changed your dress?’ Her eyes dragged over the simple rust silk tunic Catherine had changed into, watching her sister’s cheeks darken.

‘Pink tulle really isn’t my thing,’ Catherine answered as blithely as she could with her heart in her mouth.

‘Well, it’s certainly Rico’s thing. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.’ Calculating blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Where did you two disappear to after the speeches?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Catherine was flustered, appalled that her sister might know. ‘Come on, Janey, you’ll miss your flight.’

‘It will wait,’ Janey said airily, ‘When you’ve got your own private plane it doesn’t leave without you.’ Her voice dropped then, suddenly serious, and her eyes were wide with an urgency that made Catherine suddenly nervous. ‘Play your cards right, sis, and all this could be yours.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous…’

‘It really could. I’ve paved the way for you, Catherine, do you know how hard I had to work to convince Marco I wasn’t just after him for his money? That I wasn’t some cheap little gold-digger?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it, Janey.’

‘But I am a cheap little gold-digger.’ Janey gave a malicious smile. ‘And now I’m married to a very rich man. You could do it too, Catherine.’ She gave a dry, mirthless laugh as her sister shook her head and covered her ears, her voice rising in excitement as she pulled Catherine’s hands away, enjoying her sister’s embarrassment as she warmed to her subject. ‘You hate your job, hate working with those awful children, hate your poky little flat…’

‘Janey…’ Catherine gave in then. Gave up trying to reason with her sister. Janey would never believe that even though she moaned about staff shortages and even her students at times, she loved her work—truly adored it. And, yes, her flat might be small, but it was home.

Tears were threatening now, at a vision of her sister so alive, so excited—such an appalling contrast to the cold, lifeless body that lay just a few rooms away. Balling her fists into her eyes, Catherine held them back. There was no point in tears, none at all. There was no one to wipe them—hadn’t been since the day her parents had died—and there was no one to comfort her tonight. Her memories flicked back in a second to the awful reality she faced—a reality she had to accept.

Janey was dead.

Rico despised her.




CHAPTER TWO


‘CATHERINE.’

Gripping the jewellery tight in the palm of her hand, she stilled, her breath hot in her lungs. Even her heart seemed to stop for a second, then thudded back into action, tripping into a gallop as the scent that had fuelled her dreams for a year reached her nostrils, as the low drawl of one single word catapulted her senses into overdrive.

‘Catherine?’

This time she looked up, praying somehow that the passage of time might render her impervious to his beauty, that a year might have dimmed the passion in those dark eyes, that somehow she might see that her imagination had been working overtime, had built him up to a status that cold reality would knock down. But if anything, Catherine realised, her imagination had underplayed his exquisiteness. Hadn’t quite captured the haughty, effortless elegance, the razor-sharp cheekbones, the jet-dark hair, superbly cut, the tiny fan of silver at the temples that accentuated those inscrutable coal eyes.

‘I came as soon as I heard.’

She didn’t respond—couldn’t respond. His presence was too overwhelming to allow for speech. Instead she gave a small nod, struggled with lips that didn’t seem to know how to move any more.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Since five.’ Her voice was a croak, the two words all she could manage, but as his eyes bored into her Catherine realised more was called for and she cleared her throat, knowing he deserved the facts. It was his brother who was dead, after all. Their one night of passion and bitter parting had no place in this conversation, this was no time to rake over their past. ‘I came back from work and the police were at my door. They drove me here.’

‘Have they told you how it happened?’ When she didn’t answer he pushed harder. ‘I know there was an accident. I know that Marco and Janey are both dead and that Lily is on the children’s ward, but that is all I know.’ His fists were bunched in tension. Catherine could see a muscle galloping in his taut cheek and she knew how hard it must be for a man like Rico, who always knew what was happening, always had everything in control, to be in the dark—to know that for once there was absolutely nothing he could do to put things right.

‘I have tried to speak with the doctors and the police, but everyone who dealt with it directly is off duty. I will of course speak with them in the morning, but for now I would appreciate it if you could fill me in.’

His voice was supremely polite, as if he were addressing a stranger, and Catherine realised with a stab of sadness that that was exactly what she was to him—a stranger who had passed by once, no more and no less.

‘Of course.’ Again she cleared her throat, opened her mouth to speak, but his rather forebidding stance wasn’t inspiring and she dragged her eyes away, resting her head in her hands and massaging her temples for a moment, willing eloquence to come.

‘I need to know what happened, Catherine.’ There was an impatient note to his voice.

‘I’m trying to tell you, if you’d just—’

‘I need to know now!’ His fingers snapped in her face, an impatient Latin gesture that held no charm at all, and Catherine blinked and jumped back as Rico raised his voice. ‘I am sorry you have had to deal with this—sorry you have had to face it all. But that is not my fault. I was in a closed meeting, my phone was off, and my secretary had taken an early flight back to Melbourne. I came as soon as I heard. I have been stuck in traffic, held up at the airport, and sitting on a plane going out of my mind with worry. I need some answers!’

The fire suddenly seemed to go out of him, his eyes taking in her shocked expression, the reddened rims of her eyes, the pale and trembling lips. ‘I know it has been hard for you today, and I am sorry you have had to face this alone, but I am here now and I will take care of everything.’

‘Take care of everything?’ An incredulous laugh shot out of her pale lips, the anger that had simmered since the tragic news had been delivered, unleashed now. And however misdirected, however much this wasn’t Rico’s fault, he was the nearest target and Catherine turned a furious glare on him, her words coming out staccato, her body trembling with rage. How dare he waltz in here and demand answers? Swan in past midnight and say he would deal with it now when it had been she, Catherine, dealing with it—she alone facing the police, the social workers. She alone who had stood and identified the bodies.

‘I have taken care of everything, Rico!’ she shouted. ‘Just as I took care of everything when my parents were killed. I should be used to it by now, I suppose. I guess I’m an old hand at identifying bodies and filling in forms!’

He didn’t move a muscle, just stood in grim silence as her outburst continued, and his inaction incensed her, spurred her on to new levels of anger.

‘I’ve been in this hospital for seven hours taking care of things, so don’t you dare march in here and expect an eloquent detached statement, then snap your fingers in impatience if I don’t speak quickly enough for you!’ She looked up at him, her eyes furious and her chin jutting defiantly. ‘I am not a member of your family, Rico, and neither am I one of your staff. You have no right to demand anything from me, no right at all. However, if you will sit down and exercise some patience I will tell you, as best I can, what little I know.’

For a second she thought he might hit her. Anger blazed in his eyes, the pent-up frustration of what must have been a hellish few hours undoubtedly exacerbated by her venom. But just as she thought she’d pushed him too far his wide shoulders slumped in an almost dejected fashion, and almost imperceptibly he gave a small nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing a couple of times as he looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. Registering the fake leather chairs, he chose one next to her and sat down, raking a hand through his short hair, over the dark stubble of his chin, before turning to face her.

‘I came as soon as I could,’ he said again, but this time, his words were quiet, raw with emotion—apologetic even—his eyes utterly bereft as he stared at her, and for a tiny slice of time she caught a glimpse inside the beautiful head of Rico Mancini. Understood the pain behind the inscrutable mask he wore so effortlessly for she felt the agony of this senseless loss too.

‘They went out for lunch,’ Catherine started, her voice almost a whisper. ‘They took Lily because apparently their nanny, Jessica, had walked out on them this morning.’

He opened his mouth, then closed it quickly, and Catherine gave a grateful nod. She would answer the whys in her own time.

‘I went round last night, Rico.’

‘You were there last night?’ His eyes widened and she could almost hear his brain whirring into motion, almost foretell the questions on the tip of his tongue. But somehow he managed to hold them in, to let her tell her tale in her own time.

‘I was at a parent-teacher night at school. It didn’t finish till after nine, and for some reason—for some reason I…’ Her fists clenched in her lap as the pain became almost more than she could bear, and only when he took her hand, only when he held it in his, was Catherine able to go on. ‘I went round,’ she whispered. ‘I just couldn’t be a bystander any more. What Janey and Marco got up to might have been their business, but if it was affecting Lily I couldn’t just sit back and watch…’

Her eyes met his, imploring him to understand, and she was rewarded with a small nod. ‘Of course they weren’t at home, but I decided to wait. I spoke to Jessica—I wanted to find out if things were as bad as I feared or if I was just imagining it—and believe me she was only too happy to unload. Apparently she was sick of the way they carried on—the wild parties, the mess, and the fact they consistently forgot to pay her didn’t help. It was supposed to have been her night off, but yet again Janey and Marco had gone out without telling her.’

Catherine was staring at their hands now, their fingers interlaced, and the contrast between them had never been more obvious. His dark and strong, a heavy watch on his wrist, such a contrast to her pale and trembling hands, an inkstain on her fingers, her nails short and neat but certainly not as groomed.

‘We both waited for them to come home.’

For an age he said nothing, just held her hand tighter before gently saying, ‘There was a confrontation?’

‘I believe that would be the polite term for it.’

She screwed her eyes closed, the images of last night too horrible to relive. The harsh words she had spoken in anger were out now, with no hands of time to soothe them over the years.

‘Jessica said she was leaving in the morning. That as soon as they’d sobered up enough to take responsibility for Lily she was going to get out of there—which is presumably why they took Lily to lunch with them,’ Catherine carried on. ‘You would have thought that might have slowed them down, forced them to behave responsibly…’ Her voice trailed off, and this time when Rico broke in it wasn’t unwelcome.

‘They were drinking.’ It wasn’t a question, more a statement, but Catherine shook her head.

‘I’m not sure what they were doing. According to the blood test Marco wasn’t over the limit, but the police have ordered a drug screen. Apparently Marco was stumbling when they left the restaurant, and the doorman said he was utterly incoherent as they walked out. The lunch went till four. The only sensible thing they did all day was make sure that Lily was strapped in her car seat before they took off.’

‘Who was driving?’

‘Marco.’

‘Was anyone else…?’ His questions weren’t rapid now, and they were no longer unwelcome. The whole sorry mess was easier shared.

‘No one else was hurt. It seems Marco lost control or fell asleep at the wheel. They shot through the safety barrier onto the other side of the road, but thankfully they didn’t hit anyone else.’

‘Did they…?’ Rico’s eyes screwed closed and his fist balled again, only this time not in anger.

‘Apparently they didn’t suffer.’ She repeated the nurse’s words, hoping they might bring Rico the comfort that had eluded her, but the wry twist of his mouth told her the effect was about the same.

‘They left that part to us.’

Us.

Even in the depths of despair the word offered a shelter for her mind to run to and hide for a while from the onslaught of the day and she took welcome refuge. Rico’s hand tightened harder around hers; his grip warm and strong and it helped—helped her get through the next few seconds at least.

‘Sorry to interrupt.’ The nurse was back now, standing hesitantly at the door, a sympathetic smile on her young face and as Rico’s hand dropped hers like a hot stone, cruel reality invaded.

There is no us, Catherine reminded herself. There never has been.

She was in this alone.

‘I’m going off on my break in a few minutes. Would you like me to walk you back up to the children’s ward before I go? It’s a bit of a maze…’

‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.’ Rico stood up, the tenderness she had briefly witnessed flicking off like a light switch, as he asserted his authority in an instant. ‘I have already been to the children’s ward and seen Lily. I explained to the sister in charge that Miss Masters and I will be staying at a nearby hotel tonight and will be back first thing in the morning. Thank you,’ he said again crisply, effectively dismissing her, and as the door closed Catherine blinked at him a couple of times.

‘You’ve been to see Lily?’

‘Of course.’

Of course. The words played over in her mind. Of course he would have been to see her first. Marco and Janey were dead, there was nothing he could do there, why wouldn’t he rush to see his niece? It made perfect sense, but a chill of foreboding crept over her as she met his dark, brooding stare, saw his eyes narrow suspiciously as he watched her.

‘I don’t want to go to a hotel and leave her.’ Catherine stood up, relieved that her legs, although still trembling, seemed at least to be holding her now. ‘I don’t think she should be alone tonight. If she wakes up—’

‘The nurses will deal with her,’ Rico said crisply ‘And if there is a problem we are only two minutes away. That is why I have booked into a hotel rather than go home; we will be literally across the road.’

‘But I’d be next to her here,’ Catherine pointed out. ‘Just because you’re too grand to sleep on a roller bed it doesn’t mean that I am.’

‘I make no apology,’ Rico clipped. ‘I would like to shower, I would like a very large drink, and…’ Whatever else he wanted, Rico wasn’t sharing it. He stared haughtily back at her. ‘I’m sure the nurses will be able to cope with her.’

‘But she needs—’

‘What?’ Rico broke in, his word a pistol shot. ‘Needs what? You can’t miss what you don’t have, and I doubt that baby has ever seen her mother after six p.m. In the six months Lily’s been alive she’s already had to get to know five nannies, so I’m sure a nurse feeding her in the middle of the night isn’t going to send her into a frenzy. Your sister made quite sure Lily got used to strangers.’

Your sister. He had spat the words at her accusingly but Catherine refused to rise.

‘I want to be with her,’ Catherine stated calmly. ‘If you want to go to a hotel—fine. But I’m not leaving.’ Picking up her bag, she headed for the door, but the slow handclap resounding from Rico stilled her. Tossing her head, she turned to face him, her eyes questioning.

‘Bravo,’ he sneered. ‘If I didn’t know you better you’d almost pass for a grief-stricken aunty.’

‘I just want to do the right thing by Lily,’ Catherine responded, utterly bemused, with no idea where this was leading.

‘Of course you do!’ She heard the sarcasm dripping in his voice, but it merely confused her. ‘Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all that.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Whatever Rico’s problem was she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to do this now. She was exhausted, physically and mentally exhausted, and even though she’d only been promised a roller bed by Lily’s cot the thought of stretching out, of closing her eyes on this vile day, was the only thing keeping her standing. ‘I’ll speak to you in the morning.’

‘You’ll speak to me tonight.’ His voice stayed low but there was a menacing note that had the hairs rising on the back of her neck. ‘You’ll tell me everything that’s happened.’

‘I’ve already told you,’ Catherine responded hotly. ‘What the hell does it matter how it happened, Rico? They’re dead, and going over and over it doesn’t change anything.’

‘Oh, but it does.’ His eyes bored into hers. ‘The fact they’re dead changes everything. Why didn’t you tell me you’d spoken to social workers, Catherine? Why did you omit to mention that you’ve told them you are taking Lily home with you when she’s discharged? That you are applying for guardianship?’

Her mind was working nineteen to the dozen now, realisation dawning as his savage eyes met hers, as she registered just how low he thought she was prepared to stoop.

‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ she insisted. ‘It wasn’t like that. The hospital needed a name, a next of kin, someone to sign a consent form if Lily needed an operation.’

‘And you were only too happy to provide it.’

‘Of course I was,’ Catherine responded hotly. ‘As much as you mightn’t like it, Rico, as much as you might want to wipe me out of your life, I have as much right to be here as you. I am Lily’s aunt just as you are her uncle, and given the fact that her parents have just been killed it makes us her next of kin. I had every right to sign that form and I resent the implication that I had some sort of ulterior motive. She’s seems okay now, but we didn’t know. She has bruises from the car seat and the doctors thought there could be some internal damage. You weren’t here, Rico! What was I supposed to do? Refuse to sign?’

‘Okay,’ he conceded reluctantly. ‘But you told them you are taking Lily home with you when she’s discharged, told them you are prepared to look after her…’

‘And I am,’ Catherine wailed, her patience flying out of the window as she faced this impossible, mistrusting man. ‘She’s my niece and I want to look after her—in the short term at least.’

‘That’s not what you said to the social workers.’

‘Oh, come on, Rico. Janey died this afternoon. I can barely comprehend what’s happened, let alone make long-term plans! As if I know what I’m going to do.’

‘Don’t lie,’ he spat. ‘Poor little Lily. I can just see you laying it on with a trowel to the social workers. I can almost hear the little sob in your voice as you said it!’ His eyes narrowed, his lips contorting as he eyed her distastefully. ‘Only she’s not so poor, is she? As of this evening, Lily’s incredibly rich. You must have been rubbing your hands in glee when the bloody Mancinis couldn’t even be bothered to make it to the hospital—rubbing your hands in glee when no one was there to stop you when you said you’d take care of her.’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ It was Catherine’s voice rising now. ‘How dare you? How dare you accuse me of trying to profit from my sister’s death? How dare you suggest I would use my niece as a pawn? Why would I—’

‘I’ll tell you why.’ His voice was low, a contrast to hers, his eyes forbidding as they stared back at her coldly. ‘Because you hate your life, Catherine. Because you’d go to any lengths to change it.’

‘You’re disgusting.’ Pulling her arms away, she attempted to wrestle it from his hand, but his grip only tightened. ‘Let go of me, Rico. I’m going to my niece.’

‘Over my dead body.’ His face was as white as marble in the fluorescent light, his cheeks jagged, his lips set in grim determination. ‘You’re coming back to the hotel with me, Catherine. Tonight we talk.’




CHAPTER THREE


THEY drove in silence.

Angry denials were bobbing on her tongue, but the set of his jaw, the grip of his hands on the steering wheel told her now wasn’t the time.

They needed to face the situation calmly, talk things through rationally. Lily’s future was too precious to be relegated to a heated row in a hospital corridor, and given the day’s events a high-speed sports car wasn’t exactly the ideal spot either. That was the only reason Catherine had given in and agreed to go back to the hotel, allowed him to lead her through the endless hospital corridors and out to the car park, and she held her tongue now, biting back smart replies, determined to do things properly.

His sleek, low silver car purred through the night streets. The windows thankfully were open, and Catherine welcomed the cool breeze that whipped her cheeks, blowing away the nauseating stench of the hospital. As they slowed at the lights a tram clattered past. A couple of young lovers were kissing in a doorway, and the early editions of tomorrow’s papers were already bundled outside a newsagents’. It was hard to comprehend that the world was carrying on as normal, hard to fathom that those same newspapers probably contained a line or two, maybe even a photo, summarising the tragic end of Janey and Marco for those who wanted to know.

The concierge greeted Rico as if he had been waiting up only for him to arrive, making impatient gestures in Reception to hurry things along.

‘Mr Mancini, this is such an unexpected pleasure. I was just saying that we haven’t seen you or…’ His warm greeting was barely acknowledged and even in her numb state Catherine felt a sting of embarrassment at Rico’s cool treatment of the staff.

‘I would like to go straight up, please.’

‘Your bags are already on their way up, and the housekeeper is turning back the bed as we speak. It will be just a moment—’

‘I don’t have a moment.’ Rico’s voice was pure, unadulterated snobbery. ‘Miss Masters is tired, I am tired, and I’m going to my room!’ Striding to the lift, he beckoned a furiously blushing Catherine to join him, punching the top button and closing the door on the poor concierge.

‘You really think you’re better than everyone, don’t you?’

For once Rico didn’t respond, for once a smart reply seemed to elude him, and Catherine warmed to her subject as the lift door slid open on the heady heights of the penthouse. She watched as he dismissed the frenziedly working staff with one flick of his hand and let out a low snort, shaking her head as he poured himself a drink, not even bothering to offer her one.

‘You haven’t even booked a room here, yet you expect one to be waiting for you—for people to jump just because you deign to grace them with your presence.’

‘What do you expect me to do, Catherine?’ He downed his drink in one, slamming the crystal onto the silver tray, his eyes finally meeting hers. ‘Tell me how you expected me to behave down there.’

‘You could have shown some manners, to start with,’ Catherine replied hotly, and even though the argument was meaningless, even though it was so far removed from all that had happened, she prolonged it. Maybe it was easier than facing the real reason why she was here. ‘The concierge was being nothing but pleasant—’

‘He’s paid to be pleasant,’ Rico broke in. ‘He’s paid to remember my name, to remember that this is where my brother and I come for lunch when my schedule allows, that sometimes I choose to stay here rather than drive home.’

‘Maybe he is paid to remember, but surely you can still be polite when someone greets you!’

‘My brother is dead,’ Rico snapped.

‘So is my sister. But I don’t use it as an excuse to snub people. I didn’t treat the nurses and doctors like dirt on my shoe…’

‘If I hadn’t interrupted him he would have asked about Marco, asked how he was doing, when they could expect to see him again. Did you want me to tell him, Catherine? Did you want me to stand in the foyer and tell the world my brother is dead when any moment now they’re going to find out anyway?’

He looked at her bemused face and shook his head disbelievingly. Picking up a remote control, he flicked on the television, watching her expression as the images shot into focus, hearing the tiny strangled sob as the mangled wreckage of a car filled the screen, then Marco and Janey’s wedding photo, superimposed on the top right corner. The news reader droned on, regaling supposed facts Catherine simply wasn’t ready to hear, and her hand shot to her ears in a childlike gesture, her eyes screwing closed against the horrible images that seemed to be choking her.

‘I asked the hospital not to release their names until we left.’

His explanation wasn’t helping, and she opened her eyes, stared at him, bemused.

‘A Mancini is dead.’

‘Two Mancinis,’ Catherine corrected. ‘My sister counts too.’

‘Your sister counts for nothing,’ Rico sneered. ‘But, yes, I stand corrected. Technically two Mancinis are dead, Catherine, and that is news. No doubt the poor concierge you were so worried about is now either kicking himself for his insensitivity or ringing the press to tell them I am here.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘Frankly, I don’t give a damn which one it is.’

‘But why would the press want to speak to you?’

‘Are you stupid, Catherine? Or just a really good actress?’

His words barely touched the sides. Pain was already layered on top of pain—another dash of scorn, another dose of humiliation from Rico was not much in the scheme of things.

‘I’m not stupid, Rico.’ Her brown eyes met his. ‘I read the papers, I watch the news when I get home from work, and I know how powerful the Mancinis are, I know that the stockmarket rises and falls depending on your company’s profits. But Marco wasn’t a part of the family business—Marco never worked a day in his life. I really can’t see why the press are getting so excited. His death isn’t going to affect the company—’

‘Do you think the press will care about a small detail like that?’ Rico broke in, ‘Marco is rich, he has a daughter—’

‘Was rich,’ Catherine corrected, and for a second so small it was barely there she was sure she saw a flicker of pain in those dark eyes, saw the haughty, bland mask slip for a tiny second, but she continued anyway. ‘Had a daughter.’

‘Which is why I’ve brought you here.’

‘You didn’t bring me here,’ Catherine pointed out. ‘I chose to come. I’m not stupid, Rico, but possibly I’ve been a bit naamp2;¨ve. Maybe the world isn’t going to stop because of Janey and Marco’s deaths, but it’s certainly going to pause for a few days’ reflection, and I can see that Lily’s future will be debated vigorously by people who don’t give a damn about her. But I for one don’t care what the newspapers have to say, because at the end of the day everyone will get on with their lives. We’re the ones who are going to be living it; we’re the ones dealing with the issues.’

‘I don’t give a damn what the press say, either,’ Rico responded. ‘But it is not only the press who will be having their say…’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he stared at her for the longest moment, as if deciding whether or not to continue. ‘My stepmother is not going to let you have Lily.’ A tiny gasp of protest escaped Catherine’s lips, but she swallowed it back. Rico’s words were too important for interruption. ‘I can tell you now that she won’t allow it to happen. She will not allow Lily’s inheritance to leave the family.’

‘But why?’ Catherine asked, bemused. ‘Surely she doesn’t need the money? Surely…?’

‘Too much is never enough, and the way my stepmother spends money this unexpected windfall will not be given up without a fight.’ His mouth set in a grim line. ‘My stepmother is the coldest woman on this earth. She is the reason Marco went off the rails, the reason he drank himself—’

‘That’s an excuse,’ Catherine broke in. ‘I had the same argument over and over with Janey, when she tried to blame our parents for whatever scrape she found herself in. You had the same family as Marco, the same pressures, yet you still managed to hold down a job, manage your affairs. Marco may have been disadvantaged by his stepmother, but he still had a lot more opportunities in life than most people dream of. You do him no favours by blaming your stepmother.’

‘Perhaps,’ Rico conceded. ‘But it is not always black and white, Catherine. People are different. I am stronger than Marco; I am tougher.’ There was no superiority in his words, just the cool deliverance of fact, and this time Catherine chose not to remind him that Marco was now in the past tense. She just listened as he continued to talk. ‘Antonia is a nasty piece of work, and till the day I die I will blame her in part for the fact Marco is now lying in a mortuary…’ His voice wavered slightly, his fists clenching in salute by his sides, and Catherine was shocked to see what was surely the glint of tears in those dark eyes. But just as soon as his pain registered, like a light flicking off, the impassive mask returned. ‘I will not allow her to mess up Lily the way she messed up Marco.’

‘Then what was all that about back at the hospital?’ Deliberately she kept her tone even, refusing to be intimidated by him. ‘Given what you’ve just told me, surely I’m the better option to raise Lily? And before you insist I only want her for the money, let me tell you, Rico, you are wrong. Her inheritance never entered my head—not until you came tonight.’

He stared at her, disbelief etched on his features, but his shrug was almost weary. ‘Maybe you want both. Maybe you do care for Lily, and I guess there is no shame in wanting to be rich.’ She opened her mouth to argue, but Rico carried on talking. ‘I cannot let Lily go with this woman, Catherine.’

‘Then let me have her.’

‘It is not that simple. Antonia will go to every court in the land, use every means available to discredit you. She’ll have the most expensive lawyers. You are a teacher, Catherine. The reality is that you survive on a schoolteacher’s wage. Against her you won’t stand a chance.’

His words made sense, and a dark feeling of foreboding shivered through her. Though it galled her to ask for his assistance, Catherine knew she had no choice, and the words were out before the idea had even formed. ‘You could help me.’

‘Why would I help you, Catherine? Why wouldn’t I just apply for custody myself?’

‘Go ahead,’ Catherine said airily, though her heart was in her mouth. She registered the surprise in his expression and it gave her a small surge of triumph. Her eyes met his defiantly, fighting fire with fire as she carried on talking. ‘But don’t try and scare me off, Rico, with talk of money and lawyers. I’ll sell my home if I have to, and when the money has gone I’ll apply for legal aid. I’ll tell you this now, and I’ll tell each Mancini in turn if they care to ask: I have as much right to Lily as anyone. Unlike you, I’ve actually played a part in her short life. As much as I loathed the way Marco and Janey carried on I still went round, still made sure I was there for Lily…’

‘I’ve been busy with work,’ Rico argued. ‘And watching those two made me—’

‘Save it,’ Catherine snapped. ‘Tell the court how you couldn’t even get away for her christening, how you saw your niece for two minutes at the hospital the day after she was born and that you haven’t seen her since.’

‘There are reasons!’ Rico roared, but Catherine just glared back.

‘Excuses,’ Catherine flared. ‘They are nothing but excuses! And now you have the gall to tell me you want custody of Lily—a baby you’ve barely met. Well, I’m not going to let you do it, Rico. I don’t give a damn about the Mancini fortune, and your power doesn’t frighten me. I will fight for her, and deep down I think you know that I’m the best person for her.’

‘You?’

She heard the scorn and contempt in his voice and deliberately kept hers even. ‘Yes, me, Rico. I will fight for Lily. I will do whatever it takes to ensure her future. Whatever it takes,’ Catherine repeated, just to be sure he understood. ‘I know you don’t think much of me, Rico. You made that abundantly clear on the night of the wedding—’

‘That night has no bearing on this discussion.’

‘Oh, but it does.’ The sting of embarrassment brought a flush of colour to her pale cheeks, but Catherine refused to be silenced. Lily’s future was too important for her to dodge behind embarrassing facts. ‘You were the one who treated me like a cheap tart, Rico.’ She saw him wince at her brutal words, but ploughed on anyway. ‘You were the one who walked out of the reception without even a goodbye…’ Her cheeks were red now, but not with embarrassment. Instead it was with a year’s worth of humiliation and anger at this man who had treated her with such contempt. ‘I ran after you, Rico. I came to your car and knocked on your window and you refused to even look at me…’

‘Because you disgusted me.’

Her recoil was so visible he might as well have hit her. The colour that had suffused her cheeks drained, and tears that had stayed buried all day, were stinging now, but Catherine bit them back, refusing to let him see her cry, to allow him the glory of her utter humiliation.

‘Might I remind you, Rico—’ her voice was strained but dignified, her lips barely moving as she struggled to hold it together ‘—that it takes two? And if you’re going to try and use that night to discredit me in court then it won’t work. You were very much a participant in what happened.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he sneered.

‘Presumably you’re one of those chauvinist men who assume it’s okay for men to behave in such a fashion but that’s it somehow different for women?’ He opened his mouth to speak but Catherine overrode him, her voice coming louder now. ‘And maybe you’re right, Rico. Because try as I might I cannot justify what happened that night. I cannot explain to anyone, let alone myself, how I ended up in a hotel room with a man I barely knew. Yes, I behaved like a cheap tart—so you see, Rico, you can’t hurt me with your cruel words, can’t shame me any more than I shamed myself that night. I may disgust you, but I can assure you I disgust myself more.’

They stood in bristling silence, her words resonating like an awful echo until Catherine could no longer bear it—couldn’t bear to stand there a moment longer. Her eyes scanned the luxurious room for an exit, settling instead for the safety of the bathroom, and only when she’d closed the door did she let out the breath she had been inadvertently holding. Her jaw was aching from gritting her teeth together.

How could she explain to him that to her dying day she would never be able to fathom how she had so brazenly allowed him to touch her, hold her? That even a year on she could scarcely comprehend the intimacies she had shared with a virtual stranger that night? But he hadn’t seemed like a stranger, Catherine recalled, resting her burning face against the mirror as she remembered the passion that had gripped her, that had sullied her sensibility and overridden her normal reservation.

How could she explain to Rico what she couldn’t understand herself?

Peeling off her clothes, Catherine stepped into the shower, the welcome bliss of water on her body soothing somehow, giving her a few moments to compose herself, to sort through the jumble of events today had thrown at her. She wished she could stay there for ever, wished she could hide from the world for just a moment longer, but somehow she had to be strong, had to go back in that room and face him.

For Lily’s sake.

Pulling on a thick white robe, she tied it firmly before filling the sink to wash her stockings and knickers. Luxurious as the hotel might be, it didn’t come with a fully stocked wardrobe—and anyway she was glad of the chance to prolong the discussion a few moments longer.

‘What are you doing?’

Appalled, she swung round, scarcely able to believe his gall.

‘How dare you come in here without knocking?’ Eyes blazing, she met his gaze. ‘How dare you come in here? I could have been naked…’

‘You are dressed in a robe,’ Rico pointed out, clearly unmoved at her protests. ‘We need to talk, and instead you are hiding in here.’

‘I’m not hiding,’ Catherine lied, but Rico just shook his head.

‘Why are you washing your clothes like some gipsy in the river, then?’ he sneered. ‘You are hiding, Catherine…’

‘You really are the limit—do you know that? For your information, I didn’t stop to pack an overnight bag when the police arrived at my door.’

‘Send your washing down to Housekeeping, then.’ Rico shrugged.

‘I have some pride,’ Catherine retorted. ‘Not much, I admit that—you’ve managed to obliterate most of it—but if you think I’m going to hand my underwear over to be washed and ironed then you’ve got another think coming.’ Very deliberately she turned away, rinsing out her washing and draping it over the bath ledge, making sure she took her time, sensing his bristling impatience yet refusing to be rushed, refusing to turn as he commenced the discussion she had hoped to delay.

‘If Lily were older undoubtedly we could ask her what she wanted. But given she is only six months old, that is of course impossible.’

She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t turn, just gave a small nod as Rico continued.

‘So perhaps we should ask ourselves what her parents would have wanted?’

His words made sense, and reluctantly she turned to face him, willing to at least listen to what Rico had to say.

‘Marco and I may have rowed on occasion, and I may have alienated myself from him to some degree because I didn’t approve of his lifestyle, but we still met up regularly. As I said before, we came to this hotel for many lunches, and whatever trouble he was in Marco knew he could always call on me. I know that he did respect me.’ His voice thickened and he swallowed hard before continuing. ‘I know in my heart that he loved me, Catherine, and I also know he would have wanted me to raise his child. So now it’s your turn. What about Janey?’

His eyes never left her face, taking in every flicker of reaction as his question reached her. ‘What would Janey have wanted for Lily?’

‘She’d have wanted me to have her…’ Her voice trailed off, her startled eyes blinking rapidly, and Rico leapt in, sensing weakness and exploiting it in an instant.

‘Because she loved you?’ His voice was so silken you might almost have missed the derisive sneer, but Catherine was like a radar where Rico was concerned, and she flinched at his insensitivity. ‘Janey would have wanted you to have Lily because she adored her big sister Catherine?’

‘She did love me; I was her sister.’ Her lips were impossibly dry and she ran her tongue over them, her head spinning as he relentlessly continued.

‘You don’t have to love your sister, Catherine,’ Rico pointed out mercilessly. ‘You don’t even have to love your husband—and Janey didn’t love Marco, did she? Did she?’ He roared the words the second time—the roar of a lion defending its territory, of a beautiful animal to be admired from a distance, but that could turn in a second. ‘In fact Marco was just a walking, talking chequebook to his young bride…’

‘Rico, please…’ Catherine started. She wanted him to stop, wanted to end this horrible interrogation, didn’t want to sully the few precious memories she had with the awful truth—didn’t want to admit even to herself how little Janey had thought of her.

‘Janey wanted the fast cars, the nice home, the maids, the lifestyle—and I don’t doubt she’d have wanted the same for her daughter.’

‘Janey would have wanted me,’ Catherine insisted, but the lack of conviction in her voice truly terrified her. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Rico.’

‘Have I?’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Which part?’

‘All of it,’ Catherine whispered, pleating the tie of her robe with trembling fingers. And she knew there and then that she could never admit to the truth. Rico was right, damn him, and it hurt to admit it. Janey hadn’t loved her; Janey had hated her. More damaging than that, Janey had blatantly admitted she had married Marco for his money. If it ever got out, if Catherine ever admitted the truth, what chance would she have against the family courts? What chance would she have against the might of Rico Mancini? It would all be over bar the shouting.

Lily would be gone from her life as surely as she was standing here now.

A lion Rico might be, but the lioness in Catherine emerged then—proud and wary, sleek and refined, and willing to do whatever it took to protect those she loved. To her dying breath she would deny it. She would take Janey’s words to the grave. Would lie through her teeth if that was what it took.

Lily needed her.

‘Janey loved Marco.’

‘She told you that?’

Dragging in air through her clenched teeth, she wrenched her eyes from the floor and forced herself to do the hardest thing she had done in her life—look Rico in the eye and lie.

‘Yes, Rico. She told me that she loved him. Janey loved Marco and his money had nothing to do with it. I know in my heart that—’

‘Save it.’ A well-manicured hand flicked in the air. His eyes were more shuttered than ever, his voice almost weary, and for once there was economy in his actions, the usual extravagant Latin temperament curiously subdued as he halted her speech. ‘It is time for bed.’




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