CHAPTER TEN
DRESSED IN A dapper silver suit and open-necked black shirt, and looking as if he had just stepped off a catwalk, Francesco was sinisterly handsome. Grace would have bet every penny she owned he winked at his own reflection whenever he looked in a mirror. She had met him half a dozen times and he never failed to make her skin crawl. If she were to paint him she would cast him as a vulture.
‘Luca!’ He opened his arms wide and pulled him into an embrace that involved lots of back-slapping.
Grace watched Luca carefully, certain she had felt him tense at Francesco’s approach. He responded with the same masculine enthusiasm, but as they conversed she could hear the tension in his voice, even if she couldn’t understand the words.
Finally, Luca switched to English. ‘Do you remember my wife, Grace?’
‘But of course.’ Francesco’s English was faultless. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. There was nothing seedy in his manner but, for reasons she could not even begin to quantify, she wanted to snatch her hand away and disinfect it.
‘I trust you have fully recovered from the ailment that kept you away for so long?’ From the tone of his voice, he seemed to be speaking in code. Unfortunately she did not have the faintest idea what the code stood for.
‘Yes, she is fully recovered,’ Luca interjected smoothly.
‘Excellent news. Please, both of you, accept my congratulations on the birth of your first child together. I hope your family is blessed with many more bambini.’
‘That’s what we hope for too,’ said Luca.
The conversation ended with the men exchanging another back-breaking embrace before Francesco disappeared into a melee of beautiful women.
‘What the hell was that about?’ Grace demanded. ‘What am I supposed to have recovered from?’
‘Pre-natal depression.’
‘What?’
‘I told him you’d been in England.’ Here he shrugged. ‘His own mother suffered from severe pre-natal depression. He assumed you had suffered from it too and had gone to England to be cared for by your mother.’
‘Why didn’t you set him straight?’ she seethed. ‘Why couldn’t you say I left you but that we had decided to try again for Lily’s sake?’
He quelled her with a stare. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Of course not,’ she said sarcastically. She could feel her skin heating, his implacability heightening her anger. ‘It would never do for people to think there was something wrong with you that made me leave, would there?’
‘There is nothing wrong with me.’ His eyes bored into her. If Grace’s temperature had risen, his had lifted in conjunction. ‘All that’s wrong is how you interpreted matters to suit your own notions of how a businessman is supposed to conduct his affairs.’
If only she had been born with Medusa-like powers she could turn him into stone to match his heart.
‘Where are you going?’ he snapped as she stepped away.
‘To the ladies’, before I give in to temptation and cause a scene. Why? Are you going to follow me to make sure I don’t escape?’
A pulse in his jaw throbbed as he leaned into her, his breath hot against her ear. ‘If you want to leave, then I promise you one thing: I will not stop you and I will not look for you.’
‘I think you’ll find that was two things.’
Leaving him to stew in a pit of his own self-righteous anger, Grace proceeded to the ladies’ cloakroom, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of another.
In the sanctuary of the opulent bathroom, she took stock of her appearance. As she retouched her eyeliner and reapplied her lipstick all she could think was her own husband had let Francesco think she suffered from depression.
The worst of it was, she could actually understand why a man with Luca’s ferocious pride would allow such a thing. In a mad kind of way, it made a heck of a lot of sense. His wife had vanished from the face of the earth. She hadn’t just left him, she’d disappeared without a trace. When eventually he found her and discovered she’d had his child, what was he supposed to tell people? That his own wife thought him so evil she would hide his flesh and blood from him? Honour and pride were everything, and she had wounded both.
By letting people believe she had left out of something beyond either of their control he could save face. For both of them.
Jeez, she was actually making excuses for him.
Only when she was satisfied her emotions were sufficiently masked did she leave the bathroom.
The ballroom had become so crowded she had trouble finding him. Snaking her way through the mass of bodies, she finally spotted him on a stool at the bar, nursing a glass of champagne.
As she neared him a warm hand grabbed her wrist. ‘There you are. I thought you’d run away again.’
Twisting round, she met the contempt that was in her brother-in-law’s eyes. ‘Pepe! I didn’t know you were here.’
‘Well, I am.’
She attempted a smile. She had always adored Pepe, a man who gave the air that life was just one big party. Apart from when arguing with his brother, of course. Not tonight though. Tonight he looked darkly serious.
‘Your mother said you would be home a few days ago. Have you been avoiding me?’
He sighed, checked over his shoulder to where Luca was sitting and tugged her into an alcove, away from the throng of people moving like a river around them. ‘I thought it best to keep my distance until I could be certain I wouldn’t throttle you for what you put my brother through. I didn’t think he would appreciate that.’
‘He would have cheered you on.’
His eyes became mocking. ‘Why would that be?’
‘He hates me.’ Whatever Luca might say to strangers to explain her absence, his brother would get the truth. However divergent their lives and personalities, however ferocious their arguments, they were close.
‘You stole his baby from him.’ He made it sound so simple.
She sighed. ‘I wish it were as straightforward as that.’
‘It is. You ran away and stole his baby, ergo he hated you.’
It was Grace’s turn to look over her shoulder, barely registering the past tense Pepe had just used. A woman had joined Luca at the bar. Whatever he’d said to her must have been the funniest thing in the world, for she threw her head back and laughed.
Pepe followed her line of sight. ‘Worried he’s searching for your replacement?’
She rolled her eyes, masking the stabbing pain piercing her heart. ‘I have no control over what Luca does.’
‘You have no idea.’ He shook his head with a scowl of incredulity. ‘Do you have any idea why I’m here at this scumbag’s party?’
Her brow furrowed. ‘Do you mean Francesco?’
‘Who else? I’m here because I don’t trust the bastard. Now that Luca is cutting all ties with him—’
Certain she had misheard, she cut him off. ‘He’s what?’
‘Luca is ending their association. He told him at their meeting earlier.’ His eyes narrowed as he took in her shock. ‘I assumed he’d told you.’
She shook her head, hundreds of thoughts fighting for space in her head. ‘Luca stopped discussing business with me a long time ago. Were you never part of their business dealings?’
His face contorted into something ugly. ‘Francesco Calvetti is scum. I would sooner have made a deal with the devil. The terms would have been friendlier.’
‘So you’re only here to watch Luca’s back?’
‘Why else?’
Luca had cut his ties with Francesco...?
She remembered the look on Francesco’s face at the casino, when he and Luca had been interrogating that poor man. What she remembered from that brief moment she had been in the office, before Luca had frogmarched her out, had been the cold cruelty she’d observed in Francesco’s eyes. It had been in marked contrast to the thoughtfulness she had seen in her husband’s.
Francesco enjoyed using threats and violence, whereas Luca used them only because he felt it necessary. There was a big difference.
It shouldn’t make any difference to how she felt about him, but it did.
‘I need to get back to Luca,’ she murmured, her eyes fixed on her husband and the buxom woman jabbering away in his ear.
As she made to walk off, Pepe called after her, ‘Have you seen your friend since you returned?’
‘Who? Cara?’
He nodded. His position and the angle of the light above him highlighted the silvery scar that ran across his left cheek.
‘Not yet.’ Cara’s continued elusiveness concerned her. It was unlike her tender-hearted friend to be so evasive...
A thought occurred to her.
‘Was it you who stole the data from her phone?’
He cast his eyes about, looking anywhere but at her.
Jaw clenched, she shook her head. It was inconceivable Cara would have let Luca within ten miles of her, but Pepe...
‘Cara is the sweetest, nicest person in the world. If you’ve hurt her, I swear I’ll make you live to regret it.’
With a parting ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Pepe disappeared into the crowd of revellers.
Grace took a deep breath to clear her head. Right now, she would have to put her friend to the back of her mind. As selfish as she knew it to be, she had more pressing worries to deal with.
She headed back into the throng and wove her way towards Luca. She could not quite hide the fear that Pepe’s analysis was accurate. Was Luca still holding interviews for the role of his mistress?
Judging by the way the woman at the bar was leaning into him, it appeared so.
As she closed in on him her stomach roiled.
Watching her husband flirt with other women was surreal. First the assistant in the boutique and now this tanned, pneumatically boobed creature.
When they had been married—properly married, that was—she had often noticed women eye him up but that had been the extent of their interest. She and Luca had been practically glued at the hip. If another woman had tried to garner his attention he wouldn’t have noticed or cared.
As she drew closer she realised any flirting was one-sided, a feeling confirmed when he looked up and she saw the dullness in his eyes.
That look made her heart lighten and relief spread its tentacles through her. The woman could be flirting with a brick wall for all the attention Luca was paying her.
Deliberately, she stepped between them.
‘Excuse me!’ The woman spoke with a broad cockney accent. Able to look closely at her, Grace recognised her as a glamour model, a favourite of the British press.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said lightly. ‘That was incredibly rude of me. I’m Grace, Luca’s wife.’ A glass of champagne had been placed on the bar. Without missing a beat, she picked it up and downed it.
‘Oi. That was mine.’
‘Really?’ She feigned ignorance. ‘I do apologise. I thought Luca had ordered it for me. Please, let me get you another one.’
‘No, don’t bother.’ The model pursed her lips together and stuck her clutch bag under her arm.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ Grace called as the model sashayed off to the dance floor, where a whole heap of rich men were congregated.
Luca stared at her, his lips twitching, before raising his chin and taking a swig of his champagne. ‘Marking your territory?’
‘You should be thanking me for getting rid of her.’ Her fake bonhomie faded away. She had to ask, ‘Unless you were auditioning her for the role of your mistress?’
His gaze didn’t waver. ‘I don’t want a mistress.’
Something hot flooded her veins and seeped through her bones and into every inch of her flesh. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
The icy darkness in his eyes melted. It took everything she had to wrench her eyes from his heated gaze.
She swallowed and stared at his champagne flute before being drawn back to meet his eyes. ‘I thought you only drank Scotch nowadays?’
He didn’t so much as flicker. ‘When I realised that you weren’t dead and had simply run away, I stopped drinking. I needed every wit I had trying to find you.’
‘So my leaving did some good.’ She smiled to cover the sting that lashed across her chest. As much as she knew he’d deserved every second of worry, it hurt her heart to think of the pain she had put him through. ‘I was starting to worry for your liver.’
‘You had nothing to worry about.’
‘Didn’t I?’ she asked pointedly.
From the flicker in his eyes, he knew as well as she that she was not just referring to his drinking habits.
‘I saw you talking with Pepe,’ he said, blatantly changing the subject. ‘I’m pleased he didn’t give in to his impulse of strangling you.’
‘So am I. I think he’s saving all his hatred for when he gets the opportunity to dismember Francesco.’
Mirth played on his firm lips. Turning his head, Luca caught the bartender’s eye and indicated for more champagne.
‘Francesco is not the demon Pepe would have you believe.’ He paused. ‘Well, maybe a little.’
‘He told me you were cutting your business ties with him.’
‘That is correct.’
‘Why?’
‘That is not a conversation for now.’
‘Then when? Tonight? Tomorrow? Next year?’
He turned back to her. ‘Tonight.’
‘Promise?’
‘I give you my word.’
She bit her lip, wishing she could read his mind.
A strange flicker crossed his face. ‘I’m sorry I let Francesco believe you had pre-natal depression.’
An apology? From Luca? That had to be a first.
‘It was the truth,’ she admitted, expelling a huge lungful of air.
He raised an eyebrow, a furrow running down his forehead.
She smiled wryly. ‘Oh, it wasn’t serious like you told him. More a constant lethargy. Motivating myself to keep moving on kept getting harder.’ As if her tongue had a mind of its own, she confided the darkness she had, at the time, been too scared to properly acknowledge to herself. ‘It got worse after Lily was born. That’s why I bought all the exercise equipment—I was terrified of being put on anti-depressants, terrified of failing Lily. I’d read exercise was a good method of combating it.’
‘Did it work?’
‘A little.’ She shrugged, realising for the first time that her return to Sicily—to Luca—had coincided with the return of her old energy levels. For sure, she was still tired—having a small baby who rarely slept through the night ensured that—but the cold fog that had enveloped her bones had vanished. ‘I definitely feel better in myself now.’
‘That’s good.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to say the same in return, but this time, by the slightest of threads, she managed to keep her mouth shut. To utter another word would be madness. She was in enough danger as it was.
Fresh flutes of champagne were placed before them. Luca handed one to Grace and held his own aloft. His eyes flashed. ‘Salute.’
‘Salute,’ she echoed, chinking her flute to his. She took a long sip and closed her eyes, enjoying the taste and the sensation of bubbles fizzing in her mouth. It was much the same way she used to fizz at Luca’s touch. The way she still did...
‘We should dance,’ he said.
She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to meet his gaze. ‘Why? So we can convince everyone here that we’re happy together?’
‘Because I want to dance with the sexiest woman here and show them she’s mine.’
She swallowed away the dryness of her throat. ‘I’m not yours. Only in name.’ Even as she spoke the words she knew them to be a lie. Luca had imprinted himself indelibly into every one of her senses.
He leaned into her and spoke into her neck. ‘You will always be mine.’
The warmth of his breath sent tiny pulsations darting through her. She swayed, her heels no protection against the dizziness evoked by his touch.
He covered her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. He felt so warm, his touch penetrating her skin and dancing into the very fabric of her being.
As if acting of its own accord, her other hand came to rest on his shoulder.
His muscles bunched beneath her touch. She felt the potent strength that ran through his being, a strength she had always taken such comfort from.
The stars that resided in the midnight of his eyes gleamed, holding her gaze, trapping her into their depths. He had shaved before they left their hotel yet dark stubble had already broken out along his jawline. If there was a sexier man in the world she had yet to meet him.
He brushed his lips against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. ‘Dance with me.’
She wanted to, badly. She wanted to say to hell with the past and to hell with the future, to simply take the moment for what it was.
His hand sidled down her chest, tracing the outline of her breast, coming to rest on her hip. He dug his fingers through the soft fabric and into her flesh, and pulled her so she was flat against him. ‘Dance with me,’ he repeated.
For the first time since she’d left Sicily, Grace felt as if the essence of herself had slipped out of the recess in which it had been hiding.
Luca was like a drug to her. She could survive without him but it was like breathing air with only a fraction of the usual oxygen.
She hated him.
She loved him.
The two sides were interchangeable.
The only constant she felt was desire. And she was sick of fighting it and pushing it away. There could only ever be one outcome.
Bending her head, she caught the top of his ear between her teeth. ‘Yes,’ she breathed, tracing her tongue across the contours. ‘I’ll dance with you.’