The Italian’s Baby Page 5
Her father had said, ‘He demanded money to go away and never trouble you again.’
Even after seeing the cheque she had sometimes repeated to herself that it couldn’t be true. If he had returned she would gladly have believed any explanation. But she never heard from him again, and at last she had stopped crying the words into the darkness.
Seeing him now, she knew that the worst was true. Luca had needed money, and he had sold their love to get it.
As they entered the dining room she braced herself, knowing that she would be sitting next to him.
The bait in the trap, she thought wearily. Oh, what does it matter?
He did everything correctly, like a man used to dining amid wealth. After making a few brief, meaningless observations to her, he paid courteous attention to the lady on his other side, who was his hostess.
So far, so good. Nothing to alarm her.
Then Philip Steyne said jovially, ‘Luca, in case you’re wondering why we sat you next to Rebecca, it’s because she speaks Italian, even Tuscan.’
‘That was very kind of you,’ Luca said. ‘So, signora,’ he turned his attention to Rebecca and slipped into Tuscan to say, ‘are we going to go all evening pretending not to know each other?’
CHAPTER FOUR
S O HE had known all the time, and picked his own moment to reveal it. Taken by surprise, Rebecca couldn’t control a swift gasp.
The others were watching them, smiling, enjoying what they thought of as the joke.
‘What did he say, Rebecca?’ Philip asked. ‘It must have been quite something to make you gasp like that. Come on, tell.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said brightly. ‘I know how to keep a secret.’
Everyone laughed as if she’d made a brilliant witticism. Still smiling, she met Luca’s eyes.
‘Do we know each other?’ she asked, also in Tuscan.
‘Yes,’ he said flatly. ‘Why pretend?’
‘Have you told anyone else?’
‘No. That wouldn’t suit me. Or you, I imagine.’
He was right, but it was intolerable that he took her reaction for granted.
‘No,’ she said briefly.
‘No problem, then.’
‘You’re a remarkably cool customer.’
‘Not now.’
‘What did you say?’
‘We can’t discuss it now. There are too many people about. We’ll talk later.’
His assumption that the decision was only his infuriated her.
‘We will not talk later,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I shall be leaving early.’
He gave her an unexpected grin.
‘No, you won’t,’ he said.
‘Are you trying to give me orders?’
‘No, just saying that you don’t really mean it.’
‘You’re damned sure of yourself,’ she said.
‘Am I?’ He seemed surprised. ‘I couldn’t go away without talking to you. Not after all this time. I just thought maybe you couldn’t, either. Am I wrong?’
‘No,’ she said, annoyed with herself because it was true.
Luca addressed the rest of the table with an expansive smile.
‘I can’t fault this lady. Her Tuscan is perfect.’
Everyone applauded. Rebecca saw Danvers and Philip exchange triumphant glances.
She got through the rest of the meal somehow. When it came to the coffee everyone left the table and went into the huge conservatory. The double doors were wide open and many people drifted into the beautiful grounds, where the trees were hung with coloured lights.
‘Come outside and show me the grounds,’ Luca said.
Wanting to get this meeting over with, she followed him out and along the path that the lights dimly outlined. As they went she talked of trees and shrubs, pointing out the features of the landscaped garden in a voice that gave nothing away.
But at last he paused under the trees and said in Tuscan, ‘We can drop the polite nothings now.’
‘I really should be going back-’
‘Not yet.’ He put out a hand to restrain her, but she withdrew before he could make contact, and he let his hand drop.
‘Did you think we would ever meet again?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Never.’
‘Of course. How could we ever meet again in the world? Everything was against it.’
‘Everything was always against us,’ she said. ‘We never really stood a chance.’
He took a step closer and looked at her face in the light from the moon and a pink lamp hanging above them.
‘You’ve changed,’ he said. ‘And yet you haven’t. Not really.’
‘You’ve changed in every way,’ she said.
He rubbed the scar awkwardly. ‘You mean this?’
‘No, I mean everything about you.’
‘I’m fifteen years older. A good deal has happened to me. And to you.’
‘Yes.’ She was being deliberately monosyllabic, refusing to give anything away. In some mysterious way he alarmed her now, as he had never done before.
‘Your name has changed,’ he said, ‘so you’ve been married. But the man with you isn’t called Hanley.’
‘Yes, I’m divorced from Saul Hanley.’
‘Were you married long?’
‘Six years.’
‘Did your father approve of him?’
‘He was dead by the time I married. I didn’t see him much in the last years of his life. We had nothing to say. He couldn’t look me in the eye.’
‘No wonder.’
The words brought them to the edge of dangerous ground, and she shied away.
‘And you?’ she asked lightly. ‘I’m sure you have a wife at home.’
‘Why should you be sure?’
‘Because every successful man needs a wife to host his dinner parties.’
‘I don’t give dinner parties. Drusilla used to enjoy them, so we had a few, but we’re divorced now.’
‘Because she wanted dinner parties?’ she asked, trying to make a joke of it.
‘No,’ he said abruptly. ‘Other reasons.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘No problem. Tell me what else you’ve been doing.’
The words sounded abrupt, ungracious, but she doubted if he had meant them that way. She guessed that Luca Montese’s social skills were only skin deep.
‘I sold the estate and went travelling. When I came home I did some book translating, using my Italian. That was how I met Saul. He was a publisher.’
‘Why did you divorce him?’
‘It was a mutual decision,’ she said after a moment. ‘We weren’t suited.’
They had been strolling around the paths, and now the house was in view again.
‘Perhaps we should go inside,’ she said.
‘I have something to say first.’
‘Yes?’
He seemed to be having difficulty, then he blurted out, ‘I want to see you again. Alone.’
‘No, Luca,’ she said quickly. ‘There’s no point.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense. Of course there’s a point. I want to talk to you. It all happened too abruptly. We never even had the chance to say goodbye. We’ve each spent years not knowing what happened to the other, and there’s a lot I want to explain. I’m entitled to the chance.’
‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ she said, offended.
‘Like what?’ He was genuinely puzzled.
‘Making demands, talking about what you’re entitled to. You’re not addressing a board meeting.’
‘I just want you to understand.’
Did he think any explanation would make things better? she wondered.
‘Luca, if it’s about the money, you don’t have to say anything. I’m sure it was all for the best in the long run. I should congratulate you. You must have used it very shrewdly.’
A strange look came over his face. ‘Ah, your father told you about the money? I wondered.
’
‘Of course he did,’ she said, feeling a pang of pain that he could speak about it so casually. ‘So we can draw a line under it.’
‘And that’s all you have to say? Good God, Becky, have you no questions to ask me after all this time?’
‘The girl I was then had questions, and the boy you were might have answered them.’
‘He’d have tried. He always tried to do what you wanted, because he had no pleasure but your happiness. Have you forgotten that?’
She hadn’t forgotten it but she had put it away in darkness, hoping never to think of it again.
‘No,’ she said at last. ‘I hadn’t forgotten. But it’s too late now. We’re not those people any more. We last saw each other fifteen years ago, the day before our wedding, when my father burst in. And I’m really glad you’ve made a success of your life-’
He stared at her. ‘What was that you said?’
‘I’m glad you’ve been successful-’
‘No, before that, about our last meeting.’
‘It was on the day before our wedding-or what should have been our wedding.’
‘Then you don’t remember…?’ He checked himself. ‘Well, perhaps it’s not surprising. But it’s even more important to see each other again. We have unfinished business, and it’s time to take care of it.’
She gave a little shudder. She wanted nothing to do with this man who had Luca’s name and a face that resembled his but had nothing else of him. Luca had been tender and gentle. This stranger barked his orders even when he was trying to make human contact. If this was what Luca had turned into, she wished she had never known.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, trying to speak calmly. ‘But I can see no point in a further meeting.’
‘But I can,’ he said bluntly.
She took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper.
‘Unfortunately both sides need to be willing, and I’m not.’
‘They won’t be pleased if you snub me,’ he said, jerking his head towards the house.
So he knew that she’d been told to charm him. Of course he did.
‘They can conduct their business without my help,’ she retorted crisply, and began to walk away from him.
‘Are you going to marry Danvers Jordan?’ he called after her.
She turned and asked, ‘What did you say?’ in a tone that was meant to warn him.
‘I want to know.’
‘But it does not suit me to tell you,’ she said slowly and emphatically. ‘Goodnight, Signor Montese.’
She hoped she could slip back into the conservatory without attracting attention, in case someone should wonder why she was alone. But Luca caught up and entered behind her, just close enough to make it look as if they were still together. To her relief he did not try to talk to her again for the rest of the evening.
But when they said goodbye he held her hand a little too long and said softly, ‘Arrivederci per ora.’ Goodbye for now.
And she answered swiftly, ‘Mai piu.’ Never more.
She would not see him again, and it was best that he knew it now.
He said nothing but released her hand and turned away.
On the way home Danvers said, ‘Well done, darling, you made a hit with Montese. He couldn’t speak highly enough of you.’
‘I wish I could say the same,’ she said, sounding bored. ‘I thought he was an impossible man. Rude, vulgar, graceless-’
‘Oh, of course. What can you expect? But as a money man he’s got no equal.’
‘I just hope I don’t have to see him again.’
‘I’m afraid you will. Apparently he’s going to be living at the Allingham.’
‘But why?’ she cried in protest before she could stop herself.
‘He has no home in this country. It makes sense for him to live in a hotel, and naturally he picks the one where he owns stock. It’s perfectly reasonable.’
Of course it was reasonable. It was so reasonable that it alarmed her.
‘When did he tell you this?’
‘Just before we left. That’s why I say you did a brilliant job. And Steyne is bowled over by you. He keeps dropping hints about my “acquiring a prize asset”.’
The right response would turn this into a proposal, one that had been long expected. She took a deep breath and said, ‘That’s nice of him.’ She yawned. ‘Oh, dear, I hadn’t realised I was so tired. Just drop me at the door, and I’ll go straight up to bed.’
He accepted his dismissal without complaint, although his goodbye was rather chilly. She couldn’t help it. When they reached the Allingham she said goodnight and walked quickly away.
Nigel Haleworth, the hotel’s managing director, was a genially cynical man. Rebecca got on well with him, and at their regular weekly meeting next morning, when routine business had been dealt with, he said with a grin, ‘You’ve met King Midas, I gather. He’s arriving today. Penthouse suite, of course.’
‘King Midas?’
‘Luca Montese. Do you remember the story of Midas?’
‘Yes. He made a wish that everything around him should turn to gold,’ she remembered. ‘But he forgot his beloved daughter, and when he touched her she too turned to gold. He was left with nobody to love.’
‘Right. That’s what they say about Montese-not the daughter bit, because he has no children. But there’s nothing in his life but money.’
‘I believe he’s divorced.’
‘A few months ago. Touchy subject. A “king” likes to have an heir, but he never managed to make her pregnant in six years of marriage. Then she had a baby by another man.
‘You can imagine what that did to him. I gather he’s a very frightening man if you’re on his wrong side. He’s made a thousand enemies, and they’re all jeering at him behind their hands-what’s wrong with “the king” that he can’t do what any other man can do? That sort of thing.’
‘It’s nonsense,’ said Rebecca sharply. ‘They may just have been incompatible.’
‘Or maybe he simply can’t father a child. That’s what they’re whispering.’
Rebecca shrugged. ‘If they’re his enemies they’ll believe what they like.’
‘What did you think of him?’
After a moment she said, ‘Let’s say that I can understand why he has enemies.’
‘Why not research him a bit before he arrives?’
Back in her suite she logged on to the internet.
English websites carried little about Luca or his firm, but Italian ones were more informative. Raditore had swiftly risen from a small outfit to a huge conglomerate with a speed that spoke volumes of its owner’s skill and lack of scruple. But there was nothing about his personal life. He might never have had one.
And that was it, she realised suddenly. The man she had met the previous evening had seemed to have no hinterland beyond his fixation on herself, as though he’d shut down every part of himself except one.
Now she could feel something for him, and it was pity. She had frozen to protect herself from insupportable pain. Had he done the same?
She found a multitude of urgent tasks to prevent her from being in the hotel when Luca arrived that afternoon. When she returned she was in a more settled frame of mind, even willing to concede that they needed to talk.
Doubtless he would call her and they would meet for a sedate dinner. They would bring each other up to date, after which she would be freed from ghosts. Feeling calm and prepared, she waited for the phone to ring.
Instead there was a knock on the door. Frowning, she opened it.
‘This is for you, ma’am,’ said the man with the package. ‘Please sign here.’
When he had gone she opened the package cautiously, and found a jewel case.
Inside lay the most fabulous set of diamonds that she had ever seen. A necklace of three strands, earrings, bracelet, brooch. All of the very best. Rebecca’s experienced eye told her that there was nearly a hundred thousand pounds’ worth of jewels here.
The small card bore only the two words. Per adesso. For now.
She sat down, alarmed to find that she was trembling.
For now? It was almost a threat, implying that he would not accept her dismissal.
Why couldn’t he leave her to her hard-won peace? Didn’t he want peace himself?
At last she pulled herself together and headed out of the door. It took her five minutes to reach the penthouse suite, and her anger rose with every step.
‘How dare you?’ she said when he opened the door. ‘Please take this back, and don’t ever do such a thing again.’
He backed away from her, forcing her to come into the room to find somewhere to set the case down.
‘I mean what I say. I don’t want these things. Luca, what were you thinking of? You can’t send something like this to a stranger.’
‘You’re not a stranger. You can’t be.’
‘I must be after all these years. Too much has happened. We’re different people. I don’t accept this kind of gift.’
‘You mean not from me, because I’m not good enough?’
‘Don’t be absurd. Of course you’re good enough. How can you say such a thing to me, after our past?’ She lost her temper. ‘I think I’ve earned better than that from you.’
‘All right, I’m sorry,’ he said gruffly. ‘Maybe I’m not so different from what I was. Maybe, inside, I’m still the bumpkin your father looked down on. I can change the outside but not in here.’ He pointed to himself. ‘I hear the sneers, even when they’re whispered.’
‘But I never sneered at you.’
‘So what’s wrong with me giving you something?’
‘This isn’t “something”, it’s a fortune.’
‘Do you take diamonds from him?’ he demanded abruptly.
‘Luca, stop that. I’m not answerable to you.’
He scowled, and she wondered how long it had been since anyone stood up to him, and said no. A long time, she suspected, since he didn’t know how to cope with it.
‘It’s a simple question,’ he grated.
‘And I’ll give you a simple answer. Mind your own damned business. Who do you think you are to turn up in my life after fifteen years and take anything for granted?’
‘All right.’ He threw up his hands. ‘I’ve managed it badly. Let’s start again.’