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His muscles jerked taut below her fingers, and he stared down at her with bleak eyes. ‘I was beaten, tortured as a child by my stepfather. He went to prison for it.’
A surge of horror swiftly followed by tears of sympathy flooded Zara’s eyes. She lowered her lashes before he could see and when he tried to pull away from her, she held on tight to him. ‘I thought I’d bottomed out in the parenting stakes,’ she remarked tightly. ‘But obviously you did a lot worse.’
Vitale realised that it would be more dignified to stop fighting the comforting hug being forced on him. There was a ghastly moment when he just didn’t know how to respond and he froze in her arms. She was always petting the rabbit, he reminded himself grimly; affectionate gestures were second nature to the woman he had married. He would have to learn how to handle them. He dropped a brief and awkward kiss on her brow, watching in dismay as a single tear inched down her flushed cheek on his behalf. ‘We may not have done well in the parent lottery but that won’t stop us being amazing parents,’ he stated with powerful conviction. ‘I’m sure we both know what not to do with our child.’
Zara thought of the mess that had been made of his back, the pain he must have endured and the despair he must have felt until he was removed from that cruelly abusive environment and she wanted to weep, but she had to confine herself to a subtle sniff or two and a comparatively modest hug. He saw hope in the future and refused to dwell on past suffering, she recognised with respect. Their marriage truly did have all the potential it needed to survive.
‘My mother, Paola, married a wealthy businessman when she was eighteen. His name was Carlo Barigo and he was twenty years older,’ Vitale said in a charged undertone, finally caving in and telling Zara the story that she had longed to hear since the day of her arrival as a bride at the palazzo.
Unfortunately prising that tale out of a male as reserved as Vitale was had taken determination and spot-on timing even from a wife of almost eight weeks’ standing. At that instant, Vitale was at his most relaxed in a post-sex sprawl in the tangled sheets of their bed and her fingers were gently engaged in smoothing through his black hair.
‘Go on,’ she encouraged, quick to react to a hint of hesitation.
‘Loredana was born within the first year of the marriage and within five years Paola was taking advantage of the fact that her husband was often away on business. She made friends with the wrong people, got into drink and drugs and started an affair. The marriage broke down. Carlo threw her out and her parents turned their back on her. She had never worked in her life and she was pregnant so she moved in with her lover—’
‘The guy who beat you?’ Zara cut in with a frown.
‘Sì … he was a drug dealer to the rich. He married her because he assumed the divorce settlement would be huge—it was not. He also assumed that the child she was expecting was his.’
‘That was you,’ she guessed.
‘I was Carlo Barigo’s legitimate son but Paola lied and said I wasn’t because my father had already deprived her of her daughter and she didn’t want to lose me as well,’ Vitale explained curtly. ‘That was also my stepfather’s excuse for beating me—that I wasn’t his kid—but the truth was he got off on brutality.’
‘Didn’t your mother try to stop him?’
‘By that stage all she cared about was her next fix.’
‘There must have been someone who cared,’ Zara said painfully.
‘Not until Loredana decided that she wanted to meet her mother after Carlo Barigo died. But when my sister visited us Paola was out of her head on drugs and Loredana got to know me instead. When she saw my bruises she notified the authorities of her suspicions. I went into the foster system and my stepfather eventually went to prison. I owe my life to Loredana’s intervention,’ he breathed heavily. ‘I was eleven when she became my guardian. I went to boarding school while she worked as a model.’
For the first time she understood the foundation of his deep attachment to his late sister and her memory. Although his mother had failed him Loredana had saved him from a life of abuse.
Zara gazed down at his strong profile, so beautiful, so strong and yet so damaged, she conceded painfully. ‘So how did you manage to visit this house as a teenager?’
‘Loredana was an heiress, gioia mia. My uncle encouraged her to continue treating the palazzo like her home because he hoped that she would marry one of his sons and bring her money back into the family. That’s why she was allowed to bring me here. It was that or leave me at school all the year round,’ he proffered with a rueful sigh. ‘My sister accepted me just as I was and I was rough round the edges. It never occurred to her that her snobbish cousins would be outraged to have a drug dealer and a junkie’s son forced on them as a guest.’
Her brow furrowed. ‘But that’s not who you were.’ ‘It’s what they believed. My cousins used to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night and thump and kick me and, thanks to their desire to ensure that I didn’t get too big for my boots, I learned that my mother was selling her body to survive.’
Zara was pale. ‘I bet you didn’t even tell your sister what was happening.’
‘Of course I didn’t. I idolised her. She thought I was being treated to a slice of the family life she couldn’t give me.’ His mouth quirked. ‘She was very trusting that way, always thought the best of everyone—’
‘What age were you when she died?’
‘Thirteen.’
‘And how did you find out who your father really was?’
Vitale grimaced. ‘The DNA testing that had to be done to identify Loredana’s body revealed that we were full siblings. I chose to keep that news to myself. She hadn’t changed her will to include me but a portion of her estate was set aside by the courts to cover my educational and living costs. My uncle got the rest and, being conscious of what people might think, he insisted that I continue to spend my term breaks at the palazzo.’
‘Your sister was part of your life for such a short time.’ Zara could only imagine how painful that loss must have been for a boy who had never known love and caring from any other source. It was even sadder that their true relationship had only been discovered after his sister had drowned.
‘She first met your father here at the palazzo,’ Vitale volunteered abruptly, his tone harsh. ‘The grounds were being used for a fashion shoot and your aunt, Edith, was still working on her design. Loredana was modelling and your father flew in to see your aunt and he was invited to stay to dinner.’
‘Oh,’ Zara pronounced, it being her turn to pull a face, for she did not wish to tackle that controversial issue again at that moment for she was too well aware that, had her father been a braver man, Loredana might have survived the sinking of the yacht. ‘Let’s not discuss that now. Give me one positive thought about the palazzo, Vitale.’
‘That is so childish, cara mia,’ he groaned, looking at her in reproach.
