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‘Great?’ Caitlyn checked.
‘The lawyer just called—we’ve won!’ Her voice broke then, laughter turning to tears. ‘We can keep the house.’
And even though their lawyer had said over and over that Cheryl had no case, that her grandfather’s wishes had been clear, that her mother’s contribution to the home had been documented, to have it confirmed, to know that it was finally over brought such a sweet flood of release that only then did Caitlyn actually realise the strain she had been under.
‘Thank you…’ Helen cried into the phone. ‘I know what I’ve put you through. I know it wasn’t fair to ask you to take on such a huge mortgage…’
‘I didn’t have to, though!’ Caitlyn smiled.
‘But you would have,’ her mother pointed out.
‘And you did,’ Caitlyn said softly. ‘You did it for your dad, remember?’
‘Why wouldn’t they have a bridal registry?’ Lazzaro was utterly perplexed as, smiling, she walked into his office. ‘Of all the stupid things…What are you looking so happy about?’
‘I just am.’
She’d never told him about her problems. The sum of money that was so huge to her was a drop in the ocean to Lazzaro, and worse for Caitlyn than him not understanding would have been the prospect of him sorting it out—the idea of somehow being beholden to him. As she took Alberto Mancini’s daughter’s wedding invitation from him, her smile widened. ‘I actually think it’s nice that they don’t have a registry! It means that people like you can’t just click their mouse and have their gift dispatched—it means pompous, arrogant people like you actually have to stop and think about what their friends might want for a wedding gift.’
‘They are not my friends.’ Lazzaro flicked his hands skywards in exasperation. ‘She is the daughter of a friend of mine—a daughter I have not seen for five years, and I have never even met her fiancé. How could I possibly know what they want?’
‘Well, you’d better think fast,’ Caitlyn said cheekily. ‘You fly out on Thursday.’
‘Come with me.’
‘I can’t.’ Caitlyn groaned. ‘I know you’re used to it, Lazzaro, and I know we’ll be travelling first-class and I can sleep all the way there—I know all that—but honestly…’
‘Okay—I get it…’ he relented. ‘You need your weekend off.’
‘I do.’
And, oh, she did. Just needed a weekend to catch up with friends, to sleep in, to see her mum, to read…Lazzaro had said the job would be demanding, and it was, but add to the most demanding of jobs the most demanding of lovers, and Caitlyn was actually looking forward to a weekend of…nothing.
‘So you’re definitely not coming.’ He gave a regretful smile, then shot her a look that had her in flames. ‘Which means I won’t be either.’
‘You’ll survive!’ Caitlyn gave a saucy wink.
‘I guess I’ll have to—but for your sins you can choose the gift.’ He waved away her protest. ‘That is why us pompous, arrogant people have assistants—off you go.’
What did you get someone who had everything? Someone you’d never met, someone who…Racking her brains, Caitlyn trailed the shops, wishing she knew enough to come back with something fabulous and meaningful…Why the hell didn’t they have a bridal registry? Caitlyn thought as she trudged back a couple of hours later to the hotel—defeated and empty-handed, but still smiling. She’d splurged on a bottle of champagne—she would bung it in the fridge at work and open it the second she got home tonight…
‘Ms Bell?’ Caught unawares, Caitlyn started at the sound of her name, swinging around and frowning at the woman who promptly thrust a microphone under her nose. ‘What do you have to say about the rumours that Lazzaro Ranaldi is dating his rival’s wife?’
‘Pardon…?’ Like a rabbit in headlights, Caitlyn froze as she saw the television camera zooming in on her.
‘We have it from a reliable source that Mr Ranaldi has been seeing rather a lot of Bonita Mancini—we have photos of them at lunch, and we have heard that he spent the afternoon of Mr Mancini’s sixtieth birthday with her. And that night he put him to bed drunk and then consoled his wife—’
