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‘You’re going to give up being a film star?’ she said, half joking.
He smiled, his mind already working out their schedule. ‘Shall we fly to England and tell your mother together? And I’ll tell my office to answer any enquires with a short statement announcing that the divorce is off.’
Jennifer recognised the light of triumph which burned at the back of his eyes as she nodded her head in agreement. This might be as good as it got, but she wasn’t going to knock it. She had tried living without him, and that was much, much worse.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I can’t believe it!’
‘Just say you’re happy for us, Mum!’ pleaded Jennifer.
She and Matteo had driven straight from the airfield to her mother’s elegant cottage near Bath, knowing that as soon as they were back in England word would get out about the pregnancy, and wanting her to hear it from them first. But now, looking at her mother’s expression, she began to wonder why they’d bothered.
Mrs Warren’s heavily made-up eyes flicked over her daughter and came to rest on Matteo again. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘But I’m too young to be a grandmother,’ she declared.
Matteo’s expression didn’t flicker, and he did not risk glancing over at Jennifer. He squeezed her hand instead. ‘Of course you are,’ he said smoothly. ‘Everyone will believe that you are the baby’s aunt!’
‘Do you really think so?’ Mrs Warren looked slightly mollified as she automatically patted her faded blonde hair. ‘Does this mean the marriage is
back on?’
This time he did risk it, and he read the understanding in Jenny’s eyes. ‘Si,’ he said slowly. ‘It is. We have settled our…differences.’
Mrs Warren nodded. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better look on the bright side—I always got much better service on airlines when I mentioned that Matteo was my son-in-law!’
Matteo’s mouth twitched. ‘Then that is a good enough reason for the marriage to continue, surely?’ he said gravely.
‘Mum, Matteo’s going up to London on business, and I thought that I might stay here with you for a day or two. We could have lunch, if you like.’
Mrs Warren brightened. ‘In a restaurant, you mean?’
Jennifer nodded. Her mother loved eating out with her famous daughter, and all the attendant fuss. ‘If you like.’
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re sure?’
She shrugged. ‘Why not? No good hiding away—we were spotted and snapped at the airport, after all.’
‘I’m sending two minders with you,’ he said grimly.
‘Ooh, goody!’ squealed Mrs Warren.
In a pale restaurant overlooking the beautiful old city of Bath, they ate exotic seafood and salad, and Mrs Warren drank copious amounts of champagne ‘to celebrate, darling!’ while the minders sat a not-so-discreet distance away. Jennifer even posed for a photo with a little girl who was waiting outside the restaurant with her mother.
Maybe I’ll have a little girl too, she thought as she crouched down and smiled. And she’ll have dark eyes, just like Matt’s, and gorgeous curly hair.
But when they got back to her mother’s house there was a crowd of pressmen milling outside, and the minders had to barge their way through.
‘What the hell is going on?’ asked Jennifer, frowning. ‘How ridiculous! Surely one pregnant actress doesn’t merit this kind of interest?’
The phone was ringing when they got inside, and Mrs Warren took the call, her face growing white as she listened. ‘Yes, she’s here—I’ll see if she’ll speak to you.’ She held the phone towards Jennifer. ‘It’s a reporter. Wants to speak to you.’
Jennifer pulled a face and took the phone. ‘Hello? Jennifer Warren speaking.’
‘Jennifer—were you aware that Sophia Perotta has given an interview to a London evening paper about her affair with your husband?’
‘I wasn’t,’ she said calmly.
‘Did you know that he was cheating on you with her throughout your marriage?’
