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‘That is a monumentally tactless and unfeeling thing to say.’
Then show some emotion. ‘About as tactless and unfeeling as the wordless implication that I was in some way responsible for his death.’
There was a throbbing silence. ‘I have never said that.’
‘No, but you’ve thought it. And your grandfather thought it. You say you don’t know me, so learn this about me right now—I’m not good with undercurrents or people who hide what they’re really thinking and I sure as hell am not going to feed this damn feud that we’ve both grown up with. It ends here, right now.’ The fire burned hot inside him, strengthening his resolve. ‘If what you said to me this morning is true then I presume you want that, too.’
‘Of course. But we can kill the feud without getting married. There is more than one way of being a family.’
‘Not for me. My child will not grow up being shuttled from one parent to another. We’ve never talked about that night, so let’s do it now. Whatever you’re thinking, I want it out in the open, not gnawing holes in that brain of yours. You blamed me for the fact that he took the car. And yet you know what happened that night. I was with you. And we had other things on our mind, didn’t we, bellissima?’
‘I never blamed you.’
‘Really?’ His sardonic tone made her lift her head and look at him.
‘Yes, really.’
He waited for her to elaborate but of course she didn’t and that failure to break through her defences exasperated him because he wasn’t a man who liked to fail. Jaw tense, he breathed deeply, his emotions at war with each other. ‘It’s late and you’ve had a hell of a night. One thing I know about toddlers is that they don’t lie in just because adult life is collapsing around them. What time does he wake up?’
‘Five.’
His working day frequently began at the same hour. ‘If you’re not going to eat, then get to bed. I’ll lend you one of my shirts to sleep in.’
A faint smile touched the soft curve of her mouth. ‘So you don’t have a wardrobe full of slinky nightwear for overnight guests? The world would be disappointed to discover that.’
‘I don’t encourage overnight guests. They can grow roots fast.’ He watched her steadily. ‘This once, I’ll let you retreat. Make the most of it because once we’re married there will be no hiding. Be sure of that.’
‘We’re not getting married, Santo.’
‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow. But everything I said in my office still stands.’
‘No, it doesn’t. You were concerned that Luca had been harmed, but you can see now that he has had a happy childhood.’
‘I admire your efforts to create the family you didn’t have, but my son doesn’t need paid employees to fill that role. He has the real thing. A family ready and willing to welcome him. He’s a Ferrara and the sooner we make that legal the better for everyone.’
‘Is it?’ Her voice suddenly seemed to gain strength. ‘Is it really better for him to be brought up by parents who are strangers?’
Santo’s mouth tightened. ‘We’re not going to be strangers, tesoro. We’re going to be as intimate as it’s possible for a man and a woman to be. I’m going to rip down those barriers you’ve built. When you’re with me you might as well be naked because there is going to be no hiding. Now get some sleep. You’re going to need it.’
* * *
As intimate as it’s possible for a man and a woman to be.
What was intimate about that cold, emotionless statement? He was blisteringly angry. Furious. How did he think they could achieve intimacy under those circumstances?
She wasn’t going to marry him. It would be wrong.
Once he calmed down, he’d see sense. They’d come to an agreement about how to share Luca. And perhaps the three of them would spend some time together. But there was no need to make it legally binding.
Worry about her grandfather mingled with worry for her son and herself and Fia curled up in the bed, but there was no rest to be found in sleep, the dreams racing over her in a dark, tangled rush of disturbing images. Her mother, huddled in a corner of the kitchen, trying to make herself as small as possible while her husband lost his temper. The sight of her walking away, leaving her eight-year-old daughter behind. ‘If I take you, he’ll come after me.’ Standing with her grandfather as they buried her father after the drunken boating accident that had taken his life, knowing that she was supposed to feel sad.
She awoke to find herself alone in the bed. A lurch of fear was followed by a brief moment of relief as she heard the sound of Luca giggling. And then she remembered that they weren’t at home, but in Santo’s deathtrap apartment.
Almost tripping in her haste to get to her child, she shot out of the bedroom and followed the sound, ready to drag him out of trouble.
Expecting to find an energetic Luca fearlessly scaling a cupboard or plunging his curious fingers into a piece of high-tech electrical equipment, she instead found him sitting on a chair in Santo’s sleek, contemporary kitchen watching as his father deftly cut shapes out of brioche.
Weak with rel
