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“Please, Clara, put on the dress,” I pleaded. “I need to get to work.”
Clara shook her head from side to side again.
I was getting irritated, but I was careful not to let it show to Clara. “I know you want the blue dress, but you wear that dress every single day. It won't harm you to wear something different today. You look so pretty in pink—why don't you give this other dress a try at least?”
But Clara continued to refuse to get dressed and remained in her pajamas with tears in her big, brown eyes.
I sat back on my heels and ran my hand through my hair.
“What can I do to help?” Anni asked.
“Go and get the blue dress from the laundry room,” I said tersely, out of patience. “It’s a bit dirty but will have to do for now.” He checked his watch as he spoke. “Breakfast will be on the table now and will be getting cold.”
After she had retrieved the dress Clara’s tears stopped and she quickly got dressed by herself.
“Let's go down for breakfast,” I said, hurrying both children out of the bedroom.
“Don't we need to brush Clara’s hair first?”
“No,” I said tetchily. “She won't let me brush it in the mornings. The only time I can get a brush to it is after her hair has been washed, although by then it's got so many tangles in it that she always ends up crying.”
We all trooped down to the dining room for breakfast, and I was definitely looking forward to my first coffee of the day. I was still raging with Anni over yesterday. Despite Anni’s protestations regarding her ma’s innocence, I knew without a doubt that Fantasia Veneti had deliberately misled me—she’d duped me, conned me, tricked me, or whatever anyone wanted to call it.
It was lucky for Fantasia that she was the wife of a Made Man with whom I wanted to preserve an alliance. Otherwise, I’d have already gone back on my jet to fucking Staten Island and would have been wringing her lying neck right around now.
When I agreed to marry Anni, I thought I’d be getting a mother for my kids. Now that I knew that she had no childcare experience and didn’t even know how to change a diaper, I knew I’d been right with my initial instincts—that she was too young, too immature, and too irresponsible to be my wife.
I needed someone who was going to make my life easier, not a young girl who needed looking after herself. What the fuck had I been thinking marrying this girl?
CHAPTER 17
ANNUNCIATA
Adelina had breakfast on the table and as I sat down, I saw Lorenzo grab a couple of slices of buttered toast and a napkin.
“I don't normally have time to stay for breakfast. From now on it's your job to ensure that the children eat. After breakfast, make sure that Clara puts on a clean dress—she can't stay in a dirty dress all day.”
I might not know much about kids, but even I knew that a child needed clean clothes. It was clear that Lorenzo was still annoyed about his discovery yesterday regarding my lack of child-rearing experience.
He dropped a kiss on the heads of both children before striding off, and I heard his car starting up in the driveway a couple of minutes later.
Alone with the children, I felt a sense of trepidation come over me.
Adelina bustled in with some fresh toast. “Ma’am, I’ve fed Wilbur.”
“Thank you, Adelina.” I smiled at her. “I’ll come and get him once the children have had their breakfast.”
I looked around the table. I had spent time with Fee’s kids, so I wasn’t totally unfamiliar with children, but I still had the feeling that this was going to be a steep learning curve. “What do you both like to eat normally?” I tried.
Clara looked at me silently while Clemente ignored me as he continued to play with his toy car at the table.
After pondering what I should do, I decided to pour them both some cereal. However, while Clemente ate some, Clara barely touched hers. I also put some toast in front of them, and again Clemente finished over half of his, but Clara only took a couple of bites while she kept anxiously looking towards the door as if wondering where her father had gone.
I looked around at the room we were sitting in. It was a grand dining room, although far too formal for a family breakfast with young children. I knew that Lorenzo, however, would certainly not approve of his children eating breakfast in the kitchen with the housekeeper and guards.
The room was painted a pale yellow, but heavy drapes at the windows blocked out much of the morning sun and made the walls look dark and dingy.
The table was laid formally with a fine china service. The antique off-white plates were very pretty, with an intricate pattern in gold and pale green around the rim. The cutlery was solid silver and highly polished, but I could see that the children found it awkward using the heavy pieces.
