THE BUTTERFLIES IN her stomach were rampant, swishing their delicate wings against her sides, making it difficult to concentrate on anything. She barely noticed the beautiful table she was led to, in a part of the castle she was yet to explore. A balcony beyond would be beautiful in warmer weather, but for now it remained sealed off, thick glass doors keeping the cold out but allowing an unimpeded view of the alpine scenery. A light dusting of snow had begun to fall and some of it settled on the railing as she watched. The table was round, large enough to comfortably accommodate six, but only two place-settings had been laid, and with the kind of cutlery and glassware one would find in a six-star restaurant.
She sucked in a deep breath, telling herself it was ridiculous to be nervous. The engagement ring Gabe had given her sparkled on her finger and Abby tried to draw strength from the beauty of its design—and failed. It was so lovely and perfect that it only added to her nervousness.
The domestic who’d shown her to the table had poured a glass of wine and Abby took a sip now, grateful to have something to occupy her hands. The alcohol was cold and yet warmed her insides. She closed her eyes and drew in another deep breath; when she blinked them open Gabe was striding into the room, a large black shopping bag held in one hand, so handsome that her breath snagged in her throat.
‘I was held up,’ he said by way of explanation rather than apology.
A wry smile touched Abby’s lips.
‘It’s fine. I’ve only been here a few minutes.’
He nodded, taking the seat opposite her. Out of nowhere another domestic appeared, pouring Gabe some wine. He looked at the man with a frown. ‘We can manage. I’d prefer not to be interrupted.’
The man said something in Italian, smiled at Abby and then disappeared.
Abby’s frown was instinctive. ‘You don’t strike me as a man who would like having staff.’
He lifted a brow. ‘Forty thousand people work for me.’
‘I don’t mean in a professional sense,’ she said with a small shake of her head. ‘I mean household staff.’
‘You get used to it.’ He shrugged.
‘I don’t know if I ever could.’
‘You mean, if you ever will,’ he corrected.
She nodded slowly.
‘You must have had servants?’
‘God, no.’ She laughed, having no idea how beautiful she looked as the creamy midday sun bounced across her blonde hair, causing it to shimmer. ‘My father hated the idea of having people in our home. He’s very private.’
At the reference to Lionel Howard something between them shifted, a darkness descending on the table.
Gabe spoke first with a heavy sigh. ‘Tell me how it started.’
Abby lifted her shoulders. ‘How what started?’
‘You, coming to meet me. What did your father say to you?’
Abby’s tummy twisted. She couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Is that why you wanted to have lunch with me?’
Gabe’s frown was infinitesimal, but she caught the tail end of it.
‘It’s natural you’d be curious,’ she rushed to add.
‘I wasn’t. But seeing as you’ve mentioned him...’
She nodded. Hadn’t she decided that she needed to be honest with him, to help him understand why she’d done what she had? Of course he felt the same need to know.
‘I told you—’ she spoke slowly, every word considered ‘—my father was destroyed when your company launched.’ Her grimace was an acknowledgement of the fact that this was an awkward conversation to have. ‘I’d heard about you for years, you know.’
She felt Gabe stiffen without looking at him.
‘He came to blame you and...your foster brother...for every single business problem he had.’ She closed her eyes, finding it insufficient simply to look away from Gabe now and needing instead to block him out completely. Her slender throat shifted as she swallowed.
‘You are not saying anything I had not deduced for myself,’ he said. The words were offered with his usual degree of detachment but Abby felt them—she felt them right in the centre of her heart. ‘You are fortunate your father targeted me rather than Noah.’
‘Why?’
Gabe thought of his best friend and his frown deepened. ‘Because Noah is...’
She waited, her interest obvious.
‘Noah and I are very similar. But he has no interest in pretending to be civil. He would have chewed you up and spat you back out again if you’d tried your trick on him.’
‘It wasn’t a trick.’
He ignored her. ‘Noah would have seen through you too. He’s always been a better judge of character than me.’
She paled.
‘He would hate you, I think, for what you planned to do.’
Abby gripped the fork tightly, her brain hurting. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. He’s your best friend, right?’
‘He’s my...yes.’
‘Have you told him about us? About Raf?’
Gabe’s eyes held Abby’s. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s...’ Gabe looked towards the window for a moment, his expression tight. ‘He’s got his own stuff going on.’ It was vague enough to create more questions than it answered, but Abby didn’t push him. Gabe had clammed up and she knew him well enough to know that he would only speak when he was ready to share.
‘My dad didn’t target you,’ she said softly, bringing them back to the topic.
Gabe spun back to face her, lancing her with his eyes.
‘He wanted information. He never meant to hurt you.’
‘He wanted to destroy my business. You don’t think that would have hurt me?’
‘He didn’t think about it like that,’ Abby insisted. ‘You were irrelevant. All he cares about is his own success. For years he was at the top of his game, and then you came along...’
‘I am hardly irrelevant, given that he sent you to spy on me.’
She brushed past his interruption impatiently. ‘But do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘I understand the excuses you’re offering.’ His eyes glittered with an emotion she didn’t understand and then, as though the words were being dragged from him, ‘I believe you were motivated by love for your father rather than hatred for me.’
‘Hatred?’ That jolted her eyes to his and she reached across the table, curving her palm over his. ‘It was never about hatred for you. Even before I met you I was fascinated by you, Gabe. Your...dynamism and success, your work ethic, your lifestyle.’ She blushed. ‘You were my polar opposite in every way. It didn’t take much convincing when my dad suggested I meet you...’
He swallowed, his throat bunching beneath her gaze. ‘And yet you still came with the intention of finding whatever information you could and taking it back to your father?’
She bit down on her lip, nodding slowly.
At his look of disapproval, she rushed to add, ‘But only at first. Gabe, fifteen minutes into knowing you and there was no way I was going to go through with it.’
She withdrew her hand, the intimacy feeling discordant suddenly. ‘I slept with you because I wanted to,’ she said with quiet insistence.
‘You wanted me? You wanted Calypso.’
‘No!’ She shook her head to emphatically refute him. ‘Gabe, you have to believe me. Us sleeping together, that was... Didn’t you feel it?’
‘Feel what, tempesta?’ he challenged stonily, every cell in his body closed to her, the definition of immovable.
Still, having come this far, Abby urged herself to be honest. ‘A connection,’ she said, her eyes landing on his. ‘I felt something for you the instant you spoke to me, the second we first touched, when you made me laugh... I wanted you to be my first lover,’ she promised. ‘Because of who you were to me, not to Dad, nor to the world.’
He was quiet, appraising her words from every angle.
‘You told me you simply wanted to rid yourself of your tiresome virginity,’ he pointed out.
Inwardly she winced, wishing she could take back that excuse. She’d said it to save some pride, but now she wanted to dispel that idea. ‘You don’t think I’d been smiled at by handsome men before?’ she asked. ‘You don’t think I’d had ample opportunities to “rid myself” of my virginity in the past?’
He stared at her long and hard, his cheeks darkening with a flush of emotion. ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘It made little sense to me on that night; it still doesn’t.’
‘I had no interest in sex,’ she said simply. ‘I was too busy with ballet—my schedule was pretty intensive—and then, by the time I gave it up, when it came to intimacy I felt like a fish out of water. All my friends had been in several relationships, and the guys I met were obviously way more experienced. I was...embarrassed.’
‘You weren’t with me.’
‘Because I felt like I knew you,’ she said with urgency. Had he truly not felt that same sense of familiarity?
‘Abigail—’ he sighed heavily, dragging his fingertips through his hair ‘—I think you need to be careful here.’
‘Careful how?’ she prompted.
‘You speak like a classic romantic,’ he said, his smile bordering on mocking. ‘A connection. As though I was some fated Prince Charming riding into town to win your heart.’ He laughed, a harsh sound, but that same heart ratcheted up a gear, his description unknowingly hitting on how she had felt at the time. ‘We are going to get married, for our son. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt—even if a small part of me thinks you are simply reaping what you sowed a year ago.’
Pain scored Abby deep in her heart and her veins turned to ice as crisply cold as the snow outside. ‘I’ve tried to explain—’
‘Damn it! Abigail, listen to me.’ He softened his tone with obvious effort. ‘You will never be able to explain what you did. What you intended to do. I appreciate that you didn’t follow through with what your father wanted, but you came to me with one purpose—betrayal. Nothing that happened beyond that matters. Had you not fallen pregnant, if we didn’t share a son, we wouldn’t be sitting across a table having this conversation. Or any conversation. You understand that, don’t you?’
She sat frozen to the spot, her heart thumping inside her the only sign of life. His words were shredding her into tiny pieces and uncertainty lurched all around her. ‘How can you say that?’ she asked quietly, digging her fingernails into her palms. ‘After what we shared the other day?’
His smile was almost sympathetic. ‘For your own good, try to remember that sex and love are two very distinct sides of a coin.’
His words ran around her head like an angry tornado. She didn’t believe it was love, necessarily, but it was more than just great sex. When they were together she felt as if she could trust him with her life; she felt as if everything made sense. Didn’t he feel that too? Or did he always feel that?
‘I guess I wouldn’t know,’ she said after a moment, hoping she didn’t sound as confused as she felt. ‘You, on the other hand, have plenty of experience.’
‘Yes.’ The word was a crisp agreement. He reached over and topped up Abby’s wine; she hadn’t even realised she’d been sipping it as they spoke. ‘Was he angry when you went home empty-handed?’
It took Abby a moment to realise that Gabe had returned to their original topic of conversation. ‘Yes.’ She didn’t feel like talking about her father though. ‘You were fostered in Australia?’ she asked, the question catching Gabe off-guard. His face shifted into a mask of displeasure but he covered it quickly enough.
‘Yes.’
‘But you were born here? In Italy?’
‘Yes.’
Abby frowned. ‘So how did you end up in Australia? I would have thought you would stay in your own country when you lost your mother...’
‘She had recently emigrated to Australia,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘It’s where she was from, and she still had family there. A cousin, at least. It made sense to go home.’
‘How did she die?’ The question sounded insensitive even to Abby’s ears. She blamed the wine and the fact she was still reeling from the ease with which he’d limited their relationship simply to sex...
‘A drug overdose,’ Gabe said, the words cold.
‘I’m sorry.’ She reached over, cupping her hand over his. ‘That must have been awful.’
‘Awful?’ He looked at her hand as though it were a foreign object, something unexpected and strange on the table. ‘Awful is one way to describe it.’
‘Were you close to her?’
Gabe’s eyes lanced Abby. ‘Aren’t all children close to their mothers?’
Abby nodded. ‘I guess.’ She was quiet as she contemplated her next question.
‘You can ask,’ he prompted, understanding that she was holding back.
‘Had she taken drugs for long?’
‘No.’ He reached for his wine and took a sip. The silence around them was another presence at the table, heavy and sad, all-encompassing.
It was broken by the arrival of a domestic, wheeling in a trolley laden with food. Plate after plate was placed on the table and silence didn’t give way. Abby watched Gabe from beneath shuttered lashes, studying him, trying to imagine him as a heartbroken eight-year-old.
When the servant left and the food was offering delicious, tantalising aromas, Abby spoke again. ‘Did you know she had a substance abuse problem?’
Gabe was stiff. ‘I was only a child,’ he said, his broad shoulders lifting with self-recrimination. ‘I suppose I knew something was wrong, but I had no way of knowing exactly what. It started about a year before we moved to Australia.’ His expression was taut, his whole body wound like a spring. ‘It got worse once we arrived.’
Abby shifted in her chair and, beneath the table, her toe inadvertently rubbed against his calf. His eyes seared hers with the heat that was always simmering just below the surface for them.
But Abby didn’t want to be distracted by what they felt physically. She sensed that she was on the brink of understanding something important. Something important about Gabe that she needed to know.
‘Why?’
She felt the depth of emotion in him and wanted to reach inside him and hold it, to reassure him and comfort him. But she couldn’t without knowing what motivated it.
‘You want me to explain addiction?’ he asked, but the question didn’t come across as flippant as Abby knew he’d hoped. It was desperate. Angry. She could see the eight-year-old he’d been now, feel his sense of rejection.
‘Your mother’s addiction,’ she said quietly. ‘Do you know why she took drugs?’
He sat straighter in his chair, as though remembering that he was Gabe Arantini, one half of the multi-billion-dollar Bright Spark Inc, a man renowned the world over as a ruthless CEO. ‘I know why she was miserable.’
‘Why?’
His eyes pierced hers then and she shivered because there was such cold anger in his gaze that it scored her deep inside. ‘Because she made the phenomenally stupid mistake of falling in love with my father.’
She felt his words resonate strongly: a warning to herself.
‘They weren’t happy together?’ Abby pushed. The feeling that she was on the brink of something very important held her still.
‘They weren’t together at all, period.’
Abby frowned, remembering threads of past conversations. ‘You told me that you destroyed your father...’
‘Yes.’ He nodded once, a cold jerk of his head.
‘He hurt her?’
‘He ruined her life,’ Gabe grunted.
‘How? Why?’
‘Because I hardly fitted into his plans, tempesta.’
‘He didn’t want to be a father?’
‘He was already a father,’ Gabe corrected. ‘A grandfather too.’
Abby frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
Gabe expelled an angry sigh, and now his eyes held resentment. ‘My mother was a cleaner. Here. In this castle.’ He waved a hand around the room. ‘My father was a lecherous jerk who liked to get his hands on the maids when his wife wasn’t looking—which was pretty often.’
Abby frowned, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to interrupt him. Not now that he’d started to open up.
‘She loved him. When she found out she was pregnant, she was overjoyed,’ Gabe spat, his derision for that emotion obvious.
‘He wasn’t overjoyed, though,’ she surmised.
‘No.’ Gabe sipped his wine then turned his head, his eyes running over the view through the window. The snow was still falling—a thicker layer had settled on the railing now. ‘He paid her to have an abortion. And fired her.’
Abby gasped. She couldn’t help it. ‘You’re not serious?’
He didn’t answer. Her question had been largely rhetorical.
‘She took the money and tried to make a life for herself in a nearby village.’ His eyes shifted to Abby’s for a moment. ‘It was tough. Being a single mother to an infant is not easy, as you are well aware.’
Something was prickling at the edges of Abby’s brain, something she didn’t want to think about until later. But it offered darkness and doubt and complications she hadn’t been aware of when she’d agreed to this.
‘What did she do?’
‘She blackmailed him,’ Gabe said softly. ‘He paid a small amount to keep her quiet and refused to see us. I don’t think she even wanted the money,’ he said. ‘She wanted him to be in our lives. She really did love him. He was forty-five years older than her and he’d had a string of affairs. He was an out-and-out bastard to her, by all accounts. Apparently love makes people act like fools.’
‘Eventually, as he grew older, I suppose he became worried about what would happen when he died. Would my mother seek a share of his inheritance?’
‘She’d have been entitled!’ Abby snapped, ignoring the parallels between her own situation and that of Gabe’s mother.
‘Yes.’ His gaze narrowed thoughtfully on Abby. ‘But she wouldn’t have tried. As I said, she loved him.’
‘So what happened?’
‘He convinced her to go back to her home. He bought her ticket, told her he would come and see us, that if we were over there it would be easier for him to visit and be in our lives. He offered her a lot of money to leave Italy.’
Gabe’s face was taut with anger. ‘He lied to her. He wanted her gone. He knew he would never visit, but he also knew that once she was in Australia it would be harder for her to come here.’
‘But he gave her money...’
‘He promised to give her money. It never eventuated. Once she landed he broke it off.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘So I can only presume it caused her to do whatever she could to blot out the pain.’
‘Gabe...’ Abby’s heart was swelling with sympathy and sorrow for both his mother and him—then and now. ‘That’s awful.’
Gabe’s nod was a sharp dismissal. ‘He was a bastard, as I said.’
‘But he must have had a change of heart,’ Abby said thoughtfully. ‘To leave you the castle...’
‘Leave it to me?’ Gabe let out a harsh laugh. ‘He was in his nineties when I bought it from him. His finances had been draining for years. The castle was all he had left.’
Something like pure hatred flashed in his face. ‘I took it from him for her, you know. I wanted my father to die knowing that I was living here.’
‘Oh, Gabe...’ She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Why? I did what I needed. I made him pay. I avenged her life and death, her abuse at my father’s hands. I only wish his wife had lived to learn about me.’
A shiver ran down Abby’s spine; Gabe’s hatred and animosity were formidable. She couldn’t imagine being on the receiving end of that degree of rage. It made his anger with her, her intention to deceive him, pale in comparison.
‘Did he know she’d died? That you were left alone out there?’
‘Yes.’
Abby’s eyes swept shut. The rejection was awful and astounding.
‘So you see why it is very important to me that Raf grows up knowing his parents love and want him; why I want him to see that I live to protect him, to protect you both. I never wish him to have a reason to doubt that.’ His frown deepened. ‘You must also understand that if I had known about him sooner I would have done everything I could to spare you the pain and financial burden you carried. I would have made sure you were comfortable and cared for, that you had all you needed. I would never allow a woman to experience what my mother did.’
Abby nodded, but it was impossible to take any comfort from his words. He wanted to do right by her but not because of who she was, nor because of the connection she was convinced they shared. No, this was all because of what had happened to his mother. The concern she’d allowed herself to see, to hope might be a sign of burgeoning feelings specifically for her, was simply a commitment to a duty he knew his father had neglected.
Tears sparkled on her lashes and she blinked them away hurriedly, but not fast enough to escape the notice of Gabe.
‘It was a long time ago,’ he said softly, misunderstanding the reason for her emotional response. ‘Getting upset won’t change what happened then.’
She nodded, dashing at her cheeks with fingertips that weren’t quite steady.
‘You met Noah through foster care?’
‘Yes. I’d been in the system a long time by then,’ he said, the conversation obviously one he wasn’t overly thrilled to be having. ‘The day he arrived at the same house was a turning point for me. And for him.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘Eat something, Abigail. You are too slim.’
She frowned. Was she? She had always been petite—her ballerina build partly genetics as well as from diet and exercise. But since having Raf she’d been stretched emotionally and financially. ‘I don’t always get time to eat,’ she admitted.
‘You’ve been busy. Raising a child on your own must have been difficult.’
Gabe reached for some serving spoons and began to heap various portions onto her plate. She watched with a frown. ‘You could say that.’
‘And the pregnancy?’
She blinked. ‘Hard. I was sick often.’
He shook his head. ‘I should have been there.’
‘You couldn’t have done anything to stop me from being ill,’ she pointed out, her heart thumping hard in her chest.
‘I tried to tell you,’ she said, though they’d discussed it before. ‘About Raf. I wanted you to be involved.’
His eyes locked onto hers and something strong and fierce surged between them, an electrical current that flooded her body with sensations. ‘I know that.’ He compressed his lips into a grim line. ‘And it’s just as well. I can’t think how I might have reacted if you’d chosen to conceal my child from me. I think that is something I would never have been able to overlook.’
She swallowed. ‘You’d probably feel a little like I did when I was dragged out of your office in Rome,’ she said tartly.
He winced. ‘A grave error on my part.’ His eyes held hers. ‘I am sorry, tempesta. I should have listened to you.’
How could she fail to be moved by his apology? She lowered her lashes to the meal and speared a piece of vegetable, but inside she was warming up from the centre.
But not for long.
‘I could have killed your father, you know,’ he said, so conversationally that Abby almost laughed. Except it wasn’t funny—not even remotely.
‘He was the man who should have been there for you, who should have loved you, and he was no better than my own father. He threw you out into the cold—and threw Raf out too. How you can not hate him is beyond me.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘Because he’s my father,’ she said simply. ‘And I see him for what he is. Flawed, yes. Broken, undoubtedly. But there is goodness in him too, and kindness. He’s just been too battered by life’s ill winds to remember that.’
Gabe let out a noise of frustration. ‘You make excuses for him because you are not brave enough to face the truth and accept that he is a disappointment. You are too frightened to live in a world in which you reject your father.’
‘I think it takes more courage to fight for who you love,’ she said with quiet strength. ‘To hold onto the truth of what you believe, deep in your heart, even when all evidence is to the contrary. I know my dad. I know how he feels. I understand why he acts as he does. And I forgive him that.’
He swore. ‘Do me a favour, Abigail? Never say such things about me. Never make excuses for me as though I need them. I know I am cold and ruthless and cynical—my father’s son in many ways—and that I am—and always will be—a loner in this life. I am happy with that. I don’t need you digging deeper and pretending there is more to me.’
‘A loner?’ she murmured, the smile on her lips heavy. ‘Hardly. You’re a father, and soon to be a husband.’
‘Yes,’ he said with a curt nod. ‘But our marriage is not about love; it is about common sense and practicality. Isn’t that proof of my coldness?’