‘I KNOW it all seems a bit strange, but you’ll soon get used to it.’
Catherine didn’t even deign to give a response as she clipped along the marble entrance hall in her high heels, her dark suit matching her sombre mood. Antonia’s words were still ringing in her ears as she tried to fathom the new world she now inhabited.
And he watched.
Watched from a distance as she explored her new surroundings, quietly proud of her detached dignity as she adjusted to yet another new page in the book of her life, again faced the challenges the world seemed only too willing to provide this resilient woman.
You have to let her come to you.
How many times over the last days had he heard that?
Every time Lily had arched her back, sobbed in protest as he held out his arms to her, the social worker had repeated those words. ‘She’s confused, scared—it’s all too much for her to take in. If you can just be there for her, and try not to expect too much, then in time she’ll come to you.’
But it wasn’t Lily worrying him now; tonight his concern was purely for Catherine.
How he longed to go over to his new bride, to shower that pale, strained face with kisses, to make things better with just a smile. But this wasn’t a baby to be won over with a smile; this was a woman…
In every sense of the word, Rico thought, then attempted a retraction, mentally slamming closed a window that simply couldn’t be opened tonight.
He wanted to tell her—tell her what was in his heart—but surely now wasn’t the time. Catherine had enough to deal with, without clouding the issue with his pointless declarations.
A loveless marriage.
That was what they had agreed and that was how it must be. For now at least.
Yet no matter how he fought it, no matter how he tried to feign aloofness, still he found himself admiring those legs that seemed to go on for ever, silhouetted by her sheer stockings as she walked the length of the house. He took in the soft curve of her stomach, so much more appealing than the flat, concave gamines he usually dated.
But though he adored her with his eyes, they narrowed in concern as she made her way back to the entrance hall. She faced him head-on for the first time that day, and he couldn’t help but notice the dark smudges under eyes that had lost all their sparkle, the luscious hair tied back in a severe knot. Only her lips added a splash of colour, but even they seemed to have paled, and he ached, physically ached to take her into his arms and kiss away all the hurt, to somehow let her know that he understood the hell of today—the funeral, the awful confrontation with his family. But something in her stance told him he was neither wanted nor needed.
‘I’d better check on Lily.’ Even her voice seemed to have lost its fire. ‘Listless’ was the word that sprang to mind. Her eyes didn’t even flick to his as she headed for the stairs.
‘Jessica said she was sleeping,’ Rico pointed out. ‘Maybe it’s best not to disturb her.’
‘Jessica’s the nanny.’ Catherine shrugged. ‘I thought nighttime kisses and fairy stories were my department.’
‘Catherine.’ He came up behind her, taking the stairs two at a time till he stood beside her, one hand reaching for her shoulder. But he saw her stiffen before he even made contact and pulled it away. ‘You’ve just lost your sister, moved out of your home—’
‘And just got married!’ Her eyes glinted dangerously at him. ‘You failed to mention the fact we got married this morning, Rico. But then why would you? It was hardly the ceremony of the century.’
‘Which was what you wanted,’ Rico pointed out. ‘What you insisted upon.’
And it had been, Catherine conceded. But only to herself. She’d never been one of those women who’d dreamed since childhood about her wedding day, but a draughty, bland register office in the middle of the city, a ceremony snatched between meetings with lawyers and funeral preparations, certainly hadn’t been envisaged either.
‘I just didn’t expect it to be so—’
‘Look,’ Rico quickly interrupted, ‘I know it wasn’t much of a wedding—I know that it was all a bit rushed. If you want, we can do it again—do it properly. When things have settled down we can have the wedding you want, the wedding you deserve. I’ll get my secretary to find you the best wedding planners; they can put you on to designers, anything you want…’
He was trying to help, Catherine told herself. Rico Mancini was used to waving a chequebook to fix things, used to plastering over cracks. But her pain ran too deep.
He simply didn’t get it.
He’d probably never get it.
The bland surroundings, the lack of grandeur, her crumpled clothes, the impassive celebrant—they didn’t matter a jot.
Had Rico only loved her, had his eyes adored her as he’d taken her as his wife, had his hand only reached for hers as they’d signed the register, the wedding would have been all she’d ever hoped for.
Her wedding would have been magical.
‘I’m going to check on Lily.’
‘Leave Lily for now.’ Rico was insistent. ‘Jessica seems very responsible and her room is just next door to Lily’s. Why don’t you come and have a drink?’
‘I don’t want a drink.’
‘Well, a bath, then.’
She gave a low laugh. ‘I would, except I don’t even know where the bathroom is.’
‘Catherine, please.’ She could hear an impatient note to his voice and gave a wry shake of her head—her allotted two minutes of understanding were clearly up.
‘What’s wrong, Rico?’ Accusing eyes turned to his, for even though she was as much a participant as Rico, a willing partner in the sham they had engineered, somehow she couldn’t help but blame him.
Blame him for not loving her back.
‘Aren’t I playing the part of new bride to your satisfaction? Are you disappointed I didn’t want to be carried over the threshold to satisfy the photographers? Were you hoping I might have a nice bath and then slip into something more comfortable?’
‘Of course not—’ Rico started, but Catherine hadn’t finished.
‘You’ve got what you wanted, Rico. I’ve kept up my end of the deal. But don’t for one second expect me to be happy about it.’
Even as she spoke Catherine regretted her harsh words. She didn’t want to be like this, didn’t want to be mooching around like a surly teenager, making this uncomfortable situation worse for both of them. But it was as if she couldn’t help herself.
Antonia’s dreadful accusations were still buzzing in her ears. How she longed to escape for a few days, to check out of the world and digest all that had happened, assimilate it into some sort of order—something she could deal with. But at her own bidding she was a mother now. And not one part of her life was familiar. Her possessions had been cleared from her flat in a single day, compassionate leave arranged from work with one phone call—even her name was different: Catherine Mancini.
Catherine Mancini, who lived in a huge, imposing house, with servants and nannies. Catherine Mancini, who had a baby to care for. Catherine Mancini, wife to a husband who under any other circumstances wouldn’t have deigned to marry her.
‘Leave Lily,’ he said again, and the tone of his voice told Catherine he wasn’t about to be argued with. ‘If you wake her now it will take ages to settle her, and we’re both exhausted.’
‘Fine.’ Her mouth barely moved. ‘Maybe I will have a bath after all, and then I think I’ll go to bed. Could you show me where I’ll be sleeping?’
‘Of course.’ He led her up the stairs, his hand resting gently on tense shoulders that stiffened even more as he pushed open the large mahogany door. He registered her sharp intake of breath as she eyed the vast bed, the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that took in the shimmering Melbourne skyline. ‘I will even run a bath for you.’
Run a bath. He made it sound such a supreme effort, and for Rico it probably was, Catherine mused as he walked across the room. No doubt this was a first. She watched as he stood for a moment by the vast sunken spa, eyeing the bottles of oil, then flicking a switch. She stood, seemingly transfixed by the swirling bubbles but struggling against a surge of panic, wishing more than Catherine had ever wished in her life that she could do it. Could slip off her clothes with the confidence his numerous other lovers had undoubtedly had, smile up at him through her eyelashes and suggest he join her. But she felt as if her feet had been nailed to the floor, a shadow of what Rico undoubtedly expected his wife to be—a mere solution to a problem, a wife of convenience in every sense.
‘There must be another room.’ She ran a tongue over her dry lips, watched his eyes narrow, the muscles on his face quilting as he turned to face her. ‘I mean, it might make things easier for both of us…’
‘Easier?’ His voice was menacingly quiet and she had to strain to catch it over the noise of the running water. ‘You think my wife sleeping down the hallway will make things easier? Tell me how so, Catherine?’
‘I think it would be easier if we had a bit of space. We both know this isn’t a true marriage; we both know we don’t…’ She swallowed nervously. Lies were hard work, even at this dangerous stage.
‘Don’t love each other?’ Rico finished the sentence for her, the words snapping out through his taut lips, and the air crackled with tension as Catherine gave a nervous nod, consoling herself that it was a lie by omission only.
To love each other took commitment from both sides, a commitment Rico had vowed he would never give. But though she loved him she hated him too—hated his presumption, his arrogance, the way he walked over people he should care about.
The questions that had saturated her mind since the wake could be voiced now; answers were needed before she could even contemplate continuing this charade. Forcing herself to take a calming breath, finally she spoke. ‘Is it true what Antonia said? Did you know that the business was going to take off when you bought out your brother and father?’
He didn’t answer for a moment, and when he did despite his blithe response Catherine knew she’d hit a nerve. ‘I knew it was a possibility.’
‘But Antonia said—’
‘Forget Antonia.’ His voice was like the crack of a whip, his nonchalance disappearing as Catherine pressed on. ‘She is poison—evil. I told you not to listen to a word she says.’
‘And that’s supposed to be enough for me?’ Catherine flared. ‘You tell me not to listen and I’m supposed to comply? Am I not allowed to form my own opinions, Rico? Are you going to remind me again of the good old days, when wives took their husbands’ opinions as gospel? The good old days when wives meekly complied with the master’s orders?’
‘You are twisting my words; I am telling you that woman is no good,’ Rico growled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards him to force her to listen. But Catherine pulled her hand away, standing tall and proud, looking him square in the eyes.
‘I heard you the first time, Rico.’ Catherine was shouting now. ‘And you can scream it from the rafters, swear it to be true, but so far all I see is a grandmother with her back to the wall—a grandmother fighting to raise her orphaned grandchild.’
‘Step-grandchild,’ Rico corrected, but Catherine refused to buy it.
‘Now who’s twisting words, Rico? We’ll never be Lily’s biological parents, yet that doesn’t mean we won’t love her as if we were! And you still haven’t answered my question. Did you pay off your brother and father knowing that the business was about to explode into an empire?’
‘It was years ago.’ Rico’s hands were working furiously now, tossing in the air with exasperated gestures, and again he reminded her of a lion—but trapped now, pacing the cage restlessly, his simmering anger ready to explode. ‘Why the hell do we have to drag it up? Why go into things that don’t have any bearing on the here and now? They didn’t have to sell.’
‘The same way I didn’t have to marry you?’ She gave a low, mirthless laugh. ‘I bet you ensured that they had no choice but to sell—the same way you gave me no choice. And despite what you say it does have a bearing on us. How you treated your family in the past is a pretty good indicator of how you’re going to treat me in the future, Rico. There’s a lot of unfinished business there. A lot of pain—’
‘Oh, there’s pain,’ Rico said darkly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. ‘But go on, Catherine. Finish what you were saying.’
She swallowed hard. Something in his voice merited deeper exploration, but she had to see this through, could not be dragged from the path again by Rico’s clever bidding. ‘I’m not sure I want to be married to a man who could cheat his own family.’
A compressed hiss escaped his lips. So savage was the fury in his eyes that Catherine braced herself for impact, for that incurable Latin temperament to bubble over into a blind torrent of rage.
All of that she could have dealt with.
Could have fought his fire with her own.
Only it never came. For an age he didn’t answer, just calmly walked over and flicked off the taps she had forgotten were even running, and when he straightened up, when he turned to address her, his voice was incredibly even, his icy demeanor more chilling than any heated confrontation.
‘You make it sound as if you still have a choice, Catherine. You make it sound as if you are still considering the proposal I made back at the hotel.’ He held up his left hand, the heavy gold band she had placed there catching the light as he crossed the room towards her. ‘Might I remind you that we have a legally binding commitment to each other? The register you signed wasn’t a birthday card, or a casual letter you can rip up and forget about.’ His face was so close she could feel every word he uttered skim along her cheek, feel the tension in every muscle as he stood before her, body taut, eyes blazing. ‘You are my wife now, Catherine, with all that that entails.’
‘Surely you can’t expect us to share a bed? Surely after all that’s gone on you don’t expect us to sleep together?’
‘Back at the hotel I remember us sharing a bed together. I don’t remember you needing space then!’
‘That was then,’ Catherine retaliated. ‘I was confused, lonely…’ Pleading eyes begged him to understand, and if he’d just taken her in his arms, told her it was all okay, that it wasn’t just for appearances’ sake he wanted her in his bed, she’d have gone to him without hesitation—would have settled, even, for a convincing lie. But Rico was a closed book. Not one flicker of his face betrayed how he was feeling. Every emotion was guarded fiercely behind the mask he so readily wore.
‘I can’t do it, Rico. Please don’t make me.’
Her plea was genuine, for with one crook of his finger she knew she would dissolve like jelly in hot water—fall into his arms and betray herself with the words he didn’t want to hear. Or maybe he did, Catherine realised.
After all, if she loved him, he won.
‘We don’t have a choice.’ He nodded to the window. ‘Did you notice the press when we came home, Catherine? Are you foolish enough to think that they’ve got their pictures and gone home now?’ He gave a mocking laugh. ‘They don’t believe in fairytales any more than I do, and each and every one of them will want to be the first to prove their point—lights flicking on in the guest room will do just that. And if by some chance we manage to fool them on that score, how long do you think it will be before one of the staff decides Christmas should come a bit early?’
‘I don’t understand…’
‘Trust no one, Catherine,’ Rico said darkly, a mocking smile curving on his lips. ‘Except maybe me.’
‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’ Her pulse was pounding in her temples now—not gently, though. A nauseating throbbing would be a more apt description. Her hand moved up, massaging her temples, and she wondered how best to play this.
‘Don’t tell me…’ His voice was dripping with sarcasm. ‘You’re getting a headache?’
‘Isn’t that what wives normally get?’ Catherine bit back, but Rico’s riposte was just as swift.
‘I believe so. Though generally after the marriage is consummated.’
A low laugh escaped her pale lips. ‘Worried the contract is not quite legally binding, Rico? Are you worried that until we’ve slept together I might be able to ask for an annulment?’
‘I never worry about small details. Why would I when I have an army of solicitors to do it for me? And I believe, off the top of my head, that a request for an annulment wouldn’t stand up too well in court when only days before the wedding the bride was not only sleeping with the groom but begging for it.’
‘I never begged.’
‘Oh, no?’
He never moved, his eyes stayed fixed and not a muscle flickered in his body, but she could almost taste the sudden sexual tension. The suggestion in his words was enough to cast her mind back until she could almost see her head on the pillow, thrashing in frenzied passion as she wept for him to enter her, and she knew he was thinking it too. The knowledge caused a ripple of lust to dart through her traitorous body—just the memory of his touch was enough to instigate instant arousal.
‘That’s not how I remember it, Catherine.’
His words should have shamed her, but she was beyond that now. His scorn should have hurt, but Catherine was beyond pain. She had buried her sister today, sworn at Janey’s graveside she would do her best for Lily, and if standing tall and proud, quelling her fears and fighting back was the order of the day, then somehow she’d do it. This was Rico Mancini she was up against—a man who would use her to further his cause. She had to remember that, had to keep her head however much she wanted to lose it, had to stay strong.
For Janey and for Lily.
‘Then I’m not the only fool in this room.’ The derisive note in her voice, the clarity of her speech, surprised even Catherine. And when she saw the dart of confusion in his eyes it was all that was needed to spur her on further.
One tiny victory when all had seemed lost.
‘Contrary to your orders, I haven’t quite burnt all my bridges—I didn’t hand in my notice, Rico, I’m on compassionate leave. So I can walk back into my old life at any given moment.’ She stepped back slightly; the fire was back in her eyes now, a soft pink dusted her pale cheeks and her chin set determinedly as she carried on talking. ‘But then why would I bother when there’s always the divorce card to play? Even the ex Mrs Mancini would have more clout in a courtroom than Miss Catherine Masters.’
‘That’s why you said yes?’ Rico’s voice was a pale whisper.
‘That’s the only reason I said yes,’ Catherine said firmly.
‘You wanted me that night,’ he insisted, but though his voice was resolute there was flicker of doubt in his eyes.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure, Rico.’ As she turned Catherine smiled softly at him, but it was a smile laced with danger, a curious cocktail of seduction and menace.
The gentle, sweet woman was gone now; instead a bewitching temptress smiled back at him. He stood frozen, watching transfixed as she loosened her hair from its confines, pulled off her jacket and worked the buttons of her black lace blouse, undressing slowly, but utterly ignoring him at the same time, absolutely refusing to let him see the effect he was having on her, determined not to be intimidated.
For the first time in their strange relationship Catherine knew the power of being a woman, learnt the lessons her mother and Janey had unwittingly imparted.
Knew for once she had the valuable upper hand.
‘What proud Sicilian would like his lack of sexual prowess played out in court? What proud Sicilian would want the world to know that one night with a woman was enough to make her ensure it was the last?’
Unzipping her skirt, she let it fall around her ankles. Under any other circumstances she would have felt stupid, utterly stupid, standing in stockings and high heels, her creamy breasts spilling out of black lace. But his well-cut suit wasn’t enough to hide his furious arousal, and Catherine flicked a superior eye downwards before turning her triumphant gaze back to him as she discarded her bra.
‘You lie.’ He cursed the words at her, but she deliberately didn’t flinch. ‘You enjoyed every moment.’
‘Did I?’ Slowly she walked over to the bath, and slowly she lowered herself in—grateful for the heated water as an excuse for her flaming skin, grateful for the bubbles that covered her jutting nipples. ‘I’m sure Marco was equally convinced when Janey called out his name.’
His eyes found hers then.
‘You bitch.’
‘Why act so surprised, Rico? All along you’ve accused me of being a gold-digger, all along you’ve insisted I’m only here for the money, and yet now you’ve finally got me to admit it you don’t seem very pleased all of a sudden.’ Dragging her eyes away, she concentrated for an age on the bottles, before selecting one and massaging its contents into her hair. He stood rigid beside the bathtub, his face livid, anger blazing in every taut muscle.
‘Lily is my sole priority, Rico. Not this marriage and definitely not you. And if you think you can use me as some sort of pawn in your game and I’ll just comply—’
‘You believe Antonia?’ Rico demanded. ‘After everything I said, still you choose to believe her?’
‘I believe no one,’ Catherine said resolutely. ‘But believe this, Rico. If you think you can brush me off like some smudge on your suit when it all dies down, that I’ll walk away without a fight, then you’d better think again. Catherine Masters has long gone now, I’m Catherine Mancini, with everything the name entails.’