The Arranged Marriage

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Marco was cowering back in the protective circle of Isabella’s arm, fright stamped on his face as he stared, goggle-eyed at his attacker.

Gina shook herself out of the gut-knotting tension. Her son needed her help, her reassurance. Alex and Isabella King were protecting him but she was his mother.

“I’m sorry the toad accidentally leapt on you, Michelle,” she said quietly, “but please don’t blame my son for it. Marco thinks catching toads is good. He sometimes helps one of his uncles do it and he’s used to being praised for bringing them to him.”

Blazing outrage was swung directly on her. “You let him help his uncle catch these disgusting things?”

Gina nodded, keeping her composure very calm for her son’s sake. “To Marco, it’s a great game. His uncle organises toad races for tourists. He gives them names like Fat Freddo, Forest Lump, Prince Charming…”

“Prince Charming?” Alex cocked an eyebrow at her, his tone amused, although there was no amusement in his eyes, more a wry appreciation of the distraction she was offering. Anger at the ugly scene simmered behind it.

Gina forced a smile at him, grateful for his help in easing the tension and the shock for Marco. “What’s more…” she went on, determined on giving her son more recovery time, “…if Prince Charming wins the race and it’s been bought to win by a woman, he tries to chat the woman into kissing it.”

“Kiss a toad?” Michelle gagged at the thought.

“It causes great hilarity amongst the spectators. They enjoy the mad fun of it. No one has to go through with the kissing but some do, getting their friends or family to video it so the story will be believed when they go home,” Gina patiently explained.

“I’ll bet it makes a great story,” Alex chimed in, sealing her account with pointed approval, then turning to deal more directly with his fiancée. “It’s all a matter of perspective, Michelle.”

“Ugh!” was her jeering response. “If you don’t mind…” She tore her wrist out of his hold. “…I’m going to wash the slime off my arm.”

She swung on her heel and with a haughty disdain of every effort to rescue the situation, marched off to the closest rest room. Her snubbing departure left a silence loaded with spine-crawling embarrassment. Gina glanced quickly at Marco who looked as if he was still teetering on the point of bursting into tears, despite the soothing-down process.

Alex moved to crouch in front of him. “Hey, Marco! How about we go look in the fish pond,” he suggested cheerfully.

“Fish?” her little son repeated on a slight wobble.

“Yep. Big red ones, gold ones, spotted ones. Let’s count them and see how many there are.” He plucked Marco out of his grandmother’s protective hold, swung him up in the air and perched him on his chest so they were face-to-face. “Can you count?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows as though in doubt.

“Yes.” Marco nodded gravely as he counted, “One, two, four, ten…”

“Good! Then off we go to the fish pond. If your mother permits?”

They both turned to Gina. She was momentarily transfixed by the burning need to make reparation being transmitted by Alex King’s vivid blue eyes. The intensity of feeling bored straight into her heart, forging an even stronger connection between them.

“Mama?”

The hopeful appeal from Marco forced her attention to him. The threat of tears had been effectively wiped out with the exciting flush of further achievement to be pursued.

“Yes, you may go,” she said, submitting to the need of the man and the moment, though she wasn’t at all sure this was the best action to take.

She watched Alex King carry her son away on a new adventure, grateful for his initiative in one sense, yet feeling hopelessly ambivalent about where this was leading. She wanted to believe…all sorts of wild things…yet surely the better solution would have been for her and Marco to leave, allowing these people to sort out their differences in private. Being the meat in their sandwich was not a happy place.

“Alessandro has a fine affinity with children,” Isabella assured her, intent on dispelling any worries she might have. “He looked after his younger brothers well when they were little boys.”

Realising she was still standing, Gina dropped back onto her chair to show she accepted Isabella’s assurance that Marco was safe with Alex. That wasn’t the problem.

“He’s very kind,” she replied, pasting a smile over her inner turbulence.

Michelle’s rage had been defused but the memory of it was not about to miraculously lift. She hoped Alex would bring Marco back soon enough for them to leave before his fiancée returned.

Though how he could marry a woman like that was beyond her comprehension. Especially if he wanted children. Admittedly, Marco wasn’t Michelle’s own child, but such a blaze of temper over a little toad, and the urge to hit…

It was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

And everything Alex King had stirred in her this afternoon made his connection to that woman feel more wrong.

The fat was in the fire and definitely sizzling, Isabella thought with deep satisfaction.

She had struck gold with Gina Terlizzi and her delightful little son. No doubt about her feelings for Alessandro and the attraction was definitely mutual. Best of all, Michelle had shown her true colours this afternoon. In fact, the manner in which both young women had conducted themselves provided such a striking contrast, her grandson would have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to appreciate the differences.

He was most certainly feeling considerable discontent with Michelle.

And it wasn’t just kindness towards Gina.

But what had been achieved this afternoon could all slide away if Gina wasn’t thrust right under Alessandro’s nose again and again in relatively quick succession. The big hump was the diamond ring on Michelle’s engagement finger. Alessandro didn’t give a commitment lightly. Nor would he lightly withdraw one. It had to be broken.

Determined to strike while the iron was hot, Isabella quickly formulated a plan which she could surely manipulate to serve her purpose. “To return to business…” She let the words linger for a few moments to give Gina time to get her mind on track. “…are you free next Saturday night?”

Surprise at the early date, but eagerness to clutch at it, too. “Yes, I am, Mrs. King.”

“I’ve been thinking…a friend of my grandson, Antonio, is holding his wedding here next Saturday. I would like to do something special for him. It has been arranged for Peter Owen to play and sing. You know him?”

“Not exactly know. But I have seen him perform. He’s quite brilliant on the piano and a very professional crooner. He really sells his songs.”

“Yes. He’s very popular. But it would, I think, offer a very interesting variety if you sang a few duets with him.”

“Duets?”

“You must know ‘All I Ask of You’ from Phantom of the Opera.”

“Yes…”

“I’m sure the two of you could do that song justice. Peter could also do the backing and harmony for your ‘Because You Loved Me.’ And ‘From This Moment On’ can also be sung as a duet.”

“But…” Gina frowned uncertainly “…would he want to share his spotlight with me?”

“Peter Owen will do what I ask of him.” Whatever the financial persuader was, Isabella would pay it. “You would need to make time to rehearse with him during the week.”

“If you’re sure he…I mean, compared to him, I’m an amateur, Mrs. King.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll find you so.” She smiled her confidence. “Leave the arrangements to me. I’ll call you after I’ve contacted Peter. Are we agreed?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She looked somewhat dazed but determined to pursue the opportunity. She had grit, this girl. Give her the chance and she’d go the full mile on what she believed in. At the present moment, she thought Alessandro was out of her reach, but put him within reach…

More importantly, put her within his reach.

Proximity, natural attraction, the continual contrast between what he had and what he could have, temptation…

“Peter Owen always wears white tails for his act. You would need a formal evening dress,” Isabella cautioned, hoping Gina’s wardrobe extended to something…fetching. A woman with a fine bosom could afford to show some cleavage.

“I do have one I think would be suitable,” Gina assured her.

“Good!” Isabella smiled. “All three of my grandsons will be at the wedding. I must confess I like showing off my finds to them.”

She flushed, her thick lashes sweeping down to veil a rush of anguished emotion in her eyes, but not before Isabella had glimpsed it.

“I’ll do my best to make you proud of me, Mrs. King.”

“I’m sure you will, my dear.”

And not least because Gina now knew Alessandro would be there.

Probably Michelle, too…unfortunately.

Though Isabella was counting on Gina outshining Michelle next Saturday night…in her own very appealing and extremely suitable way.

CHAPTER FIVE

“LADIES and gentlemen…”

The formal call on their attention reduced the buzz of conversation in the ballroom. Heads turned to look at Peter Owen who commanded the stage, along with the white grand piano which was currently adorned with an elaborate candelabra reminiscent of Liberace’s style. A deliberate affectation, Alex thought, as were the white tails Peter Owen wore. Still he was certainly a consummate showman, and much liked by the ladies.

“Tonight we have a very special performance for the bride and groom…” He made an expansive gesture towards the bridal table where Tony, Alex’s youngest brother was also seated—best man to the groom. “…courtesy of our wonderful hostess, Isabella King.”

His other brother, Matt, was sharing a table with him and the rest of their party further down the ballroom. Matt instantly leaned over and whispered, “So what has Nonna cooked up?”

“I don’t know,” Alex answered, curious himself as he watched his grandmother give Peter Owen a nod and a smile.

“May I introduce to you…” The singer/pianist stepped back, his arm swinging out to one side of the stage, his head turned in the same direction. “…Gina Terlizzi.”

“Well, well, your little songbird, Alex,” Michelle drawled, causing the hair on the back of his neck to prickle.

They’d had a blazing row last Sunday over Gina Terlizzi and Alex didn’t want one provoked tonight. The trouble was, Michelle’s arguments had tapped a guilt in him he couldn’t deny. He wasn’t sure what to do about it, either.

“Your songbird?” Matt picked up teasingly.

“Nonna’s,” he answered with a curt, dismissive gesture.

Gina was coming out on stage, her hand reaching for Peter Owen’s. He took it, pulling her to his side, making a cosy pairing that instantly raised Alex’s hackles. What was his grandmother thinking of, coupling Gina with a well-known womaniser of highly dubious charm? The man was already twice divorced, and putting a woman as attractive and as vulnerable as Gina Terlizzi in his path could easily bring her grief.

“Gina and I have been rehearsing all week…”

All week!

And she was positively glowing beside him, a big smile lighting her face, the amber eyes very sparkly, her toffee-coloured hair swinging loose around her bare shoulders, her curvy figure shown to stunning advantage in a bronze, body-moulding lace top, sashed at her waist with a piece of the darker bronze filmy fabric that formed a long skirt featuring a rather provocative side ruffle.

“Hmm…very sultry and sexy,” Matt murmured.

Alex found himself thinking the same thing and was extremely discomforted by the bolt of desire that was sizzling through his system. Michelle was sitting right beside him, dressed in a slinky, metallic-red gown that was braless and virtually backless, so blatantly sexy she’d had every male eye at the wedding giving her the once-over. And she was his! Why on earth would he suddenly feel even a trace of lust for another woman?

The thought struck him that Michelle’s sexiness was artful.

Gina’s was…something else…like a celebration of the woman she was. And Peter Owen was basking in it. No…gloating in it!

“I warn you, this lovely lady’s voice will grab your heart,” he announced fatuously. “So sit back and enjoy the beautiful duet from Phantom of the Opera, a song that strikes every emotional chord there is between a man and a woman—‘All I Ask of You.’”

Alex found himself tensing as the seasoned performer put his arm around Gina to draw her closer to the piano. The man was altogether too smooth with the liberties he took.