The Sicilian's Bought Bride

He looked at her bemused face and shook his head disbelievingly. Picking up a remote control, he flicked on the television, watching her expression as the images shot into focus, hearing the tiny strangled sob as the mangled wreckage of a car filled the screen, then Marco and Janey’s wedding photo, superimposed on the top right corner. The news reader droned on, regaling supposed facts Catherine simply wasn’t ready to hear, and her hand shot to her ears in a childlike gesture, her eyes screwing closed against the horrible images that seemed to be choking her.

‘I asked the hospital not to release their names until we left.’

His explanation wasn’t helping, and she opened her eyes, stared at him, bemused.

‘A Mancini is dead.’

‘Two Mancinis,’ Catherine corrected. ‘My sister counts too.’

‘Your sister counts for nothing,’ Rico sneered. ‘But, yes, I stand corrected. Technically two Mancinis are dead, Catherine, and that is news. No doubt the poor concierge you were so worried about is now either kicking himself for his insensitivity or ringing the press to tell them I am here.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘Frankly, I don’t give a damn which one it is.’

‘But why would the press want to speak to you?’

‘Are you stupid, Catherine? Or just a really good actress?’

His words barely touched the sides. Pain was already layered on top of pain—another dash of scorn, another dose of humiliation from Rico was not much in the scheme of things.

‘I’m not stupid, Rico.’ Her brown eyes met his. ‘I read the papers, I watch the news when I get home from work, and I know how powerful the Mancinis are, I know that the stockmarket rises and falls depending on your company’s profits. But Marco wasn’t a part of the family business—Marco never worked a day in his life. I really can’t see why the press are getting so excited. His death isn’t going to affect the company—’

‘Do you think the press will care about a small detail like that?’ Rico broke in, ‘Marco is rich, he has a daughter—’

‘Was rich,’ Catherine corrected, and for a second so small it was barely there she was sure she saw a flicker of pain in those dark eyes, saw the haughty, bland mask slip for a tiny second, but she continued anyway. ‘Had a daughter.’

‘Which is why I’ve brought you here.’

‘You didn’t bring me here,’ Catherine pointed out. ‘I chose to come. I’m not stupid, Rico, but possibly I’ve been a bit naamp2;¨ve. Maybe the world isn’t going to stop because of Janey and Marco’s deaths, but it’s certainly going to pause for a few days’ reflection, and I can see that Lily’s future will be debated vigorously by people who don’t give a damn about her. But I for one don’t care what the newspapers have to say, because at the end of the day everyone will get on with their lives. We’re the ones who are going to be living it; we’re the ones dealing with the issues.’

‘I don’t give a damn what the press say, either,’ Rico responded. ‘But it is not only the press who will be having their say…’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he stared at her for the longest moment, as if deciding whether or not to continue. ‘My stepmother is not going to let you have Lily.’ A tiny gasp of protest escaped Catherine’s lips, but she swallowed it back. Rico’s words were too important for interruption. ‘I can tell you now that she won’t allow it to happen. She will not allow Lily’s inheritance to leave the family.’

‘But why?’ Catherine asked, bemused. ‘Surely she doesn’t need the money? Surely…?’

‘Too much is never enough, and the way my stepmother spends money this unexpected windfall will not be given up without a fight.’ His mouth set in a grim line. ‘My stepmother is the coldest woman on this earth. She is the reason Marco went off the rails, the reason he drank himself—’

‘That’s an excuse,’ Catherine broke in. ‘I had the same argument over and over with Janey, when she tried to blame our parents for whatever scrape she found herself in. You had the same family as Marco, the same pressures, yet you still managed to hold down a job, manage your affairs. Marco may have been disadvantaged by his stepmother, but he still had a lot more opportunities in life than most people dream of. You do him no favours by blaming your stepmother.’

‘Perhaps,’ Rico conceded. ‘But it is not always black and white, Catherine. People are different. I am stronger than Marco; I am tougher.’ There was no superiority in his words, just the cool deliverance of fact, and this time Catherine chose not to remind him that Marco was now in the past tense. She just listened as he continued to talk. ‘Antonia is a nasty piece of work, and till the day I die I will blame her in part for the fact Marco is now lying in a mortuary…’ His voice wavered slightly, his fists clenching in salute by his sides, and Catherine was shocked to see what was surely the glint of tears in those dark eyes. But just as soon as his pain registered, like a light flicking off, the impassive mask returned. ‘I will not allow her to mess up Lily the way she messed up Marco.’

‘Then what was all that about back at the hospital?’ Deliberately she kept her tone even, refusing to be intimidated by him. ‘Given what you’ve just told me, surely I’m the better option to raise Lily? And before you insist I only want her for the money, let me tell you, Rico, you are wrong. Her inheritance never entered my head—not until you came tonight.’

He stared at her, disbelief etched on his features, but his shrug was almost weary. ‘Maybe you want both. Maybe you do care for Lily, and I guess there is no shame in wanting to be rich.’ She opened her mouth to argue, but Rico carried on talking. ‘I cannot let Lily go with this woman, Catherine.’

‘Then let me have her.’

‘It is not that simple. Antonia will go to every court in the land, use every means available to discredit you. She’ll have the most expensive lawyers. You are a teacher, Catherine. The reality is that you survive on a schoolteacher’s wage. Against her you won’t stand a chance.’

His words made sense, and a dark feeling of foreboding shivered through her. Though it galled her to ask for his assistance, Catherine knew she had no choice, and the words were out before the idea had even formed. ‘You could help me.’

‘Why would I help you, Catherine? Why wouldn’t I just apply for custody myself?’

‘Go ahead,’ Catherine said airily, though her heart was in her mouth. She registered the surprise in his expression and it gave her a small surge of triumph. Her eyes met his defiantly, fighting fire with fire as she carried on talking. ‘But don’t try and scare me off, Rico, with talk of money and lawyers. I’ll sell my home if I have to, and when the money has gone I’ll apply for legal aid. I’ll tell you this now, and I’ll tell each Mancini in turn if they care to ask: I have as much right to Lily as anyone. Unlike you, I’ve actually played a part in her short life. As much as I loathed the way Marco and Janey carried on I still went round, still made sure I was there for Lily…’

‘I’ve been busy with work,’ Rico argued. ‘And watching those two made me—’

‘Save it,’ Catherine snapped. ‘Tell the court how you couldn’t even get away for her christening, how you saw your niece for two minutes at the hospital the day after she was born and that you haven’t seen her since.’

‘There are reasons!’ Rico roared, but Catherine just glared back.

‘Excuses,’ Catherine flared. ‘They are nothing but excuses! And now you have the gall to tell me you want custody of Lily—a baby you’ve barely met. Well, I’m not going to let you do it, Rico. I don’t give a damn about the Mancini fortune, and your power doesn’t frighten me. I will fight for her, and deep down I think you know that I’m the best person for her.’

‘You?’

She heard the scorn and contempt in his voice and deliberately kept hers even. ‘Yes, me, Rico. I will fight for Lily. I will do whatever it takes to ensure her future. Whatever it takes,’ Catherine repeated, just to be sure he understood. ‘I know you don’t think much of me, Rico. You made that abundantly clear on the night of the wedding—’

‘That night has no bearing on this discussion.’

‘Oh, but it does.’ The sting of embarrassment brought a flush of colour to her pale cheeks, but Catherine refused to be silenced. Lily’s future was too important for her to dodge behind embarrassing facts. ‘You were the one who treated me like a cheap tart, Rico.’ She saw him wince at her brutal words, but ploughed on anyway. ‘You were the one who walked out of the reception without even a goodbye…’ Her cheeks were red now, but not with embarrassment. Instead it was with a year’s worth of humiliation and anger at this man who had treated her with such contempt. ‘I ran after you, Rico. I came to your car and knocked on your window and you refused to even look at me…’

‘Because you disgusted me.’

Her recoil was so visible he might as well have hit her. The colour that had suffused her cheeks drained, and tears that had stayed buried all day, were stinging now, but Catherine bit them back, refusing to let him see her cry, to allow him the glory of her utter humiliation.

‘Might I remind you, Rico—’ her voice was strained but dignified, her lips barely moving as she struggled to hold it together ‘—that it takes two? And if you’re going to try and use that night to discredit me in court then it won’t work. You were very much a participant in what happened.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he sneered.

‘Presumably you’re one of those chauvinist men who assume it’s okay for men to behave in such a fashion but that’s it somehow different for women?’ He opened his mouth to speak but Catherine overrode him, her voice coming louder now. ‘And maybe you’re right, Rico. Because try as I might I cannot justify what happened that night. I cannot explain to anyone, let alone myself, how I ended up in a hotel room with a man I barely knew. Yes, I behaved like a cheap tart—so you see, Rico, you can’t hurt me with your cruel words, can’t shame me any more than I shamed myself that night. I may disgust you, but I can assure you I disgust myself more.’

They stood in bristling silence, her words resonating like an awful echo until Catherine could no longer bear it—couldn’t bear to stand there a moment longer. Her eyes scanned the luxurious room for an exit, settling instead for the safety of the bathroom, and only when she’d closed the door did she let out the breath she had been inadvertently holding. Her jaw was aching from gritting her teeth together.

How could she explain to him that to her dying day she would never be able to fathom how she had so brazenly allowed him to touch her, hold her? That even a year on she could scarcely comprehend the intimacies she had shared with a virtual stranger that night? But he hadn’t seemed like a stranger, Catherine recalled, resting her burning face against the mirror as she remembered the passion that had gripped her, that had sullied her sensibility and overridden her normal reservation.

How could she explain to Rico what she couldn’t understand herself?

Peeling off her clothes, Catherine stepped into the shower, the welcome bliss of water on her body soothing somehow, giving her a few moments to compose herself, to sort through the jumble of events today had thrown at her. She wished she could stay there for ever, wished she could hide from the world for just a moment longer, but somehow she had to be strong, had to go back in that room and face him.

For Lily’s sake.

Pulling on a thick white robe, she tied it firmly before filling the sink to wash her stockings and knickers. Luxurious as the hotel might be, it didn’t come with a fully stocked wardrobe—and anyway she was glad of the chance to prolong the discussion a few moments longer.

‘What are you doing?’

Appalled, she swung round, scarcely able to believe his gall.

‘How dare you come in here without knocking?’ Eyes blazing, she met his gaze. ‘How dare you come in here? I could have been naked…’

‘You are dressed in a robe,’ Rico pointed out, clearly unmoved at her protests. ‘We need to talk, and instead you are hiding in here.’

‘I’m not hiding,’ Catherine lied, but Rico just shook his head.

‘Why are you washing your clothes like some gipsy in the river, then?’ he sneered. ‘You are hiding, Catherine…’

‘You really are the limit—do you know that? For your information, I didn’t stop to pack an overnight bag when the police arrived at my door.’

‘Send your washing down to Housekeeping, then.’ Rico shrugged.

‘I have some pride,’ Catherine retorted. ‘Not much, I admit that—you’ve managed to obliterate most of it—but if you think I’m going to hand my underwear over to be washed and ironed then you’ve got another think coming.’ Very deliberately she turned away, rinsing out her washing and draping it over the bath ledge, making sure she took her time, sensing his bristling impatience yet refusing to be rushed, refusing to turn as he commenced the discussion she had hoped to delay.

‘If Lily were older undoubtedly we could ask her what she wanted. But given she is only six months old, that is of course impossible.’

She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t turn, just gave a small nod as Rico continued.

‘So perhaps we should ask ourselves what her parents would have wanted?’

His words made sense, and reluctantly she turned to face him, willing to at least listen to what Rico had to say.

‘Marco and I may have rowed on occasion, and I may have alienated myself from him to some degree because I didn’t approve of his lifestyle, but we still met up regularly. As I said before, we came to this hotel for many lunches, and whatever trouble he was in Marco knew he could always call on me. I know that he did respect me.’ His voice thickened and he swallowed hard before continuing. ‘I know in my heart that he loved me, Catherine, and I also know he would have wanted me to raise his child. So now it’s your turn. What about Janey?’

His eyes never left her face, taking in every flicker of reaction as his question reached her. ‘What would Janey have wanted for Lily?’

‘She’d have wanted me to have her…’ Her voice trailed off, her startled eyes blinking rapidly, and Rico leapt in, sensing weakness and exploiting it in an instant.

‘Because she loved you?’ His voice was so silken you might almost have missed the derisive sneer, but Catherine was like a radar where Rico was concerned, and she flinched at his insensitivity. ‘Janey would have wanted you to have Lily because she adored her big sister Catherine?’

‘She did love me; I was her sister.’ Her lips were impossibly dry and she ran her tongue over them, her head spinning as he relentlessly continued.

‘You don’t have to love your sister, Catherine,’ Rico pointed out mercilessly. ‘You don’t even have to love your husband—and Janey didn’t love Marco, did she? Did she?’ He roared the words the second time—the roar of a lion defending its territory, of a beautiful animal to be admired from a distance, but that could turn in a second. ‘In fact Marco was just a walking, talking chequebook to his young bride…’

‘Rico, please…’ Catherine started. She wanted him to stop, wanted to end this horrible interrogation, didn’t want to sully the few precious memories she had with the awful truth—didn’t want to admit even to herself how little Janey had thought of her.

‘Janey wanted the fast cars, the nice home, the maids, the lifestyle—and I don’t doubt she’d have wanted the same for her daughter.’

‘Janey would have wanted me,’ Catherine insisted, but the lack of conviction in her voice truly terrified her. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Rico.’

‘Have I?’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Which part?’

‘All of it,’ Catherine whispered, pleating the tie of her robe with trembling fingers. And she knew there and then that she could never admit to the truth. Rico was right, damn him, and it hurt to admit it. Janey hadn’t loved her; Janey had hated her. More damaging than that, Janey had blatantly admitted she had married Marco for his money. If it ever got out, if Catherine ever admitted the truth, what chance would she have against the family courts? What chance would she have against the might of Rico Mancini? It would all be over bar the shouting.

Lily would be gone from her life as surely as she was standing here now.

A lion Rico might be, but the lioness in Catherine emerged then—proud and wary, sleek and refined, and willing to do whatever it took to protect those she loved. To her dying breath she would deny it. She would take Janey’s words to the grave. Would lie through her teeth if that was what it took.

Lily needed her.

‘Janey loved Marco.’

‘She told you that?’

Dragging in air through her clenched teeth, she wrenched her eyes from the floor and forced herself to do the hardest thing she had done in her life—look Rico in the eye and lie.

‘Yes, Rico. She told me that she loved him. Janey loved Marco and his money had nothing to do with it. I know in my heart that—’

‘Save it.’ A well-manicured hand flicked in the air. His eyes were more shuttered than ever, his voice almost weary, and for once there was economy in his actions, the usual extravagant Latin temperament curiously subdued as he halted her speech. ‘It is time for bed.’

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