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She’d called and left dozens of messages but Matteo had never answered and he’d never responded. He’d cut her off as effectively as he’d wielded his scalpel.
If things had been different, though, would her life have been any happier? She’d long stopped believing that. Matteo wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. He wasn’t a man any woman with an ounce of sanity would consider spending her life with unless she was a masochist. It wasn’t just a love of wealth he’d developed since the days she’d fancied herself in love with him; he’d developed a hedonistic streak to match it. No man who had a new woman on his arm every week could ever be content to settle down with only one.
Daniele took control of the meeting, explaining where they were with the project and how he and Matteo were planning a trip to Caballeros in the next couple of weeks. It was hoped construction would begin soon after.
‘That quick?’ Natasha found the energy to ask.
‘It’s Caballeros, not Europe,’ Daniele answered with a shrug. ‘Bureaucracy doesn’t exist there in the way we know it.’
‘Have you had any publicity ideas?’ Francesca asked, reminding Natasha of the role she’d agreed to take in the project.
‘I’m sorry, but no.’ She stared at the polished surface of the table in her shame. All she’d done these past two weeks was drift. ‘I’ll get thinking and send you some ideas over the next few days.’ She rubbed her temples, hoping she wasn’t promising something she would fail to see through. The more publicity they had for it the more donations they would receive, the more donations they received the more staff they could employ.
Dull thuds pounded behind her eyes. As Pieta’s next of kin this was her responsibility. Everything concerning her husband’s foundation now rested on her shoulders and so far she’d abdicated all responsibility for it.
She would abdicate that responsibility for ever if it was in her power.
At some point soon she would have to think things through clearly but right now her head was so full yet so loose that she could hardly decide what she wanted to eat for her breakfast never mind make decisions that carried real importance.
She couldn’t carry on like this. She didn’t know if it was shock at Pieta’s death or what had happened with Matteo that had her like this but she had to get a grip on herself.
There was a whole new future out there waiting for her and sooner or later she needed to figure out what she wanted from it. So far, all she knew with any real certainty was that she would spend it alone. She would never remarry. She would never allow anyone, not a man, not her parents, to have control over her again.
Francesca raised a weary shoulder. ‘There’s no rush. The end of the week will be fine.’
Eventually the ordeal was over. Chairs were scraped back as her family by marriage rose to leave. Following suit, Natasha rose too but as she stood, a wave of dizziness crashed over her and she grabbed hold of the table for support.
Francesca, who’d been sitting next to her, was the first to spot something amiss and took hold of her wrist. ‘Are you okay?’
Natasha nodded, although she felt far from okay. ‘I’m just tired. I should probably eat something.’
Francesca studied her a while longer before letting her go. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’
Considering that Francesca looked as bad as Natasha felt, the suggestion was laughable, but it had come from her sister-in-law’s kind heart so she would never laugh at her even if she had the energy.
Burning under Matteo’s equally close scrutiny, she found she could only breathe normally when the front door closed behind them.
Needing to be alone, she sent the housekeeper out to do some errands and sent silent thanks to Pieta for agreeing with her request that their other staff not live in. How sad was it that she had to request such things, like a child asking a favour from a parent?
Everything about her marriage had been sad. Its ending was the least of it. She’d had no autonomy over any of it.
Now the dizziness had passed she realised she was famished. She’d felt a little nauseous when she’d woken and had skipped breakfast, which had saved her the worry of deciding what to eat, and had managed to forget to have any lunch.
Opening the fridge, she tried to think what she fancied to eat. The housekeeper had stocked up for her and there was choice. Too much choice. After much dithering she took a fresh block of cheese out, then found the biscuits to go with it.
Her stomach was growling by the time she unwrapped the cellophane from the cheese but when she took the knife to it, the smell it emitted turned the growl into a gurgle that flipped over violently.
She chucked the entire block of cheese into the bin then clutched her stomach with one hand and her mouth with the other, breathing deeply, willing the nausea away.
It had only just passed when the doorbell rang.
She stood frozen, hesitant over whether she should open it. Her house had been like Piccadilly Circus for the past two weeks and all she wanted was to be on her own.
It rang again.
What if it was her mother-in-law? Vanessa had been a frequent visitor since Natasha and Pieta had married, and had visited or called daily since his death. Whatever Natasha was going through was nothing compared to what Vanessa was living with.
And yet, even though she continued to tell herself it was bound to be her adorable mother-in-law at the door, she found she couldn’t draw the least bit of surprise to find Matteo there instead.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, tightening her hold on the door frame. There was no audience for them to pretend cordiality.
‘I want you to take this.’ He held up a long, thin rectangular box.
It was a pregnancy test.
CHAPTER THREE (#uee5e7a53-2ad3-5e37-b3fc-0929c3608c8e)
THE PALE FACE that had opened the door to Matteo turned whiter. ‘I’m not pregnant.’
‘Take the test and prove it. I’m not going anywhere until you do.’
Her gaze darted over his shoulder.
‘Expecting someone?’ he asked curtly. ‘Another lover, perhaps?’
Her lips tightened but she held her ground. ‘Vanessa likes to drop in.’
‘The grieving mother checking up on the grieving widow? How charming.’ It sickened him that his aunt—like the rest of the Pellegrinis—all thought the sun rose and set with Natasha. It had been Francesca’s worry and compassion towards the young widow that had set the wheels in motion for the events that had led him here today. ‘If you don’t want her to find me here and have to explain why I have this with me, I suggest you let me in.’
A long exhalation of breath and then she stepped aside.
For the second time that day he entered Pieta’s home with the same curdle of self-loathing as when he’d entered it the first time. Revulsion. At her. At himself. At what they’d done.
Until Pieta had died Matteo had been in this house only once, when Natasha had been in England, visiting her parents.
‘Have you had a period since...?’ He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.
Colour stained her white face at the intimacy of what he’d asked. ‘No,’ she whispered.
‘When are you due?’
Her throat moved before she answered. ‘A couple of days ago. But I’ve never been regular. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘You’re tired. You have a backache. You used the bathroom three times during our two-hour meeting.’ He ticked her symptoms off his fingers dispassionately, although his head was pounding again. They’d made love at her most fertile time. ‘My flight back to Miami leaves in three hours. Take the test. If it’s negative I can leave Pisa and we can both forget anything happened between us.’
Neither of them said what would happen if the test proved positive.
He held the box out to her. She stared at it blankly for a moment before snatching it out of his hand and leaving the reception room they were still standing in. Her footsteps trod up the stairs, a door shut.
Alone, Matteo took himself to the day room and sat on the sofa, cradling his head in his hands while he waited. In the adjoining room was a bar where he and Pieta had had a drink together. The temptation to help himself to a drink now was strong but not strong enough to overcome his revulsion. He’d already helped himself to his best friend and cousin’s wife. He wasn’t going to add to his list of crimes by helping himself to Pieta’s alcohol.
He’d read the instructions himself. The test took three minutes to produce an answer.
He checked his watch. Natasha had been upstairs for ten minutes.
The seconds ticked past like minutes, the minutes like hours. All he had to occupy his mind were the furnishings the man who’d been like a brother to him had chosen. He couldn’t see any sign of Natasha’s influence in the decoration.
She’d once wanted to be an interior designer. He remembered her telling him that during a phone conversation held when he’d returned home after an eighteen-hour shift.
Matteo had thought he could never hate himself more than he had when he’d been ten and his dereliction of duty had ruined his little brother’s life. The loathing he felt for what he’d done with Natasha matched it, an ugly rancid feeling that lived in his guts. The loathing he felt for Natasha matched it too. Damn her, but she’d been Pieta’s wife. Hours after burying her husband she’d thrown herself into his arms and he...
Damn him, he’d let her.
He wished he could erase the memories of that night but every moment was imprinted in him. He’d woken that morning with the vivid feeling of entering her for the first time and the certainty that something had been wrong. It was a feeling that nagged at him more, growing stronger as time passed.
He rubbed the nape of his neck and cursed his fallible memory.
Natasha had been no virgin. She’d been married, for heaven’s sake, and had been trying for a baby with her husband.
Another five minutes passed before he heard movement.
She appeared in the doorway.
One look at her face told him the answer.
‘There’s got to be some mistake,’ Natasha croaked, clinging onto the door frame for support. ‘I need to do another test.’
She’d stared at the positive sign for so long her eyes had gone as blurry as the cold mist swimming in her head.
For two weeks she’d refused to believe it could happen. She’d refused to even contemplate it.
They had been reckless beyond belief but surely, surely nature wouldn’t punish them further for it? Surely the guilt and self-loathing they both had to live with was punishment enough?
Eyes of cold green steel stared back at her. It was a long time before he spoke.
‘That test is the most accurate one on the market. If it’s showing as positive then you are pregnant. So that leaves only one issue to be resolved and that’s determining who the father is.’
Afraid she was going to faint, she sank onto the floor and cuddled her knees.
‘When did you and Pieta last...?’ The distaste that laced his voice as he failed to complete his sentence sent a wave of heat through her cold head.
For the first time in her life she didn’t know what to say or do. Whenever life had posed her with a dilemma the answer had always been clear. Do what her parents wanted. It was why she’d married Pieta.
But now her parents were the least of her considerations.
‘Do I take your silence to mean that you and Pieta were active until his death?’
How could she answer that? She couldn’t.
‘If your last period was a month ago then it stands to reason you and I were together when you were at your most fertile. However, all women’s cycles differ to a certain degree so if you and Pieta were intimate until his death there’s a good chance he could be the father. Who else is in line?’
Her head spinning at the medical knowledge that meant he had a much better understanding of how her body worked than she did, she didn’t understand what he meant. ‘What?’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. Who else have you had sex with in the past month?’
She recoiled. ‘That’s offensive.’
His laughter crackled between them like a bullet. ‘Don’t get me wrong, you’re playing the grieving widow admirably but you were like a dog on heat with me so it stands to reason there have been others.’
A dog on heat?
She covered her ears, digging her nails into her skull.
A dog on heat?
How had he not known? And him a doctor?
There had been a moment, when he’d first entered her, that he’d stilled, but it had only been a moment, and then she had kissed him again, as desperate for him to continue what they’d started as she had been terrified he would figure out the truth.
‘I’m waiting for an answer.’ His curt voice cut through her thoughts. ‘How many others?’
She remembered a time so long ago when his rich voice, the Italian accent faint behind the impeccable English, had always softened around her. She guessed that’s what happened when you created a business reputed to be worth billions out of nothing, your basic humanity was thrown in the gutter along with your principles.
‘No one.’ She raised her head to look him square in the eye. ‘There has been no one else.’
He stared back for the longest time before nodding and getting to his feet. ‘A scan will pinpoint the date of conception to a degree of accuracy so we can use that to determine who the likely father is.’
His cutting tone sliced through her.
Then the thought of a scan, of seeing the little one growing inside her...
Suddenly it hit her that she was pregnant.
She was going to be a mother.
Placing a hand to her belly, she blurred out Matteo’s bitter face and imagined the life growing inside her.
Hello, my little one, she said silently to it, overwhelming joy spreading through every part of her.
She’d wanted a child for so long. After everything that had gone on with Pieta she had thought it would be a long and torturous road to get there if it ever happened and if she’d ever decided to take the road he’d wanted to conceive one. But it had happened as if by magic.
She was going to have a baby.
‘How can you be smiling at such a time?’ Matteo said acidly. ‘Is this amusing to you?’
The smile she hadn’t even known she was wearing fell but as it fell her spine straightened.
Whatever the future held for her, even if it was only humiliation, she had her little seed to think about. She couldn’t fall into despair. She would be strong. She would be a mother.
