Сара Крейвен – Hot Nights with...the Italian: The Santangeli Marriage / The Italian’s Ruthless Marriage Command / Veretti's Dark Vengeance (страница 9)

The dark brows lifted. ‘You have become a mind-reader during our separation, mia cara?’

‘No.’ It was her turn to swallow. ‘But—but I know how it must look.’

‘I know that he looked disappointed,’ Renzo returned pleasantly. ‘That told me all that was necessary. And you are far too young to claim a man as an old friend,’ he added, clicking his tongue reprovingly. ‘It lacks—credibility.’

She drew a deep breath. ‘When I want your advice I’ll ask for it. And Alan and I were friends—until you stepped in. Also,’ she went on, defiantly bending the truth, ‘he came back here this evening at my invitation—for coffee. That’s all. So please don’t judge other people by your own dubious standards.’

He looked at her with amusement. ‘I see that absence has not sweetened your tongue, mia bella.’

‘Well, you’re not obliged to listen to it,’ she said raggedly. ‘And what the hell are you doing here, anyway? How dare you walk in and—make yourself at home like this?’

Renzo casually resumed his seat on the sofa, leaning back against its cushions as if he belonged there. He said gently, ‘Not the warmest of welcomes, mia cara. And we are husband and wife, so your home is also mine. Where else should I be?’

Marisa lifted her chin. ‘I’d say that was an open question.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘And how did you get in, may I ask?’

Renzo shrugged. ‘The apartment is leased in my name, so naturally I have a key.’

There was a silence, then she said jerkily, ‘I—I see. I suppose I should have realised that.’

He watched her, standing near the door, her white cotton jacket still draped across her shoulders. His mouth twisted. ‘You look poised for flight, Maria Lisa,’ he commented. ‘Where are you planning to go?’

Her glance was mutinous. ‘Somewhere that you won’t find me.’

‘You think there is such a place?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I, on the other hand, think it is time for us to sit down and talk together like civilised people.’

‘Hardly an accurate description of our relationship to date,’ she said. ‘And I’d actually prefer you to be the one to leave.’ She marched to the door and flung it wide. ‘You got rid of Alan, signore. I suggest you follow him.’

‘A telling gesture,’ he murmured. ‘But sadly wasted. Because I am going nowhere. I came here because there are things to be said. So why don’t you sit down and drink some wine with me?’

‘Because I don’t want any wine,’ she said mutinously. ‘And if there’s any talking to be done it should be through lawyers. They can make all the necessary arrangements.’

He stretched indolently, making her tinglingly and indignantly aware of every lean inch of him. ‘What arrangements are those?’

‘Please don’t play games,’ she said shortly. ‘Our divorce, naturally.’

‘There has never been a divorce in the Santangeli family,’ Renzo said quietly. ‘And mine will not be the first. We are married, Maria Lisa, and that is how I intend us to remain.’

He paused, observing the angry colour draining from her face, then added, ‘You surely cannot have believed that I intended this period of separation to be permanent?’

She looked at him defiantly. ‘I certainly hoped so.’

‘Then you will have to preserve your optimism until death parts us, carissima.’ His tone held finality. ‘This was a breathing space, no more than that.’ He paused. ‘As I made clear, though you may have chosen to think otherwise. But it makes no difference. You are still my wife, and you always will be.’

Her hands were clenched at her sides, the folds of her skirt concealing the fact that they were trembling.

‘Is that what you’ve come here to tell me—that I can never be free of you, signore? But that’s ridiculous. We can’t go on living like this. You can’t possibly want that any more than I do.’

‘For once we are in agreement,’ he said softly. ‘Perhaps it is a good omen.’

‘Don’t count on it.’

His mouth twisted. ‘With you, Maria Lisa, I count on nothing, believe me. Tuttavia, I am here to invite you to return to Italy and take your place beside me.’

For a moment she stared at him, appalled, and then she said, ‘No! You can’t. I—I won’t.’

He poured more wine into his glass and drank. ‘May I ask why not?’

She stared down at the carpet. She said huskily, ‘I think you know the answer to that already.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You mean you are still not prepared to forgive me for the mistakes of our honeymoon. Yet even you must admit they were not completely one-sided, mia cara.’

‘You can hardly blame me,’ she flashed. ‘After all, I promised you nothing.’

‘Then you were entirely true to yourself, mia bella, because you gave nothing,’ Renzo bit back at her. ‘And you cannot pretend you did not know the terms of our marriage.’

‘No, but I didn’t expect they’d be exacted in that particular way.’

‘And I did not expect my patience to be tried so sorely, or so soon.’ His golden gaze met hers in open challenge. ‘Maybe we have both learned something from that unhappy time.’

‘Yes,’ Marisa’s voice was stony. ‘I have discovered you can’t be trusted, and that’s why I won’t be going with you to Italy, or anywhere else. I want out of this so-called marriage, signore, and nothing you can say or do will change my mind.’

‘Not even,’ he said slowly, ‘when I tell you my father is sick and has been asking for you?’

She came forward slowly and sat down on the edge of the chair opposite, staring at him. She said shakily, ‘Zio Guillermo—sick?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you. He’s never had a day’s illness in his life.’

‘Nevertheless, he suffered a heart attack two nights ago.’ His tone was bleak. ‘As you may imagine, it was a shock to both of us. And now to you also, perhaps.’

‘Oh, God. Yes, of course. I can see …’ Her voice tailed away in distress. She was silent for a moment, then moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Poor Zio Guillermo. Is it—very bad?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘He has been very fortunate—this time. You see that I am being honest with you,’ he added, his mouth curling sardonically. ‘At the moment his life is not threatened. But he has to rest and avoid stress, which is not easy when our marriage continues to be a cause of such great concern to him.’

She’d been gazing downwards, but at that her head lifted sharply. She said, ‘That’s—blackmail.’

‘If you wish to think so.’ Renzo shrugged. ‘Unfortunately, it is also the truth. Papa fears he will not live to see his grandchildren.’ His eyes met hers. ‘He does not deserve such a disappointment, Maria Lisa—from either of us. So I say it is time we fulfilled the terms of our agreement and made him a happy man.’

She stared back at him. She said, in a small, wrenched whisper, ‘You mean you’re going to—force me to have your child?’

He moved suddenly, restively. ‘I shall enforce nothing.’ His tone was harsh. ‘I make you that promise. What I am asking is your forgiveness for the past, a chance to make amends to you—and begin our life together again. To see if we can at least become friends in this marriage, if nothing else.’

Marisa sank her teeth into her bottom lip. ‘But you’ll still want me to do—that.’

His mouth hardened. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is how babies are made.’ He paused, then added quietly, ‘It is also how love is made.’

‘Not a word,’ Marisa said, icily, ‘that could ever be applied to our situation.’

He shrugged cynically. ‘Yet a girl does not have to be in love with a man to enjoy what he does to her in bed. Did your charming cousin not mention that in her pre-marital advice?’ He saw the colour mount in her face and nodded. ‘I see that she did.’

She said curtly, ‘It is not an opinion that I happen to share.’

‘And were you hoping for a more romantic encounter tonight, which I have spoiled by my untimely arrival?’ His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘My poor Marisa, ti devo delle scuse. You have so much to forgive me for.’

Her glance held defiance. ‘But not for this evening—which was a—mistake.’ One of so many I’ve made …

‘Che sollievo,’ he said softly. ‘I am relieved to hear it. He paused. ‘I have reservations on the afternoon flight tomorrow. I hope you can be ready.’

‘I haven’t yet said I’ll go with you!’ There was alarm in her voice.

‘True,’ he agreed. ‘But I hope you will give it serious consideration. However poorly you think of me, Maria Lisa, my father deserves your gratitude and your affection. Your return would give him the greatest pleasure. Can you really begrudge him that?’

She hesitated. ‘I could come for a visit …’

He shook his head. ‘No, per sempre. You stay for good.’ His mouth twisted. ‘You have to learn to be my wife, mia bella. To run the household, manage the servants, treat my father at all times with respect, entertain my friends, and appear beside me in public. This will all take time, although by now it should be as natural to you as breathing. I have waited long enough.’

He paused. ‘Also, at some mutually convenient time, you will begin to share my bed. Capisci?’

She turned away, saying in a suffocated voice, ‘Yes, I—I understand.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But I can’t possibly leave tomorrow. You see—I—I have a job, and I need to give proper notice.’

‘Your job at the Estrello Gallery is a temporary one,’ Renzo said casually. ‘And I am sure Signor Langford will make allowances once he understands the position.’