CHAPTER SEVEN
GRACE COULD HAVE sworn Luca blanched, but, it was such a fleeting expression, one blink and it had gone.
‘I am not a criminal.’
‘Really?’ She made no attempt to hide her disbelief. ‘How would you describe yourself?’
‘I’m a businessman.’
‘Hmm. So it’s normal behaviour for businessmen to live in the Sicilian equivalent of Fort Knox and travel everywhere with armed guards? Is it also normal for businessmen to beat people?’
His eyes had blackened, his nostrils flared. ‘What, exactly, do you mean by that?’
‘Do you remember a couple of days or so before I left you, I went with you to the casino? Do you remember when I walked into the office and that man was in there with you all? Do you remember him? Because I do. Even though you marched me out straight away, I got a good look at his face. I saw that man a few days later in Palermo. Both of his arms had been broken and his face looked as if he’d been in a boxing match against an opponent twice his size.’
While she had no time for Luca’s nightclubs, she’d liked spending time in his casinos, especially the one in Palermo. She’d come to enjoy their nights out there, dining in the à la carte restaurant and playing cards. The night she had been referring to had been their last night out together. She had been playing poker, a game she was good at, but her frequent yawns had got the better of her. She’d wanted to go home and go to bed, preferably with her husband.
Luca had been nowhere to be found on the gaming floor, so she had wandered off to the security offices on the top floor. Being one of the bosses’ wives meant she had access to anywhere she desired.
She had found him in the nondescript office used by the duty manager.
The man in question had been sitting in a chair in the middle of the room surrounded by Luca, Francesco and two men she didn’t know. Those two men, with their broken noses and cauliflower ears, had given her the heebie-jeebies.
She could still taste the testosterone of that office, could still feel the menacing atmosphere that had greeted her when she walked through the door.
All the men had fixed their eyes on her, their surprise that she’d barged in on them palpable.
‘Everything all right?’ she had asked with a naivety she looked back on with disgust.
‘We’re in the middle of a meeting,’ Luca had said curtly, striding over to her.
‘Are you going to be much longer? Only I’m tired and want to go home.’
‘We will not be long.’ He’d taken her arm and ushered her to the door. ‘Wait for me in the bar. I’ll be with you shortly.’
He’d shut her out before she could make a whisper of protest.
She’d stared at the offending door for too long, an uneasiness creeping through her bones to go with the shock of her own husband frogmarching her from the room. There had been something about the man in the chair’s expression that kept flashing through her mind.
When she had challenged Luca about it on the drive home, he’d dismissed the matter, refusing to discuss it.
She’d dropped the subject but the man in the chair had haunted her. The more she’d thought about it, the more convinced she’d become that it had been a pleading terror she had seen in his eyes.
A couple of days later she had walked out of a pharmacy in Lebbrossi and come face to face with him. He’d almost fallen into the road in his haste to get away from her.
She’d watched him hurry away, utterly bewildered. Stuffed in the bottom of her handbag, away from the prying eyes of her minders, had been a pregnancy test.
‘That man was cheating the casino,’ Luca said, finally breaking the silence that had sprung between them.
‘And?’ She was being deliberately facetious. She wanted him to spell it out to her. She wanted to watch him justify breaking the bones of a fellow human being.
‘And here in Sicily we have our own methods for dealing with people who try to cheat us,’ he said coolly. ‘Lessons need to be learned.’
‘That was one hell of a lesson. That poor man recognised me as your wife. I swear he looked as if he’d come face to face with the Medusa.’
‘That poor man stole over a hundred thousand euros from us.’
‘Ooh, yes, I can totally see how that would justify smashing his face in.’ Sick to the pit of her stomach, Grace shook her head. Her tortellini had gone cold but she didn’t care. Her appetite had deserted her.
‘Believe me, he got off lightly.’
‘Lightly? Lightly? What planet are you on? How can you even try to justify—?’
‘Rules are rules, and breaking them merits punishment, as that man knew very well. He didn’t just steal from us, he dishonoured us. He’s lucky I’m a reasonable man and refused to counter a harsher punishment.’
She stared at him open-mouthed. A harsher punishment...?
‘That man had a family,’ he continued. ‘At my insistence we agreed to give him time to repay the money. But we couldn’t let him leave without serving a warning, not just to him but to any other man foolish enough to try and steal from us.’
She shook her head again, trying to make sense of it all. ‘So what you’re saying is, you took me home and made love to me that night, minutes after beating him.’
‘No. I never raised a finger to him.’ The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. ‘I had a wife I wished to take home and make love to.’
‘You might not have raised a finger to him but your hands are still tainted with his blood.’
The half-smile dropped. ‘This isn’t a school playground, Grace.’
‘Isn’t it? From what I remember of school, it was always the bullies who ruled the roost. And you wonder why I ran away from you when I found out I was pregnant? Who in their right mind would bring a child into this life?’
His eyes blackened. It was like looking into an abyss.
Lily had dozed off on her shoulder, for which she would be eternally grateful. This was not a conversation she wanted her daughter to hear even if she was far too young to understand it.
Surprisingly, being in a public place made the whole thing easier. It meant she had to keep a rein on herself. It meant Luca had to keep his control too.
Taking a deep breath, she forced her attention back on him. At moments like this it pained her heart to look at him, physically hurt to recall how deeply she had loved him.
It hurt even more to know that, despite everything he had done, he still had the power to affect her more than anyone. Deep inside her existed an ache to turn back the clock, to have stayed at home that fateful day, to stick her head back in the sand. To be happy again.
But Pandora’s box, once opened, could not be unopened. She had seen that poor man’s face and she had known.
Luca’s secretiveness. The increased security detail that had already been large enough to shame a head of state. His growing reluctance to let her even leave the estate, never mind go anywhere without him. These were all things that had festered but were forgotten about the minute she was with him. When they were together, making love, and she knew she was the centre of his earth, she would forget all her doubts.
She would forget her worries about his drinking and how a glass of Scotch seemed to be permanently welded to his hand. She’d pretend not to see days of unshaven thick black stubble across his strong jawline. She’d pretend not to notice the wildness that resided in his eyes when she caught him in an unguarded moment.
Ironically enough, since he’d found her again, looks-wise it was like being back with the Luca she had married rather than the Luca she had left. But that wildness in his eyes remained. That edge to him that had been there from the start—the same edge she had thought romantic—was as strong as it had ever been. Stronger. His hate for her sharpening it to a point.
The pink line of the pregnancy test had shone brightly. In that split second it had no longer been just her and Luca. A tiny spark of life had resided within her, depending on her.
Denial had no longer been an option.
She’d forced herself to work on autopilot. She’d left without writing a note because trying to say goodbye to the man she loved had ripped her soul into pieces.
She’d run so fast, she’d never had the chance to ask him any of the million and one questions that had pounded in her head. Those questions still pounded.
‘Have you ever used your fists on another man?’
‘Only when it’s been absolutely necessary.’
‘But what do you consider necessary?’
His voice was hard. ‘People who steal and cheat from me. People who would harm my family. People who would try to take my businesses from me.’
‘Have you ever killed someone?’ The question was out before her brain had even conjured it.
For the briefest of moments, his jaw slackened, before all his muscles bunched. ‘How can you ask me such a question?’
‘Because I don’t know you.’ She hugged Lily closer to her. Never had she wished so hard that she’d moved on from Cornwall when she’d had the chance. If that ridiculous apathy hadn’t overcome her she’d likely be living on a remote Greek island away from this madness. ‘You changed, Luca. Once you went into business with that Francesco Calvetti, you changed. The darkness seemed to take you over. I was walking on eggshells all the time, always wondering and worrying over what kind of a mood you were in. I would spend nights in my studio painting and trying to ignore how terrified I was that you wouldn’t come home...’
‘Why would you have thought that?’
‘Because people in your line of work have a habit of not making it home. Except for in a coffin.’
‘My line of work?’ Anger rose in his voice. ‘I am a legitimate businessman.’
‘You’re nothing but a thug,’ she countered flatly. ‘Only I was too blind with love or lust to see it properly.’
A snarl flittered across his face, the pulse in his temple pounding. Pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, Luca rose and threw some euros onto the table. ‘Put Lily in her pram. We’re leaving.’
* * *
Luca had been in bed for the best part of two hours. For two nights, sleep had been a joke. It was worse than when he had first brought Grace home. Try as he might, he could not get her out of his head. Or excise the poison that had spilled from her tongue.
In sheer frustration he threw the sheets off and climbed out of bed. Drawing back the curtain, he stared out of the window at the moonlit view of his estate.
At that moment all was peaceful, the dark rolling hills giving the illusion the vines and olive groves were in deep sleep. He could almost believe he was the only person awake in the whole of Sicily.
Except Grace could be awake too. He’d heard her a while ago, tending to their daughter. She might very well be staring out of her own window, sharing the same view.
His chest tightened and he swallowed away the acid burn in the back of his throat.
She was probably plotting her next attempt to escape with Lily.
She would never succeed. But still she would try.
Her bravery had stood out the first moment he met her. She had trespassed on his land with her best friend. As soon as they had crossed the boundary, an alert had gone out. A camera had zoomed in on the area and they had been spotted. It had been sheer fortune—or misfortune, depending on your take—that Luca had been driving through the estate with his head of security, Paolo, and had been first on the scene. The intruders had been sitting on a picnic blanket, looking as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
‘Che ci fate qui?’ he had said, asking what they were doing while removing his gun from its holster. He had not sensed any danger from these young women but he would not take chances. While Salvatore Calvetti lived and breathed, the Mastrangelos would never be safe.
One of them, a curvy redhead, had jumped up in terror at the sight of the gun but the other, a slender blonde, had stayed on her bottom and gazed up at him. After a moment’s study, she had raised one hand in the sign of peace and then dived into her rucksack from which she had retrieved a battered notebook.
‘Uno minuti per favore,’ she had muttered as she got to her feet, flicking through her book. ‘Er...mi dispiace, ma il mio italiano non è molto buono.’ When she’d finished her garbled apology for not speaking Italian she’d beamed at him.
He’d taken in her tall, lithe frame, her long honey-blonde hair, the bare, dirty feet and the garish multicoloured top over the pair of frayed denim shorts. For all her grubbiness she’d shone brighter than the blazing midday sun.
‘Are you English?’ he’d asked, putting the gun back in its holster.
She had nodded.
‘This is private land. You must leave.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she had said. ‘We didn’t realise we were trespassing. There’s a gap in your fence we thought was a footpath.’
He had followed the direction she’d pointed at, and had seen a couple of panels had come off.
‘Get that fixed,’ he’d said to Paolo, who was hovering in the background, before turning his attention back to the striking woman before him. ‘You must leave now.’
‘Give us a minute to pack our materials away.’ She had turned to her cowering friend who was hiding behind her. ‘Are you going to stand there like a stuck lemon or are you going to pull your finger out?’
‘He’s got a gun!’ the friend had yelped, pointing a finger at Luca.
‘He’s also put it away,’ she had replied patiently, throwing Luca a discreet wink. That wink had jolted him to his core. ‘We are trespassing in Sicily, Cara, not Surrey.’
It was only when they had started packing their stuff away that he’d realised what they had been doing. ‘You are artists?’
‘I suppose we are,’ had said the brave woman, who had not so much as flinched at the sight of his gun. ‘We graduated last summer and have been travelling Europe ever since. We’re trying to get in as much art appreciation as we can before the real world drags us into its tentacles. That’s why we were pitched up here—Cara dabbles in landscapes and the view was spectacular. Honestly, your estate is beautiful.’
But Luca had had no interest in Cara. ‘Do you paint too?’
‘I do. Portraits. I normally work with oil but as we’re outdoors I’ve brought my sketchbook with me.’
‘May I see it?’
‘Sure.’ She had knelt down for another rummage in her rucksack, giving him a perfect view of her pert bottom.
He had blinked in shock as a stab of lust had run through him.
Grubby urchins were usually well off his radar.
This woman though...
She had brought a large sketchbook over to him.
Taking his time, he had flipped through it. Most of the drawings had been of her companion. They had been, without exception, exquisite.
He had looked back up and met her eyes properly for the first time.
The most enormous feeling of warmth had spread through his bones, a thickening in his chest that had made it hard to catch a breath.
‘Do you take commissions?’ he had asked after too long a pause during which they had simply stared at each other.
Her wide hazel eyes had crinkled at the sides. ‘Not from people whose names I don’t know.’
He had extended a hand. ‘I’m Luca Mastrangelo.’
‘Grace Holden.’ She had wiped her hand down the side of her shorts before reaching out to accept his.
A shock of heat had zipped through his hand, permeating through him. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Grace Holden.’
Her answering smile had stolen his remaining breath.
Neither had made any attempt to relinquish the other’s hand.
Later, over a romantic meal at his favourite restaurant, he’d asked why she hadn’t been scared when he had pulled out the gun.
She’d smiled mischievously. ‘You weren’t aiming it at us. You looked peed off but not murderous.’
Out of everything, that was the thing that cut in his craw the most. How could the woman who had judged him so accurately with one glance even dream he was capable of murder? Why the hell did she think they had let that man live? It had been at his insistence, that was why. That man had been caught cheating from them before, from their casino in Sardinia. Francesco’s men had been ready to tow him out to sea and throw him in with weights on his ankles.
Did she think he enjoyed hurting people or having people hurt in his name?
He took no more enjoyment from it than his father had.
A lump formed in his throat. Pietro Mastrangelo had been a fine and honourable man who believed in the sanctity of life. Always he would favour the route that left the least physical and emotional damage, a lesson Luca had taken to heart.
The way Grace had looked at him, the words she had said to him...she truly believed him to be a monster. She gave him no credit for saving that man’s life. Thanks to him, that man would still be able to live a long life and be a husband to his wife and a father to his children.
She had been happy to leave him, Luca, unable to be a husband or a father.
A wave of bitterness ran through him as he recalled her attempts to deflect her deplorable behaviour by turning it onto him.
He made no apologies for restricting her movements and keeping her in the dark on certain matters. He had been doing his best to keep her safe. He would do anything—would have done anything, he corrected himself—to keep her safe. He hadn’t wanted her to worry about things she could never understand. That was what he’d told himself.
The sound of Lily’s cries carried down the corridor and into his room.
Grace’s accusation came back to him. Have you tried any form of interaction with her?
Before he met Grace, he’d never imagined he would marry a woman and selfishly want to keep her all for himself, even if just for a while. With Grace, he’d wanted to enjoy every minute they had together before they got around to making lots of bouncing bambini. When those mythical babies eventually came along he’d known he would want to be involved in everything. Their children would be born of their parents’ love and would want for nothing, from either their mother or their father.
Grace had stolen that from him.
If she had her way she would steal it from him again.
He rubbed his eyes, the sound of Lily’s cries ripping into his heart.
‘Don’t think it’s escaped my attention that you haven’t held her yet. Not once.’
She was right.
The way he was acting around his own flesh and blood, anyone would think he was scared of her.
How could a baby be construed as even vaguely frightening? Especially when that baby was his child.
He left his room and moved stealthily down the dark corridor to the nursery.
Grace’s eyes widened when he walked through the door. ‘What’s the matter?’ she whispered, pacing the room, rocking Lily on her shoulder.
The breath caught in his throat.
His wife and daughter. Together. Illuminated by the moonlight seeping through a crack in the heavy curtains, Grace wearing her tatty dressing gown, Lily bundled up in blankets, her whimpers lessening.
It was a sight he knew he would never tire of gazing at.
He cleared his throat, taking in the dark rings circling his wife’s eyes. ‘When did you last have a proper night’s sleep?’
Her brow furrowed, a flash of pain contorting her features. ‘About eleven months ago.’
When she had left him.
And just like that, he understood what terrible anguish she must have gone through.
Whatever her reasoning had been, and whatever vitriol she might spout now, it hadn’t been any easier for Grace to break their union than it had been for him to accept that she had left of her own accord.
She hadn’t left because she no longer loved him.
She had left despite it.
Dio, but he had no idea how that made him feel.
‘Can I hold her?’ He hadn’t meant to ask. He’d intended to simply take Lily from her. After all, he was the father. It was his right.
She didn’t say anything, her tired eyes simply gazing at him with more than a hint of apprehension. Eventually she inclined her head.
‘Aren’t you going to give me any tips about keeping her head supported, or anything?’ he could not resist asking as he stood before her.
A faint trace of a smile curved her lips, a smile that did something all squidgy to his chest, before it faded away and he detected sadness in its place. ‘You’d never hurt her.’
She delivered it as a whimsical statement of fact. The squidgy feeling became a tight mass.
Between them they transferred Lily into his arms, the tight mass solidifying into a heavy weight, spreading up his throat and down into his guts, enveloping his insides. The softness of Grace pressed against his arm, her clean fragrance filling his senses, all of this merged with the plump delicacy of his daughter and the new baby scent that was all her own.
For a moment he couldn’t breathe, the feelings evoked so powerful they threatened to overwhelm him.
Lily stopped grizzling. She stared up at him, her midnight eyes almost curious, as if she were trying to work out who this stranger was who now held her so protectively.
Grace watched them, the ray of moonlight casting her in an ethereal light, emphasising both her beauty and her tiredness.
‘You need to sleep,’ he said, lowering himself onto the rocking chair next to Lily’s cot. ‘Go to bed. I’ll get her back down.’
She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue with him, but all that came out was an enormous yawn, which she covered with the back of her hand.
‘If I have any problems I’ll wake you.’
Still she hesitated before giving a short nod. ‘Okay. If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
She closed the space between them and leaned over, placing her lips to their daughter’s cheek, her hair inadvertently tickling his throat. ‘Sleep tight, my angel.’
As she made to straighten up she wobbled slightly and placed a hand on his bare thigh to steady herself.
‘Sorry,’ she murmured, taking a step back.
‘Don’t be.’ His skin heated, and he breathed deeply, willing the completely inappropriate feelings to disperse.
She backed up to the adjoining door. ‘Well, goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight, bella.’
Alone with his daughter, Luca closed his eyes and breathed in Lily’s sweet scent. The heavy weight inside him had become a pulsating ball of steel and it took long moments before he felt ready to properly look at her.
Carefully he laid her on his lap and stared, taking in the long limbs, the skinny fingers, the plump cheeks, the snub nose, everything. The longer he looked, the harder it became to breathe.
His daughter. His flesh and blood.