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‘My room is next door to hers.’ He pointed to the master bedroom she hadn’t noticed on her dash up the stairs earlier.
‘Oh, right then.’ She moistened her lips and asked, ‘Are you a light sleeper?’
‘I’m sure I’ll hear a toddler crying. That kid’s got a set of lungs on her like an opera singer.’
They were still whispering because they were just inside the door of the nursery. It was very hard to whisper-laugh but somehow, she managed it. ‘Indeed, she does.’
‘But to put your mind at ease, the nanny brought a portable monitor with her. We can download the app on our phones and check on Katerina whenever we want. It will also alert us if she cries.’
He told her the name of the app and she quickly downloaded it. It was reassuring to know she could check on Katerina to make sure she wasn’t crying all alone like she used to do.
Vic took Addie’s elbow and gently led her out of the nursery, partially closing the door. ‘Come. We’ll have that cup of tea and then catch a few winks of sleep before Katerina wakes.’
She tried but failed to smother a yawn as she followed him downstairs.
He glanced at her with a concerned frown. ‘Tired?’
‘A little, I guess. Maybe it’s the jet lag but I feel a bit like I’ve stumbled into another universe.’
He made a sound of soft agreement in his throat. ‘You’ve been to Italy before, though?’
‘Once or twice with my mother as a child but not this far north.’
They came to the kitchen and Vic filled the kettle. ‘Are you a mug or a cup girl?’
‘Cup.’
A ghost of a smile twitched at his mouth as he sourced cups and a teapot from a cupboard.
‘You’re making real tea? Not tea bags?’ she asked in mock surprise.
‘You look like a real tea person.’ He had his back to her again as he was spooning tea leaves into the pot so she couldn’t read his expression.
‘How did you decide that?’
Vic turned and set the teapot and then two china cups and saucers on the island bench in between them. He gave a one-shoulder shrug. ‘Just a lucky guess. Milk? Sugar?’
‘Why don’t you guess?’
He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes making her knees turn to liquid. ‘A dash of milk, no sugar.’
‘I’m getting a little freaked-out by you.’
‘So, I’m right?’ He pushed the cup towards her with another devastating smile.
‘Yes.’ She picked up the teaspoon she didn’t need but stirred her tea anyway. She watched the tiny whirlpool the action created and tried to get her heart rate to slow down. ‘My mother didn’t allow a packet of sugar in the house while I was growing up.’ She kept her gaze on the swirling contents of her cup and continued, ‘She was always on some sort of diet. I was put on one of her cleansing diets when I was six. I ended up needing an iron infusion.’
Vic put his cup down on the saucer with a little clatter. He was frowning so heavily there was a trench between his eyes. ‘Marcus hasn’t told me a lot about his childhood, but I can read between the lines. I’ve met your mother’s type before.’ He picked up his cup again and looked at her over the rim as he held it next to his mouth. ‘My stepfather, for instance.’ An embittered look came over his face like brooding clouds.
‘What don’t you like about him? I mean, apart from his mismanagement of your father’s business.’
‘I still don’t understand why my mother married him. He’s nothing like my father. Total opposite, in fact.’ He drained the contents of his cup and put it back down on the bench.
‘I guess she must have been so lonely without your dad.’ She put her teaspoon back on the saucer and added, ‘Perhaps she was concerned about providing a father for you. A role model if you like.’
Vic gave a harsh laugh that was nowhere in the vicinity of humour. ‘Some role model he turned out to be.’
‘But he’s a good father to Isabella, right? I mean, they seem to have a good relationship. He led her down the aisle and gave a lovely speech and—’