Page 17 of Marriage Made In Hate

‘W OULD YOU CARE to take in any of the shops while we’re here?’

Luca had kept his enquiry polite. They had finished lunch and were heading back across the piazza.

Bianca shook her head. ‘No, I’d like to get back to Matteo,’ she said.

Luca wanted to as well. Trailing around shops with Bianca would have been a waste of his time. Few things were less enjoyable than shopping with a female.

Memory flickered. At least Bianca had never imposed that upon him. Nor had she accepted gifts from him either, now he thought about it.

He’d once bought a scarf for her—they’d gone out of London one Saturday afternoon, driving into Kent, heading for the coast, then staying overnight at a country house hotel.

There had been a table in the hall with a tasteful array of upmarket knick-knacks, including some folded scarves, hand-dyed by a local artist.

He’d scooped one up, presented it to Bianca when they were up in their room. The scarf had been in shades of vivid sea-green and cobalt.

‘Perfect for your Titian hair, ’ he’d told her lightly.

She’d looked puzzled. ‘ What’s Titian when it’s at home?’ she’d asked.

‘ Your hair colour—Titian was a Venetian artist in the Renaissance, famous for painting beautiful redheads,’ he’d explained, seeing her looking blank.

‘Oh…’ she’d answered. Then she’d gone on, ‘ It’s a beautiful scarf, Luca, but it must have been pricey—how much, so I can pay you back?’

He’d waved a hand. ‘ It’s a present to remember this weekend by.’

She’d brushed his mouth with hers. ‘ Don’t worry—I’ll remember this plenty! And, Luca—don’t give me stuff. I can’t afford to give you anything fancy in return.’ Her kiss had deepened. ‘I’m not with you for the freebies, Luca—it’s your gorgeous body I want…’

He cut the memory of how that scene had ended—It was not wise to remember. Not wise at all.

Bianca was speaking again, and he was glad of that.

‘So can we just head straight back?’ she was asking.

He led the way to where he’d left his car and they set off. They didn’t speak on the journey, and he was glad of that as well. Only when they pulled up outside the front door of the Villa Fiarante did he turn to her.

‘You’d better start wearing your ring,’ he said.

He reached for the jewellery case in his jacket pocket, handed it to her. He didn’t want to put the ring on her finger—let her do it herself.

Silently she flicked open the lid, staring for a moment at the ring inside.

The emerald glinted in the sunlight, the pearls opalescent.

Then, wordlessly, she slid it on to the third finger of her left hand.

With a jerky movement she opened the car door and got out, walking indoors without looking back.

Luca went and parked, wondering why his mood had worsened suddenly. Probably because—as he’d warned her—they were going to have to go through the ordeal of presenting themselves to Matteo.

As he gained the interior, the omnipresent Giuseppe appeared. ‘The signor is awaiting you, Signor Visconte,’ he informed Luca,

‘How is he?’

‘Stronger, I am very glad to report. But he is obeying the doctor’s orders and keeping to his bed.’

‘Good.’ Luca nodded, vaulting lightly up the stairs and knocking briefly on Matteo’s bedroom door.

It was opened by Paolo, Matteo’s nurse, and Luca could see Bianca was there already.

He strolled in. His eyes went straight to Matteo.

He was looking better than he had that morning before they’d set off for Pavenza, but still frail.

Yet his expression was lit up—and Luca saw why.

Bianca was perched on the chair by his bed, holding out her hand, displaying her ring.

Luca took his cue. ‘Yes, her choice, Matteo. I did not prompt.’

‘It’s ideal,’ enthused his godfather. ‘It can be worn every day, and the original kept for special occasions.’

He reached forward, taking Luca’s hand in his. Pressing it to Bianca’s. Luca felt hers stiffen beneath his.

‘Oh, my dear ones…’ Emotion was rich in Matteo’s voice. ‘How happy you have made me! Now I can leave this world content.’

His eyes grew misty, and Luca could see his focus going, his concentration fading.

He understood more clearly now, after what Bianca had told him over dinner the night before, how the powerful anti-cancer drugs he was on could cause brain fog and other such complications.

It helped him understand why Matteo had become so unrealistically obsessed with this passionate determination to ‘protect’—as he saw it—the niece he had only so recently discovered.

Luca could see his frustration, his bitterness—his deep sorrow that he would be leaving her so soon. Compassion filled him, making him glad that he had urged Bianca to go along with Matteo’s sad, pitiful fantasy.

He felt his glance go sideways to Bianca, who was saying something comforting to her uncle. It was still extraordinary to think of her as Matteo’s niece. Thoughts flickered in his head. What if he’d known that six years ago? What if she had known it? The questions hovered…unanswered.

Matteo’s eyes cleared, refocusing on Luca, and Luca turned his gaze to him.

‘Now that the engagement is official,’ Matteo was saying, his voice enthusiastic, ‘you must show Bianca where she will be living. Why not drive her there tomorrow?’

Blankness moved across Luca’s face. Urgently, he tried to think of a reason why that was impossible.

It was Bianca who came to his rescue.

‘Zio Matteo, tomorrow won’t be possible. Luca has told me he must return to his office for a while.’

Matteo’s face fell. ‘No, no, my boy! Tell them this is a special occasion! Of course you must show your fidenzata her new home!’ He turned to Bianca. ‘The Palazzo D’Alabruschi is an architectural historic gem, my dear. You will love living there, I know.’

Bianca took Matteo’s hand. ‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving you,’ she said. ‘You must not think of it. I shall continue to live here.’

‘But only until you are married!’

Bianca smiled. ‘Until then I shall be here with you,’ she said soothingly. ‘I am sure Luca’s palazzo is beautiful, but it can wait.’

‘But you must see it as soon as possible!’

Matteo was getting agitated, Luca could tell, and he intervened.

‘I shall defer my return to Rome and take Bianca there tomorrow,’ he said calmly.

Matteo subsided. ‘ Bene, bene —then it is all decided.’

The exchange seemed to have exhausted him, and he closed his eyes. Luca could see he was sinking into sleep. Carefully, Bianca reclaimed her hand and got to her feet.

‘I’ll get Paolo,’ she murmured, moving to the door.

Luca followed her out to the landing. Matteo’s nurse slipped into the bedroom to check on his patient, and Bianca turned.

‘There’s no need to show me your home,’ she said. ‘Just tell me enough about it to give my uncle the impression that I’ve seen it.’

Luca gave a half-shrug. ‘What is that English expression? In for a penny, in for a pound? You might as well see it for yourself. It makes no difference.’

‘I have no particular interest in seeing it,’ she responded tartly.

‘It has no relevance for me, after all. Nothing about you, Luca, has any relevance to me other than your connection to my uncle and this deplorable, distasteful lie we’ve embroiled ourselves in!

Even if we have done so for Matteo’s sake.

’ She slid the emerald and pearl ring from her finger.

‘Here—take this. It’s served its purpose. ’

Luca shook his head impatiently. Her tone of voice had irritated him, as had what she’d said.

‘Of course you have to keep it—for the duration, at any rate. Matteo will expect it.’

She gave an annoyed sigh, but folded the ring into her hand, not replacing it on her finger.

‘I’ll set off now,’ Luca said. Irritation still filled him. ‘I’ll call for you at eleven tomorrow.’

‘As you wish,’ she acknowledged indifferently.

Her gaze levelled on him expressionlessly. As though both simultaneously evaluating him and rejecting him. An impulse to rile her, unsettle her in that disconcerting evaluation, filled him.

Before she could realise what he intended, he helped himself to the hand that was not clutching the ring he’d bestowed upon her that morning. ‘Until tomorrow then,’ he murmured, raising her hand to his lips with deliberate exaggerated gallantry, pressing her fingers as he did so.

She all but snatched it back, and with a rasp in her throat turned and headed along the corridor, her pace more rapid than required.

He watched her until she’d disappeared inside her own bedroom, shutting the door firmly.

She had not looked back, or said anything else, but the stiff set of her shoulders told him why.

Luca’s mood suddenly improved, and he strolled downstairs.

* * *

Once again, Bianca was sitting in the passenger seat of Luca’s car.

She vaguely recognised the distinctive logo on the long, lean bonnet—it was one of the latest supercars, she knew, and its styling matched its powerful engine with a characteristic throaty roar as Luca accelerated along the autostrada , effortlessly overtaking humbler vehicles.

Her mouth compressed. The car was like him. Sleek, powerful, expensive…and gorgeous to look at.

All the qualities that I fell for hook, line and sinker when I first set eyes on him. Knocking me sideways with my first glance. Making me go ‘Wow!’ and catch my breath, my mouth practically falling open.

Her eyes slid sideways to him as he overtook yet another vehicle. It was a guilty pleasure to look at him. She acknowledged that. Reluctantly, resentfully… But still true. She felt a stab of anguish, Oh, God, why did he still have this power over her?

No answer came.

The low burring of a mobile phone penetrated her troubling thoughts as he sped along the autostrada. It was hers, not his, she realised. She picked up her handbag from the footwell, getting out her phone and glancing at it.