Page 7 of Marriage Made In Hate

‘To make everything…tidy,’ Matteo went on. ‘For our families and for ourselves. When I came home from hospital, this I proceeded to do. All the usual things—my will, my finances and so on. But there were also more personal matters. Painful things I have shut away for many years.’

His expression changed.

‘You may not be aware, Luca, that I had a brother—Tomaso. As boys we were very close, but as young men someone came into our lives. Luisa.’

He paused.

‘We both fell in love with her, but it was me she loved. It…drove Tomaso away. He could not face seeing me marry the woman he loved. He took himself off, went to England. I let him be, married Luisa, got on with my life.’

He reached for his wine again, drank once more, as if in need of it.

‘I did not hear from him again—until news of his fatal car crash in France was brought to me by the police. I was named as his next of kin in his passport. He had been heading back to Italy. His effects were sent to me—his suitcase—but I could not bear to open it. Recently, knowing how little time is left to me, I did. And I found, inside, what I had no idea was in there.’

He drew a breath—a difficult one—and his voice was strained as he went on.

‘I found, inside the cover of a book, to keep it smooth, his marriage certificate to Bianca’s mother.

He was a newlywed, returning to Italy to prepare a home for her, his bride—but she never even knew he had been killed.

She must have thought that she had been abandoned, left to raise their child alone.

A child I did not even know existed until I set London lawyers to find out what they could about the marriage I had never even knew he’d made. And they found Bianca…’

Now, finally, his voice softened.

‘The niece I never knew I had. My lost brother’s daughter.’

Luca could see the emotion visible in Matteo’s face, and for a moment it seemed his godfather would not speak again. But then he did, and his voice was warm and cherishing.

‘And here she is…my dearest, dearest Bianca,’ he said.

His smile went to her, encompassing and embracing, and Luca saw her take Matteo’s hand and gently squeeze it.

‘And here I shall stay,’ she said.

She said it to Matteo, and the voice in which she spoke was as warm as his. Unlike the glance that suddenly, for a fraction of a second, she shot across the table at Luca. Icy and defiant.

He realised his godfather was speaking again, and made himself pay attention.

‘So, there you have it, my boy,’ he said heavily. ‘How I wish with all my heart that I had known of Bianca’s existence earlier, so that she might have grown up here. But at least I have found her now, even if our time together must be brief.’

Sadness was in his voice again. Then he rallied.

‘I shall make the very most of that time,’ he declared, sounding resolute. ‘And when I am gone I shall know that my brother’s daughter is well provided for. She will have her father’s portion, which so wrongly came to me, and she will be my heir as well.’

Luca frowned. Why was Matteo telling him this? Yes, he knew he was to be his godfather’s executor when the time came, but he had never had expectations of any legacy himself. Bianca was welcome to it.

It would make her a very wealthy woman. A world away from the Bianca he had known.

It was impossible to associate the Bianca he had known in London with the woman now revealed to be his godfather’s niece. The dissonance was too great. Too unbelievable.

With difficulty, he made himself speak.

‘I am glad for you Matteo, that you have found your brother’s daughter.’ He could not bring himself to look across the table at Bianca, so he did not. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

Agitation suddenly possessed his godfather. ‘I have more to say, Luca! More that you must hear! And Bianca must hear too!’

And as he spoke on, for a third time that evening, Luca froze.

* * *

Bianca was torn. Torn at least in two and probably into a lot more.

Part of her had a heart filling up with almost tearful emotion as she heard her uncle tell the sad, sad story that he had told her the day after her arrival in Italy, with mutual tears and so much emotion, of the father she had never known.

But another part of her was steely—out of necessity. Stark, pitiless necessity. Because she was holding her nerve against the man sitting opposite her.

Luca—walking out of the toxic past.

Her mouth tightened momentarily. At least it had given her a stab of vicious pleasure to see his expression as his eyes had alighted on her when he’d come into the saloni.

His shock, and the appalled, disbelieving look on his face had matched her own.

And then, after his vile accusations out on the terrace just now, she had got her own back when Matteo had made his bombshell announcement about who she was.

Oh, that had given her satisfaction indeed!

He could choke on what he’d suspected her of! Just choke on it!

And as for Luca— Luca!— turning out to be her uncle’s precious godson… Well, he could choke on that too! She didn’t give a damn…could not care less.

It’s nothing to do with me—nothing.

Oh, she would never tell her uncle why she hated his precious godson.

Would never give a hint of it, or of the fact that she’d known him—to her cost!

—six years ago, when he’d enjoyed himself slumming it with her until he’d been recalled to his aristocratic life out here in Italy, far too posh for the likes of her!

No, that could stay buried in the past—the only place it was fit for.

In the here and now, if she must, she’d bring herself to be civil to Luca—if only barely so—in Matteo’s presence. But that was all. Besides, Matteo had said he worked in Rome, travelled abroad a lot on business. That, surely, would keep him away?

And he’ll want to stay away, anyway. He won’t want to come here…see me. I’m the last person he’d want to see. To have anything at all to do with.

He’d made that clear six years ago. Brutally clear.

No, Luca had walked out of her life six years ago and he could stay out. Apart from occasional visits to Matteo, while her uncle still lived, there would be no reason for her and Luca to have anything to do with each other. None.

He’s Matteo’s godson and I’m his niece—end of. No other connection.

She turned her attention back to what her uncle had started to say. And as she heard him out she could only stare in disbelief.

More than disbelief.

Horror.

* * *

Luca stilled. He surely could not be hearing what Matteo was saying now, his expression troubled, his voice agitated.

‘Bianca will be my heir, but I fear for her! Alone and unprotected as she will be. Jackals will circle—those who see in her a target…someone to exploit. Wanting the wealth she will possess. Oh, I fear for her when I am no longer here!’

Anxiety was rising in Matteo’s voice and Luca saw him clutch at Bianca’s hand again, saw the expression on her face turn to concern.

‘Which is why, my dear boy, my dear Luca, the godson I trust implicitly, completely, I make this heartfelt, impassioned request to you. To you. That you will protect my niece…guard her…keep her safe from the circling jackals who will see in her a vulnerable, beautiful woman and think…dare!…to beguile her…tempt her—’

He broke off, his face contorting. Then he found words again.

‘I beg you…implore you, Luca…to protect Bianca in the one sure and certain way that she can be protected, kept safe from such jackals!’

He took another breath, a laboured one. He was becoming more agitated, and Luca’s alarm was growing. But then his alarm changed to something quite different…

‘It is why I asked you here this evening!’ Matteo got out.

‘My time is short, Luca…so short! But if I knew for certain that you would protect Bianca then I can leave this world, so dangerous to her, with peace of mind…peace of heart.’ His expression changed, calmed.

‘Knowing that you will be her protector in the most absolute way possible.’

His eyes burned into Luca’s.

‘As Bianca’s husband,’ he said.