Page 21 of The Virgin’s Dance with the Devil (The Martinelli Wedding #3)
Chapter Eleven
Rico read the message on Marisa’s phone before silently handing it back to her.
Have had an awful argument with Gennaro. Sorry to leave you in the lurch, but I can’t stay. Please tell Mum and Dad that I’m fine and that I just need some space to cool down. I’ll let you know when I’m safely home. Love you, L xx
“I need to call her,” Marisa muttered, clicking the screen and putting the phone to her ear. It must have disconnected quickly because she grimaced, tapped the screen a couple of times and put it back to her ear.
She closed her eyes. “She’s turned her phone off.”
Having learned how close the two sisters were, Rico knew better than to give false platitudes.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “This message is garbage.”
He placed a comforting hand on her knee. “What makes you say that? ”
Taking a deep breath, she met his stare. “No secrets, right?”
“No secrets,” he agreed.
“But anything we share with each other we treat as if it’s as sacrosanct as what we share in the confessional?”
Although he hadn’t been to confession since he was confirmed into the Catholic church as a teenager, he nodded.
“Luisa and Gennaro’s marriage isn’t real; it’s a business arrangement. Gennaro needed a wife to complete a business deal in the Middle East. He paid off our parents’ debts in exchange for Luisa being his wife. The deal was to last two years. They’re due to file for divorce on Monday.”
She paused, as if expecting him to say something. He thought it best not to say this was information he already knew.
“They’ve spent two years hating each other,” she explained, “but it’s been a cold war. When they’re alone, they don’t talk at all, so why would they suddenly be arguing so badly that Luisa’s got to leave?”
There was something in her tone that made him say, “You have a theory?”
She hesitated before saying, “She’s been distracted all week.
I thought it was because she had to share a bed with him – they’d booked a suite with separate beds, but it was double-booked – but last night they left the ball before the dancing started, and there was something in the way they were walking together and the way they were holding hands… ” Colour flushed over her cheeks.
“You think they’ve become lovers?”
She nodded before covering her face.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” She dragged her fingers down her face and sighed. “I suppose I should start by telling my parents. They need to know. ”
“Will you share your theory with them?”
“Only if they ask. They feel a huge amount of guilt about this marriage as it is. We all do.”
“The debt’s connected to your father’s condition?” he asked, although he of course already knew the answer.
She nodded bleakly. “Once the diagnosis of Parkinson’s was confirmed, Giuseppe Martinelli fired my father as his lawyer. Over ninety per cent of my father’s business was dedicated to Giuseppe’s affairs – he’d built the whole business around it.”
Rico grimaced. “A terrible way to treat someone after decades of business and friendship.”
“It broke my parents’ hearts,” she said simply.
He leaned down and kissed her knee. Gently stroking her thigh, he said, “Do you want to go and find them now?”
“Better now than later. She sent the message nearly an hour ago.” She closed her eyes again. “If I hadn’t been so selfish in wanting to keep our time together so private and precious, I would have checked my phone sooner. I might have caught her before she left.”
He caught her chin. “Don’t think like that, angel. You are the least selfish person I’ve ever met.”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Rico.
I’m not an angel, I’m human, and I’m as capable of holding on to resentment as anyone else, and if I see Giuseppe or Carmella feeling as I do now, there’s no saying I won’t scream in their faces for what they’ve done to my family.
If they hadn’t acted so cruelly, my parents wouldn’t have faced bankruptcy and Luisa wouldn’t have felt compelled to marry Gennaro to save them, but to call them out on it in front of everyone would be putting my selfish needs for vengeance over the needs of everyone who’s here to celebrate a marriage, and right now I can’t say I won’t do it. ”
“Then let me be your conscience. If you see them, think of me and remember that it’s my sister’s wedding.”
She gazed at him, her angry eyes glittering. “We can do better than that – come with me.”
“To find your parents?” he clarified cautiously.
“Yes. I feel more grounded to this earth when I’m with you.” Her beautiful face broke into a small, fleeting smile. “Which is really strange as I feel like I’m floating on a cloud when I’m with you too.”
He brought his mouth to hers. “Not strange. I feel the same. When I’m with you, I feel like I have taken flight, but am more in touch with the here and now.” Eyes closed, their lips fused in a long, chaste kiss before he softly said, “Are you sure you want me to come with you?”
She nodded. “They need to know. No point in worrying them about Marisa and then leaving it a day or two or however long and loading more worry on them. Ultimately, it’s kinder this way.”
Marisa kept a firm hold of Rico’s hand. They were approaching the main swimming pool area, and the place was packed, guests in the pool, in the bar, on the loungers, splashing, eating, drinking, chatting, laughing, playing.
To the far side of the pool, a makeshift bar was being built, and she had a vague memory of cocktail-making being the organised afternoon entertainment.
She tried to keep her focus on that bar because she was very much aware of dozens of eyes already locking onto them.
To reach the main beach, they had to walk this gauntlet.
Sure, they could take the scenic route, but she was sick of hiding.
Now she’d made up her mind to tell her family, there was no need to hide anymore.
She loved Rico, and he loved her. Her parents would be shocked and probably fearful for her, but they would support her.
Once Luisa got off the high horse she was bound to climb on about it, she’d support her too, because that’s what sisters did.
Repeated internal refrains to herself that it was kinder this way came to a juddering halt when she spotted her parents in the far distance. Her father was in a wheelchair, her mother pushing him. From the path they were taking, they were heading towards the hotel reception.
Trying not to panic at her father being wheelchair bound, she upped her pace, Rico easily matching it, reaching the steps to the reception as her mother, who’d used the ramp, pushed her father through the reception’s open doors.
“Mum!” she called, dropping Rico’s hand and running up the steps.
Her mother turned her head, breaking into a smile for her youngest daughter.
“What’s happened?” Marisa asked anxiously, close to being breathless from her rush to get to them. Her father hated having to use a wheelchair.
“Nothing,” her mother said, kissing her on both cheeks.
“Then why the wheelchair?”
“The walk to the beach is a bit much for your dad, that’s all.”
Kissing her dad on both cheeks, she studied his face closely. In the early days of his disease, her mother had frequently lied to her daughters, wanting to spare them worry. As a result, she’d become an expert on the little tells they made when they lied. “You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”
“The only thing wrong is my stomach – I’m ready for my lunch.” Her father smiled, then turned to his wife and pointed at one of the sofa sets artfully scattered throughout the reception. “Park me over there, my love.”
The wheelchair dutifully parked, Marisa and her mother helped Pietro to his feet.
Her mother expertly unfolded the walking stick and handed it to him, then in an undertone whispered to Marisa, “The nurse paid us a visit last night and made your father see the light about using a wheelchair when it’s needed. ”
If Marisa wasn’t so very aware of Rico waiting close to them, she would punch the air. Instead, she smiled her relief at the news, then took a deep breath and said, “If you’re going to lunch, can we join you?”
“You don’t have to ask…” Her mother’s words trailed off, her smile freezing as she simultaneously registered the we in Marisa’s question and the hulking man standing only a little apart from them, watching them intently. Her face paled, lips pulling into a tight line as comprehension dawned.
It was her father who broke the tension. Although the knuckles of his fingers holding his walking stick had whitened, his voice was remarkably steady. “We’d be delighted for you both to join us, wouldn’t we, Sofia?”
Her mother’s nod was automatic, her dark brown eyes bouncing from Marisa to Rico and back again.
“You’re Federico?” her father asked, extending a shaking hand out to him.
Rico clasped it gently but firmly. “Yes. Please, call me Rico.”
“Delighted to. I’m Pietro, this good lady here is my wife, Sofia.”
“Great to meet you both.” Nodding at the door in the distance that led to the main restaurant, he added, “Shall we?”
Finally expelling the breath she’d not even been aware had stuck in her throat, Marisa slipped her hand into Rico’s.
Keeping pace with her father’s shuffling gait, they slowly crossed the reception.
She’d wait until they’d all eaten before telling them about Luisa, she decided, and it was as she was thinking this that she felt a tug on her arm and turned to find her sister and brother-in-law standing there, so many emotions flickering on Luisa’s face that picking out one was impossible.
“Tell me I’m seeing things?” she whispered.
“Tell me I’m seeing things,” Marisa riposted with a lightness she didn’t feel, noticing the protective way Gennaro stood beside her sister and the expression in his eyes. It was like the Iceman had melted.