Читать книгу Mistress Arrangements: Passion's Mistress / Desert Mistress / Mistress by Arrangement - HELEN BIANCHIN, Helen Bianchin - Страница 9

IT TOOK AN hour for Carly to reach Manly, and she uttered a silent prayer of thanks to whoever watched over her as she traversed the car-choked arterial roads leading north from the city. Concentration was essential, and her own was in such a state of serious disarray that it was a minor miracle her sedan survived the drive intact.

Sarah answered the door at once, and Carly cast her a grateful glance as she entered her friend’s apartment.

‘Thanks for collecting Ann-Marie. I got held up, and the traffic slowed to a complete halt in places.’

‘Sarah read me a story, and we watched television. I’ve already had my bath,’ Ann-Marie informed her as she ran into her mother’s outstretched arms.

Carly hugged the small body close, and felt the onset of emotion-packed tears. For more than six years she’d fought tooth and nail to support them both without any outside financial assistance. Soon that would change, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for the upheaval Stefano Alessi would cause in their lives.

‘Would you like some coffee?’ Sarah queried. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

Carly shot her friend a distracted smile. ‘Why not come over and share our meal?’ It was the least she could do, and besides, it would be lovely to have company. Then she would have less time alone in which to think.

Sarah looked suitably regretful. ‘I’d love to, but I’m going out tonight.’

Carly glimpsed the indecision apparent, the pensive brooding evident in Sarah’s lovely blue eyes.

‘I take it this isn’t the usual casual meal shared with a female friend?’ she queried slowly. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’

‘A doctor who performed emergency surgery several months ago while I was on night duty. He’s recently moved south from Cairns. We ran into each other a few days later, in the supermarket of all places, and we chatted. Then I saw him again at the hospital.’ She paused, and effected a faint shrugging gesture. ‘He’s…’ She paused, searching for the right words. ‘Easy to talk to, I guess. Last week he asked me out to dinner.’ Her eyes clouded, then deepened to cerulean blue. ‘I said yes at the time, but now I’m not so sure.’

Aware that Sarah’s disastrous first marriage and subsequent messy divorce had left her with a strong dislike and distrust of men, almost to the point where she refused to have anything to do with them other than in a professional capacity, Carly could only wonder at the man who had managed to break through her friend’s defences.

‘I’m delighted for you,’ she declared with genuine sincerity.

‘I’m terrified for me,’ Sarah acknowledged wryly as she filled both mugs with boiling water.

The aroma of instant coffee was no substitute for the real thing, but the hot, sweet brew had a necessary reviving effect and Carly sipped the contents of her mug with appreciative satisfaction.

‘What time is he picking you up?’

‘Seven.’ An entire gamut of emotions chased fleetingly across Sarah’s attractive features. ‘I’m going to ring him and cancel.’

If he was at all intuitive, he would have deliberately left his answering machine off with just this possibility in mind, Carly reflected as Sarah crossed to the telephone and punched out the requisite digits, only to listen and replace the receiver.

‘Damn. Now what am I going to do?’

Carly viewed her with twinkling solemnity. ‘Go out with him.’

‘I can’t. I’m nuts,’ Sarah wailed. ‘Nuts.’ Her expression assumed a sudden fierceness. ‘If the situation were reversed, would you go out with another man?’

Her heart lurched, then settled into an accelerated beat in the knowledge that she would soon be inextricably involved with someone she’d sworn never to have anything to do with again, coerced by a set of circumstances that denied any freedom of choice. Yet her academic mind demanded independent legal verification of Stefano’s threat of custody, even as logic reasoned that in a court of law the odds would be heavily stacked against Stefano being denied access to his daughter. Tomorrow was Saturday, but there was a friend she could contact outside office hours who would relay the vital information she needed.

‘Carly?’

She proffered a faint smile in silent apology and shook her head. ‘Not all men are made from the same mould as our respective first husbands,’ she managed, evading Sarah’s close scrutiny as she lifted the mug to her lips and sipped from it.

‘When he arrives, I’ll tell him I’ve changed my mind,’ Sarah declared, and, placing a light hand on Carly’s arm, she queried softly, ‘Are you OK?’

There was no time for confidences, and Carly wasn’t sure she was ready to share Stefano’s ultimatum with anyone. ‘I’m fine,’ she assured quietly as she deliberately forced a slight smile. ‘Let me give Ann-Marie dinner, then I’ll come and help with your hair.’

Sarah shot her a dark musing glance. ‘He’s seen me in denim shorts, a T-shirt, trainers, and no make-up.’ Her expression became faintly speculative as she took in the paleness of Carly’s features, the edge of tension apparent. ‘Give me twenty minutes to shower and change.’

Once in her own apartment, it took only a few minutes to heat the casserole she’d prepared the previous evening, and although Ann-Marie ate well Carly mechanically forked small portions from her plate with little real appetite.

Afterwards Ann-Marie proved an interested spectator as Carly used hot rollers to good effect on Sarah’s hair.

‘Why do I feel as nervous as a teenager about to go on a first date?’ Sarah queried with wry disbelief. ‘No, don’t answer that.’

‘All done,’ Carly announced minutes later as she stepped back a pace to view the style she’d effected with critical favour. ‘You look really great,’ she assured her gently, her eyes softening with genuine feeling for her friend’s state of panic. ‘Are you going to tell me his name?’ she prompted with a faintly teasing smile.

‘James Hensley,’ Sarah revealed. ‘Surgeon, late thirties, widower, one son. He’s slightly aloof and distinguished, yet warm and easy to talk to, if that makes sense.’ Indecision, doubt and anxiety clouded her attractive features. A deprecatory laugh merged with an audible groan of despair. ‘Why am I doing this to myself? I don’t need the emotional aggravation!’

The intercom buzzed, and Carly reached out and caught hold of Ann-Marie’s hand. ‘Have a really fantastic time,’ she bade Sarah gently. ‘We’ll let ourselves out.’

It was after eight before Ann-Marie fell asleep, and Carly gently closed the storybook, then gazed at her daughter’s classic features in repose. She looked so small, so fragile. Far too young to have to undergo extensive surgery. Her beautiful hair—

A lump rose in Carly’s throat, a painful constriction she had difficulty in swallowing. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. Dammit, she wouldn’t cry. Tears were for the weak, and she had to be strong. For both of them. At least her daughter would have the best medical attention money could buy, she consoled herself fiercely.

Carly remained seated in the chair beside Ann-Marie’s bed for a long time before she stirred herself sufficiently to leave the room, and after carefully closing the door she crossed the lounge to the phone.

Twenty minutes later she slowly replaced the receiver. With a sinking heart she attempted to come to terms with the fact that any claim for custody by Stefano could succeed. Sole custody was not a consideration unless he could prove indisputably that Carly was an unfit mother. However, he could insist on joint custody—alternate weekends, half of each school holiday—and be granted any reasonable request for access.

On that premise, Carly was sufficiently intelligent to be aware of what would happen if she contested his claim in a court of law, or what emphasis his lawyer would place on her decision to leave Stefano in ignorance of Ann-Marie’s existence.

She closed her eyes, almost able to hear the damning words uttered with appropriate dramatic inflexion. The moral issue would be played out with stunning effect. With the added weight of Stefano’s wealth, she wouldn’t stand a chance of him being refused custody.

Without conscious thought she sank into a nearby chair in despair. Dear God, she agonised shakily. How could she do that to her daughter? Ann-Marie would be pulled and pushed between two people who no longer had anything in common, torn by divided loyalties, and unsure whether either parent’s affection was motivated by genuine love or a desire to hurt the other.

In years to come Ann-Marie would understand and comprehend the truth of her parents’ relationship. But what damage would be done between now and then? It didn’t bear thinking about.

There was really no choice. None at all.

Impossibly restless, she flung herself into completing a punishing few hours of housework, followed by a stint of ironing. At least it provided an outlet for her nervous tension, and she tumbled wearily into bed to toss and turn far into the early hours of the morning.

‘You look—terrible,’ Sarah declared with concern as Carly answered the door shortly after eleven. ‘Is Ann-Marie OK?’

‘She’s fine,’ Carly responded with a faint smile, then winced at the increasing pain in her head. ‘She’s dressing her doll in the bedroom and deciding what she should wear to Susy’s party this afternoon. Come on in, we’ll have some coffee.’

‘I’ll make the coffee, and get you something for that headache,’ Sarah insisted, suiting words to action with such admirable efficiency that Carly found herself seated at the dining-room table nursing a hot cup of delicious brew.

‘Now, tell me what’s wrong.’

Carly effected a faint shrugging gesture. ‘I must be feeling my age,’ she qualified with a faint smile. ‘One late night through the week, and it takes me the next two to get over it.’

‘OK,’ Sarah accepted. ‘So you don’t want to talk. Now take these tablets.’

‘Yes, Sister.’

‘Don’t be sassy with me, young woman. It won’t work,’ Sarah added with mock-severity.

‘How was your date with James?’ Carly queried in an attempt to divert the conversation away from herself.

‘We had dinner, we talked, then he delivered me home.’ Sarah lifted her shoulders in a non-committal gesture. ‘It was all right, I guess.’

‘That’s it?’ Carly looked slightly incredulous. ‘All right wraps it up?’

‘OK, so he was the perfect gentleman.’ Sarah’s expression became pensive. ‘I was surprised, that’s all.’

James was beginning to sound more astute by the minute.

‘He’s asked me out to dinner next Saturday evening,’ Sarah informed her quietly, and Carly applauded his perception in taking things slowly.

‘He sounds nice.’

‘I get the feeling he’s streets ahead of me,’ Sarah owned. ‘Almost as if he knows what I’m thinking and how I’ll react. It’s—uncanny.’

Carly sipped her coffee and attempted to ignore her headache. It would take at least ten minutes before the pain began to ease, maybe another ten before it retreated to a dull heaviness that would only be alleviated by rest. After she dropped Ann-Marie at Susy’s house, she’d come back and rest for an hour.

Sarah left a short while later, and Carly headed for a long leisurely shower, choosing to slip into tailored cotton trousers and a sleeveless top in eau-de-Nil silk. The pale colour looked cool and refreshing, and accentuated the deep auburn highlights of her hair and the clear honey of her skin.

Lunch was a light meal, for Ann-Marie was too excited to eat much in view of all the prospective fare available at Susy’s party.

‘Ready, darling?’

Ann-Marie’s small features creased into an expression of excited anticipation, and Carly felt a tug on her heartstrings.

‘Checklist time,’ she bade lightly with a smile. ‘Handkerchief? No last-minute need to visit the bathroom?’

‘Yes,’ Ann-Marie answered, retrieving a white linen square from the pocket of her dress. ‘And I just did. Can we go now?’

‘After you,’ Carly grinned, sweeping her arm in the direction of the front door.

The drive was a relatively short one, for Susy lived in a neighbouring suburb, and in no time at all Carly brought the car to a halt behind a neat row of several parked cars.

‘We’re cutting the cake at three,’ Susy’s mother bade with an expressive smile. ‘And I’m planning a reviving afternoon tea for the mothers at three-thirty while Susy opens her presents. I’d love you to be here if you can.’

Carly accepted the invitation, wished Susy ‘Happy Birthday’, then bent down to kiss Ann-Marie goodbye.

On returning home she garaged the car in its allotted space, sparing its slightly dusty paintwork a faint grimace as she closed and locked the door. Perhaps she could leave early and detour via a carwash.

The apartment seemed strangely empty, and she drifted into the kitchen to retrieve a cool drink from the refrigerator.

The buzz of the doorbell sounded loud in the silence of the apartment, and Carly frowned in momentary perplexity as she crossed the lounge. Sarah?

Instead, a tall, broad-shouldered, disturbingly familiar male frame filled the doorway.

The few seconds between recognition and comprehension seemed uncommonly long as she registered his dominating presence.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Whatever happened to hello?’ Stefano drawled, and his dry mocking tones sent an icy shiver down the length of her spine.

Her eyes sparked with visible anger, dark depths of sheer mahogany, and it irked her unbearably that she’d discarded her heeled sandals on entering the apartment, for it put her at a distinct disadvantage.

Impossibly tall, he towered head and shoulders above her, his impeccably tailored suit seeming incredibly formal on a day that was usually given to informality and relaxation.

Three nights ago his presence had shocked and dismayed her. Yesterday, she’d been momentarily numbed, grateful for the impartiality of his office. Now, there was no visible shield, no barrier, and she felt inordinately wary.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’

He projected a dramatic mesh of elemental ruthlessness and primitive power, an intrinsic physical magnetism that teased her senses and rendered them intensely vulnerable.

Her chin lifted fractionally, her eyes locking with his, and she caught the lurking cynicism evident, almost as if he guessed the path her thoughts had taken and was silently amused by their passage.

‘What if I refuse?’ Brave words, given his sheer strength and indomitable will.

‘Would you prefer an amicable discussion, or have me channel everything through my lawyers?’

His voice was deadly quiet, and she felt the cold clutch of fear.

‘This isn’t a convenient time.’ She was mad, insane to thwart him continually, yet she was damned if she’d meekly stand aside and allow him entry into the privacy of her apartment.

His expression hardened, the assemblage of muscle and bone tautening into a chilling mask depicting controlled anger. ‘You’ve just returned from delivering our daughter to a birthday party. How long before you need to collect her? An hour? Two?’

Sheer rage rushed to the surface, destroying any semblance of restraint. ‘You’ve had me watched—followed?’ Words momentarily failed her. ‘You bastard,’ she flung at last, sorely tempted to slam the door in his face, yet even as the thought occurred to her she negated the action as not only foolish but extremely dangerous.

For one infinitesimal second his eyes leapt with icy anger, then sharpened and became infinitely compelling as he raked her slender frame.

A shivery sensation feathered its way down the length of her spine as she fought against the intrinsic pull of his innate sexuality, and of its own volition her body seemed to flare into life as if ignited by some hidden combustible flame.

Seven years ago she’d gone willingly into his arms, his bed, and tasted every sensual delight in a sexual discovery that had set her on fire, enraptured by an ecstasy so acute that it hadn’t seemed possible such pleasure existed. A passionate lover, he’d teasingly dispensed with each and every one of her inhibitions, and taught her to become so in tune with her own sensual being that each time they made love it was a total conflagration of the senses.

To deny him access to her apartment would gain absolutely nothing, and, drawing in a deep breath, she gathered her scattered emotions together as she aimed for contrived politeness.

‘Please,’ Carly indicated as she gestured towards two sofas and a chair in the small lounge. ‘Sit down.’

Stefano chose to ignore the directive, and moved slowly across the room to examine a large frame containing a montage of small snapshots showing Ann-Marie in various stages of development from birth to as recently as a month ago.

A palpable silence filled the room until it enveloped everything. A silence so incredibly damning that it was almost tangible.

At long last he turned towards her, his eyes so remarkably dark that it was impossible to discern anything from his expression. ‘Why did you choose not to tell me you were pregnant?’ he began with deceptive softness.

Her throat felt impossibly dry, and so constricted that she doubted if her larynx could cope with emitting so much as a sound. ‘If I had, you would have hauled me back to Perth,’ she said at last.

‘Indeed,’ Stefano agreed. ‘And I wouldn’t now brand you a thief for stealing from me the first six years of my daughter’s life.’

‘If you’d had sufficient respect for our marriage, I wouldn’t have felt compelled to leave,’ she managed carefully. There was an inherent integrity apparent, a strength that came from deep within. ‘And rehashing the past has no relevance to Ann-Marie’s future.’

She could feel his anger emanating through the pores of his skin, and all her fine body hairs rose in protective self-defence. He could have shaken her to within an inch of her life, and taken extreme pleasure in her pain. It was there in his eyes, the tautly bunched muscles as he held himself rigidly in control. The promise of retribution was thinly veiled, and she felt immeasurably afraid, aware that such punishment would be swift and without warning—an utter devastation. But not yet, she reasoned shakily. A superb tactician, he would derive infinite satisfaction from playing out her fear.

‘You’ve reached a decision?’

Her heart stopped, then clamoured into a thudding beat. ‘Yes.’ One look at his hard, obdurate features was sufficient to ascertain his inflexibility.

‘Must I draw it from you like blood from stone?’ he pursued, his voice assuming a deadly softness, and her eyes flared with resentment.

‘I won’t allow Ann-Marie to be a metaphorical bone we fight over in a lawcourt,’ she said hardily. ‘Nor will I put her through the emotional trauma of being bandied back and forth between two parents.’ Her head lifted slightly and her chin tilted with determination. ‘However, I have one condition.’

One eyebrow slanted in silent cynicism. ‘And what is that?’

‘You give up your women friends.’

He looked at her for what seemed an age, and she was conscious of an elevated nervous tension as the silence between them stretched to an unbearable length.

‘Could you be more specific?’

‘Lovers,’ she said tightly, hating him.

‘Does that mean you are prepared to accommodate me in bed?’ he pursued with deadly softness.

Her heart stopped, then clamoured into a thudding beat at the memory his words evoked, and the nights when she’d behaved like a mindless wanton in his passionate embrace. With concentrated effort she managed to keep her gaze steady. ‘No, it doesn’t, damn you!’

Stefano remained silent, his eyes watchful as he witnessed the fleeting change of her emotions, then after a measurable silence he ventured silkily, ‘You expect me to remain celibate?’

Of its own volition, her hand lifted to her hair and eased a stray tendril behind on ear, the gesture unconscious and betraying her inner nervousness. ‘I’ll live in the same house,’ she declared quietly. ‘I’ll play at being your social hostess. For Ann-Marie’s sake, I’ll pretend everything between us is fine.’ Her eyes were wide, clear, and filled with resolution. ‘But I refuse to share your bed.’

The edge of his mouth lifted in a gesture of musing mockery. ‘I shall insist you share the same room.’

‘Why?’ Carly demanded baldly.

His eyes speared hers, their depths hard and inflexible. ‘Because I choose never to lose.’

‘Our marriage meant nothing to you!’

‘You think not?’ Stefano countered with unmatched cynicism. ‘I retain a clear memory of your…’ He paused imperceptibly, then added mockingly, ‘Contentment.’

‘You gave me beautiful things, put me in a beautiful home, took me out to beautiful parties where beautiful people mingled and made out they were friends.’ She felt incredibly sad. ‘Except nothing was beautiful. Not really. I was a new playmate, someone you could show off when the occasion demanded.’ Her eyes clouded, and her lashes fluttered down to form a protective veil. ‘I was too young, too naïve, and I didn’t know the rules.’

His expression hardened, and only a fool would choose to disregard the element of tensile steel beneath his sophisticated veneer, for apparent was a sense of purpose, a formidability that was infinitely daunting.

‘And now you do?’ he taunted silkily.

Her eyes were remarkably clear and steady, her resolve derived from an inner strength she would never allow him to destroy. ‘I care for my daughter more than life itself,’ she vowed quietly. ‘Her health and well-being take precedence over anything you can throw at me.’

His eyes reflected an indomitable strength of will, and, unless she was mistaken, a chilling degree of silent rage.

Self-preservation was a prime motivation, yet right at this instant she felt as vulnerable as a cornered vixen. ‘I insist on continuing with my career—even if it’s only on a part-time basis.’

He didn’t display any emotion whatsoever, and she shivered, aware of the force she was dealing with.

‘You’ll take an extended leave of absence, effective almost immediately, until Ann-Marie has recovered fully from surgery and is able to return to school.’

An angry flush crept over her cheeks as she fought to remain calm beneath his deliberate appraisal. ‘It never entered my head to do otherwise,’ she retaliated, determined to press home every point in her intention to set a personal precedent. ‘However, I studied very hard to achieve my present position, and I have no intention of giving it up.’

‘I’m sure Clive Mathorpe will be amenable to your working a reduced number of hours consistent with the time Ann-Marie spends at school.’

Cool, damning words, but carrying a weight she found impossible to ignore. She felt drained, emotionally and physically, and she needed to be alone.

‘Will you please leave?’

‘When do you collect Ann-Marie from the party?’

Carly’s eyes flew to her watch, confirming with immeasurable relief that it was only minutes past three.

‘Soon,’ she acknowledged. ‘I told Susy’s mother I’d join her and the other mothers for afternoon tea.’

‘In that case, I’ll drive you there.’

A surge of anger rose to the surface, colouring her cheeks and sharpening her features. ‘Damn you,’ she cursed fiercely. ‘I won’t introduce you to Ann-Marie in one breath and reveal you’re her father in the next!’

‘Putting off the inevitable won’t achieve anything,’ Stefano stated in a voice that was infinitely dangerous. ‘Invite me to dinner tonight.’

She closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again. ‘Can’t it wait a few days?’

‘I’ve spoken to the specialist and arranged an appointment with the neurosurgeon for Tuesday. It’s highly possible she’ll undergo surgery within a week.’ His gaze seemed incredibly dark as his features assumed a harsh, implacable mask. ‘It’s imperative that you’re both established in my home as soon as possible. Emotional stability is crucial to her recuperation.’

‘When she’s fully recovered is soon enough,’ Carly cried, hating the way he was taking charge.

‘Tomorrow,’ he informed her with diabolical insistence.

‘No,’ she denied at once. ‘It will only cause her anxiety and add to the trauma of hospitalisation and surgery.’

‘Use whatever guise you choose,’ he insisted softly. ‘But do it, Carly. Ann-Marie will soon accept I have a rightful place in her life—as she has in mine.’

A holiday, a brief stay, was the only tenable explanation, she decided, aware that Ann-Marie would probably view the proposal as something of an adventure.

‘I’ll be back at five,’ he declared hardly. ‘And I’ll bring dinner. All you’ll have to do is serve it.’ His gaze seared her soul. ‘Don’t even think about running away, Carly,’ he warned softly. ‘This time, I’ll search until I find you, and afterwards you’ll wish you were dead.’

She stood transfixed as he turned and walked to the door, then quietly left the apartment.

It took ten minutes for her to regain some measure of composure, a further five before she took the lift down to the underground car park.

To sit with several other young mothers sipping tea and sharing party fare proved an anticlimax, and Carly felt as if she was operating on automatic pilot while her brain whirled off on a tangent.

She smiled a lot, and she even managed to laugh with apparent spontaneity at an amusingly told anecdote. Inside, she was a mess, conscious with every passing minute, each glance at Ann-Marie, of the impact Stefano would have on their lives. Especially her own.

The most pressing problem was finding the right words that would prevent Ann-Marie from forming any prejudice, one way or the other, about her mother’s actions. Children were incredibly curious, and Ann-Marie was no exception.

For the following half-hour Carly watched Susy unwrap her presents, unable afterwards to remember more than a few, then, when the birthday cake was cut, she helped distribute the pieces.

Soon it was time to leave, and in the car she tussled with her conscience, agonising over how she should explain Stefano and their reconciliation, aware that the little girl was too excited after the party to really absorb much of what her mother had to say.

While driving a car in traffic was hardly the time or place, and as soon as they entered the apartment she plugged in the kettle, made herself a cup of strong tea, then settled down beside Ann-Marie on the sofa.

‘Someone very special is going to have dinner with us tonight,’ Carly began quietly, aware that she had her daughter’s undivided attention by the bright curiosity evident in a pair of grey eyes that were identical to Stefano’s.

‘Sarah?’

‘No, darling.’ She hesitated slightly, then offered quietly, ‘Your father.’

Ann-Marie’s eyes widened measurably and her expression assumed a solemnity beyond her tender years. ‘You said my father lived a long, long way away, and you left him before he knew about me.’ The eyes grew even larger. ‘Why didn’t you want to tell him?’

Oh, dear lord. Out of the mouths of babes! ‘Because we had an argument,’ Carly answered honestly. ‘And we said things we didn’t mean.’ An extension of the truth, for she had said them—Stefano hadn’t uttered a single word in his defence.

‘How did he find out about me?’ Ann-Marie queried slowly.

‘Your father moved to Sydney several months ago,’ Carly said quietly, watching the expressive play of emotions evident. ‘I’ve been in touch with him.’

‘Why?’

If only there were a simple answer! ‘I thought it was time he knew about you.’

Ann-Marie’s gaze didn’t waver, and it seemed an age before she spoke. ‘And you don’t not like him any more?’

She hid a sad smile at Ann-Marie’s phraseology, and prayed the good lord would forgive her for the fabrication. ‘No.’

‘Now he wants to meet me,’ Ann-Marie said with childish intuition, and Carly nodded her head in silent agreement, then endorsed,

‘Yes, he does. Very much.’

‘Is he angry with you for not telling him about me?’

‘A little,’ she admitted gently.

Ann-Marie’s expression became comically fierce, and her chin jutted forward. ‘If he’s nasty to you, I’ll hit him.’

The mental picture of a delicate, curly-haired six-year-old lashing out at a six-feet-plus male frame brought a slight smile to Carly’s lips. ‘That would be very rude, don’t you think? Especially when he’s a very kind man.’ Not to her, never to her. However, she had no doubt he would be kind to his daughter.

‘Does he want us to live together and be a family?’

Her answer had to be direct and without hesitation. ‘Yes,’ she said simply.

‘Do you want us to live with him?’ Ann-Marie persisted, and Carly felt as if she was caught in a trap with no way out.

‘Yes.’ Two untruths in the space of two minutes. If she wasn’t careful, it could become a habit. ‘Let’s go and freshen up, shall we? He’ll be here soon.’

‘What do I call him?’ Ann-Marie asked several minutes later as she stood quietly while Carly tidied her hair and redid her ribbons.

Carly had a terrible feeling the questions could only get worse! ‘What would you like to call him?’

Ann-Marie appeared to deliberate, her eyes pensive as a slight frown creased her small brow. ‘Daddy, I guess.’ Her eyes moved to meet those of her mother in the mirror. ‘Will I like him?’

She forced her mouth to widen into a warm smile, then she bent down to brush her lips against her daughter’s temple. ‘I’m sure that once you get to know him you’ll like him very much,’ she assured her quietly.

Ann-Marie looked at her mother’s mirrored reflection and queried with puzzlement, ‘Aren’t you going to put some lipstick on?’

Carly didn’t feel inclined to do anything to enhance her appearance, although she reached automatically for a slim plastic tube and outlined her mouth in clear red.

The sound of the doorbell heralded Stefano’s arrival, and, catching hold of Ann-Marie’s hand, she summoned a bright smile. ‘Shall we answer that?’

I don’t want to do this, a voice screamed silently from within, aware that the moment she opened the door her life would change irrevocably.

Carly schooled her features into an expression of welcome, and although she registered his physical presence she felt akin to a disembodied spectator.

Except that this was no nightmarish dream. Stefano Alessi represented reality, and she issued a greeting, aware that he had exchanged the formal business suit worn a few hours earlier for casual dark trousers and an open-necked shirt.

Carly barely hid a gasp of surprise as he reached out and threaded his fingers through hers, tightening them imperceptibly as she attempted to pull away from his grasp.

She registered a silent protest by digging the tips of her nails into hard bone and sinew. Not that it did any good, for he didn’t even blink, and she watched in silence as his mouth curved into a warm smile.

Supremely conscious of Ann-Marie’s intent gaze, she managed to return it, and she glimpsed the faint narrowing of his eyes, the silent warning evident an instant before they swept down to encompass his daughter.

‘Hello, Ann-Marie.’

He made no attempt to touch her, and Ann-Marie looked at him solemnly for several long seconds, her eyes round and unwavering before they shifted to her mother, then back again to the man at her side.

‘Hello,’ she answered politely.

Carly felt as if her heart would tear in two, and she held her breath, supremely conscious of the man and the child, one so much a part of the other, both aware of their connection, yet each unsure quite how to proceed.

In a strange way, it allowed her to see a different side of the man, a hint of vulnerability evident that she doubted anyone else had ever witnessed. It surprised her, and made her wonder for one very brief minute how different things might have been if she’d stayed in the marriage, and if he would have given up Angelica Agnelli and assumed the role of devoted father.

A knife twisted deep within her, and the pain became intense at the thought of Stefano taking delight in all the changing facets of her pregnancy, the miracle of the birth itself, and the shared joy of their newborn child.

She’d denied him that, had felt justified in doing so, and if it hadn’t been for Ann-Marie’s illness she doubted that she’d ever have allowed him to become aware of his daughter’s existence.

His fingers tightened around her own, almost as if he could read her thoughts, and she summoned the effort to move into the lounge, indicating one of two chairs.

‘Please, take a seat.’ Her voice sounded strange, not her own at all, and she extricated her hand from his, aware that it was only because he allowed her to do so.

‘I hope you like chicken,’ Stefano said, holding out a large carrier bag suitably emblazoned with an exclusive delicatessen logo. ‘There’s a variety of salads, some fresh bread rolls, cheese. And a bottle of wine.’

‘Thank you,’ Carly acknowledged with contrived warmth, and preceded him into the kitchen.

They ate at six, and Carly was aware of an inner tension that almost totally destroyed her appetite. There was no lull in conversation, and although Ann-Marie displayed initial reservation it wasn’t long before she was chatting happily about school, her friends, Sarah, and how much she’d love to own a dog.

‘I have a dog,’ Stefano revealed, and Carly stifled a mental groan in the knowledge that he had just won a massive slice of Ann-Marie’s interest, for the ‘no animals allowed’ rule enforced by the apartment managers ensured that tenants couldn’t have pets.

Ann-Marie could barely hide her excitement. ‘What sort of dog?’

Carly waited with bated breath, and had her worst fears confirmed with Stefano enlightened her. ‘A Dobermann pinscher.’

‘Mummy said that one day when we live in a house we can have a poodle.’

Stefano cast Carly a musing glance at her choice before turning his attention back to his daughter. ‘In that case, we’ll have to see about getting you one.’

It was bribery, pure and simple, and Carly hated him for it.

By the time Ann-Marie was settled happily in bed and asleep, it was clear that Stefano had succeeded in winning a place in his daughter’s affections.

‘I have to congratulate you,’ Carly said quietly as she handed him some freshly made coffee. Then she crossed the small lounge and selected a chair as far distant from his as possible.

His gaze was startlingly level. ‘On developing an empathy with my daughter?’

She met his eyes and held their gaze with all the force of her maternal instincts. ‘If you do anything to hurt her—ever,’ she emphasised softly, ‘I’ll kill you.’

He didn’t speak for several long seconds, and Carly felt close to screaming point. ‘You wanted for her to hate me?’

‘No. No,’ she repeated shakily, knowing that it wasn’t true.

‘Yet you decry the speed with which she has gifted me a measure of her affection,’ Stefano pursued.

She refused to admit it, and stirred her coffee instead, wanting only for the evening to end so that she could be free of his disturbing presence.

‘Gaining her trust won’t be achieved overnight,’ he discounted drily, adding, ‘And love has to be earned.’

‘Why agree to gift her a poodle?’

‘I said we would have to see about getting her one,’ he responded evenly, and she instantly flared,

‘A Dobermann and a poodle both on the same property?’

‘Prince is a well-trained guard dog who is exceptionally obedient. I doubt there will be a problem.’

‘And it matters little to you that I might have a problem moving into your home?’

His eyes were hard, with no hint of any softness. ‘I’m sure you’ll manage to overcome it.’

Suddenly she’d had enough, and she replaced her cup down on the coffee-table, then rose to her feet. ‘I’m tired and I’d like you to leave.’

He followed her movements with a lithe indolence, then covered the distance to the front door. ‘Be packed and ready at midday. I’ll collect you.’

She wanted to hit him, and she lifted her hand, only to have it caught in a merciless grip.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Stefano warned silkily. ‘This time I won’t be so generous.’

There could be little doubt about the veiled threat, and she looked at him in helpless anger, wanting so much to strike out in temper, yet forced to contain it out of consideration to a sleeping child who, should she wake and perchance witness such a scene, would be both puzzled and frightened, and unable to comprehend the cause.

Stefano released her hand, then he opened the door and moved out into the foyer without so much as a backward glance.