Читать книгу The Mills & Boon Christmas Wishes Collection - Мишель Смарт, Maisey Yates - Страница 66
ОглавлениеAFTER LUNCH THE same day, Holly lifted Angelo out of the high chair in the dining room and walked outside to settle the baby on a rug already spread across the grass. Her son beamed as she arranged several toys within his reach, enjoying the change of scene.
‘Tea,’ Silvestro pronounced with decision, having followed her, and he sped off again. Holly made no comment, having already learned that Silvestro liked to foresee needs and fulfil them before anyone could make a request and, truthfully, she did fancy a cup of tea.
She cuddled Angelo and studied the bird’s-eye view of the gardens spread out below in an embroidered carpet of multi-hued greens with occasional splashes of colourful spring flowers. Daily life at the Castello Zaffari promised to be pretty much idyllic, she reflected ruefully, feeling ashamed of her negative thoughts earlier in the day when Vito had left her to go to work.
Here she was on a permanent holiday in a virtual palace where she ate fabulous food and was waited on hand and foot. She had beautiful clothes, an incredibly handsome, sexy husband and a very cute baby. What was she complaining about? For the first time ever since Angelo’s birth she also had free time to spend with her son. As for the dinner outing? That was a minor hiccup and, having examined her new wardrobe, she had decided to follow the ‘little black dress rule’ rather than risk being over-or underdressed for the occasion.
A woman in a sunhat with a basket over her arm walked up a gravelled path towards her. Holly tensed, recognising her mother-in-law, Concetta Zaffari.
‘Are you on your own?’ the small brunette asked. ‘I thought I had seen Vito’s car drive past earlier but I assumed I was mistaken.’
‘No, you weren’t mistaken. He’s at the bank,’ Holly confirmed, as the older woman settled down beside her to make immediate overtures to Angelo.
‘Today? My son went into work today?’ his mother exclaimed in dismay.
Holly gave a rueful nod.
‘He should be here with you,’ Concetta told her, surprising her.
The rattle of china and the sound of footsteps approaching prompted Holly to scramble upright again. She handed Angelo to Concetta, who was extending her arms hopefully and chattering in Italian baby talk. The two women sat down by the wrought iron table in the shade while Silvestro poured the tea. He had magically contrived to anticipate the arrival of Vito’s mother because he had brought an extra cup and a plate of tiny English biscuits.
‘A honeymoon isn’t negotiable. It should be a given,’ Concetta pronounced without hesitation.
‘If Vito wants to work, well, then he wants to work,’ Holly parried, tactfully non-committal.
‘You and this darling little boy are Vito’s family and you must ensure that my son puts you first,’ Vito’s mother countered. ‘That is very important.’
Holly breathed in deep. ‘Vito loves to work. I don’t feel I have the right to ask him to change something so basic about himself.’
‘Priorities have to change once you’re married and a parent. As for having the right...’ The older woman sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘I will be open with you. I saw your distress after Apollo made that unsuitable speech at the wedding yesterday.’
Holly winced. ‘I was more embarrassed than distressed...I think.’
‘But why should you be embarrassed by this gorgeous little boy?’ Concetta demanded. ‘Let me tell you something... When I married Vito’s father, Ciccio, thirty-odd years ago, I was already pregnant...’
Holly’s blue eyes widened in surprise at that frank admission.
Concetta compressed her lips. ‘My father would never have allowed me to marry a man like Ciccio in any other circumstances. He knew that Ciccio was a fortune hunter but I was too naive to see the obvious. I was eighteen and in love for the first time. Ciccio was in his thirties.’
‘That’s a big age gap,’ Holly remarked carefully.
‘I was an heiress. Ciccio targeted me like a duck on a shooting range,’ the brunette declared with a wry twist of her lips, ‘and I paid a steep price for being young and silly. He was unfaithful from the outset but I closed my eyes to it because while my father was alive divorce seemed out of the question. Only when Ciccio dragged our son’s reputation down into the dirt with his own did I finally see the light.’
‘The scandal in the newspapers?’ Holly slotted in with a frown, fascinated by the elegant brunette’s candour.
‘I could not forgive Ciccio for saving himself at Vito’s expense.’
‘Vito wanted to protect you.’
‘That hurt,’ Concetta confided tautly. ‘It hurt me even more to see Vito falsely accused and slandered but it also let me see that he was an adult able to handle the breakdown of his parents’ marriage. Now I’m making my middle-aged fresh start.’
‘It’s never too late,’ Holly said warmly, noticing how Angelo’s sparkling dark eyes matched his father’s and his grandmother’s.
Concetta confided that she regularly took the flowers from the garden at the castello as arranging them was her hobby. Holly admitted that she had never arranged a flower in her life and urged the older woman to keep on helping herself. Vito’s mother promised to continue doing the flowers for the house and the two women parted on comfortable, friendly terms.
Holly spent what remained of the day doing her hair and her nails and refusing to think about the evening ahead. Thinking about it wasn’t going to change anything. Apollo was Vito’s friend and he thought highly of him, she reminded herself. Unfortunately it didn’t ease the sting of the reality that her husband seemed to rate Apollo more highly than he rated his wife.
Vito collected her in a limo. He wore a sleek dinner jacket. ‘I used my apartment to change,’ he admitted, smiling as she climbed into the car. ‘You look very elegant.’
But as soon as Holly arrived at the restaurant and saw the other two women she realised she had got it wrong in the frock department because she had played it too safe. Apollo’s girlfriend, Jenna, wore a taupe silk dress that plunged at both back and front and was slit to the thigh, while Jeremy’s wife, Celia, wore a short fitted scarlet dress that showed off her very shapely legs. Holly immediately felt frumpy and dumpy in her unexciting outfit, wishing that at the very least she had chosen to wear something that displayed a bit of cleavage.
While the men talked, Celia shot inquiries at Holly and it was no surprise to discover that the highly educated and inquisitive redhead was a criminal lawyer. Having her background and educational deficiencies winkled out and exposed made Holly feel very uncomfortable but her attempts to block Celia’s questions were unsuccessful and she was forced to half turn away and chat to Jenna to escape the interrogation. Jenna, however, talked only about spa days and exclusive resorts.
‘You’ve never been on a ski slope?’ she remarked in loud disbelief.
‘I’ll teach Holly to ski,’ Vito sliced in, smooth as glass.
Holly paled because the idea of racing down a snowy hill at breakneck speed made her feel more scared than exhilarated. As the entire conversation round the table turned to ski resorts and talk of everyone’s ‘best ever runs’, she was excluded by her unfamiliarity with the sport. Jenna’s chatter about hot yoga classes and meditation were matched by Celia’s talk about the benefits of an organic, natural diet, ensuring that Holly felt more and more out of her depth. She was also bored stiff.
‘How do you feel about yachting?’ Apollo asked smoothly across the table, his green eyes hard and mocking. ‘Do you get seasick?’
‘I’ve never been on a yacht, so I wouldn’t know. I’m fine on a fishing boat or a ferry, though,’ she added with sudden amusement at the amount of sheer privilege inherent in such a conversational topic.
‘Who took you fishing?’ Vito asked her abruptly.
‘Someone way before your time,’ Holly murmured, unwilling to admit in such exclusive company that it had been a rowing-boat experience with a teenaged boyfriend.
‘Way to go, Holly! Keep him wondering.’ Celia laughed appreciatively.
Her mobile phone vibrated in her bag and she pulled it out. ‘Excuse me. I have to take this,’ she said apologetically, and rose from the table to walk out to the foyer.
It was Lorenza phoning to tell her that Angelo had finally settled after a restless evening. Aware that her son was teething, Holly had asked the nanny to keep her posted. On the way back to the table she called into the cloakroom. She was in a cubicle when she heard Jenna and Celia come in.
‘What on earth does a guy like Vito see in a woman like her?’ Jenna was demanding thinly. ‘She’s like a little brown sparrow beside him.’
Angry resentment hurtled through Holly and in the strangest way it set her free to be herself.
‘Jeremy thinks Vito must have had a pre-nup written up by another lawyer,’ Celia commented. ‘There’s no way Vito hasn’t safeguarded himself.’
Emerging, Holly washed her hands and glanced at the aghast pair of women frozen by the sinks. ‘At least I’ve got a wedding ring on my finger,’ she pointed out to Jenna. ‘You have to be at least number one hundred in Apollo’s long line of companions.’
‘We had no idea you were in here,’ Celia began sharply, defensively.
‘Ah, Celia,’ Holly pronounced gently, flicking the tall redhead a calm appraisal in turn. ‘I can assure you that there is no pre-nup. My husband trusts me.’
And with that ringing assurance, Holly turned on her heel, head held high, and walked back out to the table. And she might resemble a little brown sparrow, she thought with spirit, but she was married to a guy who found little brown sparrows the ultimate in sex appeal. Amused by the level of her own annoyance, Holly returned to her seat and in a break in the conversation addressed Apollo. ‘So where’s the best place for me to learn to ski?’ she asked playfully.
Vito dealt her a bemused look and watched her begin to smile at Apollo’s very detailed response because Apollo took his sports very seriously.
A deep sense of calm had settled over Holly. She was still furious with Vito for subjecting her to such an evening with very little warning but, having stood up for herself and spoken up in her own defence, she felt much more comfortable. After all, she could be herself anywhere and in any company. The only person able to make her feel out of her depth was herself and she was determined not to let those insecurities control her reactions again. So, she was more accustomed to stacking shelves in a shop and occasional trips to the cinema but she could do spa days and skiing and yachting trips if she wanted to. It was Vito’s world but that wedding ring on her finger confirmed that now it was her world as well and she needed to remember that.
She would have to adapt. But Vito had to learn to adapt too, she reflected grimly. He had told her over the breakfast table that she had to trust him, but so far he had done little to earn that trust. And so far, Holly had been the one to make all the changes. She had given up her home, her country, her friends, and her entire life to come to Italy and make a family with Vito. True, it was a gilded life but that didn’t lessen the sacrifices she had made on her son’s behalf. When was Vito planning to become a family man, who put his wife and his child first?
* * *
‘You’ve been very quiet,’ Vito remarked as Holly started up the stairs.
‘I want to check on Angelo.’
‘There is no need.’
‘There is every need. I’m his mother,’ Holly declared shortly. ‘It’s immaterial how efficient or kind your staff are, Vito. At the end of the day they are only employees and none of them will ever love Angelo the way I do. Don’t ever try to come between me and my son!’
In silence, Holly went up to the nursery, tiptoeing across the floor to gaze down at the slumbering shape of her little boy lying snug in his cot. Smiling, she left the nursery again.
‘I wouldn’t try to come between you,’ Vito swore.
Holly ignored him and went down to their bedroom, kicking off her shoes before stalking into the bathroom.
‘Holly...’ Vito breathed warningly from the doorway.
‘I’m not speaking to you. You have a choice,’ Holly cautioned him thinly. ‘Either we have silence or we have it out. Choose.’
Vito groaned. ‘That’s not much of a choice.’
‘It’s the only one you’re going to get and probably more than you deserve.’ Holly dabbed impatiently at her eyes with a cotton pad and eye-make-up remover.
‘Have it out, I suppose,’ Vito pronounced very drily.
Holly tilted her chin. ‘You had no business forcing me out to that dinner tonight because I wasn’t ready for it. I was uncomfortable, of course I was. Two days ago I was living in an ordinary world with ordinary jobs and meeting ordinary people and now I’m in this weird new environment,’ she framed between compressed lips. ‘And I know everyone seems to think I’m in clover and it is wonderful not to have to worry about money any more, but it’s strange and it’s going to take me time to get used to it. You haven’t given me any time. You expect me to make all the changes...’
Vito had paled. ‘You’re making valid points. I’m not a patient man.’
‘And you don’t always live up to your promises either. You said you’d do everything within your power to make me happy,’ Holly reminded him doggedly. ‘Then you go back to work within a day of the wedding even though you have a son you barely know and a wife you don’t know much better. If you want me to trust you, you have to show me that you value me and Angelo, that we’re not just new possessions to be slotted into your busy life and expected not to make any waves. You have to give us your time, Vito, take us places, show us around our new home.’
Holly was challenging him and he hadn’t expected that from her. She had thrown his words about trust back at him. And she was also telling him that he was already failing dismally in the successful husband stakes. He had married her one day and walked away the next, acting as though a wedding ring were more than sufficient proof of his commitment.
And had Holly been Marzia it would have been sufficient. Marzia had wanted that ring and his lifestyle. She would have thrown a party to show off the castello and she would have invited all the most important socially connected people to act as her admiring audience. She would have spent half the day at a beauty salon and the other half shopping for couture garments designed to impress. Vito had lost count of the number of times he had returned to the town house he had once shared with Marzia only to discover that they were hosting a dinner when he was longing for a quiet evening. Marzia had been easily bored and had needed others to keep her entertained. Holly, in comparison, asked for and expected very little. In fact she was asking for something she shouldn’t have had to ask for, he acknowledged with a grim look in his dark, unusually thoughtful gaze.
Family came first...always. Even his workaholic grandfather had never put the bank before his family. What had he been thinking of when he’d left Holly and Angelo to amuse themselves? They needed him and he hadn’t spared them a thought.
‘And tonight?’ Vito prompted.
‘It was bearable. I heard Celia and Jenna bitching about me but I stood up for myself and I couldn’t care less about their opinions. But I would’ve been more equipped to enjoy myself and relax if I’d had more time to prepare.’
‘I screwed up,’ Vito acknowledged broodingly.
‘Yes,’ Holly agreed, sliding into bed while he still hovered. ‘And sometimes I’ll screw up. That’s life.’
‘I’m not used to screwing up,’ Vito told her.
‘Then you’ll try harder not to make the same mistakes again,’ Holly riposted sleepily.
* * *
Holly slept in the following morning. She woke with a start, showered and pulled on jeans to pelt upstairs and spend some time with Angelo. In surprise she stilled in the doorway of the nursery bathroom when she saw Vito kneeling down by the side of the bath and engaged in dive-bombing plastic boats for Angelo’s amusement. She had simply assumed that Vito had gone into the bank as usual but it was clear that at some stage, even though he had dressed for work, he had changed his mind. His jacket and tie were hooked on the radiator, his shirtsleeves rolled up.
‘Vito...’
Raking damp, tousled black hair off his brow, Vito turned his head and flashed her a heart-stopping grin. ‘Angelo emptied his cereal bowl over his head at breakfast and I decided I should stay home.’
Holly moved forward. ‘I can see that...’
‘I’m very set in my ways but I believe I can adapt,’ he told her, laughing as Angelo smacked the water with a tiny fist and splashed both of them.
‘He’ll grow up so fast your head will spin. You won’t ever get this time back with him.’ She sighed. ‘I didn’t want you to miss out and then live to regret it.’
‘You spoke up and that was the right thing to do. I respect your honesty. Parenting is a whole new ball game and I still have to get my head around it,’ Vito confided, snatching down a towel and spreading it on the floor before lifting Angelo’s squirming little body out of the bath and laying him down.
‘How to get yourself soaked!’ Holly groaned.
‘I’m already drenched to the skin,’ Vito riposted with quiet pride. ‘Angelo and I have had a lot of fun.’
The nursery was empty and Holly rustled around gathering the necessities. ‘What have you done with the nanny posse?’ she asked curiously.
‘I told them to take a few hours off. Being so new to this I didn’t want an audience.’
Holly dried Angelo and deftly dressed him. Vito unbuttoned his wet shirt, the parted edges revealing a bronzed sliver of muscular torso. Together they walked downstairs.
‘Do you have any photographs of when you were pregnant?’ Vito asked, startling her into turning wide blue eyes onto his lean, dark face.
‘I don’t think so... I wasn’t feeling very photogenic at the time. Why?’
‘I’m sorry I missed all that. Something else I can’t get back,’ Vito conceded gravely. ‘I really would have liked to have seen you when you were carrying our child.’
Regret assailed her, for she would have loved to have had his support during those dark days of worry and exhaustion. She had struggled to stay employed and earning for as long as possible so as not to be a burden on Pixie.
‘As for that challenge you offered me,’ Vito mused, walking back to their bedroom to change. ‘Draw up a list of places you would like to go.’
‘No lists. I’m phobic about lists,’ she told him truthfully. ‘Let’s be relaxed about what we do and where we go. No itineraries laid out in stone. Are you taking time off?’
‘Of course. But I’ll catch up with my email in the evenings,’ he warned her. ‘I can’t completely switch off.’
‘That’s OK,’ she hastened to tell him. ‘But you may be bored.’
‘Not a chance, gioia mia,’ Vito riposted as he cast off his wet shirt. ‘You and Angelo will keep me fully occupied from dawn to dusk and beyond.’
‘And beyond’ was very much in Holly’s mind as she studied his muscular brown torso, a tiny burst of heat pulsing between her thighs. It was the desire she never really lost around Vito. Her colour heightened. She was so pleased, so relieved that he had listened to her, but there was a fear deep down inside her that she would not have enough to offer to satisfy him outside working hours.
* * *
‘When was the last time you saw your mother?’ Vito asked lazily as they lay in bed six weeks later.
Holly stretched somnolent limbs still heavy with pleasure and rolled her head round to face him, bright blue eyes troubled. ‘I was sixteen. It wasn’t the nicest experience.’
‘I can deal with not nice,’ Vito volunteered, closing an arm round her slight shoulders to draw her comfortingly close.
Holly felt gloriously relaxed and shockingly happy. With every day that passed she was increasingly convinced that Vito was the man of her dreams. He was everything she had ever wanted, everything she had ever dreamt of. But even better, he had proved that he was capable of change.
Six weeks ago, she had reminded Vito that he had to learn how to be part of a family instead of an independent operator seeing life only from a work-orientated point of view. He had started out wanting to make up lists and tick off boxes as if that were the only route to success. He had a maddening desire to know in advance exactly what he would be doing every hour of every day and had only slowly learned to take each day as it came.
Holly had spent several days creating a mood board of her ideas on how to redecorate their hideous bedroom. While she was doing that, Vito had learned how to entertain Angelo. Settling on a colour palate of soothing grey enlivened with spicy tangerine accents, Holly had ordered the required products and utilised a local company to do the actual work. Throughout the entire process, Vito had shown depressingly little curiosity, merely agreeing that it was many years since the castello had been decorated and that, as his mother had never had any interest in revitalising the interior, he was sure there was plenty of scope for Holly to express her talents.
Leaving the work team to handle the decorating project, Holly and Vito had taken their son to stay on the shores of Lake Lugano. Vito’s family had bought a Swiss villa because, like Zurich and Geneva, Lugano was a major financial centre. Over the generations the Zaffari bankers had found the shores of the lake a convenient business location to stash the family while they worked.
At the villa they had thrown open the shutters on the magnificent lake views and enjoyed long lazy meals on the sun-dappled loggia. By day they had explored the water in a private boat, stopping off to ramble around the picturesque little villages on the rugged shoreline. Some evenings they had sat on the lake terrace drinking garnet-coloured Brunello di Montalcino wine while they watched the boats sailing by with twinkling lights. Other nights they had strolled round the cobbled lanes in Lugano to pick a quiet restaurant for dinner, but none had yet lived up to the perfection on a plate offered by Vito’s personal chef.
They had visited the Zoo al Maglio, where Angelo had been enchanted by the antics of the monkeys and had struggled fiercely to copy them. They had caught the funicular railway to the top of Monte San Salvatore to enjoy the alpine scenery and on the way back they had stopped off at a chocolate factory, where a peckish Holly had eaten her weight in chocolate and had sworn never to eat it again while Vito teased her about how much he adored her curves.
There had been shopping trips as well, to the designer boutiques on the Via Nassa, where Holly had become bored because her new wardrobe was so expansive she saw no reason to add to it. She had much preferred the bustling liveliness of the farmers’ market in the Piazza Riforma, from which she had returned home carrying armfuls of the flowers she couldn’t resist. Discovering that arranging them was more of an art than a matter of simply stuffing them in a big vase, she had resolved to ask her mother-in-law for some tips.
‘Your mother...’ Vito reminded her. ‘Are you going to sleep?’
‘No. It’s only two o’clock in the afternoon.’ But in truth she was already smothering a yawn because their post-lunch nap had turned into a sex-fest. ‘Mum...’ she reminded herself. ‘It was the last time I ever lived with her. I thought she wanted me back because I was no longer a child who needed looking after twenty-four-seven. I thought she finally wanted to get to know her daughter. But I got it all wrong—’
‘How...?’ Vito asked, long fingers inscribing a soothing pattern on her hip bone.
‘Mum was living with a guy who owned a little supermarket. She asked me to help out in the shop...’ Holly’s voice trailed away ruefully. ‘It was a crucial school year with exams and I didn’t want to miss classes but she insisted she couldn’t cope and I fell for it—’
‘And...?’ Vito prompted when she fell silent again.
‘It turned out that she only wanted me working in the shop to save her having to do it and they weren’t even paying me minimum wage. I was just cheap labour to please her boyfriend and give her a break.’ Holly sighed. ‘I missed so much school that social services took me back into care. Of course I failed half my exams as well. I haven’t seen her since. I realised that she was never going to be the mother I wanted her to be and I had to accept that. She wasn’t the maternal type—’
‘And yet you’re so different with Angelo.’
‘And if you compare your relationship with your father, aren’t you different with Angelo too? We both want to give our son what we didn’t have ourselves,’ Holly murmured, rejoicing in the heat and strength of his long, lean length next to hers. ‘Why didn’t you invite your father to our wedding?’
‘I thought it would be too awkward for my mother and our guests, particularly when Ciccio is fighting for a bigger divorce settlement because he stands to lose a lot of things that he’s always taken for granted.’
‘Concetta seems quite happy...well, for someone going through a divorce, that is,’ Holly qualified ruefully.
‘With my father gone she has a lot less stress in her life and for the first time she has her independence without the restriction of either a father or a husband. She loves her new home and the freedom she has there.’
‘It’s a new life for her,’ Holly mused drowsily, thinking that her own new life was still in the honeymoon period and wouldn’t really officially start until they returned to the castello the following day and embarked on a more normal routine.
‘I didn’t realise that marrying you would be a new beginning for me as well,’ Vito admitted thoughtfully, acknowledging that he had not fully thought through the ramifications of marrying and becoming a parent. He had plunged into matrimony, dimly expecting life to go on as it always had only to learn that change was inevitable.
‘Do you have regrets?’ she whispered fearfully. ‘Do you sometimes wish you were still single and unencumbered? I suppose you must.’
‘I have no regrets when I’m in bed with you...not a single one.’ Vito gazed down at her with dancing dark golden eyes alive with wolfish amusement. ‘Sì, I knew you’d be annoyed by that point but, Dio mio...at least I’m honest!’
And as his eyes laughed down at her, her heart swelled inside her and she knew, just knew in her very soul that she loved Vito. She loved him the way she had tried not to love him. She had tried so hard to protect herself from feeling more for Vito than he felt for her because that was the hard lesson she had learned in loving her unresponsive mother. You couldn’t make a person care for you; you couldn’t force those feelings.
In any case, it had crossed her mind more than once that Vito’s emotions might be quite unavailable in the love category. Holly had met Vito on the rebound, shortly after his fiancée had ditched him. That Christmas theirs had been a classic rebound attraction. Was Vito still in love with Marzia? Had he tried to return to the beautiful blonde during the fourteen months he and Holly had been apart? Had he mourned the loss of Marzia once he’d decided that he had to marry Holly for his son’s sake? And how, when he never ever so much as mentioned the woman, could Holly possibly ask him to tell her honestly how he currently felt about Marzia?
She couldn’t ask because she didn’t think she could bear to live with the wrong answer.
