Читать книгу New Arrivals: One Secret Child: Mistress, Mother...Wife? / Wealthy Australian, Secret Son / Her Prince's Secret Son - Margaret Way - Страница 17

‘I WAS raised in a small village inland, far away from the mountains and lakes. It wasn’t anything like here.’ He pushed to his feet as though the memory made him restless and uneasy. ‘It didn’t have the cultural delights or beautiful vistas of Como, and the people who lived there were neither rich nor privileged. But there was a strong sense of community, so I’ve been told. However, we didn’t stay. When my father walked out on her, my mother had no choice but to move to the nearest town to try and make a living.’

‘Your father walked out on you and your mother? ‘

‘He did.’ Only briefly did Dante meet Anna’s gaze and hold it. ‘It was a long time ago. I don’t even remember him.’

‘So…you don’t know much about him, then?’

He grimaced. ‘Only that he was British and an archaeologist. He’d been working on a dig nearby, looking for Roman ruins, when he met my mother. As far as I’m aware archaeologists aren’t exactly high earners. At least I’ve far exceeded anything my father could have made, and my mother didn’t die impoverished—as he left her!’

The strained silence that fell after his reluctantly voiced confession made Anna’s heart sore. Dante had become a man without the love or guidance of a father, or even close male relatives, and bereft of that important bond had had to forge his own way in life. He’d had to bury what must have been a deep-seated need for love and connection from his male parent, papering it over with material pursuits and the seemingly glamorous but ultimately not permanently fulfilling rewards of success.

All Anna had yearned for as a child was the unconditional love and support of her parents. No amount of money would have made her dire situation any better. It probably would have made things worse, because more money would have meant her father had had more income to spend on drink. But right now it was clear to her that no matter how wealthy or successful Dante had become a big part of him still yearned for the father’s love he’d never had.

Moving over to where he stood, she touched her palm to the strong heart beating beneath his fine linen shirt.

‘I think you’ve done an amazing job of turning your life around after such a challenging start, Dante,’ she told him. ‘But more than what you’ve achieved materially, you’re a good man…a man any father would be proud to call his son.’

‘Am I?’ For a disturbing few moments his glance was tortured. ‘You only say that because you don’t know what I’ve done to get where I am today.’

Anna’s dark-eyed gaze didn’t waver. ‘If you’ve done anything wrong, in my opinion it’s only that you’ve become too hard on yourself.’

‘You’re just naive—that’s why you say that.’

‘I had to grow up too fast—just like you, Dante—and I’ve learned that we don’t help ourselves when we constantly criticise what we’ve done in the past. We did the best we knew how to do at the time. How can anyone—even you—do more than that?’

‘You learned when you started to look for me that I had a “ruthless reputation”. The papers did not lie, Anna. I did whatever I could to make my fortune. I had no scruples as long as I won the deal—as long as it meant more money and power. I was so driven I didn’t even care that I helped people to lose their jobs. I certainly didn’t have sleepless nights worrying about how they would support themselves or their families afterwards! Even my mother started to despair of me. She warned me against alienating good people. One day I would need trustworthy friends, she said—not phoney ones who were driven by fear and greed like I was.

‘Well…it took my mother’s death and then meeting you, Anna, to make me wake up to the truth of my life. To make me want to work and live with more integrity. to make me want to help people instead of exploit them for what I could get. It took me a while to change things, but when I realised that the changes I had to make had to be quite radical one of the first things I did was to revert back to my Italian name. I only used my father’s name because, coming from a poor background, with only the most basic education, I wanted to distance myself from Italy and all that it meant to me. Ironic, really, when I didn’t even know the man and he didn’t stay around for long—’

‘Oh, Dante… What an incredible journey you’ve had to come back to yourself.’ Anna’s heart was so full it was hard to keep her tears at bay.

He shook his head, as if he was uncomfortable with the tenderness in her voice, as if his painful story couldn’t possibly warrant it. ‘There are shadows beneath your eyes, innamorata.’

His hand glanced softly against her cheekbone, his blue-grey eyes as hypnotically mesmerising as the moonlit lake outside the window, and Anna wanted to lose herself in those fascinating depths for a long time.

His next words robbed her of the chance.

‘We’ve had a long day’s travelling. You really should take the opportunity of having an early night. In the morning the housekeeper I hire to look after the villa when I’m here will arrive with her daughter, who also helps out. They’ll prepare breakfast for us, and also find out if there’s anything we need.’

‘What are their names?’

‘The housekeeper and her daughter?’ Dante shrugged, as though surprised by the question. ‘Giovanna is the mother and Ester the daughter. No doubt they’ll immediately fall in love with Tia when they meet her—both of them adore children, and Ester has a little son of her own. Anyway…like I said, you look tired. You should have a leisurely bath, then an early night. I’ll join you later.’ He turned away from her.

‘I hope you don’t regret sharing what you just shared with me?’ Concerned, as well as disappointed that he seemed intent on spending the rest of the evening without her, Anna restlessly coiled a long strand of her bright hair round her finger. ‘Do you?’ she pressed.

‘Go to bed, Anna. We’ll talk again in the morning.’

‘Why don’t you answer me? I don’t want to go to bed and leave you brooding here on your own.’

A faint smile appeared on his fine-cut lips as he turned to survey her.

‘So you want to be my rescuer again? Just as you tried to rescue me from my morose mood all those years ago?’

Fielding the comment, Anna lifted her chin. ‘Is it so wrong of me to want to reach out to you? To show you that I care about how you’re feeling?’

Remaining silent, Dante looked away again.

With frustrated tears making her eyes smart, Anna swung round on her heel and marched out of the room.

After watching the coloured house lights reflect off the dark lake for a long time, Dante stepped back into the drawing room at around one in the morning. The Campari on the rocks he’d made himself was barely touched. Leaving the crystal tumbler on a rosewood table, he stretched his arms high above his head, grimacing at the locked tension in his protesting muscles.

With everything he had in him he wanted to join Anna in the stately canopied double bed. But how could he when he knew she must secretly despise him for the way he had conducted himself in the past? It had even prevented her from getting in touch with him to tell him about Tia. No, it was Anna who was good and deserving of help…not him. Fear of failure and loss had been the dark, soul-destroying forces he’d been guided by. And because his associations with Italy had been tainted with hurt from his childhood he had fled to England to make his fortune, consciously choosing to lose his accent and forget his roots to reinvent himself as the untouchable businessman, the ice man.

All in all, it didn’t make a pretty picture. Bringing Anna and Tia here had raised painful spectres from his past when he’d started to believe he had let them go. What he wanted most of all was a new start for himself and his family—not to focus on his past mistakes and feel unworthy again. But could he blame Anna if ultimately she couldn’t forgive him for his deplorable history?

Intensely disliking the feeling of not having his emotions under control the way he wanted, Dante scrubbed an agitated hand round his shadowed jaw. He’d be better in the morning, he told himself. A few hours’ solid sleep and he’d be more like himself again. Reaching for the button on a discreet wall panel that controlled the lighting, he pressed it, lingering for a solitary moment as the room was plunged into darkness.

Tonight he wouldn’t seek comfort in Anna’s tender arms, as he ached with every fibre of his being to do. Somehow, after practically dismissing her on her first night in Como, he didn’t believe he deserved it. Instead, he would retreat to one of the other palatial bedrooms and spend the night alone.

She’d left the curtains open, and in the morning, sun streamed into the room, straight at her. Anna had to shield her eyes. Her spirits plunged in dismay when she realised that Dante hadn’t joined her as he’d promised he would. He’d been absolutely right about her being tired, but she was shocked at the speed with which she’d fallen asleep. She had remained in that condition up until now too. She was in a strange country, and a strange house, as well as beginning a month’s trial period of living with him. You’d think any one of those things would have kept her awake…but, no.

A deep sigh of regret escaped her. She should have stayed with him last night—should have found a way to reach him, to let him know how much she cared. If she’d stayed then he would have seen that she didn’t agree with his unspoken belief that he didn’t deserve love and care. He would have seen that Anna was fiercely loyal to the people she cared about. Yet she was still wary of disclosing her feelings when there was the ever-present fear that he might want to take away her autonomy.

But right now she needed to see her little girl and see how she was faring. She too had slept in a strange room, in a strange bed. Glancing at the clock by the bedside, she gasped when she saw the time. What kind of a mother was she that she could blithely oversleep and leave her child to fend for herself?

Guiltily grabbing her pastel blue cotton robe from the end of the bed, she yawned—and then couldn’t resist peering out at the wrought-iron balcony and the sublime view of the sun-dappled lake. A canopied boat full of early-morning tourists floated leisurely by. She caught her breath. There was a real holiday atmosphere in the air that to Anna was just like a dream. Even more so when she thought about spending her time here with the two people she cared most about in the world.