Читать книгу Shock: One-Night Heir - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 6

THE party for Salvatore Sabbatini was in full swing when Maya arrived the following Saturday. She had almost changed her mind about coming but knew if she didn’t turn up by a certain time Giorgio would come to her place and collect her.

Right now she wanted as much distance as possible between them. Her secret was still safe and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. She had conducted three more tests and they had all produced the same positive result. It was terrifyingly exciting to think she was carrying a child. Six weeks was too early to be confident it would carry to full term, but every miscarriage she’d had in the past had occurred well before the eight week mark.

‘Signora Sabbatini,’ one of the uniformed waiters greeted her with a tray of drinks balanced on one arm, ‘would you like some champagne?’

Maya offered him a tight smile. ‘Orange juice will be fine, thank you.’

Once she had taken her frosted glass, she moved through to the reception room, where a glamorous array of people were milling about to greet the guest of honour. There were Hollywood stars and high finance people, a couple of members of European royalty as well as family and close friends of Salvatore. Everyone was dressed in designer clothes and several of the women were dripping in priceless jewels.

Maya had dressed carefully for the occasion. She could play the part of haute couture-clad wife and had done so for five years. The dress she had chosen was a fuchsia pink, highlighting the natural blondness of her hair and her sun-kissed colouring from a brief holiday she had taken recently. Her heels were high, but still not high enough to bring her shoulder to shoulder to Giorgio when he appeared out of nowhere and put his hand to the small of her back.

She gave a little start and almost spilt her drink. ‘What do you think you’re doing sneaking up on me like that?’ she said, sending him an irritated look.

‘You look exquisite this evening, Maya,’ he said as if she hadn’t spoken. He leaned in closer and drew in a deep breath close to her neck. ‘Mmm, you’re wearing that new perfume again, are you not? It suits you.’

Maya scowled as she reared away from him. ‘Go and mingle with your friends. Everyone will start talking if we’re seen together. I don’t want another press fest to deal with.’

He smiled a sinful smile, his dark eyes glinting at her. ‘Let them talk. I can spend time with my soon-to-be ex-wife, can’t I? Besides, we have business to discuss.’

Maya pressed her lips together. ‘I haven’t changed my mind about the villa. I sent the papers back to your lawyer. I am not going to let you pay me off with a lump sum. I told you what I want.’

‘I know,’ he said, scooping a glass of champagne off the tray of the passing waiter. He took a generous sip before he added, ‘but here’s the thing: I want it too.’

She looked up at him warily. ‘We can’t both have it, though, can we?’

His eyes locked on hers, hot and hard as steel. ‘I have given it some thought. For the next twelve months I would like the villa to remain a private residence. No developments, no changes.’

She frowned. ‘And after that?’

He took another sip of his champagne, his throat moving up and down slowly as he swallowed it, deliberately delaying his response, making her wait, making her feel unimportant, insignificant. ‘After that, if you still want it you can buy it from my family,’ he said.

Maya rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake.’

‘What’s the matter, Maya?’ he asked. ‘I’m paying you a fortune in settlement. You’ll have enough cash to buy ten villas.’

She stalked away from him. ‘I don’t want your stupid money.’

In an effort to move away from the interested glances aimed at her, Maya slipped out to a balcony accessed by French windows. She hadn’t expected Giorgio to follow her out there but, before she could shut the doors behind her, he had stepped through them.

‘Why are you being so difficult over this?’ he asked, leaning back against the closed doors.

‘I am being difficult?’ she asked with an incredulous look. ‘You’re the one who keeps sending legal documents the thickness of two phone books to me to sign.’

His forehead creased in a brooding frown. ‘I have shareholders and investors to protect. Don’t take it personally. It’s just business.’

Maya put her glass of juice down on a pot stand before she dropped it. ‘Oh, yes, it’s always business with you. Our marriage was nothing more than a business arrangement. The only trouble was I didn’t deliver the goods as promised.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ His voice was hard and sharp, like a flung dagger.

She dropped her gaze and let out a scratchy sigh. ‘You know what I mean, Giorgio.’

A lengthy silence passed.

‘I wanted it to work, Maya,’ he said quietly. ‘I really did, but we were both making each other miserable in the end.’

She looked up at him with a pained expression. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’

‘What’s to get?’ he asked, his voice rising in frustration. ‘We were married for five years, Maya. I know it wasn’t easy for you. It wasn’t easy for me, watching you…’ He didn’t finish the sentence but, moving away from the doors, lifted his glass and drained the contents.

Maya looked at his stiff spine, feeling the emotional lockout she always felt when they argued. He refused to talk about the losses they had experienced. She’d always had the feeling he had dismissed each miscarriage as nature’s way of saying something was not right. She, on the other hand, had wanted to talk about each of the babies she had named as soon as they were conceived. She had wanted to talk about their stolen futures, the dreams and hopes she had had for each of them. To her, they were not a collection of damaged cells that nature had decided were best sloughed away. They had been her precious babies, each and every one of them.

Giorgio hated failure. He was a ruthlessly committed businessman who refused to tolerate defeat in any shape or form. Success drove him, as it had driven his grandfather and his late father to build the heritage that stood unrivalled in the world of luxury hotels. Giorgio had no time for life’s annoying little hiccups. He wanted results and went about achieving them mercilessly if he had to. That was how Maya had ended up his wife. His father had just been injured in a terrible head-on collision and was lying in a semi-coma in hospital, not expected to live past a few weeks.

Giorgio had decided Maya would be an ideal candidate for a wife: educated, poised, young and healthy and in the prime of her reproductive life. How wrong he had been to choose her of all people, she thought bitterly. He could have done so much better, a fact some members of his family had hinted at over the last year or so. They were subtle about it, of course: an occasional comment over dinner about someone’s newborn child or how one of Giorgio’s school friends was now a father of twins. Each comment had been a stake through Maya’s heart, worsening her sense of failure, shattering her self-confidence, destroying her hope of one day being a mother. She had failed as a Sabbatini wife. She had let the dynasty down and, until she got out of Giorgio’s life, his family would continue to look upon her with pity and disappointment.

Giorgio put his glass down on the wrought iron table before he faced her. ‘My grandfather is dying,’ he said in a low, serious tone. ‘He told me this morning. He has less than a month or two at most to live. No one else in the family knows.’

Maya felt her heart drop like a ship’s anchor inside her chest. ‘Oh, no…’

His throat rose and fell over a tight swallow. ‘That’s why he wanted all the family here tonight. He wanted tonight to be a happy celebration. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. He will make the announcement to family and friends in the next week or two.’

Maya could understand Salvatore’s motivation in keeping tonight focused on his birthday instead of his impending demise. Pride was something she had come to recognise as a particular Sabbatini trait. Giorgio had it in buckets and barrels and spades. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ she said softly, not quite understanding why he had. Why hadn’t he told Luca and Nic, his two brothers, for instance?

His eyes were still meshed with hers. ‘I want you to think about postponing your trip to London,’ he said. ‘Call the school and tell them you can’t make the interview. Tell them you need to take compassionate leave.’

She stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘I can’t take leave before I’ve even got the job. They will give it to someone else.’

He lifted a shoulder. ‘If they do, then you weren’t meant to have it. If they think you are the best one for the position they will wait until you are available.’

Maya frowned at him furiously. ‘Of course they won’t keep the job open for me. I’m the least experienced of the candidates. I haven’t stood in front of a classroom since I was at university on teaching practice. I won’t stand a chance if I don’t turn up for the interview.’

‘You don’t need the job right at this moment, Maya,’ he said. ‘I have agreed on an incredibly generous allowance. If you want to work, then I am sure other jobs will come along in time.’

Maya threw him a castigating look. ‘Why do you have to be so damned philosophical about everything?’

He returned her frown with a challenging arc of one brow. ‘Why do you have to be so irrational and emotional?’

Maya turned away and looked out over the wintry gardens, her hands gripping the balustrade so tightly her knuckles ached. ‘Is this really about your grandfather’s health or an attempt to make me change my mind about the divorce?’

He didn’t respond for so long she wondered if he had left her there, listening to the soft patter of the February raindrops.

‘You can have your divorce, but not right now,’ he said at last. ‘I want my grandfather to die in peace, believing we have patched things up.’

Maya felt her heart slip like a stiletto on a slate of ice. She spun around and faced him again, her eyes wide with panic. ‘You’re asking me to come back and live with you as your wife?’

He held her look with enviable equanimity. ‘For a month or two, that is all,’ he said. ‘It will make the end a lot easier for my grandfather. Our separation has upset him greatly. I had not realised how much until now.’

Maya resented the implication behind his words. ‘So you’re blaming me for his terminal illness, are you?’

His dark eyes rolled upwards in that arrogant way of his which seemed to say she was being childish and petty while he was mature and sensible. ‘You are putting words into my mouth, Maya,’ he said. ‘My grandfather is ninety years old. It is not unexpected that he would be suffering from some sort of illness at his age. The fact that it is terminal is sad but not entirely unexpected. He has smoked rather heavily during his lifetime. He is lucky he has had as many years as he has. My father was not so blessed.’

She glared at him regardless. ‘No doubt you think I have jinxed things for Salvatore or something. I announce I want a divorce and a few weeks later he is dying. I can see a pattern, even if you can’t.’

A muscle twitched in the lower quadrant of his jaw. ‘My father dying just a few days after we married was not your fault. It was no one’s fault. It was just a tragic accident. You know that.’

‘I wasn’t talking about your father’s death.’

His muscle moved again. ‘Miscarriages are another fact of life, just like old age, Maya,’ he said, barely moving his lips to speak. ‘They are far more common than you think.’

Maya felt hot colour crawling beneath her skin and turned away again in case he noticed. ‘If we resume living together it will only complicate and ultimately prolong our divorce,’ she said after a slight pause. ‘Everyone’s hopes will be raised and then dashed again once we…go ahead with it in the end…’

‘I realise that is something we will have to deal with,’ he said. ‘But, for the time being, I believe this is the best course of action.’

Maya faced him again with a lip curl of scorn. ‘Why? Because it’s going to give you more time to work out a way to keep your assets safe?’

He stared her down. ‘You never used to be so cynical.’

She lifted her chin. ‘I grew up, Giorgio. Life’s repeated punches have a habit of doing that.’

He moved away to look out over the immaculate gardens as she had done moments earlier. His hands too, she noticed, were white-knuckled as he gripped not the balustrade as she had done, but the back of the wrought iron chair of the outdoor setting at least a metre away from the edge. Maya knew his fear of heights disgusted him, even though he had suffered from it since childhood. She had only found out about it by accident. He would never have told her, which said rather a lot about their relationship, she thought. He saw his fear as a weakness he had to conquer. Countless times, she had seen him fight with himself to overcome his primal reaction. His doggedness had at times both impressed her and frustrated her in equal measure. She had so often wanted to help him but he would push her away as if she had come too close, as if she would be the one to push him over the edge of the dark abyss he dreaded so much.

‘I want my grandfather to die a peaceful death,’ Giorgio said after a long taut silence. ‘I will do anything to achieve it.’

Maya mentally ticked the box marked ‘ruthless’. Giorgio would think nothing of doing whatever it took to get what he wanted, including resuming a relationship with a wife he had never loved and didn’t really want now she had failed to live up to expectations, to use a particularly relevant word. He would no doubt live the lie, playing pretend while he got on with his affair with his gorgeous lingerie model.

Maya knew from experience that the press got it wrong a lot of times, but not all of the time. That was the thing that had plagued her the most. The ‘no smoke without fire’ thing had niggled at her the whole time they were married. Giorgio had always denied the occasional dalliances the press reported, but her doubts and fears had still risen to the surface like oil on water. She had waded for five years through the cloying stickiness, trying to cling to the hope that the conception and subsequent birth of a child would cement their tenuous union.

It had never happened.

She slid a hand over the flat plane of her belly, her heart giving a tight aching contraction.

It might still not happen…

Giorgio turned from the chair as someone came out onto the balcony. ‘Luca,’ he said with a forced on-off smile. ‘I didn’t see you come in.’

Luca, his younger brother by two years, gave him a ready smile that lit his dark brown eyes from behind. ‘We arrived late,’ he said. ‘Ella was a bit late having her afternoon sleep.’

He turned to Maya and bent to kiss her on both cheeks. ‘It’s so good you came tonight, Maya,’ he said. ‘Bronte will be glad of someone to talk to. She was feeling rather nervous about practising her Italian in front of everyone.’

Maya smiled shakily. ‘She has no need to be,’ she said. ‘Everyone adores her and gorgeous little Ella.’

Luca smiled proudly. ‘We have an announcement to make…’ His expression faltered for a second before he continued, ‘I’m sorry, this might not be the news you two want to hear, but we are expecting another baby.’

A silence thickened the air for a nanosecond.

Maya was the first to respond. ‘Luca, that’s truly wonderful news. I am so happy for you both. When is it due?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Luca said, looking a bit sheepish. ‘We’ve only just done one of those home kit tests. It’s all still a little bit unreal, to be frank.’

Tell me about it, Maya thought wryly.

Giorgio gave his brother a firm handshake, anchoring it with a grasp of Luca’s forearm. ‘I am very pleased for you. It will be delightful to have another niece or nephew to spoil.’

Luca appeared relieved his announcement had gone down so well. ‘So,’ he said, still smiling, his eyes this time full of intrigue. ‘What are you two doing out here all alone?’

Another silence hovered like humidity before a storm.

Giorgio was the first to break it. ‘Maya and I have an announcement of our own to make.’ He put his arm around her waist and drew her into his side. ‘We have decided to reconcile. There will be no divorce.’

Maya’s eyes flew to his, her mouth opening but nothing coming out. The weight of his arm around her waist was like a chain, tying her to him just as effectively as his words.

Luca looked from one to the other with a spreading smile. ‘That’s wonderful news. Have you told Nonno? It will be the best birthday present for him.’

Giorgio smiled smugly. ‘We are just about to do so now, aren’t we, cara?’ he said, looking down at Maya.

Maya wanted to deny it. She wanted to tell Luca his brother was a manipulating, ruthless man who would stop at nothing to keep what he wanted in his possession. But she knew if she did it would quite possibly ruin Salvatore’s party. The old man was dying and Luca was right: the announcement of the reconciliation between his eldest grandson and his estranged wife would make his day.

Instead, she gave Luca a weak smile. ‘It’s all happened so suddenly…’

Luca grinned at his brother. ‘I have to tell Bronte. She’ll be so thrilled. This calls for more champagne.’

He picked up Giorgio’s empty glass and then moved to where Maya had left her half-drunk orange juice. He picked it up and, after a moment, turned and looked at her quizzically. ‘Not currently on the hard stuff, Maya?’

Maya felt the weight of Giorgio’s gaze. ‘I…I guess over the years I’ve got used to not drinking,’ she said.

‘You will have to make up for it tonight,’ Luca said and, with another beaming smile, left through the French windows to find his young wife and child.

‘Luca is right,’ Giorgio said after what seemed an endless pause. ‘This is indeed a night for celebration.’

Maya threw him a barbed glare. ‘How could you lie to your own brother like that? This is a farce and you know it.’

He gave a movement of his mouth that communicated total indifference to her opinion. ‘This is about making my grandfather’s last weeks or months of life as comfortable and happy as possible,’ he said. ‘You said you wanted the villa at Bellagio.’ He gave her an indomitable look and added, ‘Believe me, Maya, this is the only way you are going to get it.’