‘Oh, I hope I will be,’ she said, her voice a little unsteady as she realised she meant every word. ‘I want to be the best wife I can.’
Rosa nodded, her dark eyes intense and watchful. ‘You are not like his other girlfriends,’ she said slowly.
Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Molly wondered. ‘Aren’t I?’
‘Not at all.’ Rosa hesitated. ‘Though he only ever brought one other to meet us.’
Molly stilled, telling herself it would be foolish to ask any more questions. But she hadn’t factored in curiosity—and curiosity was a dangerous thing. Wasn’t it the key which turned the lock in an invisible door—exposing you to things you might be better not knowing? And the crazy thing was even though she knew that, it didn’t stop her from prying. ‘Oh?’ she questioned. Just one little word but that was all it took.
‘She was no good for him,’ said Rosa darkly, after a brief pause. ‘Sì, she was very beautiful but she cared only for his fame. She would never have helped with the dishes like this. She wanted to spend her Christmases in New York, or Monaco.’ She touched her fingertips to the small golden cross at her neck. ‘I give thanks that he never married her.’
Married her? Molly’s heart constricted. Had Salvio been engaged to someone else? The man who had told her he didn’t ‘do’ emotion? The nebulous twist of pain in her stomach which she’d felt earlier now returned with all the ferocity of a hot spear, which Molly bore behind the sunniest smile in her repertoire. But she was relieved when Salvio phoned his driver to take them back to the hotel, and leaned back weakly against the car seat, closing her eyes and willing the pain to leave her.
‘Are you okay?’ questioned Salvio beside her.
No, I’m not okay. I discovered tonight that you were going to marry someone else and you didn’t tell me. That even though I’m carrying your baby you don’t trust me enough to confide in me.
But she couldn’t face a scene in the car, so she stuck to the positive. ‘I’m fine!’ she said brightly, still with that rictus smile in place. ‘Your parents are lovely,’ she added in a rush.
‘Yes,’ he said, and smiled. ‘They liked you.’
But Molly thought he seemed lost in thought as he stared out at the festive lights of his city. Was he thinking about his other fiancée and comparing the two women? She found herself wondering why they had broken up and wondered if she would summon up the courage to ask him.
But the cramps in her stomach were getting worse. Cramps which felt horribly familiar, but which she tried to dismiss as stress. The stress of meeting his parents for the first time, or maybe the stress of discovering that she wasn’t the only woman he’d asked to marry. She found herself breathing a sigh of relief when they arrived back in their penthouse suite and she unbuttoned her coat.
‘Would you mind if I checked on my emails?’ Salvio said as he removed the coat from her shoulders. ‘I just want to see if something has come in from Los Angeles, before everything shuts down for the holidays.’
‘No, of course I don’t mind,’ she said weakly, aware that he was already disappearing towards his computer.
She slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, when she felt a warm rush between her legs and the sudden unexpected sight of blood made Molly freeze. She began to tremble.
It couldn’t be.
Couldn’t be.
But it was. Of course it was. On a deeper level she’d known all evening that this was about to happen, but the reality was harsher than she ever could have imagined. Her fingers clutched the cold rim of the bathtub as her vision shifted in and out of focus. She found herself wishing she were alone so that she could have given into the inexplicable tears which were welling up in her eyes. But she wasn’t alone. She dashed the tears away with the tips of her fingers and tried to compose herself. Out in that fancy hotel room on the night before Christmas was her fiancé...except that the reason he’d slid these diamonds on her finger no longer existed. He would be free now, she thought—as a silent scream of protest welled up inside her.
She found her wash-bag, praying she might find what she needed—but there was no gratitude in her heart when she did, only the dull certainty of what she needed to say to Salvio. But she was loath to go out and face him. To utter the words he would probably be relieved to hear. She didn’t think she could face his joy—not when she was experiencing such strange and bitter heartache.
Straightening up, she stared into the mirror, registering the pallor of her face, knowing that she couldn’t tell him now. Not tonight. Not when the bells of Naples were peeling out their triumphant Christmas chorus about the impending birth of a baby.
‘SO WHEN...?’ THERE was a pause. ‘When exactly were you going to tell me, bedda mia?’
The words left Salvio’s lips like icy bullets but he knew immediately that his aim had been accurate. He could tell by the way Molly froze as she came out of the bathroom, the white towelling robe swathing her curvy body like a soft suit of armour.
‘Tell you what?’ she questioned.
Maybe if she’d come straight out and admitted it, he might have gone more easily on her but instead he felt the slow seep of anger in his veins as her guileless expression indicated nothing but a lie. A damned lie. His mouth hardened. ‘That you aren’t pregnant.’
She didn’t deny it. She just stood in front of him, the colour leeching from her face so that her milky skin looked almost transparent. ‘How did you...?’ He saw the sudden flash of fear in her eyes. ‘How did you know?’
Her confirmation only stoked the darkness which was building inside him. ‘You think I am devoid of all my senses?’ he demanded. ‘That I wouldn’t wonder why you turned away from me last night, then spent hours clinging to the other side of the mattress...pretending to be asleep?’ he finished with contempt.
‘So it’s because we didn’t have sex,’ she summarised dully.
‘No, not just because of that, nor even because of the way you disappeared into the bathroom when we got back from my parents’ house and refused to look me in the eye,’ he iced back. ‘I’m not stupid, Molly. Don’t you realise that a man can tell when a woman is menstruating? That she looks different. Smells different.’
‘How could I ever be expected to match your encyclopaedic knowledge of women?’ she questioned bitterly. ‘When you’re the first man I’ve ever slept with.’
Salvio felt the pounding of a pulse at his temple. Was she using her innocence as a shield with which to defend herself? To deflect him from a far more disturbing possibility, but one he couldn’t seem to shake off no matter how hard he tried. ‘Or maybe you were never even pregnant in the first place,’ he accused silkily.
She reacted by swaying and sinking down onto a nearby sofa, as if his accusation had taken away her ability to stand. ‘You think that?’ she breathed, her fingers spreading out over her throat as if she was in danger of choking.
‘Why shouldn’t I think that?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve never actually seen any proof, have I? Is that why you didn’t want to tell my parents about the baby—not because it was “too early” but because there was no baby?’
‘You really believe—’ she shook her damp hair in