‘None of them there today.’
‘I did not feel that it was…appropriate.’
‘Do they…your brother and his wife…do they know about our marriage?’
‘No,’ he answered flatly.
Cassie sucked in a breath. ‘But even if…even if things aren’t good between you—don’t you think you should tell them?’
He resented her intrusion—even though her words had hit home. ‘I was planning to.’
‘Oh? When were you going to do that?’
He traced his finger over one of the faint shadows beneath her violet eyes and registered the sudden tremble of her lips. She looked all in. And even though the soft curves of her body were screaming out for his caress, he forced himself to draw back from her—telling himself that he must temper his hunger until the roses were back in her cheeks. She needed rest, not passion—and at least he could provide that for her. His mouth hardened. And maybe bury a few ghosts at the same time.
‘I thought I’d take you to Italy to meet them for yourself,’ he said slowly. ‘How does a honeymoon in Tuscany appeal to you, Cassandra?’
THE sleek black car moved through the darkening night and Cassie glanced out of the window, trying to quell her fluttering nerves. But it wasn’t easy—not when Giancarlo sat beside her, as silent and as unapproachable as a statue as they headed towards his old family home.
Their honeymoon in Tuscany should have been the icing on the cake for a new bride who longed to know more about her husband’s past and what had helped make him the man he was today. It gave her the opportunity to visit one of the most beautiful places on earth—and the chance to meet Giancarlo’s twin brother, with whom he had fallen out so spectacularly, all those years ago.
But it didn’t feel at all like that; it felt wrong—just as her life did. As if she was facing the unknown with a man who had become a stranger to her since their hurried marriage. And now she was heading towards a meeting which would intimidate the most confident of new brides.
The facts spun round and round in her mind. Giancarlo’s twin was married to the woman who had shattered her new husband’s heart and his trust in women. And not only was Cassie going to have to meet her and be judged by her—but she was also going to have to face up to something even more unpalatable. Something which seemed to make a mockery of their marriage and their future life together.
That Giancarlo had not made love to her since their marriage almost a week ago.
She had tried to make excuses for his blatant lack of interest—that he worked too hard and had too many high-powered deals going through at the moment. But that had always been the case, and it had never been like this between them. No matter what had been going on at work, he had always been hungry for her when he had taken her in his arms.
Yet now, he seemed to have acquired the knack of distancing himself from her—of seeming to be a million miles away even though they were alone together in the same room. The uninhibited lover she’d known during the days of their affair seemed to be a heady and distant memory.
On their wedding night, she’d fallen asleep before he’d come to bed and by the time she’d woken in the morning he was already up, behaving more like a doctor than a lover. Bringing her breakfast in bed and sternly making sure that she drank her herb tea and ate the plateful of scrambled eggs.
And afterwards, when she had tentatively tried to weave her arms around him, he had disengaged her and sternly told her that she needed to rest and recover.
Recover from what? she’d wondered as he had left her lying there—feeling slightly foolish—while he went downstairs to make the first of many phone calls.
The physical desert had continued during the next few days—and any brief contact from him had been solicitous rather than passionate. Without the reassurance of being desired, Cassie had felt her confidence trickle away. She felt as if he had tricked her—played some sort of cruel hoax on her by luring her into a marriage which had turned out to be empty. As if her pregnancy had made him stop desiring her—or perhaps he was just punishing her for having trapped him. She was only with him because of the baby, she reminded herself painfully. And only a fool would forget that.
They had flown by private jet to Rome and spent four days sightseeing before heading for the Vellutini estate—but when at last they drove through the grand gates of the Villa Serenita and she saw the enormous floodlit stone building ahead of her, Cassie could clamp down her questions no longer.
‘How long is it since you’ve been here?’
He shrugged. ‘Five years? Maybe six. I don’t remember.’
‘That’s a long time.’
‘Yes.’
Ignoring his monosyllabic response, she stared into the cold gleam of his ebony eyes. ‘Is that because—?’
‘It’s because it’s easier that way,’ he said, with faint impatience. But Giancarlo’s mouth hardened at her persistence and he wondered if she might ever take the hint. Hadn’t he told her enough about the past? Hadn’t she dug and dug to wheedle out more from him than he had ever intended her to know? About Raul. About Gabriella. And yet still she wanted more. Almost as if she wanted to suck him dry with her questions. ‘That’s just the way it’s worked out. We meet up on or around my niece’s birthday—usually in Rome, or Milan. It suits us all that way. It’s no big deal.’
Cassie wasn’t sure whether to believe him, but wise enough to heed the cool note of caution which had entered his voice—and maybe it was crazy to quiz him just before meeting his twin. Even so, she couldn’t help wondering if he felt envious when he looked at the massive Tuscan estate which could have been his. Or were his feelings still tied up with the woman who had chosen his brother? The woman she was soon to meet.
Rubbing a speck of dust off her brand new handbag, Cassie played safe. ‘Tell me again—how old is your niece?’
‘Allegra? She’s twelve.’
‘It’s a pretty name. It’s…strange to think of your brother being father to a girl who’s nearly a teenager.’ She shot him a shy glance. ‘Especially when you’ll soon have a tiny newborn.’
There was silence for a moment and Giancarlo felt the sudden lurch of his heart as he stared out into the Tuscan sky and the silver slither of the rising moon. A newborn. It sounded foreign. It felt foreign—because he still hadn’t got used to the idea—and most times he blotted it out because it seemed almost beyond his comprehension. He had not intended to become a father and knew nothing about babies—and somehow it had been easier to pretend it wasn’t happening. Safer too, since an online article he’d been reading had advised that early pregnancy was occasionally precarious and that babies could often be miscarried at this time.
And yet Cassandra’s tentative words made the idea flare into reality in his mind. A newborn. Was it really possible—this miracle which had come on him so unexpectedly? His flesh and blood growing inside her even now? He recalled the photo which had illustrated the article he’d read—of a little blob with a big head and curled little limbs. Something which had looked unrecognisable and yet had unmistakably been the form of a baby.
Suddenly, he reached across and laid his hand over her still-flat belly, unprepared for her little gasp of surprise. ‘Can you feel anything yet?’
She shook her head. ‘Not yet. You can feel a flutter at about fourteen weeks, apparently. So there’s still a little while to go.’ She felt her cheeks begin to glow because she liked the sensation of his hand there.