I started at that, because that was the last thing I’d expected. ‘He’s angry with you because you want to make amends?’
‘It is not always easy to let go of our grievances.’
‘Yes, but…’ He was dying. And, however much Matteo hated his grandfather, here was a chance to right old wrongs, heal old wounds. How could he reject it?
‘Matteo is a very proud man,’ Bastian said slowly. ‘He has worked hard for what he has. He saved Arides Enterprises, did you know that?’
‘Sort of…’
I gazed at him cautiously. Matteo had told me the empire had been in trouble when he’d come in and risked everything on its fledgling luxury hotel market. His gamble had paid off.
‘Well, he did. I was not as good a businessman as he was. I didn’t like to take risks. And his father…’ Bastian sighed. ‘His father had no head for it at all. As well as no interest.’
‘Matteo said something of that to me.’
‘Matteo was my saviour,’ he stated starkly. ‘And I confess I hated that. I didn’t want to be saved—and certainly not by a child I hadn’t even wanted to raise.’
I recoiled a little at his honest words. ‘Why blame Matteo for the circumstances of his birth?’ I asked.
‘I didn’t—not precisely. It was simply that he was too painful a reminder of my daughter-in-law’s death. I loved her, you see, and when she died I blamed Matteo.’
I must have looked shocked because Bastian hastened to clarify.
‘I loved her as a daughter. She was so gentle, so kind. And my son treated her dreadfully—gambling, drinking, having affairs. Taking Matteo in was an act of kindness on her part, but it was one that killed her, and I blamed Matteo for that. He reminded me of his father, who had been such a disappointment. I suppose it all became mixed up in my mind…and Matteo was an easy target.’ He smiled sadly. ‘He made it difficult for me in any case…always acting out. But I admit I made very little effort.’
‘How did taking in Matteo kill her?’ I asked.
‘She wasn’t strong physically or emotionally…and Andreas’s birth—do you know about Andreas?’
I nodded.
‘Poor, dear Andreas. His birth affected her badly. She never really recovered. Taking Matteo in…that was difficult for her, both emotionally and physically. And then to try to look after two baby boys, knowing one was the child of her husband’s whore…’
‘His mother wasn’t a whore. And how can taking care of a couple of children kill anyone? She must have had help…?’
‘Yes, there was a nanny. But Marina didn’t like to leave the care of the boys to her. She wanted them to grow up as brothers.’ His face twisted. ‘Something I couldn’t stand.’
I shook my head slowly, both saddened and repulsed by his plain speaking. He was a hard man, but he was also a broken one. ‘So how did she die?’
He paused, and then said starkly, ‘She killed herself. An overdose. We didn’t let the news out. I don’t think Matteo even knows.’
‘And you blamed Matteo for it?’ I surmised. Poor Matteo. Poor Marina.
‘Yes, I did. I know it isn’t logical, but it was the reaction of a grief-stricken man. I didn’t want him in my home, although I knew I had a responsibility towards him. I couldn’t bear it after the disappointment of my son, the death of my daughter-in-law… I sent him away with the nanny. I provided for him. I made sure he had adequate food and clothing, education and opportunity.’
‘But not the same as Andreas.’
‘No—and why should he have?’ Bastian challenged me. ‘Perhaps in America things are done differently, but here birth and family matter. I did my duty by Matteo, but he never saw that.’
I shook my head. As much as Bastian Arides’s broken state touched me, Matteo’s sad childhood moved me more. ‘Perhaps because you ignored and insulted him.’
‘Ignoring him was the best I could do. He reminded me of all I’d lost. Seeing him was too painful. It made me too angry.’ He bowed his head. ‘I admit it makes me weak, but it is the truth nonetheless. And in any case Matteo was not an easy person to love or even to be around. He was always lashing out, trying to irritate me or anger me. He was suspended from school six times, and was finally expelled. Did he tell you that?’
I shook my head, and Bastian continued.
‘In his teens he started with the drinking and the women, knowing those had been his father’s vices. He taunted me with them, was as public as possible, knowing it would bring me shame. I don’t suppose he told you that, either?’
‘Not precisely, but I know he’s had a reckless past. You’re the one assigning motives.’
Bastian let out a weary sigh, his thin shoulders slumping. ‘I know I sound as if I’m justifying myself, and perhaps I am. But I want to make amends now. My son died not knowing my forgiveness, and my daughter-in-law slipped away from this world like a shadow, without a word of farewell. My own wife died many years ago, from cancer. I want to leave this world in peace, knowing I have done my utmost to reconcile with those I’ve hurt because I wasn’t strong enough to love them.’
My throat tightened at the emotion in his face and in his voice. No matter what Bastian Arides had or hadn’t done in his life, he was at the end of it now, and I couldn’t help but feel a grudging compassion for him. ‘And you told Matteo all of this?’
‘Yes, but he wasn’t having any of it. He told me he’d see me in hell. I suppose that is where I’ll be going.’
‘Don’t,’ I implored. He sounded so despairing. ‘Give him time. He’ll see sense, I’m sure. You can’t expect him to change so quickly—’
‘I don’t think he will, my dear. I think, perhaps, it is too late. Too late for Matteo to forgive or to change—at least in regard to me.’
His words echoed hollowly in me, because it was what I feared as well. Too late. It was too late for Bastian…and too late for us.
‘Will you talk to him for me?’ Bastian asked, leaning forward to touch my hand. ‘He might listen to you.’
‘I’ll try, although I’m not sure he will.’
Bastian gave a small smile. ‘I have seen photographs of the two of you in the press. He looks like a man in love.’
I let out a little hollow laugh, even as his words offered me a faint flicker of hope. ‘I’ll do my best,’ I promised, both for Bastian’s sake and my own.
If Matteo couldn’t forgive a dying man, what hope could there be for us to have a truly loving relationship?
I spent the rest of the day in a ferment of sorrowful anxiety, wondering when I’d see Matteo again and if I’d have the courage to speak to him when I did. He’d been like a stranger since we’d been in Athens. I felt as if I didn’t know him at all…and I was afraid that I didn’t.
Finally, that evening, he appeared in our bedroom. I’d spent the day alone, eating in my room, feeling like a prisoner in this lonely old house. Part of me longed to return to Amanos, to the comfort of friends and work and a busy, happy life, without all the emotional highs and lows I’d been see-sawing between over these last few weeks.
Matteo didn’t say anything when he caught sight of me curled up in a chair by the window, the shutters open to the velvety evening. It was properly spring now, so even the night air was warm. Inside our room, though, it felt cold. Far too cold.
‘Where have you been, Matteo?’ I tried my best to sound merely curious and not accusing. ‘I haven’t seen you all day.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ he returned shortly, and then disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later the shower started running.
I took a deep breath, willing myself to be strong enough for the conversation ahead… Whatever it took. Whatever it cost.
After what felt like an endless twenty minutes, and yet was all too short a time, Matteo emerged from the bathroom. He didn’t look at me as he pulled on a p
air of trousers and a casual polo shirt.
‘Matteo…’
My voice wobbled and I almost gave up right then and there. His back was to me, and everything about him prickled with defensiveness and even irritation. He did not want to have this or any conversation with me.
Then I remembered what kind of wife I wanted to be. How I wasn’t going to give up on us at the first, admittedly high hurdle. So I took a deep breath and, feeling as if I were throwing myself off a cliff, plunged ahead.
‘We need to talk.’
I tensed where I stood, everything in me resisting. Of course Daisy wanted us to talk. She wanted to know. I’d spent the last day and a half keeping out of her way and keeping my head down, working. When I focused on business it blotted out all the other thoughts and memories clamouring in my brain. Almost.
But now, as much as I wanted to dismiss her and keep on with work because it offered me salvation, I knew I couldn’t. This reckoning had to come at some point. It might as well be now.
I turned around to face her and folded my arms. ‘Fine. Let’s talk.’
She looked at me uncertainly, clearly taking in my aggressive stance. ‘Your grandfather spoke to me this morning,’ she said after a moment.
I jerked back. ‘That was manipulative—even for the old bastard.’
‘Matteo, he wants your forgiveness—’
I could hardly believe that she was taking his side, that this conversation was going to be about him. ‘He’s not going to get it. I don’t want to discuss it, Daisy—and, frankly, it has nothing to do with you.’
She blinked, her eyes full of hurt. ‘Do you really mean that?’
‘I’ve told you my history with that man. It doesn’t give you the right to interfere.’
Her hand came up to her throat. ‘Interfering? Is that what you think I’m doing?’
‘In this? Yes.’ I stared at her flatly, refusing to be moved one inch. One iota.
Daisy drew a shaky breath. ‘I know he hurt you…’ she began.
I made a scoffing sound. ‘You have no idea—and I really don’t want your pity. I certainly didn’t ask for it. Just drop it, Daisy. It has absolutely nothing to do with you.’
‘He wants your forgiveness, Matteo,’ she repeated doggedly, and for once I didn’t like that determined tilt of her chin. ‘Can’t you respect that? Honour it?’
‘No, as a matter of fact, I can’t.’
‘He can’t help it that he wasn’t strong enough to love you the way he should have—’
‘Is that what he told you? What a crock of—’
‘He’s dying—’
‘He really gave you the full sob story, didn’t he? He’s been “dying” for three years.’
Daisy pressed her lips together. ‘You just have to look at him to know this really is it, Matteo—’
‘Then fine. This is it. Good riddance, I say.’
I met her shocked gaze with a flinty one of my own. If Daisy couldn’t accept this, if she couldn’t back down, then fine. So be it.
‘How can you be so cruel?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘To a dying man?’
I opened my mouth to ask her if she knew what he’d done, what he was capable of. But then I didn’t. Because I already knew the answer. She didn’t know because I hadn’t wanted to tell her. And I wasn’t going to tell her now because it was suddenly, glaringly obvious what was really going on here.
We were finished.
The last two weeks we’d been play-acting at marriage, even at being in love, but for all my talk of a real marriage it wasn’t real at all. This was.
‘Daisy, I’m afraid I’m not the man you seem to persist in thinking I am. Some gentle, tender, tortured soul who will take his dying grandfather in his arms and pat his fevered brow, all the while assuring him of my love and good will.’ I locked on her gaze unflinchingly. ‘I’m not that man at all.’
‘You’re a good man, Matteo.’
She sounded uncertain, and that made me ache, which only made me more determined to do the one thing I could.
‘I think we most likely have a difference of opinion when it comes to what we think a good man is. If a good man to you is someone who forgives and loves easily, then I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken. Deluded.’
She jerked back at that word, and something flashed across her face that looked deeper than hurt, worse than fear.
‘I’m not that man, Daisy. I was never that man. I warned you at the start. I made it quite clear. I am not interested in the illusion of love.’
‘Do you really think it’s an illusion,’ she whispered, ‘or are you just afraid of it?’
I stilled at that, because she had pierced to the very heart of the matter and in that moment I hated her for it.
‘I am not afraid,’ I snarled. ‘And if you can’t agree to the terms of this marriage that I set out at the beginning, then—’ I broke off, even now not wanting to deliver the final blow and fell her. Fell our chance at happiness. Because I had been happy these last few weeks. Happier than I’d ever been in my life.
But what was a little happiness?
‘Then what?’ Daisy whispered. Her face was pale, her lips bloodless. ‘Just what is your ultimatum?’
‘Then we won’t have much longer to finish out this convenient marriage,’ I said, the words falling into the stillness like pebbles being dropped down a well. ‘My grandfather has only a few more weeks to live, if that.’
She flinched, but still held my gaze. ‘We can’t get an annulment any more. Are you asking for a divorce?’
Was she trying to push me into one—or into some pointless declaration? Either way, I would not be manipulated.
‘We can sort the details out later. There’s also the matter of a potential pregnancy,’ I reminded her. ‘I will not divorce the mother of my child.’
‘Well, you can rest easy there,’ she answered, a ragged note entering her voice. ‘Because I’m not pregnant. I got my period this morning.’
I ignored the wave of disappointment that caused to crash over me. It was better this way.
‘So I’ll go, then?’
She rose from her seat, all wounded dignity and barely-there pride. That chin.
‘Back to Amanos?’
I stood there, howling inside, and part of me—a very large part—even now wanted to take it all back. To take her into my arms and beg her to stay, to bear with me, because I was honestly trying and everything in me was raw with grief and rage.
But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make myself that weak, that vulnerable. I couldn’t bear to see the pity in her eyes, to feel the soft touch of her compassion. And I couldn’t do as she asked and forgive my grandfather.
So I said nothing, and after an endless damning silence Daisy slowly nodded, the movement unbearably final.
It wasn’t until she’d walked out of the room in the wake of my silence that I realised this was the weakest and most fearful I’d been yet—because I’d let her go.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘MATTY!’
I smiled at my brother even as everything in me ached. It had been twenty-four hours since Daisy had left for Amanos, and it had been the longest and most awful day of my life. The only bright light was the hours I’d spent with Andreas.
I knew I didn’t see him enough. Since his injury Andreas had lived on the top floor of my grandfather’s house, in a set of purpose-made rooms, with a full-time carer. He was happy that way, preferring routine to change, and he had all he could wish for—toys, books, a TV with endless DVDs… Everything a man with the mind of an eight-year-old could wish for.
What he didn’t have was any attention or notice from his grandfather.
Spending time with him was simple for me. Before his accident Andreas and I had rubbed along together warily, during our infrequent times toget
her, but since his injury we’d become close, because everything had become so wonderfully uncomplicated.
Now I smiled and sat down across from him on the floor, where he was building a huge construction out of plastic building bricks.
‘What’s this, then?’ I asked, and Andreas proceeded to tell me about the city he was building in all its childish complexity.
After about fifteen minutes of happily chatting away, he looked up at me, blinking slowly. ‘Matty, why are you sad?’
‘Sad?’ I tried to smile, but it wouldn’t come this time. ‘Why do you think I’m sad?’
‘I can tell. You look like Pappous when he sees me. Always sad.’
I flinched at this, because I hated the thought of Andreas suffering under the weight of Bastian Arides’s disappointment. The precious grandson he’d practically revered had become an embarrassing and unwanted pariah, and it had been that, along with his treatment of me, that had made me realise what an illusion love was.
But I was not afraid of it. No matter what Daisy said.
‘Don’t be sad,’ Andreas implored. ‘Play with me.’
‘I’m always happy to play with you, Andreas.’ I reached over and picked up a brick. ‘Where does this go?’
‘Over here.’
For a few minutes we both concentrated on constructing his city, and it almost felt peaceful. The ache of losing Daisy was still intensely painful, but at least I could pretend to forget it for a little while.
A sound at the door had us both looking up, and I stiffened in surprise at the sight of my grandfather.
‘Pappous!’ Andreas exclaimed, seeming genuinely happy to see the old man.
I gave him a narrow-eyed look. We’d avoided each other for the last two days; the only reason I was still here was for Andreas.
I rose from where I was seated. ‘I didn’t think you came up here.’
‘Pappous comes every day,’ Andreas told me. ‘He likes to play chess, but I’m not very good at it.’
‘You’re learning, dear boy,’ Bastian said, and something in me flinched.
Was this new? Was he trying to win Andreas’s forgiveness as well as my own? Manipulating a man with a child’s mind and heart? It was a new low for him.
The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride Of Convenience: The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride of Convenience (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 31
