‘My mother’s way too trusting.’
He ignored her comment. ‘She allowed me to get to know her. I understood her desperation to meet her grandchild and to have a link with the daughter she’s lost.’
Really? Olivia hadn’t given Luca much choice but to take them to Rome, now he was making out he’d made the concession?
She crossed her arms over her chest as he told her, ‘Once I’d had more time to think, and to learn a little about you both, I realised you and your mother wouldn’t pose a threat to Christiana’s emotional well-being.’
‘Gee thanks,’ she quipped with sarcasm even while she knew it was a possibility he had been considering Christiana’s welfare.
He ran his hands through his thick hair in quick movements, signalling his growing impatience with her. ‘I have to consider the impact you’ll have on her life. I doubt she specifically remembers Antonio’s wife as her mother because she was too young when she lost her, but she’s been shown pictures of Lavinia—her mother. How do I explain your presence in her life?’
His tone conveyed his frustration and concern and again Olivia grudgingly felt some empathy for him. She was forced to acknowledge she wanted to find a reason to keep sniping at him but she had to give him credit for trying to put Christiana’s needs first.
Of course Christiana had to be the main focus here.
Guilt pressed in on Olivia.
All week she’d dwelt on her bitterness and lack of trust in Luca and worried about how her mother would cope. She’d worried about Christiana only in terms of her physical health, never considering their visit to Jane’s daughter would result in anything but Christiana’s happiness.
Uncrossing her arms she glanced out the aircraft window before she said, ‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I don’t believe it’ll be troubling for her to meet us.’
‘You think you’re taking a risk trusting me, but trust is a two way street, Olivia. I have to put my trust in you equally and it’s not my peace at stake—it’s Christiana’s.’
Her blinkers fell off and she got it—understood he felt uneasy having to trust her and he was gambling for higher stakes because he wasn’t playing for himself, but for Christiana.
Olivia nearly groaned aloud at the tangled up mess of this entire situation.
Luca looked so concerned, she reached for his arm without conscious thought. Her hand rested on the fine cotton fabric of his shirt sleeve in an action meant to reassure him, but it had an immediate and undesirable effect. An instant awareness of the muscled strength beneath her fingertips jolted through her. The sensation was so acute, she removed her hand almost as quickly as she’d extended it.
Trying to cover up her reaction, she rushed on. ‘You don’t need to explain us. Children are incredibly accepting. You don’t need to go into a long-winded explanation about how she’s related to us, you introduce us as Grandma Marjorie and Aunty Olivia, and my bet is she won’t even question it.’
He still looked torn.
Olivia found it impossible not to respond to his uncertainty with reassurance. ‘You can trust me on this, Luca. I know children.’
Trust. There was the word again—the one essential so lacking in their association.
He was quick to press his own advantage. ‘As you know children, you’ll also know they’re very sensitive to the atmosphere around them. Christiana’s a very bright, very perceptive little girl who’s mature beyond her years. We need to call a truce between us or she’ll sense this hostility and it’s not going to endear you to her.’
She compressed her lips, hating to acknowledge he was right.
While her responses to him see-sawed, the aircraft levelled off and the fasten seatbelt sign was extinguished.
‘You need to let go of the past, Olivia,’ he told her earnestly, ‘and stop directing your anger at me for something I had no part in.’
There was no question he was right. No question she’d been so caught up in her grief, she’d needed to direct her anger at someone. Luca had been the scapegoat because he’d been there when Antonio had never had the decency to meet with her.
She hung her head as guilt ate into her, but she was still deeply unsettled at the thought of breaking down the barrier of animosity she’d erected between herself and Luca. After all the hurt she’d experienced at the hands of the Borghetti men it was instinctive to try to keep her defences up.
‘I’m sorry for turning up on your doorstep unannounced.’ His tone was remorseful, and when she looked up to search his features, she believed he was sincerely striving for conciliation.
‘You were hostile,’ she underlined.
‘I was hostile?’ He cleared his throat audibly and arched one eyebrow. ‘I still have the bruises to prove your hostility,’ he shot back, although the slight tug of muscles at the corner of his mouth took the edge off his words. ‘You pack a mean punch, Olivia.’
‘I doubt you even felt it.’
‘I’ve never had a woman throw herself at me in quite such a fashion before.’
‘Throw myself at you?’ she spluttered indignantly as her spine stiffened. ‘You needn’t worry that’ll ever happen.’
Luca smiled and she realised he’d baited her, but …
Oh—my—God.
It wasn’t only a shock to see how sensationally attractive he was when he unleashed his sexy smile—it was like a total assault on the atmosphere in the aircraft. The very air particles became charged with an electrical energy potent enough to draw every atom of her being into his magnetic force field and to rob her of all thought.
Seconds stretched.
All she was aware of was Luca Borghetti, the man. The wildly, amazingly attractive man whose mesmerising smile made her want to grin back at him like an idiot. This response was totally foreign to her and she suddenly felt giddy and disoriented.
For as long as she could remember it seemed like the weight of the world had been pressing in on her and for the space of these moments, miraculously, the burden was gone.
The magic faded slowly and his eyes grew serious. ‘I know you’ve suffered enormously and I don’t want to make light of what you’ve been through. But, for Christiana’s sake, I’m asking you to put aside your prejudices.’
Her mouth dried and she swallowed hard.
‘I have my faults but I’m not the embodiment of all that’s evil, Olivia. I’m far from the uncaring monster you’ve chosen to portray me as in your mind.’ He held his hands palms up in a gesture of appeal. ‘For Christiana’s sake, and to support her through the long battle she faces, we need to support her as her aunt and uncle with no hostility between us.’
Shame flooded through her and tears threatened as his words drove away all her resolve to keep picturing him as her enemy. She was utterly exhausted and defeated, yet she knew she had to respond to the olive branch he offered. As he’d said, trust was a two way street and she needed to be big enough to acknowledge it.
‘You’re right.’ Her voice was rusty as she forced the words out. ‘We need to focus on her well-being.’
He extended one of his hands towards her and she placed hers in it.
‘Truce,’ he told her.
It was difficult to absorb the heavy importance of the single word and contemplate what exactly she was agreeing to, because the warmth of his hand seeped through her body and she began to drown in the depths of his eyes. All resistance drained out of her.
‘Truce,’ she agreed at last.
Yes. There had to be a truce, but the truce wouldn’t stop her from trying to get answers to exonerate Jane from all the accusations Luca had levelled against her. No way was she going to let her sister’s memory be tarnished.
Chapter 6
‘Are you insane?’
Luca stiffened at the sound of his father’s angry voice, then swivelled to his right. Despite it being almost midnight in Rome, Damiano Borghetti sat in an armchair in Luca’s home library looking like he owned the place. The old man swilled Scotch around in
a crystal tumbler and glared at his son.
Luca’s housekeeper had contacted him the moment he’d landed in Rome and asked whether she should allow Damiano entry to Luca’s home. Given Damiano was the one with answers to the questions burning in Luca’s brain, he’d reasoned his father’s visit would save him seeking out the old man tomorrow.
By the look of things, Damiano had been drinking the entire time he’d awaited Luca’s arrival.
‘Good evening, Damiano.’
‘What in God’s name are you thinking bringing that woman’s mother and sister to Italy, let alone into this house?’ came the instant attack.
‘My house,’ Luca reminded him with tight emphasis even while he wondered how his father had found out about Olivia and Marjorie’s visit.
The old man drained his glass and put it down on the table next to where he was seated. ‘Yes, it’s your house, but Christiana is my granddaughter, and I won’t have her exposed to the money-grabbing likes of them.’
Luca’s hands clenched. ‘It’s time you told me exactly what you know about Antonio’s involvement with Jane Temple.’
The old man shifted uneasily in the chair and broke eye contact momentarily. ‘Don’t believe anything that Olivia woman tells you. She’s a trouble maker. She was here trying to cause trouble after her sister died.’
‘You never mentioned Christiana’s mother died.’
‘There was no reason to mention it.’
‘How is Olivia a trouble maker?’
‘She had the gall to call Antonio from Australia and kept calling him when she was here.’
‘Did Antonio speak with her?’
‘Dio, no! I diverted his phone calls and intercepted her calls so she couldn’t make trouble for him.’
Luca’s brain went into overdrive with the information. ‘Was Antonio ever aware of her phone calls?’
‘Of course not. She was demanding an explanation about her sister’s death, expecting Antonio to meet with her and go to the morgue with her.’
‘But you dealt with it,’ Luca surmised with barely suppressed contempt.
‘Of course I did.’ He moved his hands expressively. ‘Antonio hadn’t even been told the Australian woman was dead when her sister first started calling. I made sure he was kept busy with back-to-back meetings and didn’t have any time to phone the hospital. Madre de Dio, Luca! If I hadn’t stepped in, your brother would’ve …’
‘My brother would’ve what?’
Damiano eyed him defiantly. ‘Your brother was a total fool. He would’ve thrown everything away.’
Luca felt his breathing quicken. ‘His marriage, you mean?’
‘His marriage was our alliance with the Kalemi family. It would’ve been very bad for business to alienate them.’
Bad for business. And business had always meant everything to his father.
‘Antonio wanted a divorce so he could marry Jane Temple.’ Luca’s words were a statement—a challenge thrown out for his father to deny. When there was no denial, Luca felt bile churn in his guts. ‘He’d already filed for divorce, hadn’t he?’
Although Damiano didn’t confirm it, Luca read the answer in his father’s face and knew Marjorie and Olivia had been right about Antonio’s feelings for Jane. Dread lodged itself like a heavy granite ball in his chest. His brother must’ve adored Jane to have found the strength to stand up to Damiano.
What else had the Temple women been right about?
‘Jane Temple was a cripple. She was a nobody from nowhere,’ Damiano scorned as he got to his feet. ‘I told Antonio to have his pity affair with her if he must, but to make damned certain he was discreet. I didn’t want the Kalemis finding out but your brother put everything at risk. He brought his crippled whore to my home telling me he loved her and wanted to marry her.’
Merda. Luca stared at his father seeing the full extent of his twisted, heartless manipulation for the first time. He’d always known the old man was ruthless, but his insensitivity was beyond belief.
‘The girl should never even have been a passing fling for Antonio. He could’ve clicked his fingers and had any woman in his bed. I don’t understand why he chose her.’
‘He loved her,’ Luca now asserted with conviction.
‘Love?’ the old man scoffed with a toss of his head. ‘What sort of fool’s existence do you live, Luca?’
‘How could I forget? According to you, marriage should be a business transaction.’ The old man had never loved his mother. In truth, Damiano was probably incapable of the emotion.
‘Had your marriage been a merger based on business it might’ve survived,’ his father threw back at him.
Vaffanculo. He managed to bite back the obscenity, refusing to give Damiano the satisfaction of knowing he’d struck a raw nerve.
‘The Australian woman was only ever after his money but your weak, insipid brother didn’t see it.’
‘Christo!’ He felt like punching some sense, some decency, into his father. ‘He was going to ignore your wishes and marry her, wasn’t he?’
Picking up his empty glass, Damiano walked to a cabinet and proceeded to help himself to a refill. ‘Only because she’d fallen pregnant and refused to have an abortion. She was determined to trap him into marriage. I made it known I’d never allow it. I told them both I’d cut him off and she’d never get her hands on the Borghetti fortune.’
‘But, he went to his lawyers to start divorce proceedings anyway,’ Luca said with certainty.
‘The Australian girl bewitched him and he lost all reason. I made certain his lawyers stalled his divorce application.’ There was no repentance in his voice—no discomfort at all with his actions. He walked back to the chair and resettled himself as casually as if they’d been discussing the weather.
Luca wanted to haul his father out of the chair and shove him hard up against the wall. He fought very hard to curtail this unprecedented stirring of violence, knowing it would achieve nothing—knowing he had to get Damiano to continue his confession until he’d heard every last, sordid detail. ‘You sent Luca to London on business after Christiana was born. What else did you do?’
‘I went to see his whore in hospital. I told her Antonio didn’t want anything more to do with her and the baby was dead to her.’
The blood in Luca’s veins turned to ice. ‘You told Jane Temple her baby was dead?’
‘No,’ his father said adamantly. ‘I said the baby was dead to her,’ He emphasised the words irritably. ‘I’d already arranged with the medical staff to limit her contact with Christiana—to forbid her to go to the special care nursery. I wanted Jane Temple out of Antonio’s life. I told her she’d never see her daughter again.’
‘Santa madre de Dio!’ Luca stared at his father, unable to contain his horror.
‘What?’ the old man asked. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m your father. I acted in your brother’s best interest and you will respect me.’
His father’s loud declarations washed over Luca.
The old man was conniving and manipulative but it seemed he had no idea of the full extent of what he’d done.
Struggling to comprehend Damiano’s visit to Jane, Luca tried to piece the puzzle together. Marjorie had said Jane’s Italian wasn’t good, and Damiano’s English was far from passable. Jane’s belief Christiana had died may’ve been a goddamned error in translation.
A thousand curses ran through Luca’s head.
‘Jane thought Christiana was dead.’ He pointed a finger at the old man in accusation and said in blistering condemnation, ‘She thought you were telling her the baby was dead.’
‘I said Christiana was dead to her,’ Damiano repeated. ‘I told her she’d never see the baby again. I didn’t realise until her sister came to Rome and asked to see Christiana’s grave that the stupid woman had misinterpreted what I’d said.’
Taking a step towards his father, Luca’s wrath was blistering. ‘Bastardo! It’s partly your fault Christiana’s mother died. Jane couldn’t
reach Antonio—again your fault—then she was so distraught she required sedation. If she hadn’t been so heavily sedated, she might’ve been able to tell them she was haemorrhaging. They might’ve been able to save her!’
A stricken expression crossed the old man’s features and for a second Luca thought his father might possess a conscience and show remorse. The moment passed. Damiano pulled himself together and put his glass down with an angry thump. ‘Lavinia was Christiana’s mother,’ he said firmly. ‘The Temple woman wouldn’t have cared about the baby, and how would she have cared for a baby when she couldn’t even walk properly?’
Luca could only stare at his father in astonishment at his bigotry and ignorance.
Damiano pointed an accusing finger at Luca and continued his rant. ‘She would’ve left Antonio quickly enough when she knew I was serious she wouldn’t have access to his fortune.’
Madre de Dio! The callous, arrogant old bastard would never admit he’d been wrong.
‘Anyway,’ Damiano argued, ‘I made sure she was paid to get out of Antonio’s life. It obviously wasn’t enough for her.’
‘You arranged the bank transfer, not Antonio?’
‘It came direct from Antonio’s account. I made sure it did so the woman got the message he was through with her,’ he relayed as a crafty smile played around his lips.
Luca’s stomach twisted. ‘You forged Antonio’s authority on the transfer request?’
Damiano snorted in contempt as he sat back and crossed one leg over the other. ‘I didn’t need to. Your brother had no business brain. He signed whatever I put in front of him.’
Nausea rose in Luca’s throat. ‘When did you transfer the money?’
‘The afternoon Christiana was born. As soon as I’d sent Antonio out of the country.’
Luca stood still, his back ramrod straight, forcing his hands to stay by his sides when they wanted to wrap around his father’s throat and wring the whole sordid truth from him before strangling him and sending his soul to hell.
‘I told her it was payment for services rendered, to get herself home and established in Australia.’
Pure evil.
Seduced by the Enemy Page 7
