The Sicilian's Scandalous Secret

by Sarah Morgan

  * * *

  ‘You look stunning in that.’ Expending every effort to please her, Santo layered on the compliments but the more he praised, the more withdrawn she became. Having never before known a female to treat an extravagant shopping expedition with so little enthusiasm, he racked his brain to work out what he was doing wrong.

  Was she disappointed that they’d left Luca at home?

  ‘You like this?’ She stared listlessly at her reflection in the mirror. Truthfully Santo liked her best in nothing at all, but he assumed that to admit that would be unlikely to improve her mood so he dutifully studied the blue silk dress and nodded.

  ‘The colour suits you. Let’s add it to the pile.’

  She disappeared into the changing room to take it off and then re-emerged clutching the blue dress.

  Santo took it from her and handed it to the sales assistant along with his card. ‘That dress will be perfect for our family party.’

  ‘What family party?’

  ‘It’s Chiara’s birthday party in a couple of weeks. Ferrara family gathering. Cristiano adores his girls—and that includes Laurel—so you can be sure a big fuss will be made.’ Santo picked up the bags in one hand and led her back to the Lamborghini. ‘I thought I’d mentioned it.’

  ‘No. No, you didn’t.’ She stopped dead just outside the store and Santo had to clamp her against him to prevent her from being flattened by a group of overeager shoppers.

  Instead of pulling away, she stayed still in the circle of his arm, her head resting against his chest.

  He frowned.

  There was something intensely vulnerable about the gesture and he felt a flicker of concern.

  It was the first time they’d touched like this, he realised, and he felt another flash of guilt at the way he’d treated her. He’d rushed her into marriage without giving any thought to her feelings. All he’d thought about was his son’s welfare. Not once had he thought about hers.

  The scent of her hair wound itself around his senses. The curve of her breast brushed against his arm. Fire shot through his body but he ignored it and forced himself to deliver a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

  From now on he was going to focus on her, he vowed. ‘You’ll enjoy the party. It’s a chance for everyone to get together.’ Gently, Santo eased her away from him and brushed her hair back from her face so that he could look at her. ‘My family always makes an enormous fuss about birthdays. Chiara will be six. Brace yourself for balloons and an indecent quantity of cake.’ Still holding her hand, he threw the bags into the back of the car. ‘The party is in their home in Taormina so we’ll fly there because there is no way I’m negotiating Friday night traffic.’

  ‘We’re staying with Laurel and Cristiano?’

  ‘Is that a problem?’ He opened the door for her, trying not to focus on her legs as she slid into the passenger seat. ‘Your grandfather seems to have made a good recovery and we still have a nurse there at night. If you’re worried about the day, I can arrange something.’

  ‘I’m not worried. Gina will be around.’

  But Santo could tell she was lying and he searched for the cause. ‘Are you finding the whole Ferrara family thing overwhelming?’

  ‘No. I think you’re all very lucky. You have a wonderful family.’ She spoke as if she wasn’t part of that and Santo breathed deeply as she fastened her seat belt without looking at him.

  ‘Fia—’

  Horns blared, interrupting his attempt to question her further, and he scowled and paced around to his side of the car. ‘Dani and her brood will be there, too. And Laurel, of course. She’s looking forward to getting to know you better. But she’ll really appreciate us coming. It helps Chiara. She’s only been with them a year.’

  ‘A year?’

  ‘Chiara is adopted. And don’t ask me to tell you her history because it makes me want to punch a hole through something.’ Santo started the engine and pulled into the fast moving traffic, driving as only a Sicilian could. ‘When she first came to live with them she wasn’t really used to people. She certainly wasn’t used to people being kind to her. They were very patient, but it was little Elena who broke through that wall she’d built. Try telling a two-year-old that her new big sister just wants to be left alone—it doesn’t work. And now they’re the best of friends, as siblings should be.’ He spoke without thinking and then saw a flicker of something in her eyes and cursed himself. Here he was, talking about siblings, and her brother was dead. ‘Mi dispiace. Cristo, I’m truly sorry, Fia.’ He reached across and curled his fingers over hers. ‘That was unbelievably insensitive of me. Forgive me.’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive. I didn’t have that sort of relationship with my brother and there is no sense in pretending that I did. My family is nothing like yours. And I don’t want you to feel you have to tread carefully around the topic.’

  Without releasing her hand, Santo took a sharp right turn and pulled into a narrow street. His fingers tightened on hers. ‘My family is your family, tesoro. You are a Ferrara now.’

  She stared straight ahead. ‘Yes.’

  Maybe it was taking her time to accept that, he thought. Maybe after a few family gatherings she’d realise that she was part of it.

  ‘I could make Chiara’s birthday cake.’ She blurted the words out as if she wasn’t sure the suggestion would be welcome. ‘But if they’d rather do their own thing—’

  ‘No. I think that would be very well received. If you’re sure it isn’t too much for you on top of everything else.’ Maybe that was what was wrong, he mused. She was working hard in the restaurant as well as looking after Luca.

  Santo let go of her hand and drove for a few minutes before pulling up outside a small restaurant that had been his favourite for years. ‘Today you are going to eat food that someone else has cooked for you. This place is incredible. Even you will be impressed.’

  He needed to spend more time with her, he realised. He needed to make sure that their relationship wasn’t just about sex.

  He chose a quiet table in the corner of the courtyard, shaded by the tangled leaves of a mature vine. The tantalizing aroma of garlic and spices drifted from the kitchen and the sounds of sizzling mingled with the hum of conversation and the occasional raised voices of the chefs.

  They ordered a selection of dishes to share and Santo watched as she tasted each one. At one point she went into the kitchen to question the chef and then pulled a notebook out of her bag and scribbled in it.

  She was an instinctive cook, he realised, finding it a pleasure to watch her sample flavours and textures.

  ‘This is good. But I’d make it without the pine nuts—’ she dissected the food with her fork to study the composition ‘—and possibly lighter on the spices because they’re overwhelming the flavour of the fish. If we served it with a green salad it would be a perfect healthy lunch for the Beach Club. And I’ve been thinking about that—’

  ‘About the menu at the Beach Club?’

  ‘You want to attract a young, sports-mad crowd. So you should serve a mixture of light, healthy food and a few pasta dishes that deliver carbohydrate without thick calorie-rich sauces. Increase the fish and vegetables. The current menu looks like a homage to comfort food.’ She scribbled more notes for herself and he watched, thinking how much he’d underestimated her.

  ‘Would you be willing to review the menus for the whole Ferrara Group?’

  Her cheeks turned pink. ‘Would you want me to?’

  ‘Definitely. Whenever we build a new hotel, Laurel oversees the development of each fitness centre. She advises us on equipment and she helps us find the right staff.’

  She put her pen down and picked up her fork. ‘Is that how Cristiano met Laurel? She worked for you?’

  ‘She was Dani’s best f
riend at college and I employed her as my personal trainer. Cristiano was so impressed he asked her to advise on all our fitness centres. I never thought I would see Cristiano fall crazily in love, but he did. When he and Laurel split for a while he was like a different person. It was a great relief to everyone when they got back together. They never stopped loving each other and it was their love that held them together.’

  She stopped eating.

  Slowly, she put her fork down on her plate as if she could no longer face the food.

  All the happiness seemed to have drained out of her.

  Santo rewound the conversation in an attempt to work out what he’d said. Maybe she’d misinterpreted his story. ‘So basically Cristiano was not willing to entertain the idea of divorce because he loved her so much.’

  ‘That’s romantic.’ Her face was horribly pale and she sat back and gave up the pretence of eating. ‘This is delicious but I’m not very hungry. I’m sorry.’

  ‘There is no need to be so polite. But a moment ago you were chatting happily and now you look as if I delivered bad news.’ She’d been fine until he mentioned Cristiano’s name. Aware that Cristiano had been cool with her at the wedding, Santo made a mental note to warn his brother to lighten up. ‘If something is wrong, I wish you would just tell me.’

  ‘Nothing is wrong. I’m having a really nice day. Just a bit tired.’

  If she was tired, then that was his fault, Santo thought as they left the restaurant. Guilt flashed through him. They spent a substantial chunk of every night making love. He’d thought she enjoyed the physical side of their relationship as much as he did, but now he was wondering whether she just saw that as another one of her duties. He made a mental note to let her sleep through the night instead of keeping her awake.

  He was all too conscious that he was the one who had propelled her into this marriage.

  She’d married him because she felt she had a responsibility towards Luca.

  Was she regretting that now?

  * * *

  Their marriage limped along for another few weeks with Santo going out of his way to fulfil the role of perfect husband. He showered her with expensive gifts, took her on glamorous nights out, even flew her to Paris to sample the food in a restaurant she’d mentioned. But the harder he tried, the worse she felt. Santo took to coming to bed later and later and when he did eventually slide into the bed next to her, he didn’t touch her.

  For Fia, it was the final straw.

  The one thing that had always been good about their marriage was the sex, and apparently he no longer even wanted that. She was well aware that, before he’d married her, Santo didn’t have a history of long relationships. He had a short attention span when it came to women, was easily bored and had a ferocious sex drive. No matter what he’d said at the beginning, it was obvious to her that he’d had enough of sleeping with the same woman.

  And as far as she could see, that could have only one outcome.

  Hadn’t he told her right at the beginning that sex was one of the most important things to him? Hadn’t he had confidence in the success of their marriage because they’d been so compatible?

  If that part was over, what did they have left?

  No matter what he said, there was no way a Ferrara would endure a sexless marriage.

  He would take a lover, and that would be harder to handle than anything she’d had to handle in her life before.

  Lack of sex, and the implications behind that proved more of a sleep disturber than too much sex and Fia grew more and more tired.

  During the day she threw herself into her work. She spent time at the Beach Club and made some suggestions for changes that she thought would increase the popularity of the restaurant. She increased the volume of seating outside and altered the menu. When Santo told her that bookings had doubled, she was happy because she wanted so badly to please him.

  Only with Luca could she really relax and then only if Santo was too busy to join them.

  She took to checking his schedule so that she could be sure to pick times when he was tied up in meetings.

  But Chiara’s birthday party was looming and there was no avoiding the big Ferrara family gathering. Fia knew that seeing Cristiano and Laurel together would simply emphasize the cracks in her own marriage. Cristiano and Laurel were bound together by love. She and Santo were bound together by Luca.

  Perhaps going away as a family might be good for them, Fia thought bleakly.

  The plan was that after the party in the afternoon, the adults were going out to dinner and she squashed down her nerves and told herself that this would be a chance to get to know his family. And an excuse to add some glamour to her life.

  Conscious that she spent a large proportion of her day dressed in unflattering chef’s whites, she decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to wear one of the dresses Santo had insisted on buying her. She tried to remember which one had attracted the most enthusiastic response from him and in the end decided to wear the blue silk.

  When she tried it on it felt and looked so good that her spirits lifted. Maybe things weren’t as bad as she thought.

  No marriage was perfect all the time, was it?

  Santo was under a lot of pressure at work and taking a few hours out every day to spend ‘quality time’ with her simply increased that pressure. It was no wonder he had to work late.

  They flew by helicopter, much to Luca’s excitement, landing in the grounds of Cristiano’s luxury palazzo in the hills above the pretty town of Taormina. From here she could see Mount Etna, and beneath her the sparkling expanse of the Mediterranean.

  ‘This is Laurel’s favourite place.’ Santo urged her towards the terrace, carefully carrying the box containing the cake Fia had made. ‘She had a difficult childhood and was brought up in care so she’d never had a home of her own. Cristiano bought this for her as a surprise.’

  He loved his wife so much he’d bought her the one thing she’d never had—a beautiful home.

  What would it be like, Fia wondered, to be loved like that?

  As they rounded the corner she felt daunted by the number of people. ‘Who are they all?’

  He scanned heads. ‘The man by the tree is my uncle and the woman next to him is his wife. The two women supervising the pool are cousins of mine—they work in marketing for the company—’ the list was endless and then he moved on to the children ‘—Rosa is the one in the pool, you already met her with Dani. Chiara and Elena are together under the tree and the rest are children of cousins, friends, people we know—’ He shrugged dismissively and she thought again how different his life was from hers.

  ‘Fia!’ Looking as lean and fit as ever, Laurel walked up to her and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Welcome. Isn’t it hot? I just want to go and lie down in the air-conditioning. Chiara is feeling a bit overwhelmed, I’m afraid. I’m starting to wish we’d kept it smaller.’

  ‘Does smaller exist for a Ferrara?’

  Laurel laughed. ‘Good point. Are you finding this family overwhelming too? I know I did. Fortunately you get used to it.’

  The difference was that Laurel had a husband who adored her.

  ‘I made the cake. I hope it’s all right.’ Feeling ridiculously nervous, Fia removed the lid of the box and Laurel gasped as she saw the cake.

  ‘Oh, my goodness, it’s perfect! A fairy castle—’ Delight spread across her face. ‘How did you do that?’

  ‘I used the picture you sent me of her favourite toy.’

  ‘The fairies even have wands—’ Laurel’s tone was awed as she examined the detail ‘—and wings. How did you make the wings?’ Her response was everything Fia had hoped for.

  ‘Spun sugar. I broke quite a few trying to get them right.’

  Santo pulled a face. ‘I�
��m expected to eat a pink turret and fairy wings?’ But he smiled at Fia. ‘Very clever. And now I’m going to put it down because I don’t want to be the one who drops it.’

  He put it in the centre of the table.

  From a distance, Chiara saw the cake and her eyes grew huge with wonder.

  ‘She’s too shy to come and investigate,’ Laurel said. ‘It’s because she doesn’t know you.’

  In the end it was bouncy little Elena who dragged her big sister across the terrace towards the amazing cake.

  ‘Elena never lets her out of her sight,’ Laurel told Fia. ‘She has her own room, but she crawls into Chiara’s bed every night. She just adores her big sister.’

  And the affection was clearly returned, although Chiara was less openly demonstrative.

  ‘This is only her second birthday with us,’ Laurel murmured. ‘She didn’t even know what a birthday was before she came to us, so if she doesn’t do or say the right thing, please forgive her.’

  Fia’s eyes filled. Mortified, she blinked back the tears but not before Laurel had noticed.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Embarrassed, Fia pulled herself together. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me at the moment. Not enough sleep or something.’

  ‘Don’t apologise. I cry on a regular basis when I think how lonely her life was. It’s hard not to just want to give her everything, but of course all she really needs is love and stability.’

  And it was obvious that she had that.

  Chiara thanked her shyly for the cake but the real thanks was the look on her face as she examined each part of her fairy castle.

  Cristiano strode over to join them and scooped up both his daughters, one on each arm. ‘Which one of you is the birthday girl?’

  Holding tightly to the man who was now her father, Chiara blushed shyly. ‘Me.’

  ‘Then it’s time to come and greet your guests and make them welcome in true Ferrara style, young lady. And then we can cut that fantastic cake.’

  Chiara wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. ‘Will you come too?’