Riccardo's Secret Child

by Cathy Williams

  ‘You have no right to question me on—’

  ‘I have every right!’

  Every right, Julia thought, to be furious because his idea of a few nights of passion before he tossed her aside had been thwarted. Through the murky light, she began to see a glimmer of hope, a way out of the mess which would put her beyond his reach. Not to seize it would be folly. She knew, they both did, that, however much she might try to run, his pursuit would be successful, but if he thought that there was another man he would be forced to leave her alone and that way she would be free to retreat, to lick her wounds in private and thank the lord that they were not more severe.

  And she was as free now as he was. There was no longer any reason to pretend a relationship. She could do precisely as she pleased!

  ‘I met him at the party.’ Julia stole a defiant look at his thunderous face and her eyes skittered away nervously. ‘I thought it was going to be a small do, but it turned out to be quite large. A lot of Elizabeth’s husband’s friends were there. Roger was one of them.’ His cold silence was making her ramble on. ‘He…he’s a stockbroker in the City. He was very interesting and when I was l-lea…leaving he gave me his telephone number. I… Riccardo, stop looking at me like that! It’s not a crime to chat to a man at a party, or to take his phone number, for that matter…’

  ‘Was that the intention when you left this house this evening? In your short skirt and high heels? To chat up any man you came across?’

  ‘I did not chat him up! He chatted me up! And that wasn’t my intention! I’m not the sort of girl who goes to parties to see who they can pull!’ The idea was so ridiculous that in another situation she would have burst out laughing at the image he was portraying of her as some kind of vamp who flirted her way round the men until she found a suitable candidate.

  ‘So let me get this straight. You’ve changed your appearance. Now you wear clothes that barely cover your body, and in addition you’re willing to offer yourself to the first man that comes along and gives you a line about wanting to get to know you.’ His mouth twisted into a sardonic scowl, but before Julia could open her mouth to protest he had picked up the thread of his accusation and was hurtling forward with it, giving her no time to think, let alone speak.

  ‘And you want me to believe that this is the sort of example I want my daughter to be set? I don’t think so.’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous, Riccardo.’ But her protest was thin, simply because he had a way of twisting things to suit his arguments. Twisting her until she didn’t know what she was saying or doing or thinking!

  ‘I am not being ridiculous. Nor am I being ridiculous when I inform you that there is only one way to deal with this.’

  ‘Wh-what way…?’

  ‘Well, put it this way…I won’t disrupt Nicola so soon after telling her who I am by removing her from her familiar surroundings. So…’

  ‘So…?’

  ‘So I am going to move in here with you.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RICCARDO gazed out of the massive floor-to-ceiling window in his office and stared down at the busy, teeming London streets eleven storeys below. It was a view which, in the past, had afforded him a great deal of pleasure. To be in his large, plush office with its black leather and thick-piled carpet, to know that the entire glass building in which he stood and which dominated everything else around it belonged to him.

  His family had begged him to return to Italy, especially after he had married Caroline, but it had been the only thing she had ever refused to do and secretly he had been delighted by the get-out clause her adamant refusal had given him. Because he had loved the vast concrete jungle that was London, had revelled in his relentless and satisfying climb into the rarefied reaches of true power. And after their bitter split he had thrown himself into his work with even more gusto. Nothing and no one, none of the blondes who had nurtured hopes of taming the beast, had provided even the slightest breath of competition when it came to where his attention was focused.

  He sighed now with frustration and raked his fingers through his black hair as he contemplated how much things had changed in the space of a few short weeks.

  Nicola was the mainspring of that change and one he welcomed. Fatherhood, delayed as it had been, was a joyous addition to his life. But she was only part of the equation.

  He scowled as his mind began its familiar and invasive exploration of Julia. In a short while he would begin the process of collating vital files and computer discs that he would be transferring to her house. He had already arranged for a computer terminal, a separate telephone line and a fax machine to be set up there. She would return from school to find him fully installed. The heady thrill of power and the frantic pace of life within the cool, elegant confines of his superb office no longer held the allure they once had.

  Just the thought of her with her new look and her new hair and her legs on view for all to see, just the thought of her stepping out into the London social scene with that extraordinary appeal of innocence and sexiness threw him into panicked rage and consumed his every waking moment. Not to mention the appearance of some man, some stockbroker with octopus hands and sticky fingers.

  Riccardo’s jaw clenched and he began prowling through the office, sifting through his files, selecting some, leaving the rest. By eleven o’clock he was ready to leave, only stopping en route to remind his secretary that he would be available via e-mail, phone or fax and would continue to come into the office, albeit with less regularity. He knew that she was utterly bewildered by his decision to work more from home but he offered no explanation. He had called an emergency board meeting the previous day and had announced the same decision and had met a similar barrier of utter incomprehension, but they had rallied around quickly, moving with speed and efficiency into their extended roles. He had always surrounded himself with quick thinking, ambitious men and they had risen to the occasion admirably. A fat bonus to accommodate any extra duties had helped.

  It was with grim determination that he spent the remainder of the day seeing to the installation of an office in one of the downstairs rooms and getting his driver to bring his items of clothing from his own apartment to the house.

  By four-fifteen he was ready and waiting for her arrival back home. The fact that she had no idea that he had chosen that day to move in, indeed had probably thought that he had dismissed the idea, having given her three days’ reprieve during which nothing had been said on the subject, did not unduly bother him. He had, in fact, elected that particular day because he knew that Nicola would be having tea with one of her friends from school. It would leave him time to placate Julia without the presence of his daughter.

  He had obtained a key for the house on the spurious excuse that as Nicola’s father he had a right to have immediate access to her should the need arise, and had squashed every objection provided with a flat refusal to discuss the issue. Had behaved, in fact, in a manner that had infuriated Julia and disgusted himself, but his single-mindedness in getting what he wanted had been too great a spur.

  He was in the sitting room, waiting, when he heard the sound of the key in the front door.

  Very calmly he walked to the sitting-room door and lazily leaned against the door frame, arms folded, watching as Julia bustled in, head bent as she tried to prevent the stack of books in her hands from crashing to the floor as she fumbled to stuff the key back into her handbag.

  ‘Need help?’ he drawled from where he was standing, observing, and predictably the stack of exercise books fell to the ground in a tangled heap.

  Julia’s head shot up and she stared at the apparition in front of her, open-mouthed.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ The shock of seeing him when she had been thinking about him was surreal, and she blinked, wondering whether the powerful, dark vision in front of her was just a figment of her fevered imagination.

  Riccardo pushed himself away from the door frame and strolled towards her, then he bent down at her feet and began c
ollecting the books, stacking them into a haphazard pile that he held out for her.

  When she continued to stare at him, flabbergasted and red-faced, he dumped the lot on the table and then stared back at her with his hands in his pockets.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Julia repeated. Her voice was a few notches higher. ‘And how did you get in?’

  Riccardo dangled his key in front of her. ‘I got a copy of the front-door key. Remember?’

  Yes. She did. She snatched the key from him and dashed it onto the table alongside the books. ‘To be used in emergencies only, you assured me!’

  ‘Oh, yes. So I did. But this is an emergency.’ He smiled very slowly at her. Julia had never managed to get accustomed to those smiles of his. They always seemed to go straight to the very heart of her, making her feel weak. She held on to the ledge of the table for support.

  ‘Oh, it is, is it? And where exactly is the emergency?’ Her brain began functioning again and she stood upright, glowering. ‘I don’t see any fire, or floods.’

  ‘Well, perhaps emergency is the wrong word. Let’s just say I needed to get in.’

  ‘For what? Nicola is at her friend’s house and won’t be back until six.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You know.’

  ‘Which, actually, is why I chose to come now. I’ve moved in.’

  The three little words hung in the air between them as Julia attempted to absorb the full impact of them. ‘You can’t have,’ she finally told him shakily. ‘I told you that it was a ludicrous idea. I told you that under no circumstances would I entertain the thought of you moving into this house. If you recall, I said that you could see Nicola whenever you wanted but that this house was out of bounds as far as you were concerned!’

  ‘Yes, so you did. But I moved in anyway.’ He smiled again, unruffled. Had she any idea how edible she looked standing there, flustered, stammering and overwhelmed? He wanted to kiss her protesting mouth, devour her outburst with his tongue. ‘Care to see where I’ve installed my office?’ He began walking towards the seldom-used dining room, as much to put some distance between them as anything else. Harbouring erotic thoughts about her wasn’t going to get him anywhere, and if her eyes happened to drift downwards she would probably run screaming through the front door.

  ‘Your office?’ she shrieked from behind him, flouncing in his wake. ‘Your office? You already have an office! It’s in the City! You go there every day to work!’

  ‘Correction,’ he called out, without looking around, ‘I own the building in which my office happens to be located. And now you could say I have two.’ He stood in front of the dining room, waiting for her to catch up, and, when she did, stood back so that she could view the efforts of the dozen or so men who had worked through lunch under his instructions to have the room up and running before mid-afternoon.

  ‘I’m dreaming,’ Julia said as she took in the dining-room table, now converted into a desk, on which rested his computer, phone, fax machine, and several files. ‘This is all a dream. In a minute, I’ll wake up.’

  ‘No dream. But I could pinch you if you like.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I told you why.’

  ‘Look at me,’ Julia said, spreading her arms wide to indicate her very suitable outfit of deep-grey skirt, white blouse and matching jacket. She had maintained her working wardrobe, the only difference to her appearance being her hair and the visibility now of her luminous grey eyes. ‘Do I look like an immoral woman setting a bad example for a child?’

  This wasn’t about how she looked, Riccardo thought in a blinding flash, or about any ridiculous idea that her dress code would somehow be unsuitable to be seen by a child; this was about him. She was why he had felt the compulsion to move in, why he had been given no choice in the matter. He turned away as a dark flush spread along his cheekbones.

  ‘I’ve taken one of the guest rooms. And now, I’ve got work to do,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘We’re not finished discussing this!’ Julia snapped, walking straight into his line of vision so that he had to look at her.

  ‘You might not be finished discussing this,’ Riccardo said, sitting at one of the chairs and switching on his computer, ‘but I am.’

  ‘And where am I supposed to do my marking?’ she demanded, walking to where he was seated with his face averted and staring down at him, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t like marking in the kitchen because it means having to clear it all away for tea, and, besides, that’s where Nicola’s accustomed to doing her drawing!’

  ‘You can share the table with me,’ he told her, busily clicking on icons on the computer so that he could access his work.

  So much for discussion, Julia thought as she watched him frown at whatever it was he was viewing on the screen in front of him. Autocratic did not begin to cover his attitude. Nor did the word hopeless begin to cover hers. Because looking at him surreptitiously as he sat there, unaware of her existence, she was filled with a stupid feeling of elation. He had moved in lock, stock and barrel without bothering to consult her first, had laid down his orders like a master stating a decree, and instead of feeling enraged and resentful she felt excited and idiotically completed. Julia ground her teeth together in self-disgust and went out to the hall, gathering all the exercise books in her arms.

  ‘Don’t think we’re finished with this one,’ she informed him, sitting at the dining-room table and making a deal of spreading the books in front of her.

  Riccardo grunted something in response but didn’t look at her.

  ‘Because I’m not. I just haven’t got the time to say what I want to say if I’m to get these marked before I have to go and fetch Nicola.’

  Another grunt. Riccardo looked at her from under his lashes, his eyes raking over her downbent head as she busily scanned the page in front of her, one hand poised with a red pen for marking. He had no idea what was on the computer screen in front of him. E-mails by the dozen. He would have to read them later. He couldn’t think straight with her just within touching distance.

  After a while, he abandoned the effort and idly picked up one of the exercise books lying between them and began reading. His lips began to twitch. When he gave a hoot of laughter Julia looked up from what she was doing and frowned.

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be working,’ she said crushingly, speaking to the top of his head, as the rest was hidden behind the exercise book.

  ‘I was,’ Riccardo said, lowering the book so that he could look at her over the top of it. ‘But this is a lot more interesting.

  ‘It was snowing outside when suddenly the baby was born. It looks very big, said the mum. It had a green face and three legs because in fact it was a monster.

  ‘What are you teaching these poor children?’ he asked, pushing back the chair and stretching his legs onto the table-top.

  ‘Do you mind removing your feet from the table? I always tell Nicola that table-tops are not for sitting on or standing up on.’

  ‘Do many of your pupils suffer from nightmares?’ Riccardo asked idly.

  ‘It was a project on adventures,’ Julia said, glancing over to him and feeling a churning feeling in her stomach as he gazed back at her, with his hands behind his head. It was sinful that a man could be so good-looking, she thought. If he were plain and uninspiring she would never have found herself in this situation. ‘Rory has a very active imagination and he seems to be fixated with monsters.’

  And who are you fixated with? he wanted to know. Roger? The mystery stockbroker with the sweaty palms? She must be keen on him or else she would never have accepted his phone number. That deduction had been playing on his mind and he could not get rid of it. He knew her. If the man’s advances had been unwelcome she would have put on that cool, closed expression of hers and politely turned him away. It was a good thing that he had decided to move in here, he thought restlessly. He could keep an eye on her. Make sure she didn’t bring home strange men for his daughter to meet. In fact, a lit
tle voice whispered, make sure she didn’t bring home any men at all.

  ‘What?’ he asked as he realised that she was saying something to him, and Julia frowned.

  ‘I said, could I please have the exercise book back. I want to mark it.’

  Riccardo scooted it towards her and reclined back in the chair, staring at the tips of his shoes. ‘What are we going to do about dinner?’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Julia stood up and walked across to the bay window, where she perched on the sill. ‘Another reason why this arrangement is not going to work out. I have got neither the time nor the inclination to start preparing meals for you on those days you happen to be around…’

  ‘I’ll be around a lot,’ Riccardo drawled. ‘Naturally, I shall still attend meetings during the day, but I plan on working a lot from here and also spending a lot of my evenings here as well. Getting to know Nicola better.’ He looked down, slightly embarrassed by the patent shortcomings of this statement.

  ‘As well as making sure that I don’t set a bad example,’ Julia said shortly.

  ‘You can understand my feelings. I won’t have you bringing strange men back to this house.’

  Julia looked around her for a bit of heavenly assistance. How was she ever going to withstand the impact of this man on her if he intended to be around all the time, getting under her skin? And what gave him the right to keep an eye on her? It was an insult. He didn’t trust her with Nicola and she could have told him that she had been doing a very good job of it and since Caroline and Martin were no longer around. She had been diligent, compassionate, understanding. Had choked back her own feelings of loss at the death of her brother, so as to maintain the semblance of strength that Nicola had so desperately needed. Did he really think that a change of appearance was going to alter her personality?

  It felt good for her anger to begin surfacing. Better than the stupid feeling of contentment that had treacherously slipped over her as she had sat marking exercise books, feeling his masculine presence wafting across to her, pushing her to do something really pathetic, like sidle over to him and curl up on his lap, let him take her against all reason.