The Tycoon's Shock Heir

by Bella Frances

  Now she was on some slippery path, in a changing landscape that made her feel giddy with excitement one minute and sick with dread the next. So she was marrying him—she was going to do the one thing that Lady Faye had wanted more than anything else. But they weren’t marrying for love. They were marrying for the sake of a baby. And a bank.

  She traced the patterns on the ceiling with her eyes. The ceiling of the room that from here on forward would be her bedroom in Rome. In a house that she would never have been able to afford as a dancer—even as the prima ballerina in one of the world’s best companies. Even as a director...

  From along the hallway the noises of the day started to sound. Unfamiliar voices were talking in an unfamiliar language. They hadn’t seen a soul last night when they’d arrived at his home. The flight had been short but the dinner with Matteo’s clients had been long—delicious, but long—and despite his apologies, and his thanks for agreeing to the last-minute change of plan, she’d felt exhausted when he’d finally slid the key in the lock of his Roman villa and they’d quietly made their way to bed.

  He’d made love to her. Romantically, passionately, adoringly. And then he’d slipped off to another room for the sake of tradition—as if their marriage was somehow real. As if she was going to have something old and new, borrowed and blue too. And a father to give her away, a mother to weep, and bridesmaids to throw her bouquet to. And a happily-ever-after.

  The wincing pain of self-pity cut at her, making her crush her eyes closed. Because even though she’d been in denial about her deepest wishes, now that they were finally coming true she wanted even more.

  But she was here in Rome, healthy and comfortable and with more choices than she’d ever had before in her life. She could work, rest, have the baby, then go back to work, back to dance.

  The only thing she couldn’t do was make Matteo love her. Or make him love himself.

  There was another noise now—closer, outside the door.

  ‘Prendo che. I’ll take that.’

  She strained to listen and had just figured out that it was Coral Rossini’s voice when the door was opened and in came the lady herself, carrying a tray.

  Ruby sat bolt-upright, totally shocked by the interruption. She’d known she would have to see her new mother-in-law at some point—but now? Like this...?

  ‘Good morning, Ruby!’ She came right into the room, put the tray down and opened first one set of curtains, then the other. ‘Sleep well?’

  Ruby pulled back the sheet and tried to get out of bed.

  ‘No, no, stay there—you have to have breakfast in bed.’

  Coral Rossini picked up the tray and came over to the bed, the fresh morning light streaming in to reveal the golden glow from the African sun on her well-tended skin and eyes that were penetratingly bright and clear.

  Ruby watched her warily. What was her tone going to be? Would she hate her, thinking that she had trapped her beloved son? Would she be cool and condescending? Or the same old Coral who had sparkled and charmed every other time she’d seen her?

  She put the tray down and sat beside it on the bed, her gaze never shifting. ‘It’s your wedding day—and I’m here to look after you. But first,’ she said, ‘let’s have a proper chat.’ She poured tea from a modern silver pot, one cup each. ‘Milk?’ she asked.

  Ruby nodded, sat up straighter, took the cup, cleared her throat and said, ‘Thanks...’

  ‘Well, I’ll bet neither of us could have imagined we’d be here a few weeks ago. But here we are.’

  ‘Coral, I want you to know that I really and truly did not mean for any of this to happen. I hope you don’t think...’

  The older woman sat back and looked at her carefully. ‘No. I don’t think. So just stop there. I have known you since you were a teenager—since Banca Casa di Rossini started to sponsor the company and I started coming to see you and all your lovely friends rehearsing and performing and pushing yourselves to the limit. I know what dancing means to you.’

  Coral reached for her hand.

  ‘I know, Ruby,’ she said, quietly. ‘I know your mother moved away. And I don’t want to pry, but everyone needs a mother and I’ll be yours, for as long as you want me to be.’

  Ruby felt her throat burn and her eyes sting as she choked back the surge of emotion that gushed forth inside her. She pursed her lips hard and nodded. ‘Thanks,’ she said, returning the squeeze on her fingers.

  ‘It’s my pleasure. Just love my grandchild and love my son. Don’t assume that they won’t need you, because they will. They will. And we won’t give up on you. We’re your family now.’

  Ruby stared at her. How did she know? How did this woman know that her biggest fear in the world was that they would give up on her because they’d realise, like everyone else did, that there was something unlovable about her? How could Coral open her mouth and say aloud the words that she, Ruby, couldn’t even bear to think?

  What was she going to do if it all fell apart?

  In ten short days she’d gone from being terrified that she would be left alone to look after a baby to feeling terrified that Matteo would realise he could do it all without her.

  All her life she’d been so sure that she could tough it out alone, but the moment Matteo had walked into her life nothing had felt sure any more. She’d thrown caution to the wind and slept with him, and now she was pregnant by him and getting married. Her rules and boundaries were looser than the curtains wafting in the breeze.

  ‘I know,’ Coral said, sipping her tea but never taking her eyes from her, ‘that had things been different—the baby, this merger with Arturo—we might not be sitting where we are right now. But Matteo is very fond of you. I’ve no doubt about that. And what you’re going to do today shows me that you are very fond of him too.’

  Ruby stared at Coral, desperately keen to tell her just how much he meant to her...how he made her feel alive...how he understood her like no one had ever taken the trouble to do before. How he’d made her begin to feel strong and sure and confident about raising a child.

  ‘He’ll be a great dad,’ she said. ‘He’ll do everything for the baby.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Coral, smiling. ‘That’s exactly what I think too.’

  They sipped their tea in silence for another moment. Then Coral spoke again.

  ‘Family is very important to us. Your child—my grandchild—is going to be brought up in a loving family. And you, lovely, sweet Ruby, are going to be part of that loving family’

  Then she lifted the cup and saucer, lifted the tray, put it down carefully on the floor and enveloped her in the firmest, surest hug. And Ruby felt something thaw in the deepest, coldest corner of her heart. She squeezed her back, sealing a heartfelt promise and knowing that another little sliver of rainbow had spread its colour in her life.

  ‘Now, let’s get you looking even more beautiful. If that’s possible.’

  Calvaneo Capital’s London headquarters sat on the top ten floors of one of the tallest skyscrapers in Canary Wharf. The lift was fast and efficient, and already crowded with people in the uniform navy and grey of the world’s financial elite. It was eight a.m. GMT. Three hours before Matteo was due to make his vows in Rome.

  He was in no mood be kept waiting.

  He stepped out at the fiftieth floor and made his way to the reception area. He stood out from the throng, as he always did, his hair longer, a foot taller, broader. But it wasn’t just his body that set him apart today. The white rose and the morning suit raised eyebrows and smiles in his wake.

  He had phoned ahead, left a message, so the shape of Claudio coming along the teak-floored, glass-walled corridor towards him was no surprise. But the sight of him still made his heart pump and his fists clench and bile rise in his throat.

  ‘Matteo. How kind of you to drop by.’

  He looked older, his skin lined, but well
preserved. The hair slicked back from his face was a peppery grey, where it had once been black, and his jacket was buttoned over a paunch where before there had been a well-defined six-pack. But other than that he was exactly the same.

  ‘This isn’t a casual call, Claudio. As you can see I’m getting married later today, so I won’t be long.’

  He walked straight past Claudio to the doorway he’d seen him emerge from. The gold letters of his name etched in the glass confirmed it as the CEO’s office. He walked right in and looked around.

  It was a room for entertaining as much as business, laid out like a nineteen-twenties lounge, with overstuffed stylised furniture, beautiful objects and silver-framed photographs of the rich and the beautiful, clients and friends.

  He turned around. ‘For someone who’s stock is spiralling out of control, you’re looking remarkably calm. But then you’re used to bad news, being the cause of so much of it.’

  ‘You came all this way to tell me how calm I look? Why, thank you. You look very well too. Very handsome. Your father would be proud. I feel compelled to say that.’

  Claudio spoke in Italian, the language his father had spoken to him. Matteo ignored it.

  ‘New York closed with a ten percent decline in CC stock and London is just about to open. Tokyo will do so later. Your investors have abandoned you. You’re done. By the end of the day you’re not going to look so calm.’

  Claudio merely shrugged. ‘Again, your journey is wasted. The only pleasure is seeing you here. So much you remind me of Michele.’

  ‘My father loved you, Claudio. My father loved you and look what you did to him.’

  He hadn’t known what he was going to say, had only known he needed to say something, but seeing the shock on Claudio’s face he knew that he had hit the mark. Tears formed instantly in the man’s eyes and his jaw clenched as he swallowed hard.

  ‘He loved you. And my mother—and me. He was a good man who only wanted the best for all of us.’

  ‘You didn’t come here to tell me that. Why don’t you say what you really want to say?’

  ‘That I hate you? What good would that do? I’ve spent years doing that. Hating that you brought out a side of my dad that I never wanted to believe was true. But it was there, and maybe what you had together was beautiful once, but what you turned it into was sick and shameful, and you’ll have to live with that for ever.’

  ‘Michele was a coward...’

  ‘He was my father,’ Matteo said, launching himself across the room and grabbing Claudio by the collar in his two fists, bringing their faces inches apart. ‘And my children will be brought up respecting his memory.’

  Claudio was the coward. The fear was real in his eyes. Matteo shoved him away.

  ‘Good luck in finding anyone who’ll respect yours.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK precisely Ruby stepped from the bedroom and into the hallway. Light flooded down onto the mahogany floor...voices bubbled up from below. And panic clung to every fibre of her being.

  ‘Go to the top of the stairs and then wait there,’ whispered Coral behind her, resplendent in olive-green lace, scalloped-edged, knee-length and the perfect foil for her auburn hair.

  Ruby looked at her fairy godmother-in-law, as she was beginning to think of her, and then, emboldened by her strong, unflinching presence, took the steps along to top of the stairway.

  She looked at her feet in pointed cream satin shoes. Ahead a mirror showed her the image she still couldn’t get used to. The dress—provided at short notice by the famous designer Giorgos, who just happened to be one of Matteo’s closest friends—fitted her to perfection. Sleeveless, with a bodice cut sharply to reveal her collarbone, it dipped in a V that displayed a tiny hint of her cleavage. The empire line swelled into a tulip-shaped skirt, which ended mid-calf. Plain, simple, perfect. Her hair was piled high on her head, and a tiara of pearls held it in place.

  The tiara was her ‘old’—all the Rossini brides had worn it, and Coral had taken the greatest care in settling it onto her head. Her underwear was the ‘blue’—silk and lace—and the ‘borrowed’ was the pearl and diamond earrings from Coral, which hung in simple perfection from her lobes.

  The ‘new’ was the tissue-wrapped stockings she’d smoothed onto her legs and held in place with a suspender belt she’d never dreamed in a million years she’d wear. But the effect was lovely. And the thought of Matteo unfastening everything later was delicious.

  She clutched a tied bouquet of orchid stems and stood there at the top of the stairs, waiting while Coral skirted past her. Then, as a trio of strings started to play one of her favourite pieces by Bach, they both started to walk down.

  At the bottom, in a veil of sunbeams, she made her way through a pale-carpeted corridor to the room where Matteo stood, waiting. He wore a simple dark grey morning suit, a shirt as creamy as her dress, and no tie. But a little ivory rose poked above his breast pocket. His hair was swept back from his brow and brushed his collar. He turned and his brown berry eyes beamed right into hers and his mouth burst into a warm smile.

  Her heart thudded in her chest and her knees began to shake. The lump in her throat swelled and burned and tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

  He saw her falter and a look swept his face. He turned round and with the full force of his body and the power of his stare drew her towards him, one step at a time.

  My beautiful Ruby, he mouthed keeping his eyes trained on her. ‘Absolutely beautiful,’ he said aloud, when she took the final steps to him.

  All she could do was nod as she took her place beside him for the wedding ceremony, barely aware of the rows of people behind and the indomitable Coral in her green dress by her side.

  There were words and vows and rings, and despite no rehearsal he spoke clearly and confidently. And when he slid the solid gold band onto her finger she stared at it for a moment, almost unbelieving that it had actually happened.

  Then he pulled her towards him and gazed down at her. And, oh, how she loved him—so much that she could burst. She loved his mind and his spirit. She loved his beautiful soul. She loved what he had done for her and she loved the thought of a future together with him. She could barely trust herself to hope her dream would come true. She loved him—loved every pore and nerve and fibre of his body. Only him.

  He kissed her, and she told him with her lips how her heart beat only for him. And as he pulled back and smiled straight into her eyes, bathing her in warmth and tenderness, she knew he was finally going to say the words she had been longing to hear.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you for making me the happiest man alive.’

  Her heart flooded—but not with joy—and she fixed her smile into place. That was the moment. If he had felt love that was the moment he would have said it.

  Coral rushed up to them, and then things swirled around her—from signing to smiling and posing for photographs. And the whole time she felt Matteo’s arm around her shoulders or her waist, or his hand holding hers, whispers in her ear, stolen kisses.

  ‘We’ll get some pictures taken at the fountains later,’ he said.

  Her smile was still fixed. It was fine. This was how it was going to be. She loved him and he was happy.

  ‘The happiest man alive.’

  The most important thing was that her daughter was going to have a daddy. He was invested in their child. Coral too. She didn’t need to worry.

  But still that sickness spread through her—the terrifying fear that she would let them all down if she couldn’t show love, be loved in return.

  Matteo... What would happen when his deal went through? When he had his bank, his meetings and clients and charity benefits? When women would throw themselves at him?

  He loved women. He loved sex.

  He had married her, but only because he’d had to. He didn’t love h
er. Not the way a husband really loved his wife.

  And their daughter... What if she felt nothing for her child? What then?

  She stood by his side on the terrace outside the room where they had just said their vows. In the distance the roofs of the Roman skyline spread out in a clutter of terracotta and gold all the way to the plains beyond. Flimsy white clouds trailed across the sky.

  It was the perfect day to be married.

  She couldn’t wait for it to be over.

  ‘Come on, Ruby, this is the happiest day of my life. You’re my wife. We’re going to have a baby. We’re going to be happy. You’re going to go back to your dancing. I can go back to sport—properly, maybe one day. We couldn’t ask for more...’

  He scooped her close to his body.

  ‘Sweetheart, come on. Be happy.’

  She pulled her smile as wide as it would go, made her eyes sparkle, squeezed out a tiny chuckle. ‘I couldn’t be any happier. I’m just as pleased as you are. Everything is going to be great, I know.’

  Suddenly his face fell. His mouth hung open unhappily. His eyes bored into hers so fiercely that she had to bite her lip and look away. He shook his head and pulled her inside, along the hallway and into a room.

  ‘I know you. You’re faking this. You’re unhappy and you’re making stuff up in your head. You’re probably already planning how to get out of here.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ she lied.

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  He stood there, this solid wall of man, and she knew that even if she closed her eyes she would still be able to feel him. His physical presence was like a power source for her now. She needed him so badly in order to keep going. Because if she was left on her own she would falter and fail. She couldn’t leave now. She didn’t have the strength any more.

  ‘Promise me you won’t go,’ he said. ‘Stay with me, Ruby, please. Don’t take all this away. I need you.’

  ‘I know you need me now. And I’d never abandon this after coming so far. But you won’t need me for ever.’