Shameful Secret, Shotgun Wedding

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘When?’ she asked him. ‘When shall I do this?’

  ‘Do it today,’ he commanded softly. ‘And later, I will come and meet with your mother myself.’

  So Cassie went home and broke the news that she was getting married. And she could see another reason for keeping her pregnancy secret. Deep down, wasn’t she worried that her mother might try to talk her out of marrying Giancarlo—and wasn’t it peculiar to discover that she didn’t want to be talked out of it? As if by some wishful-thinking kind of magic she might be able to shuffle the hand that fate had dealt her and find something hopeful in the cards which lay before her.

  In a slightly surreal state, she watched her mother’s uncertainty become dawning delight when an impossibly elegant Giancarlo turned up on their tiny doorstep later that evening. The stern and serious expression on his face was tempered by the celebratory bottle of champagne he carried and, later, by the captivating quality of his smile.

  Cassie felt appalled at just how utterly convincing and ruthless he could be in his pursuit of what he wanted. It was a side of him she had seen only once before—when he had bamboozled Hudson’s into not charging her with theft. She listened as he vowed to her mother that he would look after her and said that they both wanted the wedding to take place as soon as possible—and that he hoped there were no objections to that. Maybe if it had been anyone else her mother might have had a few. But who in their right mind could object to Giancarlo when he was ladling on the charm with a trowel?

  And it was only after he’d gone that her mother turned to her, a dreamy kind of smile on her face.

  ‘Oh, darling,’ she said. ‘Now I can see exactly why you don’t want to wait.’

  Cassie managed a bright smile as she met her mother’s eyes—her mother who had enjoyed a strong and loving marriage herself. What could she say? Because the truth of it was that part of her was longing to be Giancarlo’s bride and to wear his ring on her finger—despite knowing how foolish her little dreams were. Was that what people meant when they talked about hope triumphing over experience?

  They were married quietly, in London—because that had seemed the most appropriate venue after all. Giancarlo’s offer of a wedding anywhere in the world had seemed like something someone else would do—not Cassie—and she was still smarting from all the accusations of being a gold-digger which he’d hurled at her. And so, despite only ever having been to Paris, she turned down New York and the West Indies and all the other luxury destinations he assured her were there for the taking.

  She found herself caught up in a new and very efficient machine—one which was powered by money—and some of her new-found confidence seemed to desert her as a consequence. She would never have to save for anything again, she realised—with an odd little pang of nostalgia. Anything she and her baby wanted would be hers for the taking—and all she had to do was ask.

  A hurried shopping trip produced a cream cashmere dress and jacket to protect her from the January chill—but the arum lilies which she carried seemed waxy and unreal. And, in contrast to the paleness of her own wedding outfit, Giancarlo seemed to represent everything that was black—with his jet hair and eyes and the dark, formal suit emphasising every honed fibre of his powerful body.

  The wedding was small—Cassie’s mother and Gavin were their witnesses and, although Giancarlo told her to invite anyone she wanted, she couldn’t think of anyone apart from some of her school friends. And somehow it seemed strange to send out invites to a wedding when nobody knew them as a couple.

  Because they weren’t really a couple at all, were they? They were never intended to be—and if it weren’t for his seed growing deep in her belly, then they wouldn’t be here at all.

  As the car drew up outside the registrar’s office Cassie turned to Giancarlo—nervously fingering the white satin ribbon on her bridal bouquet. She looked up into the gleaming black eyes and longed for him to pull her into his arms, to tell her that it was all going to be fine. But the expression on his face seemed shuttered and tense, as if he couldn’t wait for the whole day to be over. And hadn’t she decided that she was going to be positive—to support him and be as much of a real wife as he would allow her to be?

  ‘Didn’t you want to invite any of your friends to the ceremony?’ she asked him softly.

  ‘No, I decided against it—it’s all too much of a rush. Word might get out to the press and I’d prefer for that not to happen. Don’t worry, mia bella piccola—you will be introduced to them all soon enough.’

  Cassie stared down at her fancy cream wedding shoes, wondering if he was ashamed of her—or worried that one of them would try to talk him out of it.

  ‘Now come along,’ he urged softly as the bitter January air blew into the car, and Cassie shivered despite the warm cashmere. ‘Time for you to become Signora Vellutini.’

  The wedding band was a sliver of platinum which seemed too big for her frozen finger, and afterwards they ate lunch with her mother and Gavin at a discreet and slick hotel not far from Giancarlo’s house. But despite the obstetrician she’d consulted in his plush Harley Street surgery assuring her that the occasional small glass of wine would be perfectly acceptable, Cassie could take only one sip of the fine champagne before quickly putting down the glass. It tasted sour. Acidic. Did her mother guess why she wasn’t drinking alcohol? she wondered.

  But it was clear to Cassie that her mum had a wonderful time—Giancarlo made sure of that. So much so that at times she felt almost like an outsider as she watched him employing more of that careless charm which had her mother laughing softly in response. And wasn’t that what had drawn her to him in the first place—that whole package of charisma and confidence and a determination to get what he wanted? It just seemed like such a long time ago when he had strolled up to her little stand exuding danger and sex appeal and she had melted like candle wax. She felt as if she’d lived a whole lifetime since then.

  Her mother left when the meal had ended—driven off in some style all the way back to Cornwall while Cassie and Giancarlo stood waving her off, her new husband’s arm resting lightly around her shoulder.

  ‘Your mother seemed happy enough,’ he commented.

  ‘Yes.’

  He turned her in his arms to face him. ‘You think she approves of your new husband, Cassandra?’

  ‘You know she does.’

  Giancarlo looked down at her, thinking how fragile and brittle she appeared—almost as if she might break in two. Like a china doll wearing her wedding finery. His eyes narrowed as he realised just how chalk-white her face was and the passion he had always felt for her was now tempered by a need to protect her, and to protect his baby. From now on, she must be cosseted, he realised grimly—for she did not appear to have been looking after herself.

  ‘I think it’s time to go home,’ he said roughly. ‘Don’t you?’

  Cassie touched the petal of a waxy lily and swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  But as the car drew to a smooth halt outside the massive town house she felt her stomach perform some kind of somersault. How peculiar it was to stand in front of that same house which had so intimidated her not very long ago. To now be able to call it her home. And to have the door opened by Gina—who surely felt much more comfortable in residence there than the new bride did?

  The housekeeper smiled. ‘Welcome home and congratulations, Signora Vellutini,’ she said quietly.

  Cassie nodded, feeling faintly ridiculous as she clutched her bouquet and gave Gina an uncertain smile. It was impossible to know what Gina was thinking—what was going on behind her own, rather formal smile. Did the housekeeper resent a new mistress coming into the house she had controlled for so long? she wondered.

  ‘Thank you so much, Gina,’ she answered quietly.

  Once the housekeeper had gone, Cassie turned to Giancarlo and she reached out her hand to touch her fingers to the faint shadowing at his jaw. It seemed a long time since she had touched him—and she felt oddly nervous about doing so again. And may
be it was time to snap out of the strange, dreamlike atmosphere which had been present all day.

  ‘Perhaps I put things a little clumsily earlier,’ she said softly. ‘I just wanted you to know that my mother had a wonderful time today, Giancarlo. Thank you.’

  He moved her cool fingers from his face and kissed their tips, one by one. ‘That is both my pleasure and my duty as your husband, cara.’

  Husband. A little thrill of pride and possession ran through her as she stared up into his formidable features. She still felt disconnected from him—as if they had never been intimate as a couple before, and yet the growing life within her made mockery of that particular thought. Maybe that was what they needed. To become lovers again and to connect at the most fundamental level of all. Wouldn’t that at least block out some of the harsh words they had spoken—and the realisation that he was only here under sufferance?

  ‘Shall we—go to bed?’ she asked tentatively.

  Giancarlo looked at the dark shadows under her eyes and the lines of tension which had pleated her pale brow and at that moment he felt a twist of guilt. She looked so damned young. So impossibly fragile. He thought of the stress she had been under and the new life which was growing within her. Maybe that was why her face looked so strained that she resembled a sacrificial lamb more than a new bride.

  ‘Bed is exactly what you need,’ he said.

  Cassie smiled as he took her upstairs to the master bedroom and stripped the clothes from her body as he had done many times before. But this time was different. This time there was no fire and urgency as he undressed her. His fingers were as light as feathers drifting over her skin. He seemed to be almost restrained as he carried her over to the bed and quickly pulled the silken cover over her—as if he wanted to shield her nakedness from his eyes. Was it possible that Giancarlo’s desire for her had died?

  And even as her body sank gratefully into the soft mattress she looked up at him in alarm—thinking how distant he seemed all of a sudden. Was he regretting that he had been forced to marry the mother of his child, or was he simply regretting not having invited his own family today, despite all the bad blood which had flowed between them?

  Maybe he was thinking about Gabriella—the woman he should have married. And wishing that it were her who now lay naked and waiting in his bed. Was he? She had to know. She had to.

  Some self-destructive urge took over and forced the question out—even though inwardly she prepared herself to be wounded by his answer. ‘And what about your family?’ she ventured as she looked up at him, wondering when he was going to get undressed and join her in bed.

  Giancarlo stared down at the slender shape of her body outlined beneath the coverlet and felt an unmistakable kick of lust. ‘What about them?’

  ‘None of them there today.’

  ‘I did not feel that it was…appropriate.’

  ‘Do they…your brother and his wife…do they know about our marriage?’

  ‘No,’ he answered flatly.

  Cassie sucked in a breath. ‘But even if…even if things aren’t good between you—don’t you think you should tell them?’

  He resented her intrusion—even though her words had hit home. ‘I was planning to.’

  ‘Oh? When were you going to do that?’

  He traced his finger over one of the faint shadows beneath her violet eyes and registered the sudden tremble of her lips. She looked all in. And even though the soft curves of her body were screaming out for his caress, he forced himself to draw back from her—telling himself that he must temper his hunger until the roses were back in her cheeks. She needed rest, not passion—and at least he could provide that for her. His mouth hardened. And maybe bury a few ghosts at the same time.

  ‘I thought I’d take you to Italy to meet them for yourself,’ he said slowly. ‘How does a honeymoon in Tuscany appeal to you, Cassandra?’

  Chapter Nine

  THE sleek black car moved through the darkening night and Cassie glanced out of the window, trying to quell her fluttering nerves. But it wasn’t easy—not when Giancarlo sat beside her, as silent and as unapproachable as a statue as they headed towards his old family home.

  Their honeymoon in Tuscany should have been the icing on the cake for a new bride who longed to know more about her husband’s past and what had helped make him the man he was today. It gave her the opportunity to visit one of the most beautiful places on earth—and the chance to meet Giancarlo’s twin brother, with whom he had fallen out so spectacularly, all those years ago.

  But it didn’t feel at all like that; it felt wrong—just as her life did. As if she was facing the unknown with a man who had become a stranger to her since their hurried marriage. And now she was heading towards a meeting which would intimidate the most confident of new brides.

  The facts spun round and round in her mind. Giancarlo’s twin was married to the woman who had shattered her new husband’s heart and his trust in women. And not only was Cassie going to have to meet her and be judged by her—but she was also going to have to face up to something even more unpalatable. Something which seemed to make a mockery of their marriage and their future life together.

  That Giancarlo had not made love to her since their marriage almost a week ago.

  She had tried to make excuses for his blatant lack of interest—that he worked too hard and had too many high-powered deals going through at the moment. But that had always been the case, and it had never been like this between them. No matter what had been going on at work, he had always been hungry for her when he had taken her in his arms.

  Yet now, he seemed to have acquired the knack of distancing himself from her—of seeming to be a million miles away even though they were alone together in the same room. The uninhibited lover she’d known during the days of their affair seemed to be a heady and distant memory.

  On their wedding night, she’d fallen asleep before he’d come to bed and by the time she’d woken in the morning he was already up, behaving more like a doctor than a lover. Bringing her breakfast in bed and sternly making sure that she drank her herb tea and ate the plateful of scrambled eggs.

  And afterwards, when she had tentatively tried to weave her arms around him, he had disengaged her and sternly told her that she needed to rest and recover.

  Recover from what? she’d wondered as he had left her lying there—feeling slightly foolish—while he went downstairs to make the first of many phone calls.

  The physical desert had continued during the next few days—and any brief contact from him had been solicitous rather than passionate. Without the reassurance of being desired, Cassie had felt her confidence trickle away. She felt as if he had tricked her—played some sort of cruel hoax on her by luring her into a marriage which had turned out to be empty. As if her pregnancy had made him stop desiring her—or perhaps he was just punishing her for having trapped him. She was only with him because of the baby, she reminded herself painfully. And only a fool would forget that.

  They had flown by private jet to Rome and spent four days sightseeing before heading for the Vellutini estate—but when at last they drove through the grand gates of the Villa Serenita and she saw the enormous floodlit stone building ahead of her, Cassie could clamp down her questions no longer.

  ‘How long is it since you’ve been here?’

  He shrugged. ‘Five years? Maybe six. I don’t remember.’

  ‘That’s a long time.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ignoring his monosyllabic response, she stared into the cold gleam of his ebony eyes. ‘Is that because—?’

  ‘It’s because it’s easier that way,’ he said, with faint impatience. But Giancarlo’s mouth hardened at her persistence and he wondered if she might ever take the hint. Hadn’t he told her enough about the past? Hadn’t she dug and dug to wheedle out more from him than he had ever intended her to know? About Raul. About Gabriella. And yet still she wanted more. Almost as if she wanted to suck him dry with her questions. ‘That’s just the
way it’s worked out. We meet up on or around my niece’s birthday—usually in Rome, or Milan. It suits us all that way. It’s no big deal.’

  Cassie wasn’t sure whether to believe him, but wise enough to heed the cool note of caution which had entered his voice—and maybe it was crazy to quiz him just before meeting his twin. Even so, she couldn’t help wondering if he felt envious when he looked at the massive Tuscan estate which could have been his. Or were his feelings still tied up with the woman who had chosen his brother? The woman she was soon to meet.

  Rubbing a speck of dust off her brand new handbag, Cassie played safe. ‘Tell me again—how old is your niece?’

  ‘Allegra? She’s twelve.’

  ‘It’s a pretty name. It’s…strange to think of your brother being father to a girl who’s nearly a teenager.’ She shot him a shy glance. ‘Especially when you’ll soon have a tiny newborn.’

  There was silence for a moment and Giancarlo felt the sudden lurch of his heart as he stared out into the Tuscan sky and the silver slither of the rising moon. A newborn. It sounded foreign. It felt foreign—because he still hadn’t got used to the idea—and most times he blotted it out because it seemed almost beyond his comprehension. He had not intended to become a father and knew nothing about babies—and somehow it had been easier to pretend it wasn’t happening. Safer too, since an online article he’d been reading had advised that early pregnancy was occasionally precarious and that babies could often be miscarried at this time.

  And yet Cassandra’s tentative words made the idea flare into reality in his mind. A newborn. Was it really possible—this miracle which had come on him so unexpectedly? His flesh and blood growing inside her even now? He recalled the photo which had illustrated the article he’d read—of a little blob with a big head and curled little limbs. Something which had looked unrecognisable and yet had unmistakably been the form of a baby.

  Suddenly, he reached across and laid his hand over her still-flat belly, unprepared for her little gasp of surprise. ‘Can you feel anything yet?’