The Italian's Christmas Housekeeper

by Sharon Kendrick

  Knowing it would be childish to turn her face away, Molly attempted a close approximation of a fond kiss, but inside she was seething as the door of the apartment slammed shut behind her departing husband. She felt as if the pink cloud she’d been floating on since the day they’d wed had suddenly turned black. Was it because, behind all the outward appearances of a relatively blissful new marriage, nothing much had changed? Despite him giving her a seat on the board of his charity, it seemed she wasn’t allowed to have any ideas of her own. She might be wearing his shiny gold wedding band but at that precise moment she felt exactly like the servant she’d always been. And there was another pressure, too. One she hadn’t dared to acknowledge—not even to herself, let alone to Salvio.

  Gloomily, she got out of bed and went to stare out of the window, where there was no sign of new life. They were already into April but spring seemed to have been put on hold by the harsh weather. Even the daffodils in the planters on Salvio’s roof terrace had been squashed by the unseasonable dump of snow which had ground the city to a halt for the last few days.

  No sign of life in her either.

  Her hands floating down to her belly, she prayed that this month she might get the news she was longing for, even though the low ache inside her hinted at an alternative scenario. She linked her manicured fingers together, dreading another month of unspoken disappointment. Of cheerfully convincing herself it would happen eventually. Of wondering how long she could continue walking this precarious tightrope of a marriage which had only taken place because her wealthy husband wanted an heir. Because what if she couldn’t conceive? She’d been pregnant once, yes, but there was no guarantee it would happen again. Life didn’t provide guarantees like that, did it?

  Forcing herself to get on with the day, she showered and dressed—slithering into a dress she wouldn’t have dared to wear a few months ago, even if she could have afforded to. But her body shape had changed since living with Salvio—and not just because she’d checked out the basement gym in this luxury apartment block and discovered she liked it. She ate proper regular meals now because her Neapolitan husband’s love of good food meant that he wasn’t a great fan of snacks, and as a consequence she was in the best shape of her adult life.

  She took a cab to her charity lunch, which was being held in the ballroom of one of the capital’s smartest hotels and was today awarding acts of bravery involving animals as well as humans. She particularly enjoyed hearing about the kitten who had been rescued from the top of a chimney pot by a nineteen-year-old university drop-out who had previously been terrified of heights. She chatted to him afterwards and he told her that he’d decided he was going to train as a vet, and Molly felt a warm glow of pleasure as she listened to his story.

  She was just chopping vegetables for a stir-fry when Salvio rang from Los Angeles, telling her he missed her and, although she wanted to believe him, she found herself wondering if he was just reading from a script. It was easy to say those sorts of things when he was thousands of miles away, when the reality was that he’d made her feel she’d stepped out of line this morning just because she’d dared express an opinion of her own.

  Well, maybe it was time to stop drifting around in a half-world of pretence and longing. She would sit him down when he returned from his trip and they would talk honestly because, even though the truth could hurt, it was better to know where you stood. And even though her stupid heart was screaming out its objections she couldn’t keep putting it off. She would ask him if he really wanted to continue with the marriage and maybe it was better to confront that now, before there was a baby.

  But then something happened. Something which changed everything.

  It started with an email from her brother which arrived on the day Salvio was due to return from America. Robbie was notoriously unreliable at keeping in touch and she hadn’t heard from him since the wedding, even though she’d sent several lovely photos of him dancing with one of Salvio’s distant cousins at the reception. She hadn’t even mentioned the loan he’d asked her husband for—deciding it was an issue best settled between him and Salvio.

  So her smile was one of pleasure when she saw new mail from Robbie Miller, which had pinged into her inbox overnight, with the subject line: Have you seen this?

  ‘This’ turned out to be an attachment of an article taken from a newspaper website. An American newspaper, as it happened. And there, in sharp Technicolor detail, was a photograph of her husband, sitting outside some flower-decked restaurant with a beautiful blonde, the sapphire glitter of a sunlit sea in the background.

  Her fingers clawed at the mouse as she scrolled down the page but somehow Molly knew who Salvio’s companion was before she’d read a single word. Was it the woman’s poise which forewarned her, or simply the way she leaned towards Salvio’s handsome profile with the kind of intimacy which was hard-won? Her heart clenched with pain as she scanned the accompanying prose.

  Heartthrob property tycoon Salvio De Gennaro

  was pictured enjoying the sea air in Malibu today.

  Newly wed to former maid Molly Miller, in a lavish ceremony which took place in the groom’s native Naples, the Italian billionaire still found time to catch up with ex-fiancée Lauren Meyer.

  With the ink barely dry on her divorce papers, perhaps heiress Lauren was advising Salvio on some of the pitfalls of marriage.

  Either that, or the Californian wine was just too good to resist...

  Hands shaking, Molly stared at the screen, closing her eyes in a futile bid to quell the crippling spear of jealousy which lanced through her like a hot blade, but it was still there when she opened them again, her gaze caught by the glitter of the diamonds at her finger. The diamonds she had once compared to tears, rather than rain. But there were real tears now. Big ones which were splashing onto her trembling fingers. Pushing her chair away from the desk, her vision was blurred as blindly she stumbled into the bedroom. She rubbed her fists into her eyes but the stupid tears just kept on flowing, even though deep down she knew she had no right to feel sorrow. Because it wasn’t as if theirs was a real relationship, was it? She had no right to be jealous of a husband who had never loved her, did she? Not really. It had only ever been a marriage of convenience—providing each of them with what they wanted.

  Or rather, what she’d thought she’d wanted... Security and passion with a man she’d begun to care for and, ultimately, a family of her own. Only now the truth hit her with a savage blow as she forced herself to acknowledge what it was she really wanted. Not the fancy penthouse or the different homes dotted all around the globe. Not the platinum credit card with its obscene spending limit.

  She wanted Salvio’s love, she realised—and that was just a wish too far. He didn’t do love—at least, not with her. But he had loved Lauren. And try as she might, she just couldn’t put a positive spin on his reunion with his ex-fiancée in that sunny and glamorous Malibu setting. For the first time in her life she was right out of optimistic options.

  There were no tears left to cry as she walked across the bedroom, but she was filled with a strange new sense of calm as she opened up the wardrobe and took out her battered old suitcase, knowing what she intended to do.

  She would do the brave thing.

  The right thing.

  The only thing.

  * * *

  ‘Molly?’ Salvio frowned as he walked into an apartment which instinct told him was empty. Yet he’d texted her to tell her he was on his way home and he’d assumed she would be waiting with that soft smile which always greeted him when he arrived home from work. ‘Molly?’ he called again, even though the word echoed redundantly through the quiet apartment.

  He found the note quickly, as he had obviously been intended to. One of those brief notes which managed to say so little and yet so much, in just a few stark words. And sitting on top of it was her diamond ring.

  Salvio.

 
I’ve seen the newspaper article about you and Lauren and I want to do the best thing, so I’m staying in a hotel until I can get a job sorted out.

  I’ll send you my address when I have one, so you can instruct your lawyers.

  It’s been an amazing experience, so thank you for everything. And...in bocca al lupo.

  Crushing the note in an angry fist, he strode over to the computer and saw the article immediately, reading it with a growing sense of disbelief before cursing long and loud into the empty air. Why hadn’t any of his staff alerted him to this? Because his assistant had been instructed to treat gossip columns with the contempt they deserved, by ignoring them. He stared at the photo, thinking that whoever said the camera didn’t lie must have been delusional. Because it did. Big-time.

  He saw Lauren’s finely etched profile and the angled bones of her shoulder blades. Her long blonde hair was waving gently in the breeze and she was leaning forward with an earnest expression on her face. It must have been taken just before his response had made her delicate features crumple and her blue eyes darken with disbelief.

  Pulling the phone from his pocket, he found Molly’s number and hit the call button, unsurprised when it went straight to voicemail over and over again, and his mouth hardened. Did she think she could just walk out on him, leaving nothing but that banal little note?

  Scrolling down, he found another number he used only very infrequently. His voice lowered as he began to speak in rapid Neapolitan dialect, biting out a series of terse demands before finally cutting the connection.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MOLLY STARED AT the richly embossed walls of the fancy hotel and the dark red lilies which were massed in a silver vase. She’d chosen the five-star Vinoly because she’d heard Salvio mention it, but as from tomorrow she would start searching for somewhere cheaper to stay. No way was she going to try to cling to the high-life she’d enjoyed during her brief tenure as his wife, because that life was over and she needed to get used to it.

  The phone rang but she didn’t need to look down to see who was calling. Salvio. Again. After yet another brief internal tussle she chose to ignore it, just like she’d avoided reading the texts he’d been sending. Because what was the point in hearing anything he had to say? What if his smooth weasel words tempted her back into his arms and the guarantee of heartbreak? She didn’t want to hear excuses or half-truths. She wanted to preserve her sanity, even if her heart had to break in the process.

  But first she needed to start looking for a job. A live-in job she could practically do with her eyes closed. She would sign up with an agency in the morning and tell them she wanted a fresh start. Somewhere she’d never been before—like Scotland, or Wales. Somewhere new so she could be completely anonymous while licking her wounds and trying to forget that for one brief shining moment she’d been the wife of a man who...

  She bit her lip.

  A man she’d fallen in love with, despite all her best efforts to remain immune to him.

  But Salvio hadn’t wanted her love. Only Lauren’s. She swallowed. Was the beautiful heiress willing to give Salvio a second chance? Was that the reason behind their secret liaison when they’d been making eyes at one another in the Californian sunshine?

  She didn’t feel hungry but she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and she always used to tell Robbie that your brain couldn’t function properly unless you kept it nourished. Ordering a cheese omelette from room service, she thought about her brother. She hadn’t replied to his email, mainly because she couldn’t think of anything to say. Not yet, anyway. She wondered if he’d acted out of the goodness of his heart. If sending the proof of Salvio’s clandestine meeting was a brotherly intervention to protect her from potential hurt. Or had Robbie been motivated by spite—because his wealthy new brother-in-law had refused to give him the loan he’d wanted?

  She paced the room, unable to settle. Unable to shift the dark features of her husband from her mind and wondering whether she would ever be able to forget this interlude. Or to—

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud rap on the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ Molly called out sharply.

  ‘Room service!’

  She opened the door to the woman’s voice, her heart crashing against her ribcage when she saw Salvio standing there, holding a tray dominated by a silver dome. In the distance was the retreating view of a hotel employee, who’d obviously been rewarded for allowing this bizarre role-reversal to take place. Which was exactly what it felt like. Salvio in a subservient role holding a tray, and her opening the door of some swanky hotel room. Except he didn’t stay subservient for very long.

  ‘Step aside, Molly,’ he clipped out.

  ‘You can’t come in.’

  ‘Just try stopping me.’

  She didn’t dare. She’d never seen him look so determined as he stormed into her room. There was a clatter as he slammed the tray down and Molly shuddered to think what damage he must have inflicted on her cheese omelette. Not that she wanted it any more. How could she possibly have eaten anything when she could barely breathe?

  He turned round and she was taken aback by the fury which was darkening his imposing features into an unrecognisable mask. ‘Well, Molly?’ he snarled.

  ‘Well, what?’ she retorted. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘You booked this room with our joint credit card.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And therefore you were traceable. I had one of my contacts look into it for me.’

  She screwed up her brow. ‘Isn’t that...illegal?’

  He shrugged. ‘When a man wishes to find his errant wife then surely he will use whatever means are available to him.’

  ‘Well, you’ve wasted your time because there’s nothing to say!’

  ‘I disagree. There’s plenty to say, and we’re having this out right now.’

  And suddenly Molly knew she couldn’t let him take over and dominate this situation by the sheer force of his indomitable character. Yes, he was powerful, rich and successful, but she was his wife. His equal, despite the inequality of their assets. That was what she’d vowed to be when she had agreed to marry him, but somewhere along the way her resolve had slipped. Was that because the more she’d started to care for him, the harder she had found it to assert herself?

  Well, not any more. She needed to make it plain that, although she might not have anything of material value, she valued herself. And she would not allow Salvio De Gennaro to make a fool of her, or for her heart to be slowly broken by a man who was incapable of emotion.

  ‘I saw the article from the American newspaper.’

  ‘I know you did. Your brother sent it to you.’

  ‘Did you find that out illegally, too?’ she scorned.

  ‘No, Molly. You left your computer open.’

  ‘Well, if you’d looked a little harder you’d have seen that I also did a room search for the Vinoly hotel,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Which wouldn’t have involved getting someone to snoop on me!’

  Unexpectedly, he sighed and a sudden weariness touched the corners of his dark eyes as he looked at her. ‘What do you think I did in Los Angeles, Molly?’ he questioned tiredly. ‘Do you think I had sex with Lauren?’

  A spear of pain shot through her. ‘Did you?’

  He winced as he raked his fingers back through his jet-dark hair. ‘No, I did not. She heard I was in town and got in touch with me and I agreed to meet her for lunch.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ He gave an odd smile. ‘I thought it made sense to put away the past for good.’

  ‘Only I suppose she’d suddenly realised the stupid mistake she’d made in letting you go?’ accused Molly sarcastically.

  He shrugged. ‘Something like that. She is recently divorced. She asked for another chance.’

  ‘And you said?’

 
There was silence for a moment and Molly actually thought that her heartbeat had grown audible—until she realised that the silver clock was thumping out the hour.

  ‘I said I was in love with my wife,’ he said simply. ‘Only I’d been too stupid to show her how much.’

  She shook her head, not believing him. Not believing he would ever admit to love or stupidity. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she whispered.

  ‘I know you don’t and maybe I deserve that.’ He hesitated, like someone who was learning the words of a new language. ‘I know that at times I’ve been cold and difficult.’

  ‘It isn’t that, Salvio! It’s the fact that you’re completely backtracking on everything you said. You told me you didn’t do love. Not any more. Remember? That you’d loved Lauren and after you broke up, you’d closed off your heart. And if that was true—if you really did love her like you claim—then how come it has all just died? Is love only a temporary thing, Salvio—which changes like the moon?’

  Deeply admiring of her logic at such an intense moment, Salvio took a deep breath. He felt as if he were on a platform in front of a thousand people, about to make the most important speech of his life. And he was. But not to a thousand people. To one. To Molly. The only one who really mattered.

  And his whole future hinged on it.

  ‘I thought I loved Lauren because that’s how I felt at the time,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘And surely it is a kind of treachery to deny the feelings we once had? That would be like trying to rewrite history.’ There was a pause. ‘But I see now it wasn’t real love—it was a complex mixture of other stuff which I was too immature to understand.’

  ‘What kind of stuff?’ she questioned, as his voice tailed off.

  ‘It was more to do with a young man who wanted to conquer the elusive,’ he admitted. ‘A man who for a while became someone he wasn’t. Someone blinded by an ideal, rather than a real person—and Lauren was that ideal. And then I met you, Molly. The most real person in the world. You charmed me. Disarmed me. You crept beneath my defences before I even realised what was happening. You made me feel good—you still do—and not just in the obvious way. It’s like I’m the best version of myself whenever you’re around. Like I can achieve anything—even if my instinct is to fight against it every inch of the way, because there’s a part of me which doesn’t really believe that I deserve to be this happy.’