The Italian's Demand

by Sara Wood

  She was trembling, visibly shaken by his passionate outburst.

  ‘You are very experienced and you know how to touch a woman and make her want you,’ she mumbled through her tears. ‘And it’s not fair! What chance have I—?’

  ‘None.’

  He kissed her, somehow moved by her helplessness. His mouth took in all her tears, gently erasing them from her face and she moaned, biting her lip as she remained stiff and unyielding in his arms.

  ‘Give in to it,’ he coaxed, kissing her mouth into soft pliancy again.

  ‘No!’ she croaked. ‘I’ll do everything I can to keep you away! You are a sexual adventurer, Vittore, eager to move from woman to woman. I despise you for that. And also for using your expertise on an innocent like me, as a means to an end. You want to show Lio that we’re in some kind of affectionate relationship, thinking that he’ll show more interest in you. Well, I won’t be used! I won’t! So get used to the idea of losing your bet! After what you did tonight, I’m convinced that you’re not worthy to be his father! And I hope to heaven I can protect him from your vile influence!’

  Weeping uncontrollably, she tore from his grasp and began to stumble towards the house, fumbling occasionally with the sheet which seemed intent on unravelling and tripping her up.

  Vittore kept a wise yard or two behind and only moved closer when he saw that she had crumpled into a heap at the foot of a flight of stone steps and seemed to be sobbing her heart out.

  ‘Verity—’

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ she yelled. ‘I can manage. It’s this wretched sheet. I’m all tangled up—and—and I w-want this nightmare to end and to be back in bed and for it all to have been a horrible dream!’

  Heaving a heavy sigh, he saw only one way out. He picked her up, ignoring her fists thumping against his chest, ignoring too the fact that her action had made the sheet expose more of her body than he would have wished to see.

  Grimly he strode to the house while she threatened him with hell and damnation if he laid a finger on her. With cold deliberation he tipped her on her bed.

  He bent low and kissed her fiercely until she began to unwind her taut limbs and they wrapped themselves around him. Viciously controlling himself, he waited until she was returning his kisses with frantic eagerness and then he whispered in her ear.

  ‘I could make love to you now,’ he said softly. ‘But I won’t, because that would be taking advantage of you. Is that the action of a man who means to have you and doesn’t care how he does?’

  She froze. He stalked out, closing the door with an unnecessarily hard slam.

  He’d make her come to him, he thought, shaking with rage. And she’d apologise for suggesting he might have acted dishonourably.

  A week, he vowed. That’s how long it would take.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALONE in her room, Verity tried to turn herself from wanton hussy into the sexless person she’d been before she’d met Vittore.

  In vain she tried to drag air into her lungs, to make her body rigid instead of the consistency of jelly, to clear her head of the battling emotions; anger and desire.

  She groaned, passing a shaking hand over her sweating forehead. How could she ever risk going to sleep again? Her unconscious mind might take over, she thought gloomily. She’d go into sleepwalking mode and appear in Vittore’s bedroom wearing nothing but a come-hither smile and proceed to humiliate herself again.

  Her hands covered her face in shame and she screwed her body up small as if to make it disappear. She couldn’t understand why she weakened every time Vittore touched her. Normally she was so strong-willed. With him, she had the strength of limp celery.

  Oh, this was awful! She had to think rationally. To work out where his interests lay. Then she might be able to understand his intentions.

  Tense and agitated, she jumped up and dressed in her old clothes and went downstairs to sit on the terrace. The cool night air soothed her fevered brow and her hectic breathing became calmer.

  Vittore, she reasoned, wanted Lio as soon as possible. His best way to achieve that would be—as she’d already thought—to have some kind of affectionate relationship with her. So she’d be mad ever to trust him by offering her virginity.

  Of course it was perfectly possible that his interest might be sexual as well. What red-blooded man would turn down the chance to make love to a willing woman, provided she was below the age of seventy and had her own teeth and hair? And Vittore had more red blood than most…

  He had only drawn back when he’d realised they might make a baby. Her mouth thinned. That must have been a shock! Before that moment he’d thought he had her on a plate—and that Lio would soon warm to him.

  But now she had to close her mind and body to Vittore. To care for Lio and keep him from harm. And do whatever was best for her darling baby.

  Perhaps because of the tense atmosphere between herself and Vittore, Lio seemed unusually clinging the next day.

  And, having been up half the night, Verity’s reserves of patience were lower than normal. On the beach below the house, she tried to be bright and perky for her nephew but it was hard with Vittore oozing charisma a few feet away and displaying his magnificent body in a brief pair of shorts.

  Casually he emerged from the beach house carrying a foot pump and proceeded to inflate a small boat. Without comment, he clambered into it and began paddling around the shallows of the cobalt sea.

  ‘’Ook!’ exclaimed Lio enviously.

  ‘Boat,’ she said, thinking what fun it looked.

  Enviously she shaded her eyes and gazed at the lazily reclining Vittore, whose eyes were masked by sunglasses.

  ‘Papa,’ Lio said suddenly.

  Verity froze. ‘Papa,’ she breathed, her heart going crazy.

  ‘Papa.’ Lio beamed and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Emotion filled her up. It was coming, she thought; Lio’s reliance on her would fade and be directed towards his father. The most natural thing in the world. They’d play boy’s games like football, kicking with the side of the foot instead of their toes as she did. Lio would squeal with delight as he was hurled about in the air and then deposited on his father’s broad shoulders. She could hardly breathe. Her beloved Lio would become a stranger she visited a couple of times a year.

  The pain seared her chest. With watery eyes, she fumbled her way to her feet and walked down to the water’s edge.

  ‘He said “Papa”,’ she announced flatly.

  The sunglasses were whipped off. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’ Oh, she thought, that was ungracious. But it hurt so much!

  ‘Verity!’ He leapt out, unusually graceless, landing in the water with a splash. She heard Lio laugh and clap behind her and the ache in her heart grew fiercer. Vittore found his feet and came to her, his eyes bright with joy. ‘Say it. Tell me again!’ he breathed.

  Her mouth wobbled horribly. ‘He—said—“Papa”,’ she parroted.

  She could feel Vittore’s tension, could see the heart-rending relief in his expressive face and body.

  He stepped to one side and looked down. She realised that Lio was inches away from her, his foreign legion hat askew on his blond head, deep blue eyes bright within their fringe of black lashes.

  Shaking, Vittore held out his hand to his son. ‘Lio! Come in the boat with Papa,’ he coaxed, an assumed jollity only just concealing his elation.

  Lio continued to stare. Vittore crouched down, a look of such pure love on his face that Verity actually willed Lio to accept his father’s hand. But she kept quiet, knowing that any word from her might remind Lio that he normally clung to her like moss to stone.

  ‘Veevee,’ Lio said in panic, reaching his arms high to Verity.

  ‘You go with Papa in the boat,’ she encouraged shakily.

  ‘No! Veevee!’ Lio’s face crumpled.

  ‘It’s OK. You take him,’ croaked Vittore.

  She glanced at him, appalled by the utter misery in his voice
. He didn’t look at her but rose and strode back up the beach, gathering his things and then heading up the path to the house, his entire body displaying a terrible dejection.

  She sought him out later, when Lio slept after lunch, the baby alarm safely in her pocket. A worried-looking Maria, brutally kneading bread on the thick marble counter in the kitchen, directed her eventually to the salon.

  Tentatively Verity opened the double doors. He sat by the open window, slumped on a huge sofa, his head in his hands. And she felt desperately sorry for him even though she should be glad that Lio was still a long way from accepting his father.

  She didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t fathom why she minded so much that he was so hurt by his son’s rejection. She despised Vittore, didn’t she? Her attitude made no sense at all.

  ‘Vittore,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Come to gloat?’ he growled.

  ‘No.’ He mustn’t think that. Quickly she padded in her bare feet across the cool marble floor, a long scarlet shirt concealing her white bikini. ‘I wanted him to acknowledge you,’ she told him shakily. ‘I wanted him to play in the boat with you. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know myself. Only that I can’t bear to see him rejecting you any more.’

  His brooding eyes flicked up to hers and then his lashes had lowered to hide his reaction.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he muttered. ‘It’s tearing me apart.’ He flashed her an angry look then. ‘The whole damn thing about the two of you is destroying me!’ he rasped.

  She made to place a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ he growled irritably and leapt up to stand in front of the window with his back to her, his shoulders high with tension. ‘You think I took advantage of you. I can’t tell you how that makes me feel. And I don’t know how I can convince you that I believed you knew what you were doing—and that I would have coaxed you back to bed if I’d truly thought you were sleepwalking.’

  She hung her head. ‘I daren’t trust you,’ she whispered. ‘Your reputation—’

  ‘I don’t have one!’ he snapped, spinning around to face her. ‘Except for honesty and honour! Don’t you know that I have been celibate ever since Lio was conceived? That I have paid for my mistake with Linda a thousand times and have shunned women as a result?’

  ‘Bianca—’ she began jerkily.

  ‘Bianca? She was the one who listened to my anguish, who plied me with coffee and sat up all night quietly holding my hand and keeping me sane!’ he muttered. ‘Ask my mother. She was there for me too. I love Bianca as a sister. But I’ve never felt passion for her, not even when she held me in her arms when I despaired of ever finding my son.’

  ‘You were engaged,’ she persisted.

  ‘No. It was assumed we’d get engaged. Bianca and I knew that would never happen. Why,’ he flung suddenly, ‘do you think I am so consumed with hunger for you? It’s because no woman has ever aroused me as much as you do—and because I have not been touched sexually for over two years and my blood beats hot and fast in my body every time you’re near!’

  ‘I—I can’t help that! What can I do?’ she cried, shocked by his fervour. Could that be true? If only…

  ‘Do? You could wear a refuse bag instead of that revealing wrap,’ he snarled and strode angrily out of the room.

  She didn’t know whether to smile or weep. So after checking that Lio still slept soundly, she went into the garden, hoping that its serenity would calm her down. She needed to think.

  ‘What a terrible mood Vittore’s in!’ exclaimed Honesty, appearing from behind a dark yew which she’d clearly been clipping into the shape of a manic-looking hedgehog.

  Verity sighed. So much for thinking time. But perhaps this would be the opportunity she wanted to learn a little more about Vittore.

  So she wandered over to Vittore’s mother, anxious to ask the questions that burned in her mind.

  ‘I expect he’s bothered about Lio,’ she replied as a starter. ‘He dearly wants to cuddle him.’

  ‘I know. I’m desperate too and I’m only his grandmother. I ache every time I see my grandson. I want to hold that little body and hug him tight.’ Honesty groaned extravagantly. ‘It must be doubly hard for Vittore, when he was such a devoted father.’

  And with that, she absently snipped off the tip of the hedgehog’s nose, making him look even odder.

  ‘He wasn’t away on business trips then?’ Verity probed.

  ‘No!’ The pruners were waved about dangerously and Verity ducked. ‘He hardly left Lio’s side. He fitted in his work at night, when Lio slept. Tore realised that his son wasn’t going to get much cuddling from Linda,’ Honesty mused. ‘I don’t think she knew how to be a mother. Abdicated her responsibilities as fast as she could and started going out to clubs.’

  Vittore’s mother began to dead-head roses and Verity helped, her pulses racing.

  ‘That must have upset him,’ she ventured, trying to keep her voice even.

  ‘Not really. I think he was relieved to be shot of her. It was a mistake to have married her,’ Honesty said sternly. ‘I told him at the time, but he would do the right thing. These Italians! Their honour and family name is of the utmost importance. Pick those lily beetles off, will you? I told him, if you don’t love her, if she’s threatening to abort her child—’

  ‘What?’ Verity gasped, frozen with horror.

  ‘Oh, it was the way Linda got him where she wanted him,’ Honesty said cynically. ‘She coveted his wealth and made a play. I scolded him for not using a contraceptive,’ she declared, making Verity blush at Honesty’s frankness. ‘But he said that Linda had told him she was on the pill. I knew then that this abortion thing was a ploy to land him. He couldn’t bear the thought of a child of his being killed. So they got married and his hell began.’

  ‘A…bortion?’ Verity whispered in horror.

  ‘I loathed the woman from then on.’ Honesty started savaging the roses in her righteous anger and a beautiful Fantin-Latour would have had its height cut from six to two feet, if Verity hadn’t intervened. ‘How could she use her unborn child as a means to an end?’

  Verity suddenly felt awful, probing into Vittore’s private affairs. She had no right. Except that she needed to know. Already she’d learnt more than she had wanted to hear. Linda was as bad as she’d feared. No wonder Lio had been thin and hungry and confused, if she was as bad a mother as Honesty had said.

  ‘Vittore must have needed comfort when his marriage failed,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s times like that when men turn to other women—’

  ‘Vittore?’ Honesty snorted. ‘He’d had his fingers bitten. He wasn’t going to stick them in the honey again. No. He just flung all his love at Lio, talked to me and Bianca about how he felt and did his best to keep the marriage going. He was always polite to Linda. Said she was the mother of his child and deserved that, at least. But I didn’t find it easy to be nice to her, I can tell you!’

  A drift of cosmos received Honesty’s ruthless attentions. Verity wondered how the garden survived her attacks, though she recognised that she was upset about her son and that pruning and chopping was her therapy.

  ‘No infidelity on Vittore’s part, then.’

  She needed to be sure. Though…what did a mother know about her children’s relationships? She bit her lip.

  ‘Huh. Infidelity. He wouldn’t stoop so low. He sees marriage as a sacrament. Pity Linda didn’t feel the same. There’s a Neapolitan saying. “Toothbrushes and wives are not for sharing.” Linda needed attention and love and admiration, you see, and she wasn’t getting it from Vittore. So she looked elsewhere. It was awful,’ Honesty said with a sniff, ‘seeing my son so miserable—and so horribly helpless!’

  ‘It must have been. How did he find out?’ Verity asked, gently placing her hand over the woman’s shaking fingers.

  Honesty turned to her, the bright eyes dull with misery. ‘In the worst possible way, Verity!’ she said hel
plessly. ‘Lio had a fever. One of those childhood things. The doctor came and Vittore spent all night sponging Lio down as he’d been instructed. In the morning when the fever had gone and Lio slept, Vittore went looking for Linda in a towering rage. He found her in a squalid little rental apartment with two drunken tourists. I won’t go into details. Vittore came back as white as a sheet. And that was it. My heart bled for him. He told her that he wanted a divorce.’

  ‘But…why did Linda run away, when she could have had half his fortune?’ Verity asked, ashamed to be linked with Linda, even by adoption.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Honesty. ‘She just disappeared off the face of the earth. And from that moment, Vittore grieved as though his life had ended. It was touching that the people in the village prayed for him. They are so fond of him,’ she said gently, tears blurring her eyes. ‘Maria made his favourite meals and he tried hard to eat them to please her.’ She sighed. ‘Everyone cares for my son. He is respected and loved by all who know him and I am so proud of him. It broke our hearts that he lost interest in life and became so thin and gaunt.’ Honesty snuffled into a handkerchief. ‘It was only Bianca who forced him to think of others by showing him pictures of sick children and reminding him that he still had more than others. It hurts me now to see him watching Lio and not being able to sweep his baby up in his arms and enjoy him as he used to. He deserves better. I can’t bear it, Verity,’ she sobbed. ‘I just can’t bear it!’

  She took Vittore’s mother in her arms and hugged her, shedding tears herself. It seemed she might have been wrong. Again. Even taking into account the fact that every mother thought her child was a swan, there was no mistaking the truth of Honesty’s words, or the unusual concern and affection shown by the villagers.

  ‘Help him!’ pleaded Honesty, clutching Verity tightly. ‘Lio needs his father and Vittore needs his son!’ she cried plaintively.

  Verity swallowed. ‘I know,’ she said in a husky whisper.

  The trouble was, she thought unhappily, she needed them both, too.