Passion's Mistress

by Helen Bianchin

  ‘If you’d had sufficient respect for our marriage, I wouldn’t have felt compelled to leave,’ she managed carefully. There was an inherent integrity apparent, a strength that came from deep within. ‘And rehashing the past has no relevance to Ann-Marie’s future.’

  She could feel his anger emanating through the pores of his skin, and all her fine body hairs rose in protective self-defence. He could have shaken her to within an inch of her life, and taken extreme pleasure in her pain. It was there in his eyes, the tautly bunched muscles as he held himself rigidly in control. The promise of retribution was thinly veiled, and she felt immeasurably afraid, aware that such punishment would be swift and without warning—an utter devastation. But not yet, she reasoned shakily. A superb tactician, he would derive infinite satisfaction from playing out her fear.

  ‘You’ve reached a decision?’

  Her heart stopped, then clamoured into a thudding beat. ‘Yes.’ One look at his hard, obdurate features was sufficient to ascertain his inflexibility.

  ‘Must I draw it from you like blood from stone?’ he pursued, his voice assuming a deadly softness, and her eyes flared with resentment.

  ‘I won’t allow Ann-Marie to be a metaphorical bone we fight over in a lawcourt,’ she said hardily. ‘Nor will I put her through the emotional trauma of being bandied back and forth between two parents.’ Her head lifted slightly and her chin tilted with determination. ‘However, I have one condition.’

  One eyebrow slanted in silent cynicism. ‘And what is that?’

  ‘You give up your women friends.’

  He looked at her for what seemed an age, and she was conscious of an elevated nervous tension as the silence between them stretched to an unbearable length.

  ‘Could you be more specific?’

  ‘Lovers,’ she said tightly, hating him.

  ‘Does that mean you are prepared to accommodate me in bed?’ he pursued with deadly softness.

  Her heart stopped, then clamoured into a thudding beat at the memory his words evoked, and the nights when she’d behaved like a mindless wanton in his passionate embrace. With concentrated effort she managed to keep her gaze steady. ‘No, it doesn’t, damn you!’

  Stefano remained silent, his eyes watchful as he witnessed the fleeting change of her emotions, then after a measurable silence he ventured silkily, ‘You expect me to remain celibate?’

  Of its own volition, her hand lifted to her hair and eased a stray tendril behind on ear, the gesture unconscious and betraying her inner nervousness. ‘I’ll live in the same house,’ she declared quietly. ‘I’ll play at being your social hostess. For Ann-Marie’s sake, I’ll pretend everything between us is fine.’ Her eyes were wide, clear, and filled with resolution. ‘But I refuse to share your bed.’

  The edge of his mouth lifted in a gesture of musing mockery. ‘I shall insist you share the same room.’

  ‘Why?’ Carly demanded baldly.

  His eyes speared hers, their depths hard and inflexible. ‘Because I choose never to lose.’

  ‘Our marriage meant nothing to you!’

  ‘You think not?’ Stefano countered with unmatched cynicism. ‘I retain a clear memory of your…’ He paused imperceptibly, then added mockingly, ‘Contentment.’

  ‘You gave me beautiful things, put me in a beautiful home, took me out to beautiful parties where beautiful people mingled and made out they were friends.’ She felt incredibly sad. ‘Except nothing was beautiful. Not really. I was a new playmate, someone you could show off when the occasion demanded.’ Her eyes clouded, and her lashes fluttered down to form a protective veil. ‘I was too young, too naïve, and I didn’t know the rules.’

  His expression hardened, and only a fool would choose to disregard the element of tensile steel beneath his sophisticated veneer, for apparent was a sense of purpose, a formidability that was infinitely daunting.

  ‘And now you do?’ he taunted silkily.

  Her eyes were remarkably clear and steady, her resolve derived from an inner strength she would never allow him to destroy. ‘I care for my daughter more than life itself,’ she vowed quietly. ‘Her health and well-being take precedence over anything you can throw at me.’

  His eyes reflected an indomitable strength of will, and, unless she was mistaken, a chilling degree of silent rage.

  Self-preservation was a prime motivation, yet right at this instant she felt as vulnerable as a cornered vixen. ‘I insist on continuing with my career—even if it’s only on a part-time basis.’

  He didn’t display any emotion whatsoever, and she shivered, aware of the force she was dealing with.

  ‘You’ll take an extended leave of absence, effective almost immediately, until Ann-Marie has recovered fully from surgery and is able to return to school.’

  An angry flush crept over her cheeks as she fought to remain calm beneath his deliberate appraisal. ‘It never entered my head to do otherwise,’ she retaliated, determined to press home every point in her intention to set a personal precedent. ‘However, I studied very hard to achieve my present position, and I have no intention of giving it up.’

  ‘I’m sure Clive Mathorpe will be amenable to your working a reduced number of hours consistent with the time Ann-Marie spends at school.’

  Cool, damning words, but carrying a weight she found impossible to ignore. She felt drained, emotionally and physically, and she needed to be alone.

  ‘Will you please leave?’

  ‘When do you collect Ann-Marie from the party?’

  Carly’s eyes flew to her watch, confirming with immeasurable relief that it was only minutes past three.

  ‘Soon,’ she acknowledged. ‘I told Susy’s mother I’d join her and the other mothers for afternoon tea.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll drive you there.’

  A surge of anger rose to the surface, colouring her cheeks and sharpening her features. ‘Damn you,’ she cursed fiercely. ‘I won’t introduce you to Ann-Marie in one breath and reveal you’re her father in the next!’

  ‘Putting off the inevitable won’t achieve anything,’ Stefano stated in a voice that was infinitely dangerous. ‘Invite me to dinner tonight.’

  She closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again. ‘Can’t it wait a few days?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to the specialist and arranged an appointment with the neurosurgeon for Tuesday. It’s highly possible she’ll undergo surgery within a week.’ His gaze seemed incredibly dark as his features assumed a harsh, implacable mask. ‘It’s imperative that you’re both established in my home as soon as possible. Emotional stability is crucial to her recuperation.’

  ‘When she’s fully recovered is soon enough,’ Carly cried, hating the way he was taking charge.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he informed her with diabolical insistence.

  ‘No,’ she denied at once. ‘It will only cause her anxiety and add to the trauma of hospitalisation and surgery.’

  ‘Use whatever guise you choose,’ he insisted softly. ‘But do it, Carly. Ann-Marie will soon accept I have a rightful place in her life—as she has in mine.’

  A holiday, a brief stay, was the only tenable explanation, she decided, aware that Ann-Marie would probably view the proposal as something of an adventure.

  ‘I’ll be back at five,’ he declared hardly. ‘And I’ll bring dinner. All you’ll have to do is serve it.’ His gaze seared her soul. ‘Don’t even think about running away, Carly,’ he warned softly. ‘This time, I’ll search until I find you, and afterwards you’ll wish you were dead.’

  She stood transfixed as he turned and walked to the door, then quietly left the apartment.

  It took ten minutes for her to regain some measure of composure, a further five before she took the lift down to the underground car park.

  To sit with several other young mothers sipping tea and sharing party fare proved an anticlimax, and Carly felt as if she was operating on automatic pilot while her brain whirled off on a tangent.

  She smiled a lot, and
she even managed to laugh with apparent spontaneity at an amusingly told anecdote. Inside, she was a mess, conscious with every passing minute, each glance at Ann-Marie, of the impact Stefano would have on their lives. Especially her own.

  The most pressing problem was finding the right words that would prevent Ann-Marie from forming any prejudice, one way or the other, about her mother’s actions. Children were incredibly curious, and Ann-Marie was no exception.

  For the following half-hour Carly watched Susy unwrap her presents, unable afterwards to remember more than a few, then, when the birthday cake was cut, she helped distribute the pieces.

  Soon it was time to leave, and in the car she tussled with her conscience, agonising over how she should explain Stefano and their reconciliation, aware that the little girl was too excited after the party to really absorb much of what her mother had to say.

  While driving a car in traffic was hardly the time or place, and as soon as they entered the apartment she plugged in the kettle, made herself a cup of strong tea, then settled down beside Ann-Marie on the sofa.

  ‘Someone very special is going to have dinner with us tonight,’ Carly began quietly, aware that she had her daughter’s undivided attention by the bright curiosity evident in a pair of grey eyes that were identical to Stefano’s.

  ‘Sarah?’

  ‘No, darling.’ She hesitated slightly, then offered quietly, ‘Your father.’

  Ann-Marie’s eyes widened measurably and her expression assumed a solemnity beyond her tender years. ‘You said my father lived a long, long way away, and you left him before he knew about me.’ The eyes grew even larger. ‘Why didn’t you want to tell him?’

  Oh, dear lord. Out of the mouths of babes! ‘Because we had an argument,’ Carly answered honestly. ‘And we said things we didn’t mean.’ An extension of the truth, for she had said them—Stefano hadn’t uttered a single word in his defence.

  ‘How did he find out about me?’ Ann-Marie queried slowly.

  ‘Your father moved to Sydney several months ago,’ Carly said quietly, watching the expressive play of emotions evident. ‘I’ve been in touch with him.’

  ‘Why?’

  If only there were a simple answer! ‘I thought it was time he knew about you.’

  Ann-Marie’s gaze didn’t waver, and it seemed an age before she spoke. ‘And you don’t not like him any more?’

  She hid a sad smile at Ann-Marie’s phraseology, and prayed the good lord would forgive her for the fabrication. ‘No.’

  ‘Now he wants to meet me,’ Ann-Marie said with childish intuition, and Carly nodded her head in silent agreement, then endorsed,

  ‘Yes, he does. Very much.’

  ‘Is he angry with you for not telling him about me?’

  ‘A little,’ she admitted gently.

  Ann-Marie’s expression became comically fierce, and her chin jutted forward. ‘If he’s nasty to you, I’ll hit him.’

  The mental picture of a delicate, curly-haired six-year-old lashing out at a six-feet-plus male frame brought a slight smile to Carly’s lips. ‘That would be very rude, don’t you think? Especially when he’s a very kind man.’ Not to her, never to her. However, she had no doubt he would be kind to his daughter.

  ‘Does he want us to live together and be a family?’

  Her answer had to be direct and without hesitation. ‘Yes,’ she said simply.

  ‘Do you want us to live with him?’ Ann-Marie persisted, and Carly felt as if she was caught in a trap with no way out.

  ‘Yes.’ Two untruths in the space of two minutes. If she wasn’t careful, it could become a habit. ‘Let’s go and freshen up, shall we? He’ll be here soon.’

  ‘What do I call him?’ Ann-Marie asked several minutes later as she stood quietly while Carly tidied her hair and redid her ribbons.

  Carly had a terrible feeling the questions could only get worse! ‘What would you like to call him?’

  Ann-Marie appeared to deliberate, her eyes pensive as a slight frown creased her small brow. ‘Daddy, I guess.’ Her eyes moved to meet those of her mother in the mirror. ‘Will I like him?’

  She forced her mouth to widen into a warm smile, then she bent down to brush her lips against her daughter’s temple. ‘I’m sure that once you get to know him you’ll like him very much,’ she assured her quietly.

  Ann-Marie looked at her mother’s mirrored reflection and queried with puzzlement, ‘Aren’t you going to put some lipstick on?’

  Carly didn’t feel inclined to do anything to enhance her appearance, although she reached automatically for a slim plastic tube and outlined her mouth in clear red.

  The sound of the doorbell heralded Stefano’s arrival, and, catching hold of Ann-Marie’s hand, she summoned a bright smile. ‘Shall we answer that?’

  I don’t want to do this, a voice screamed silently from within, aware that the moment she opened the door her life would change irrevocably.

  Carly schooled her features into an expression of welcome, and although she registered his physical presence she felt akin to a disembodied spectator.

  Except that this was no nightmarish dream. Stefano Alessi represented reality, and she issued a greeting, aware that he had exchanged the formal business suit worn a few hours earlier for casual dark trousers and an open-necked shirt.

  Carly barely hid a gasp of surprise as he reached out and threaded his fingers through hers, tightening them imperceptibly as she attempted to pull away from his grasp.

  She registered a silent protest by digging the tips of her nails into hard bone and sinew. Not that it did any good, for he didn’t even blink, and she watched in silence as his mouth curved into a warm smile.

  Supremely conscious of Ann-Marie’s intent gaze, she managed to return it, and she glimpsed the faint narrowing of his eyes, the silent warning evident an instant before they swept down to encompass his daughter.

  ‘Hello, Ann-Marie.’

  He made no attempt to touch her, and Ann-Marie looked at him solemnly for several long seconds, her eyes round and unwavering before they shifted to her mother, then back again to the man at her side.

  ‘Hello,’ she answered politely.

  Carly felt as if her heart would tear in two, and she held her breath, supremely conscious of the man and the child, one so much a part of the other, both aware of their connection, yet each unsure quite how to proceed.

  In a strange way, it allowed her to see a different side of the man, a hint of vulnerability evident that she doubted anyone else had ever witnessed. It surprised her, and made her wonder for one very brief minute how different things might have been if she’d stayed in the marriage, and if he would have given up Angelica Agnelli and assumed the role of devoted father.

  A knife twisted deep within her, and the pain became intense at the thought of Stefano taking delight in all the changing facets of her pregnancy, the miracle of the birth itself, and the shared joy of their new-born child.

  She’d denied him that, had felt justified in doing so, and if it hadn’t been for Ann-Marie’s illness she doubted that she’d ever have allowed him to become aware of his daughter’s existence.

  His fingers tightened around her own, almost as if he could read her thoughts, and she summoned the effort to move into the lounge, indicating one of two chairs.

  ‘Please, take a seat.’ Her voice sounded strange, not her own at all, and she extricated her hand from his, aware that it was only because he allowed her to do so.

  ‘I hope you like chicken,’ Stefano said, holding out a large carrier bag suitably emblazoned with an exclusive delicatessen logo. ‘There’s a variety of salads, some fresh bread rolls, cheese. And a bottle of wine.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Carly acknowledged with contrived warmth, and preceded him into the kitchen.

  They ate at six, and Carly was aware of an inner tension that almost totally destroyed her appetite. There was no lull in conversation, and although Ann-Marie displayed initial reservation it wasn’t long before she was
chatting happily about school, her friends, Sarah, and how much she’d love to own a dog.

  ‘I have a dog,’ Stefano revealed, and Carly stifled a mental groan in the knowledge that he had just won a massive slice of Ann-Marie’s interest, for the ‘no animals allowed’ rule enforced by the apartment managers ensured that tenants couldn’t have pets.

  Ann-Marie could barely hide her excitement. ‘What sort of dog?’

  Carly waited with bated breath, and had her worst fears confirmed with Stefano enlightened her. ‘A Dobermann pinscher.’

  ‘Mummy said that one day when we live in a house we can have a poodle.’

  Stefano cast Carly a musing glance at her choice before turning his attention back to his daughter. ‘In that case, we’ll have to see about getting you one.’

  It was bribery, pure and simple, and Carly hated him for it.

  By the time Ann-Marie was settled happily in bed and asleep, it was clear that Stefano had succeeded in winning a place in his daughter’s affections.

  ‘I have to congratulate you,’ Carly said quietly as she handed him some freshly made coffee. Then she crossed the small lounge and selected a chair as far distant from his as possible.

  His gaze was startlingly level. ‘On developing an empathy with my daughter?’

  She met his eyes and held their gaze with all the force of her maternal instincts. ‘If you do anything to hurt her—ever,’ she emphasised softly, ‘I’ll kill you.’

  He didn’t speak for several long seconds, and Carly felt close to screaming point. ‘You wanted for her to hate me?’

  ‘No. No,’ she repeated shakily, knowing that it wasn’t true.

  ‘Yet you decry the speed with which she has gifted me a measure of her affection,’ Stefano pursued.

  She refused to admit it, and stirred her coffee instead, wanting only for the evening to end so that she could be free of his disturbing presence.

  ‘Gaining her trust won’t be achieved overnight,’ he discounted drily, adding, ‘And love has to be earned.’

  ‘Why agree to gift her a poodle?’

  ‘I said we would have to see about getting her one,’ he responded evenly, and she instantly flared,