by Abby Green
She turned and started walking. She heard his chair move as he stood behind her but just then Tommaso appeared in the doorway and said something in rapid Italian to Vicenzo. Cara smiled fleetingly at Tommaso, and used the diversion to all but run back to her room. She arrived with a hammering heart and closed the door, turning the key in the lock as if she could shut all the demons out.
Cara’s insides roiled, but she washed and changed and got into bed, and vowed to herself just as she fell into a fitful sleep that she would do whatever it took to try and show Vicenzo how wrong he was about her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to endure the entire length of her pregnancy with his mistrust and condemnation—not to mention if he took her to bed again, where all her defences fell like skittles…
Cara was having a nightmare. She knew she was dreaming but she couldn’t seem to wake herself out of it. Finally, as if climbing through layers of suffocating covers, she finally broke free and woke, sitting bolt-upright in bed with the most excruciating pain across her abdomen and sweat rolling down her back. She was crying out with the intensity of the pain, not able to hold it back.
A hand hammered on the door. ‘Cara? What’s going on?’ Vicenzo said.
Cara tried to speak, but a wave of pain washed through her, taking her words away. A keening moan came out of her mouth and she heard the door knob rattle. She tried again. ‘I can’t…I don’t know what—oh.’
Another pain made her hunch over in the bed, and it was then that she felt the wetness between her legs. She lifted the covers and looked down. Even in the dark she could see the dark stain of blood. Cara knew dimly that she was going into shock.
The baby.
‘Cara, open the door, dammit. Why the hell did you lock yourself in?’
Cara made an attempt to swing her legs out of the bed, knowing that it was very important that she reach the door to open it. When she went to stand up, though, all the blood seemed to rush from her head. The room swirled unsteadily, morphing into a welcoming blackness where there was no pain and no Vicenzo shouting at her.
‘I’m afraid it’s not much comfort but it is quite common, especially in the early stages of pregnancy as your wife was.’
The doctor’s mention of ‘your wife’ caught at Vicenzo somewhere deep and hidden. He tried to stifle the remembered panic that was still vividly fresh. When he’d crashed through her bedroom door and seen her lying so lifeless on the floor it had almost eclipsed what he’d had to endure when he’d identified Allegra’s body.
‘Are you sure she’s all right? I mean, there’s nothing else wrong with her?’
The doctor shook his head. ‘Nothing at all, she’s as fit as you or I, but mentally it will take her a bit of time to get over this. A miscarriage is never easy to deal with, no matter how early.’
A dark emotion rippled through Vicenzo. ‘How…? Why did this—?’
The doctor smiled kindly. ‘Why did this happen?’ He shrugged. ‘There’s any number of reasons, and it could just be as simple as this pregnancy was not meant to be. As I said, it’s much more common than you’d think. And it’s a myth that sex can bring on a miscarriage, so don’t beat yourself up about that.’ The doctor smiled more indulgently, making Vicenzo feel like an utter fraud. ‘I know you’re newlyweds… she’d have to have been under some kind of extreme stress to provoke such a result as this…’
Cara opened her eyes slowly and closed them again abruptly when the light hit them painfully. She heard a movement beside the bed and tried to open her eyes again. She squinted. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling so tender.
‘Cara? How are you feeling?’
That voice. Vicenzo’s voice. But not as she was used to hearing it. He sounded almost nice. She tried to speak and her voice felt scratchy. ‘Why do you sound so nice all of a sudden?’ And then the blackness sucked her down again.
When Cara woke again much later, she came to much more clearly. She remembered Vicenzo shouting at her to open the door… Her eyes flew open in an instant, and at the same time her hands went to her belly.
A big dark movement came beside her, and then Vicenzo was looming over her, hands on the bed. Cara looked up, shock rushing through her along with an odd feeling of emptiness.
‘What happened?’
Vicenzo looked down at her, his expression veiled, but not sardonic or mocking or harsh. ‘You don’t remember last night?’
Cara shook her head and shrugged. ‘I remember cramps… and then I remember waking up and seeing—’ She stopped, remembering the blood. Her eyes focused on Vicenzo again. ‘The baby…’ she whispered.
He shook his head slowly. ‘We lost the baby, Cara. I’m sorry.’
We. His face was expressionless, but he’d said we—almost as if we had wanted it. His eyes were unreadable but it all came back to Cara in a rush. An aching sob was building up inside her, a well of loneliness and grief so acute that she didn’t know if she could contain it. Part of that was down to his obvious acceptance of the baby as his, but just too late.
Her voice trembled ominously with the force of her emotion. ‘Get out, Vicenzo. Get out.’
‘Cara…’
Cara reacted with every pent-up emotion to the way he said her name. ‘You are the last person in the world I want to see or speak to right now, Vicenzo. Get out.’
He didn’t move for a long moment, and Cara willed him to go with everything in her body. She needed to be alone.
As if answering her silent prayer, Vicenzo finally left. Cara turned her head to the opposite wall and cried her heart out for the baby which had been conceived against all the odds. But she knew that she was also crying for something else much darker and more disturbing. This was it. Vicenzo Valentini wouldn’t hesitate to cast her out of his life now. And Cara cried even harder as she acknowledged that living with Cormac had taught her nothing about valuing herself—because how could she be so distraught that such a tenuous and twisted connection was finally broken between her and a man who despised her?
Vicenzo paced outside Cara’s hospital room, as if that might help mitigate the swirling feelings threatening to implode within him. The way she’d looked at him just now had cut right through him, banishing even the smallest doubt that might have lingered as to whether or not the baby was his. He’d never felt so open, so flayed. He knew he’d not truly acknowledged the reality of Cara having his baby. He’d blocked it out through sheer will, because the possibility of the existence of his child in the world had threatened every emotional defence he’d erected over the years. But he couldn’t deny it any longer. And now it was too late.
He felt a surge of emotion rip upwards through him, stunning him with its force because he’d been suppressing it. It was the same awful, angry and helpless feeling he’d got when he’d looked down at the body of his dead sister. It was grief. And for a second it washed through him like a tidal wave, threatening to wipe away everything in its midst. He hadn’t accepted his own baby.
And what was even more disturbing in the wake of that thought was an urge so strong it was primal, visceral, and took him completely by surprise. It was the instinctive feeling he’d had when he’d so reluctantly believed Cara was carrying his child. Now it was the need to rectify what had happened, to restore the balance. That shook him up more than anything, because for the first time he had to admit to a yearning feeling for something he’d always strenuously denied.
The doctor’s words came back to haunt Vicenzo as he stood there, reeling: she’d have to have been under extreme stress to provoke such a result as this.
His wife. His baby. His fault.
CHAPTER NINE
CARA was shutting everything out but the dull pain that rested inside her. The doctor had explained that there was nothing anyone could have done. It was just one of those things, and there was no reason why she couldn’t go on to have a perfectly normal and healthy pregnancy as soon as she and her husband felt like trying again.
The dull pain got more acute at the though
t of such a scenario, and how a secret part of her felt ambiguous about that. She was moving methodically back and forth across her bedroom, packing up her small inconsequentials. After a couple of days recovering in the hospital Vicenzo had driven her home from there just a short time before. He’d attempted to talk to her a few times over the past two days, but she’d stonewalled him every time. She couldn’t bear, on top of everything else, to be faced with his pity.
It surprised her how much grief she felt for the tiny being she’d lost. The minute she’d discovered she was pregnant a deep, abiding love had taken her by storm. It had been strong enough for her to go and confront Vicenzo—which was the biggest mistake she’d ever made.
Cara sat on the bed heavily for a moment, her churning thoughts inward. Her pregnancy had compelled her to go after Vicenzo. But suddenly the alternative, of not having discovered she was pregnant and essentially not having had a reason to go after him, filled her inexplicably with a pain so sharp it lanced her insides. She gasped with it just as her door opened and Vicenzo walked in. Seeing him right now was too much, as nebulous tendrils of revelations made her feel exposed. Cara forced the feeling down and stood up.
He looked stern and forbidding and also…worn around the edges. A little shell-shocked. But Cara was still too shocked herself to really focus on him. All she knew was that she had to get away. He took in the small case on the bed.
‘What are you doing?’
Was it her imagination, or did his voice sound strained? Cara couldn’t look. She was nearly done, and started zipping up the bag. ‘What does it look like, Vicenzo? I’m leaving. There’s no reason for this sham of a—’
‘Cara—’
Cara whirled around, sudden anger galvanising her. ‘Don’t you Cara me. I know what that word means here, and I’m no darling of yours. Ironically enough, where I come from Cara means friend. But you’re certainly no friend of mine either. So don’t you dare say it like…in that tone of voice.’
He stepped forward, and to Cara’s utter shame she could feel emotion welling inexorably upwards. It was the emotion she’d been holding back every time she’d felt his eyes on her, every time he’d attempted to speak to her. Her anger with him was very fragile. She had to hold onto it, couldn’t let the emotion spill out. Or it would destroy her even more than the miscarriage.
She put out a hand as if to stop him. ‘Please don’t,’ she all but begged him, and stepped back, stopping when she felt the bed at the back of her knees.
Vicenzo kept coming closer and closer, an intense expression on his face, his eyes riveted to hers. And then he was so close that she could smell him, feel his heat reach out to envelop her, and the brittle shell that had kept her going since leaving the hospital cracked wide open. The emotion erupted on a choking sob and everything became blurry as tears flooded her eyes and flowed hotly down her cheeks.
Before she could collapse Vicenzo was there, tugging her into him, wrapping strong arms of steel around her and holding her as if he’d never let her go again.
When Cara’s sobbing had turned into hiccuping she realised that they were sitting on the edge of the bed, and that his shirt was drenched. She began to pull back. To her intense relief he released her. She couldn’t look at him, and the hiccups were still coming. Out of nowhere he passed her a tissue, and Cara moved back and blew her nose loudly. She wiped at her eyes. Her whole face felt puffy and raw.
‘I’m sorry—’
‘No.’
The vehemence of Vicenzo’s tone made her look at him. His mouth was a thin line. ‘No. Don’t say you’re sorry. You don’t have to be sorry for this, Cara.’
He stood and moved away, his whole body radiating a tension that reached out and spoke to her. Everything was shifting, changing around them. She could feel it, and bizarrely it made her feel a lot more nervous than she’d ever felt with this man. He turned back abruptly, his hand moving impatiently through his hair.
‘It is I who must apologise. It’s my fault—entirely my fault you ended up in hospital.’
Cara shook her head, ‘No, Vicenzo. The doctor said what happened is very common. It’s no one’s fault.’
At that, a primal feeling moved through Vicenzo. He couldn’t understand why Cara wasn’t ranting and railing. Taking this opportunity to blame him. But she wasn’t. When she’d dissolved in his arms, her heartbreaking sobs had made something crack open in him too, although he couldn’t let it out. Not even now. The feel of her soft and pliant body against his had called up a fierce protectiveness.
Cara had him in a place right now that he’d never let another woman get him close to, and he knew part of his head-in-the-sand routine with her had been about just that—not being able to face the reality, based on her very obvious grief, that she might not have taken the money and walked away from her baby…his baby.
Vicenzo desperately searched for some equilibrium, something familiar to cling on to. He wasn’t duped enough to dismiss the role she’d played with her brother…but even that was shifting, changing. Becoming less clear.
Cara stood up and made to reach for her bag, but Vicenzo was there in an instant, a hand stopping her. At his touch she jerked back.
‘What are you doing?’ Impatience wasn’t far below the surface of his tone, and it made Cara feel better, on safer ground. But why was he being so obtuse?
She looked at him and forced herself not to respond to his looks, which even now threatened to scramble her thought processes. The way he’d held her in his arms was something she was pushing far down, where she wouldn’t have to acknowledge how it had made her feel. ‘I’m leaving. This must be what you want now?’
Vicenzo reared back, and for a moment Cara could have sworn she saw something like pain flash through his eyes.
‘I would not have wished what you went through on anyone, Cara.’ His face was taut with anger—and something else. Something that made Cara flush. She knew instinctively that, no matter what had gone on between them, Vicenzo wasn’t so heartless as to embrace what had happened. And the fact that she knew that made her feel very shaky. After all, the man had shown her nothing but contempt since he’d revealed his true identity, and Cara didn’t like to admit that perhaps it was something she’d seen in him before the mask had dropped. She realised with a jolt that he must be going through his own private turmoil, no matter how ambivalent he’d been about the baby.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that… I just mean that now you’ll be wanting me to go home.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting your debt?’
Cara paled dramatically, and Vicenzo cursed himself, not knowing what it was about this woman that made him blurt out the first thing that came into his head. The first thing that came into his head that would keep her here, under his control. He swore in Italian and raked a hand through his hair again.
‘Look, forget I said that. It’s been a fraught couple of days. You’re not in any shape to go anywhere, Cara. You’re weak and still in shock. My father is concerned about you.’
Hurt had sliced through Cara, along with shock that Vicenzo still had revenge at the forefront of his mind. Why else would he have mentioned the debt she still owed him?
She forced herself to sound stronger than she felt. If she could just get away… ‘Yes but I don’t mind leaving. Perhaps it’s best. Before your father comes to expect anything more from either of us…’
Vicenzo reacted strongly to her words, her concern for his father striking him deeply. ‘No, Cara. I won’t let you leave like this. You need to rest and recuperate. You must admit to that at least.’ His gaze flicked down over her from her head to her toes, and he swore softly again. ‘You’re dead on your feet and you look as pale as a ghost.’
At that moment, as if her body was in league with Vicenzo, a wave of dizziness came over her and she swayed slightly. In an instant Vicenzo was there, making her sit on the bed. ‘That’s it. No arguments, Cara—please, just for now. I’m going to get Lucia to come up here
with some food and to help you get ready for bed, and then you must sleep.’
Cara tried to protest, but in all honesty she was overcome with everything. She was barely aware of Vicenzo leaving, or Lucia returning with some steaming fragrant pasta and juice and bread. The older woman kindly helped her to change into a T-shirt, supervised her eating some food and all but tucked her into bed.
Cara was asleep when Vicenzo came silently back into the room a little later.
He sat in a chair in the corner for a long time, his chin resting on steepled fingers as he watched her sleeping form in the bed. Cara Brosnan was an enigma. She was either the gold-digging, arch manipulator sister of her equally corrupt brother…or else she was something that Vicenzo had no frame of reference for. He remembered her assertion the night she’d had the miscarriage that the reality of her life had been different. One thing was certain. He wasn’t letting her go anywhere any time soon—not till he’d got to the bottom of who she really was.
Cara was a lot weaker after the miscarriage than she had thought she would be, and had to conclude that it must be a combination of losing her brother, the stress of learning she was pregnant, and the fruitless and wearying job searching that had worn her down. It was all hitting her now, and she found that each day by early evening she was exhausted, invariably taking to her bed at the same time as Silvio.
Almost three weeks seemed to pass in a hazy blur of this routine as she recuperated. Vicenzo was unfailingly polite, yet distant. He never mentioned the debt, or her departure. She came to find great solace in Silvio, and would spend time with him every day—reading, or playing chess, or talking easily about anything and everything.
Doppo, Allegra’s dog, had also proved to be an ally, trailing Cara everywhere with an air of devotion that Cara knew had to be in part because he was missing his mistress. Nevertheless, he was a comfort. Vicenzo would sometimes appear suddenly, after a couple of days’ absence in Rome or elsewhere, and Cara could never stop the jolt of sensation that ran through her. It was getting harder to ignore as her strength returned.
