‘Is it on?’ Rosa asked.
The dress was amazing. It hung beautifully and gave Sophie curves when she usually had none, but for Sophie there was a concern.
‘Isn’t it a bit much for a wedding?’ she asked as she stepped out, but Rosa had thought of that.
‘Indeed, but I have a light overdress that goes well with it in a sheer chiffon. I’ll just get it. What size shoe do you take?’
Sophie told her and, left alone, she lifted her hair and was trying to decide whether she should wear her hair up or down when she turned and looked at her silhouette.
She had a bust.
Oh, there was no doubt that Rosa was a miracle worker with fabric but there was also no denying that her small bust was a touch fuller.
It was because of the Pill, Sophie told herself.
‘Here,’ Rosa said, holding out a sheath of pale fabric that Sophie slipped on over the dress before adding the shoes. It was gorgeous and worked amazingly well, although it did dim the beauty of the dress just a fraction. ‘You look wonderful.’ Rosa smiled. ‘I cannot wait to see Gabi’s face when she finds out all that Alim has arranged.’
‘Are there many guests?’ Sophie asked a little later as, for the first time in her life and long overdue, she splurged on some gorgeous underwear.
‘Just family and close friends.’
It was her first inkling that Bastiano might be there. Sophie knew that he and Alim were friends.
She watched as Rose wrapped her new silver knickers and lacy bra in tissue paper, and Sophie vowed to herself that Bastiano wouldn’t be seeing them.
Yet, though the thought of seeing him would usually have consumed her, Sophie awoke on the morning of the wedding with more than the possibility of seeing Bastiano on her mind.
In the bathroom, having showered, she tried to quash the gnawing of anxiety in her stomach, for her period still had not arrived.
Stress can delay things, Sophie told herself.
Not that she really knew, but she had heard it said amongst friends, and so at her appointment at the doctor’s that morning she suggested the same.
The doctor just handed her a jar.
‘I’ve taken my Pill every day,’ Sophie said when she returned with her specimen and the doctor ran the test.
‘Do you take it on time?’
‘Always...’ Sophie said, and then swallowed as she thought back to the other morning when she had been fired. ‘I had an upset the other day, I might not have taken it until lunchtime.’
‘The other day?’ The doctor frowned. ‘Sophie, you are pregnant.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Sophie shook her head. She had come here to be reassured, to be told she was mad to worry, but the doctor just looked at Sophie as the news started to sink in. ‘I can’t be.’
As the doctor examined her Sophie’s fear only increased.
‘I would say that you’re more than twelve weeks.’
‘How could I not know?’ She started to cry, but this doctor was far kinder than the one back home and took some time to gently explain that not all women had symptoms.
‘People have commented that my uniform was getting tight,’ Sophie said. ‘I just never gave it much thought.’
It was a lot to take in, an awful lot to take in, and Sophie left the doctor’s more bewildered than she had ever been in her life.
But she had to get to Gabi’s.
‘Hey.’ Gabi gave her a smile and then when she saw Sophie’s puffy eyes she drew her inside. ‘You’ll get another job.’
‘I loved that one, though,’ Sophie said. It was easier to let Gabi think that her tears were about losing her job and Gabi soon set to work, typing up her friend’s résumé.
‘You really need a reference,’ Gabi said. ‘Why don’t you put me? I can say you’ve helped me organise some weddings.’
‘That’s stretching it,’ Sophie sighed.
‘Well, why don’t you put me as a personal one for now?’
Gabi made it all look so easy, and soon she had printed off several copies of Sophie’s résumé, but as she handed them over, curiosity got the better of Gabi and she asked what Sophie had been doing in Bastiano’s room.
‘Oh.’ Sophie was immediately on the defensive. ‘So now you think I stole his ring?’
‘Of course not!’
‘I would never steal,’ Sophie said. ‘But if I did, I would not steal some stupid emerald and pearl ring. It would be diamonds.’
Gabi laughed and just as she did the phone rang and she went to answer it. Sophie watched as her friend’s face paled and she excused herself and went into the bedroom.
It must be Alim!
A few minutes later Gabi emerged, declaring that she had a migraine.
‘That came on quickly,’ Sophie said as she was ushered out.
‘Yes, they tend to.’
They promised to catch up soon but as Sophie walked off, though happy for her friend she felt terribly lonely too. Gabi had struggled with being a single mother, yet she had a job and her mother lived here in Rome.
And now she had Alim.
Sophie couldn’t help but wonder what hope there was for her when she had none of those things.
She had nothing, save for her Sicilian pride, though even that was going to be hard to find today.
Sophie tried, though.
She got ready and she wore make-up through necessity rather than choice. Just a little, but enough to ensure that no one could guess she’d been crying. And for once she wore her hair down, though more because it would hopefully hide some of her blushes when she walked into the hotel.
The dress was a dream but, now that Sophie knew she was pregnant, it seemed terribly obvious, for her bust was certainly fuller and there was a soft curve to her stomach. Sophie was very grateful to add to her outfit the sheer fabric that hid even a tell-tale hint that her body had changed.
And so to the Grande Lucia.
She took a cab, which was a treat in itself for Sophie, and as it pulled up Ronaldo jumped forward to let the passenger out.
‘Benvenuto...’ he said, but then Ronaldo’s warm welcome petered out as he realised who it was, and now his greeting was both awkward and curt. ‘Sophie.’
‘Ronaldo.’
She climbed out of the cab and took a second to seemingly fiddle with her dress, though really she was trying to summon the courage to walk inside.
Through the brass revolving doors she went and into the familiar foyer.
It didn’t feel familiar, though, for instead of hearing her name called and the regular smiles and waves as she walked through, her ex-colleagues all pretended to be busy and looked the other way.
All that she could handle, Sophie thought as she stood outside the ballroom and gave her name.
The sly glances and whispers, and even being downright ignored, all hurt, but it was a manageable hurt.
What her heart couldn’t deal with, though, as she walked through the entrance doors of the ballroom, was the certain knowledge that Bastiano was here.
Even without sighting him, Sophie knew that he was.
There was a current that ran through her whenever he was close and she could feel his eyes on her as she again gave her name so that she could be guided to her seat.
He was here, she was certain.
* * *
Yes, Bastiano was there.
He had withdrawn his offer for the hotel and would gladly never have set foot in the place again, yet business was business, he had told Alim.
And they were still friends.
So, having offered his best wishes to the surprisingly nervous groom, he was just taking his seat as they awaited the arrival of the bride when Sophie appeared.
She looked stunning, Bas
tiano thought.
He watched Sophie momentarily falter as she was guided to the seats near his.
‘I am a friend of the bride,’ she said to the woman who was ushering her towards where he sat. ‘I should be on the other side.’
But this was no ordinary wedding, and she went where she was guided, away from the side where all the royalty had been seated.
‘We commoners sit together,’ Sophie said as she took her place beside him and Bastiano gave a tight smile.
‘For now,’ he responded, looking ahead rather than at her.
As soon as the service was over he would move away, Bastiano decided. She might just as well have spilled a bottle of perfume over herself for her fragrance overwhelmed him, yet he knew she had not. The scent was pure Sophie and for now he had to breathe it in, aware of every flicker as she sat supremely still beside him.
And then as the ballroom doors opened they stood and Sophie turned, seeing her friend but all the time feeling Bastiano’s eyes boring into the back of her head.
‘You knew!’ Gabi mouthed as she caught sight of her, and Sophie smiled for her friend; as Alim kissed little Lucia, Sophie did her level best not to break down.
She wanted to tell Bastiano about the baby, she wanted there to be hope for them.
But there was none.
There never had been, she now knew.
It had never been going to end well.
She wanted to be happy for her friend, yet to stand broken-hearted at a wedding, next to the man who had shattered her happiness, was a very private hell and too much to sustain.
Gabi and Alim were in love, it was plain to see.
It just seemed to magnify the hopelessness of her situation as she stood next to Bastiano.
‘How long does the service go on for?’ he asked at one point.
‘How the hell would I know?’ Sophie responded and she felt rather than heard his slight mirthless laugh.
It truly was agony.
Finally, though, Gabi and Alim were husband and wife.
As the chairs were moved away and the guests went to take their seats at the tables for the celebratory meal Sophie looked at the place cards and saw she would be seated by him.
It was a hell she chose not to sustain.
‘Gabi...’ She kissed her friend and congratulated her and then she struggled how best to say what she had to.
Gabi said it for her. ‘You’re going to go?’
‘I just...’
She felt sick.
Oh, maybe it was all in her head and simply because she knew she was pregnant, but suddenly she felt light-headed and nauseous and utterly out of place.
‘I understand, Sophie,’ Gabi said, for she had heard all the rumours and could have thought of nothing worse than being forced to sit next to Alim when her own world had fallen apart.
‘I’m so happy for you,’ Sophie said. ‘I honestly am. I wouldn’t have missed the wedding for the world.’
It was the reception that she could not tolerate.
‘Here.’ Gabi swiped Sophie’s place card from the table and wrote something down. ‘That’s Alim’s private number. Put him down as a reference.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Yes, Sophie, you can.’
‘I’ll only use it if I’m desperate.’
Desperate was how she felt, though not about work.
She wanted to walk right up to Bastiano and plead her case. She wanted to tap him on the shoulder right now and tell him that she did not take his stupid ring. And she wanted to tell him what she had found out just a few hours ago.
Her eyes scanned the room and immediately she saw him—talking to some leggy blonde. Or rather she was talking as Bastiano’s restless eyes scoured the room and found Sophie’s.
She turned and walked away and headed for the restrooms, but she didn’t get that far.
Sophie looked over to Reception, where Anya stood—once they would have chatted, but now Anya could not meet her eyes.
And there was Inga, polishing the brass doors and chatting to Ronaldo.
Everyone ignored her.
Once she had belonged but, like it or not, she no longer did, so Sophie left.
Not just the wedding.
It was time to accept that there was nothing for her here in Rome and to return home.
* * *
Her disappearance did not go unnoticed.
‘Excuse me,’ Bastiano said to the leggy blonde.
He had no idea who the woman was but that was nothing new.
The difference today was that anonymity held no charm.
He wanted to speak to Sophie, to find out how she had fared. He wanted to know that everything was okay in her world and then he could walk away more easily.
Bastiano could not find her.
As he took his seat the place card next to his had gone, though Bastiano being Bastiano had already checked and knew full well that Sophie had been placed next to him.
Perhaps she had asked to be moved, Bastiano decided when the table filled and the space next to him remained empty.
Wise choice, he told himself, though that did not sit right.
But then the lighting dimmed and it became increasingly clear that Sophie hadn’t just moved tables, she had left the venue.
‘Where’s Sophie?’ he asked the happy couple, having sat through the meal and endless speeches.
‘I expect it got a bit too much for her,’ Gabi said, and she looked straight at Bastiano. ‘It would be hard to be here, labelled a thief by everyone and the subject of painful gossip. I’m just grateful she made it to the service.’
And later Bastiano could not help but have a word with Alim.
‘I think Sophie might have been dealt with a bit harshly.’
‘Oh, so you’re in the practice of hiring thieves?’ Alim asked, raising his brows, but then he saw his friend’s concern. ‘She’ll be okay.’
‘She won’t get work.’
‘Not true. I’ve just been informed that I’m to act as a reference.’
And with Sultan Alim of Zethlehan as a reference, Sophie would be okay.
Bastiano could relax now and put the unfortunate incident behind him.
Except he couldn’t.
There were beautiful guests galore and yet he was in bed before the bride and groom.
* * *
Alone.
And he woke, as he always did, before the sun.
‘Entra!’ he called, when on the dot of six his breakfast was delivered and he closed his eyes to indicate he did not want conversation.
Some things never changed.
Except they had.
‘Would you like me to serve?’
He opened his eyes to the pale blue ones of Inga, the maid that Sophie did not like.
‘Out,’ he told her, and struggled to contain his anger, for Bastiano had worked out what had happened.
It took less than an hour to prove his hunch.
He stood over Dario, with Benita by his side, looking at old CCTV tapes.
‘My breakfast is served at six every morning, except on that morning.’
‘You ordered it for seven,’ Benita said, looking at the paperwork.
‘No.’
Of that he was certain.
The only variance to his breakfast order had been the occasional shakshuka and that had either been eaten by a sexy maid or flung against the wall.
His breakfast was always at six.
There it was, right on time, being delivered by Inga.
And there it was, not two minutes later, being wheeled back out.
Sophie was not a thief.
Most disconcerting to Bastiano, though, was th
at he had cared enough to find out and pursue justice for his little maid.
‘She will get her job back now?’ Bastiano checked, but Benita gave an uncomfortable shrug.
‘Sophie wasn’t just fired for stealing.’
‘If turning tricks is the criteria for firing maids at the Grande Lucia,’ Bastiano responded tartly, ‘then the unemployment rate in Rome is about to skyrocket. Would you like me to name names?’
Benita closed her eyes for a moment before responding. ‘That shan’t be necessary.’
‘Good,’ Bastiano retorted! ‘So you will be rehiring Sophie?’ Bastiano checked, and Benita nodded.
An hour later Bastiano boarded his helicopter for home with his conscience clear.
Almost.
Not.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SOPHIE HATED HER JOB.
She tried not to show it, of course.
But no matter how thoroughly she cleaned the sleazy bar on the edge of her home town, the surfaces did not gleam and the carpets were still sticky.
Still, Sophie far preferred the cleaning duty when the bar was closed to the hours when it was open.
It was a job and a roof over her head, she told herself, though not for much longer. Pino, her boss, had made it clear when he’d hired her that the live-in post was a temporary one. Now, at six months pregnant, she was still no closer to working out where she would live when the baby arrived.
It would not be at her parents’.
Sophie had left home in disgrace, returned in shame, and after a lot of heartache they had asked the priest to speak with her. She had been told of couples who were desperate for a baby and would be able to provide a wonderful home.
An argument had ensued when Sophie had told her family that she would be the one to provide for her baby and she had barely seen them since.
Gabi’s mother might have come around once little Lucia had arrived, but Sophie knew that it would not be the case with her own parents.
And she could not stay there.
Even if Pino did keep her on, she wouldn’t want to raise her baby in a room over a bar such as this.
And Pino gave her the creeps.
Which was why, instead of, as she usually did, working through her rare day off, Sophie headed upstairs to her small bedroom.
Sicilian's Baby of Shame Page 10
