by Tessa Radley
“Oh, dear God!”
“You’d been through a tough time. Your mother had died. For months I’d watched you bottle up the grief without having an outlet. You had a crush on me. I tried to be gentle with you—you so desperately needed counselling. I wasn’t surprised that you’d snapped. I thought my…rejection…had been the final nail in the coffin.”
Oh, heck. He’d felt guilty. She—and her family—had royally screwed up his life.
“There’d been so much lost already. Lucia was hysterical. Your father did a good job on her. My marriage was over—even my wife had tried and convicted me. But we had a child to think about and I refused to be beholden to my wife’s family. My life had fallen apart,” Rico continued. “I didn’t want your death on my conscience, too. It was enough that your mother’s death kept me awake. It seemed easier to go than to fight about my innocence.”
Her father had manipulated him—and Lucia. She said, “Your wife was silly, she should’ve trusted you.”
His head snapped back. Danielle waited for his anger to erupt in his dead wife’s defence. Instead he said, “Lucia was…possessive.”
“But what about the baby? You should’ve defended yourself for your child’s sake.”
“I tried. She didn’t believe me.” Rico raked his hands through his hair. “As if I’d look at another woman when I had Lucia—and a teenager at that. But she was a passionate woman.” He gave a tiny smile. “She was, after all, Italian.”
His words caused a pang inside her. He’d loved his wife. “But to kill herself…” How could she have deserted Rico in such a cruel way?
“I blame myself.”
“No!” Danielle reached out to him, then dropped her hand. It lay on the sofa between them. “You mustn’t. You did not cause her death.” If anyone was to blame, it was her father. The realisation caused her chest to constrict. No wonder Rico hated the Sinclairs. No wonder he wanted revenge. But his revenge wasn’t possible. And she had to break it to him. That she’d misled him…lied to him…for her own ends.
“There’s a horrible irony in the fact that you thought I was at risk of killing myself, then your wife killing herself.”
“Don’t I know it.”
His despair deepened her urge to throw her arms around him, but it was overridden by the corrosive knowledge that she first had to tell him her secret. So she hugged her arms tightly around her own ribs instead and considered how he’d feel once he discovered that the teenager he’d gone into exile for rather than see die, had become a woman who’d lied to him….
At the strident call of the telephone she leaped up, only to realise that it was Rico’s cell phone that summoned. She collapsed back onto the couch, vaguely surprised by the rising and falling cadences of Rico’s voice speaking in Italian. She blanked it out, more concerned about how to tell him that she could never have the baby that he so desperately wanted.
A muted click announced that the call was over. Danielle raised her eyes, stilling as she saw the dark turmoil in his.
“I have to go to Italy.”
“What? Now?”
He nodded, his face suddenly haggard and pale against his dark hair. “I’ll leave as soon as I can get a flight. My father is in hospital and he’s asking for me.”
Danielle barely heard him making reservations. His father was ill? She hadn’t even known. What else was he still keeping from her? Would he never share himself with her? But then why should he? She didn’t deserve his trust.
Danielle waited for him to finish booking his flight. Then she said, “I’m so sorry. What’s the matter with your father?”
Rico walked toward her, frowning. “He had a stroke three months ago. It turned out to be minor. He isn’t feeling well, so they’ve taken him back to hospital. He’s asking for me. I need to be there.”
He was worried that his father might die, she realised as she glimpsed the pain and uncertainty in his eyes.
“Danielle…I don’t want to leave you. Come with me. I mentioned that I’d gotten married. My family would love to meet you.”
“No!” He needed the time with his family; she’d be little more than an impostor. “Not at this time. Your family needs you…I’ll be fine.”
He hesitated, his eyes dark. “I’ll get Ken to arrange a bodyguard for you, extra security—and a driver.”
Something about his statement tugged at her mind, something she knew she should tell him. She tried to focus on it, but the fragment of thought vanished.
Already she could sense his distraction. But then, just as she thought she’d lost him, Rico bent towards her, his gaze intent. “I don’t like the idea of leaving.”
“It doesn’t matter, Rico, honestly.” Then she shivered as the last word struck home.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’m sure,” she croaked, her throat aching.
“Okay, next time you’ll come with me. Perhaps when our baby is born, to show my parents.” A slight smile accompanied his words and there was a gleam of hope in his eyes.
Our baby.
Danielle’s heart stopped and her blood iced in her chest. Unexpectedly the moment of truth had reared up in front of her, and she knew she could no longer ignore it. A calm descended upon her, the kind that cleared her mind and numbed her insides. Taking a deep breath, she said quietly, “Rico, there won’t be a baby.”
He froze. “What the devil do you mean? You can’t call it off, not now. I’ve just told my family we’re married for God’s sake.”
“I’m not going to call it off. You are. Or at least you will, once you understand what I’m trying to say.” Cold enfolded her. She shivered. With great deliberation, so that there would be no chance of a misunderstanding, she said, “Rico, I can’t have children. I’m sterile. Because of the accident.”
She heard his breath catch. Her hands clenched and she barely felt the pain of her nails biting into her palm. Knowing that she was deluding herself, she waited for him to say that it didn’t matter, that all he wanted was her.
His face revealed no emotion. “My father wants nothing more than a grandson. I’m the last male to carry the D’Alessio name.”
The last of the line. Danielle shut her eyes. So it was over. This was as much an obstacle as his need for revenge. And this time there was no way out, no compromise that they could reach. And why should he compromise? It wasn’t as if he loved her.
Her heart heavy as lead, she stared at the ceiling. In the corner a crack had appeared in the paintwork beside the cornice. She’d have all the time in the world to fix it, paint the whole damn house if necessary. At least it would keep her busy after he’d gone.
“Did you plan this?” he asked with icy ferocity.
“What?” she asked, playing for time.
“Did you plan this—your revenge?”
Dear God. “Revenge was your plan. Remember?”
“So you didn’t see this as an opportunity to thwart me?”
She hesitated. And then it was too late.
“So that’s it.” His tone was hard edged. “Funny thing is I was starting to feel I’d been too hard on you, that I was in danger of destroying your gentleness in my quest for revenge. Well, all round, you get last laugh.”
She’d never felt less like laughing in her life. Any victory she’d anticipated on that day when he’d threatened to smash Kim’s marriage if she didn’t marry him and provide him with a child, was hollow.
Quietly, in an effort to salvage something between them, she said, “Rico, I lost the ability to have a child. You lost an unborn baby. We’re kind of at the same place and—”
“Don’t try to make out we have anything in common. You have absolutely no idea of how I feel at this moment.” The flat note of finality in his tone was as audible as the click of a door locking.
There was no point in trying to sway him. He would never understand how she’d felt on learning that she’d never bear children. Or the agony when she’d realised that she could no longer
bear the notion of training to be a kindergarten teacher, surrounded all day by the children. Her future had been irrevocably sealed off by a cruel act of fate. What man could ever want her?
She would have plenty of time to cry later. Now the important thing was to get out of this…disaster…with as much dignity as possible.
“No, I don’t know how you feel right now. Nor will I ever be able to imagine the hell you must have gone through after Lucia’s death. I’ll arrange an appointment with a solicitor to start divorce proceedings.” But she couldn’t prevent herself from saying, a trifle bitterly, “Then you won’t have to worry about further ties to any of the Sinclairs who have caused you nothing but grief.”
Her outburst was met with total silence.
At last he said, “I must go or I’ll miss my flight.”
And softly, her heart breaking, she whispered, “Goodbye, Rico.” But he didn’t hear—or maybe he just didn’t care.
Eleven
“G oddammit!” In the first-class lounge of Los Angles International Airport, Rico downed another scotch, ignoring the warnings of jetlag.
He felt as if a part of him had been torn out. Hollow. When had she crept under his skin? The anger inside him escalated at the notion. Why did he even care?
She’d lied to him. Deliberately deceived him!
He was better off without her.
But railing against Danielle was not improving his mood. He felt betrayed and angry and heartsore. For a long time he sat, his head bent, his hands hanging between his knees, until he could think without the world turning red.
Calm at last, he started to mull over his conversation with Danielle. He didn’t want a divorce. He knew with certainty that he couldn’t leave things…unfinished between them. He was not letting her go. She was not going to walk away from him with that sexy, provocative swing of her hips. Suddenly he didn’t care whether she could bear babies or not. He only knew that Danielle had made him laugh when he had no longer cared about living or dying.
She had shown him a path to a future where he was no longer an automaton, to a place bright with hope and the sound of laughter, a place lacking the dark, endless despair that had haunted him for years and driven him to reckless disregard for his own safety.
Call her! He pulled his cell phone out his pocket, then he hesitated, not sure what exactly he was prepared to offer. A temporary relationship based on passion? Or something more…enduring? Could he forgive her lie, her terrible deception? Or was he only prepared to indulge the physical attraction that flared between them. How long would it take before the heat burned out? A month? A year? And where would that leave his father’s wish to hold his grandson?
So many questions…so many decisions to make. What was he to tell his family? That his bride was infertile? Or that he wasn’t ready for fatherhood yet? Confusion raged inside him, until he could no longer think straight. But one thing was clear—before he could return to Danielle, he needed to come to terms with the past.
Slowly he pressed the keypad of his cell phone, calling up the contact list. He had ghosts of his own to lay to rest. An efficient receptionist answered on the first ring. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Alessandro Ravaldi, please.”
The bodyguard, whom Rico had apparently briefed last night from the airport, leaned against the counter, sipping the last of his coffee. Tymon, not Tyson—Danielle still kept forgetting his name—was silent and respectful. Under normal circumstances his tall, well-built body would’ve given her reason for a second glance. But he wasn’t Rico.
Tymon’s cell phone rang. “The driver’s here.”
“Who is it?” she asked urgently.
“Bob Harvey.”
Her heart sank. That was what she’d wanted to tell Rico—about the uncomfortable feeling the man gave her. Too late now. But as soon as she got to the office she’d contact Ken Pascal. She picked up her briefcase and walked to wait by the door while Tymon checked that the way out was clear. When the horn sounded, she pulled the front door shut and shot across the pavement into the waiting car, and Tymon climbed in behind her.
The ride to the office took forever and she couldn’t help thinking about how strange it would be not to share an office with Rico. She would have to get used to the feeling, because it was going to last a very long time.
But she had other things to think about—confronting her father, for one.
A shove sent the office door flying back, and Danielle strode determinedly into her father’s domain on the tenth floor. Robert Sinclair half rose from his chair, but on seeing who’d created the disturbance he sank back. “You should’ve had yourself announced. Far more professional, Danielle.”
“Why did you tell Rico I’d threatened to kill myself?”
His gaze flickered. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t lie to me! He told me. Did you think he wouldn’t?”
For a moment she thought her father might try bluff his way out. Then he shrugged. “Is this important?”
“Yes! Rico left the country, went to work in terrible places, because you lied to him. Was it because you wanted his Sinco shares?”
“He was a fool to believe me. I never thought he’d accept it so easily—or that he’d be swayed by it.”
“Rico is a man of deep feelings.” And her family had done nothing but cheat and lie to him. Dark despair closed in on her.
How could he ever love her?
Her father had resumed reading the financial pages strewn across his desk, and anger surged through her, its strength overcoming her despair. “You told him that you would testify to the world that the undergarment found in Rico’s bed was mine, and you said that when you’d explained to me what you intended to do, I vowed to commit suicide.”
Robert Sinclair lifted his shoulders carelessly. “He was guilty. He deserved to go to prison.”
Contempt cooled her anger. “It was never Kim. It was you who planted that pair of panties in his bed.”
He shrugged. “It had been reported that you’d been seen visiting his room the night before. Who did D’Alessio think he was? Messing with my daughters?”
Poor Rico. Danielle stared at her father. Then said very softly, “Thank God Rico isn’t like you.”
Her father set his jaw. “Now look here—”
“No, you listen to me and get this straight because it’s the last time I’m ever going to say it. Four years ago Rico never laid a finger on me—as much as I wanted him to. The man respected his marriage vows, and I was too much of an airhead to realise what kind of predicament I placed him in.”
“D’Alessio shouldn’t have gone if he never touched Kim, he should’ve taken his chances with the jury.”
“Kim lied. And you put him in a horrible position. You terrified his wife, told him that I might commit suicide. The man was innocent, and after his wife died, he was past caring.” Danielle gave a snort of disgust. “Were you ever unfaithful to Mother?”
“No!” Shock drove the colour out of his face leaving it pale. “Never! I loved your mother.”
“Do you think she’d approve of the way you’ve behaved to Rico?”
His lips drained of colour, but he said nothing.
“Mother liked Rico. And do you want to hear something ironic?” She gave a bitter little laugh. “Rico is eaten up with guilt because Mother died. He seems to believe he could’ve single-handedly prevented it.”
“That’s ridiculous. I asked him to escort you and your mother to that concert. I planned to bring Kim and meet you there and let Rico take my car home. How could he have been responsible for an accident that happened on the way?”
“He feels partially to blame because they switched seats. Mother wanted to sit up front, where Rico was going to sit. He believes he should’ve died. That’s why he was so kind to me after the accident, because I was wild with grief and struggling to cope on my own, because he felt responsible for the pain I’d suffered. I repaid his compassion with infatuation.” She glared at
her father. “And you rewarded him by destroying his life.”
Her father looked shattered. “I never realised that you were so…affected. You always appeared so calm, so controlled. I thought your youth had cushioned you from the full weight of grief, that—”
Disbelief warred with fury. “I was trapped in a car for hours with my mother. I heard her groaning, and then she died, damn it.”
“Rose was alive?”
“I heard her dying. And I was so helpless. All I had was Rico. He stayed beside me and never let go of my hand through those terrible hours.”
Her father came around the desk in a rush. “I never knew.” He sounded broken. “I thought…perhaps I closed my mind to it because I wanted to believe…that she died on impact.” Hesitantly he said, “I’ve failed you, haven’t I? And I’ve failed Rose.”
It was awful to watch him crumple as his head dropped into his hands. “I found it so difficult to come to terms with your mother’s death, to survive without her. I’d assumed she’d always be there. That one day, after I’d achieved what I set out to, she’d be there waiting for me. And then one summer day my dream was gone.” He raised his head, his eyes desolate. “I didn’t know what to do—how I was going to get through the empty days.”
Slowly all the hurt drained out of her. Danielle swallowed, and found that the lump in her throat made it difficult. Tears welled in her eyes as she softly said, “I thought work was all you cared about.”
“You were too young for me to talk to.”
“Mum’s death matured me.” A half step brought her closer to her father. “I still miss her.”
His eyes glittered with moisture. “So do I…so do I.” And he opened his arms.
“Where is your wife?”
Umberto D’Alessio’s voice was loud in the private room. Rico’s mother, Bianca, sat in a chair beside the hospital bed, holding a hand that she kept stroking, while Bella poured him a glass of juice.
