Deserving of His Diamonds?

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  She gave him a defiant look. ‘You always think the worst of me. It’s your automatic response, isn’t it? Blame first, ask questions later.’

  ‘Were you ever going to tell me?’

  A flicker of guilt came and went in her gaze. ‘I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. It’s not easy talking about it … about her …’

  ‘You should’ve told me the day I came to see you at the shop,’ he said. ‘I came all that way to apologise. I did my best to make it up to you. You should’ve at least met me halfway.’

  She threw him a withering look. ‘Some apology that turned out to be,’ she said. ‘We both know I wouldn’t be here now if it hadn’t been for the money you offered.’

  Emilio ground his teeth until his jaw ached. He felt blindsided by pain and a sense of loss that was unlike anything he had felt before. He was unaccustomed to being bombarded with such deep emotions. Emotions were something other people felt. He had cauterised his heart a long, long time ago. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He’d always made sure he never did.

  He had never felt so out of control.

  How could he ever right the wrongs of the past? Gisele had lost their baby. She had suffered that loss all by herself. He hadn’t been there for her. He hadn’t protected her or provided for her. He could see now how a simple sorry and let’s try again wasn’t going to cut it. Nothing could make up for that loss. There was nothing he could do to bring their child back. A chasm of pain and bitterness divided him from Gisele now. Was there any bridge that could span that canyon of bitterness? Was there any amount of money or machinations on his part that could fix things? The powerlessness he felt was like being thrown back on the streets all over again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, but his voice sounded nothing like his own. It was hollow and empty, lifeless, soulless.

  Dead.

  A long pain-ridden silence passed.

  ‘I have some photos,’ Gisele said quietly.

  Emilio blinked himself back to the moment. ‘Of the baby?’

  ‘I brought them with me …’ She lowered her gaze from his. ‘I have her blanket too. She spent her short life wrapped in it. I would have buried her in it but I didn’t want to part with it.’

  A spasm of pain gripped Emilio’s chest again. ‘You have it with you?’ he asked.

  She gave him a defiant look. ‘I suppose you’ll think it’s weird or sick or pathetic of me, but I’ve never felt ready to let that final link with her go.’ Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘Do you know what it feels like when people ask you if you have kids? What am I supposed to say? I had one but I lost her?’ She choked back a sob. ‘I don’t even know if I’m supposed to call myself a mother or not …’

  Emilio reached for her and enfolded her in his arms, pulling her stiff little body close, resting his chin on the top of her head as he rocked her gently in his arms as she quietly sobbed. He couldn’t speak for the roadblock of emotion in his chest. He thought of her holding on to her baby as long as she could. How had she endured such heartbreak? Who had supported her? How could she have juggled the demands of running a small business with the tragedy of carrying a child that had never been given a guarantee of making it? And how cruelly ironic to have been surrounded by constant reminders of what she had lost?

  Baby wear.

  His stomach plummeted as he thought of all those tiny outfits, all those little vests and booties and bonnets and christening gowns. Could she have chosen a harder way to navigate her way through her loss? Seeing other mothers day after day with their babies. Helping those mothers choose outfits for their little ones. How on earth had she done it? No wonder she hated him. No wonder she had asked for more money. ‘No, I don’t think it’s weird or sick or pathetic,’ he said.

  She leaned back to look up at him with reddened eyes. ‘You … you don’t?’

  He shook his head, feeling humbled by all she had suffered. His anger seemed so pointless and inappropriate now. Hadn’t she suffered enough without making her feel guilty for not contacting him? Besides, there was every chance he might have blocked her attempts to speak to him. His stubbornness had helped him in his business life but he had paid a high price for it in his personal one. ‘I think you’re still grieving,’ he said, blotting a tear as it rolled down her cheek. ‘You’ll know when it’s time to finally say goodbye.’

  Her bottom lip started to quiver again. ‘My mother … Hilary thinks I’m a basket case,’ she said. ‘She thinks I’m morbid. But what would she know? She’s never lost a baby. She’s never even had a baby.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Emilio said. ‘She had you. Not in a physical sense, but she was the one who stood by you and reared you. She might not have been the best mother in the world, but at least she didn’t leave you on some cold, rat-infested doorstep in the middle of winter to fend for yourself when you were less than four years old.’

  The silence reverberated with the horror of his words.

  Emilio wished he hadn’t blurted that out. This wasn’t about what he had suffered. This was about her. About her loss. About her devastation. He had put his behind him a long time ago.

  ‘Your mother left you on a doorstep?’ she asked with wide incredulous eyes.

  He stepped away from her. ‘You think you’re hard done by? I know it’s been tough on you, finding out about a long-lost twin. I know it must have been devastating to find out your mother is not really your mother. But she’s your mother in every sense that’s important. You can’t cut her from your life just because you don’t share the same genetic make-up. It wasn’t her fault. It sounds to me like she did the best she could, given the circumstances.’

  She looked at him narrowly. ‘Have you been talking to her?’

  ‘No, but I can imagine what she feels like. She’s been shut out of her child’s life due to circumstances beyond her control. At least her child is still alive and breathing. I don’t even know my child’s name.’

  ‘I called her Lily,’ she said softly.

  His throat rose and fell again.

  Lily.

  ‘Can I see the photos?’ he asked.

  She gave a nod. ‘I’ll go and get them.’

  Emilio turned and bent to pick up the shattered remains of Gisele’s cup. There was no way the fine china could ever be put together again, which was just like his heart felt right now …

  Gisele took the photo album out of her drawer and cradled it against her chest for a moment. Emilio’s statement about his childhood had shocked her to the core. She couldn’t bear thinking about him as a little boy, cast aside, frightened, alone, vulnerable. How could his mother have done that to him? Who had taken care of him? Had anyone? Was that why he was so closed off and so determined to put the past behind him? He couldn’t stomach thinking about his wretched childhood. It was something he wanted to forget. And yet he had set up the charity, throwing himself into the hands-on work with the strength of character she was only now coming to understand.

  She put the album back down and took out the soft pink blanket she had so lovingly made for Lily, holding it up to her face for a moment, breathing in that sweet baby smell. She wondered what Emilio had been wrapped in, whether he had ever been loved and cherished even a fraction of the way she had loved and cherished Lily. It was too painful to think he might have never been welcomed, never loved or wanted. How could he have been if he had been left to fend for himself at less than four years old?

  When Gisele came back Emilio was standing looking out over the gardens. He turned when she came in, even though she was sure she hadn’t made a sound. His eyes went straight to the album she carried. She handed it to him silently, her throat closing over with emotion.

  His large hands held the album as if it was the most precious item in the world. She watched as he stroked his fingers over it reverently where she had placed a photo of Lily on the cover inside a pink-and-white embroidered heart. It was a moment she knew she would never forget. He might not have been there for her pregnancy and Lily’s
birth and all too short life, but he was a father in every sense of the word, meeting his daughter for the very first time. His dark brown eyes melted, a sheen coming over them like the glisten of wet paint. His expression was one of wonder and deep, heart-squeezing emotion. She had never seen him with his guard down. She had never seen such softening of his features, with such raw humanity on show.

  He turned the first page and there was the one taken straight after birth, with Lily’s tiny body still vernix- and blood-streaked, her minuscule mouth open like a baby bird, but she hadn’t had the strength to make much more than one mewling cry.

  There was another one after the nurse had washed her. She was wrapped in the pink blanket, looking almost normal. When that photo had been taken Lily had had less than four hours of life left. So little time to say all she needed to say to her. She’d had to pack a lifetime of mothering into a few short hours.

  ‘She looks like you,’ Emilio said in a gravel-rough tone.

  ‘I thought she looked like you,’ Gisele said.

  He met her gaze and her heart contracted when she saw the glimmer of moisture shining in his eyes. She hadn’t expected him to care about a baby he had never known about until now. She hadn’t expected him to feel the way she felt when she looked at photos of Lily. She had assumed it was different for men. They didn’t have the physical connection with their offspring that mothers did. But it looked as if he was grieving every bit as much as she was. She saw the agony etched on his face.

  ‘She looks like both of us,’ he said in a low, deep, pain-filled burr.

  She bit the inside of her mouth to keep control of her emotions. ‘Yes …’

  ‘Can I …?’ He cleared his throat and began again. ‘Can I have these copied?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘How much did she weigh?’ he asked after a long aching silence.

  ‘Just under four pounds. She was like a doll. I could hold her in one hand. See in that picture?’ Gisele pointed to the one where Lily’s tiny frail body lay in her hand.

  He touched the photo, his long finger making their baby look even tinier in comparison. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he said. ‘I wish … I wish I’d been able to hold her. To touch her. To smell her. Photos are so one-dimensional.’

  Gisele handed him the blanket she had been clutching against her chest. She had never let anyone else touch it before now. ‘I can still smell her on this,’ she said. ‘It’s faint but when I close my eyes I can imagine I’m still holding her. I made it for her. She was wrapped in it as soon as she was born. It was the last thing she was wrapped in before she …’ She swallowed before she could continue. ‘Before I dressed her for the burial.’

  He took the blanket and held it up to his face, closing his eyes as he breathed in the lingering trace of their baby’s sweet, innocent smell. A mixture of talcum powder and newborn baby, a fragrance so precious Gisele wished she could stop it from ever fading.

  She watched as a single tear rolled down Emilio’s cheek. She felt for him then in a way she had not felt before. For so long her anger had shut down her feelings for him. How must he feel to have missed out on their baby’s short but precious life? She felt dreadful for not telling him now. She had misjudged him, just as he had misjudged her. Would he ever forgive her?

  After a long silence he handed the blanket back to her. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Emilio …’ Gisele met his tortured gaze. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t make the effort to tell you. I realise now how wrong that was of me. I should’ve at least tried.’

  His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘I probably would’ve cut you off before you could tell me. I was too proud, too stubborn. I made a bad situation a whole lot worse.’ He pulled a hand down over his face again; it made a sound like sandpaper. ‘I’ve handled all of this appallingly. From day one I’ve been so wrong, so unforgivably blind.’

  ‘We’ve both made mistakes,’ she said softly.

  ‘I don’t know how to fix this, any of this,’ he said with a haggard look in his eyes. ‘For the first time since I was a small child, I find myself totally defeated, powerless. I can’t turn any of this around.’ He sighed again, a deep serrated sigh that sounded painful as he exhaled. ‘You were right, cara. Life doesn’t come with a reset button.’

  Gisele swallowed the lump of emotion clogging her throat. ‘I’m so sorry …’

  ‘For what?’ he asked, frowning at her. ‘What did you do? You’re the innocent one in all of this. I was the one in the wrong. None of this would have happened if I’d trusted you.’ He walked to the windows and looked out over the gardens, his back a stiff plank of self-recrimination.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said …’ Gisele cradled Lily’s blanket close to her chest. ‘About if things had been the other way around?’

  He turned to look at her, his expression so full of pain it was agonising to witness it. ‘Don’t try and make excuses for me, Gisele,’ he said. ‘You would’ve handled it differently. We both know that. This is my wrongdoing, not yours. I have to live with it. I got it wrong and apologising is not enough. But then, it was never going to be enough, was it? You always knew that.’

  Gisele wasn’t sure what to say, although she didn’t think she could have spoken even if she had known. Her throat had closed over completely, her eyes were burning with more tears and her heart was compressed by the weight of sadness that she had carried for so long. Sharing it with Emilio hadn’t halved it; rather it had doubled it. She felt his pain as well as her own. She had learned to manage her grief. She had no idea how to manage his. The misery of his childhood had been bad enough; now he had the loss of his child to deal with. It didn’t seem fair, but then what in life was fair?

  Emilio came over to stand in front of her again. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask you to stay on in Italy after this,’ he said. ‘But I will do my utmost to protect you from the media. I can handle the business meetings for you. I can meet with the executives on your behalf. You can stay here, within the privacy and protection of the villa. You don’t have to go out in public at all.’

  ‘I’m not sure hiding away is going to solve anything,’ Gisele said. ‘I’m not sure how the press got hold of that photo, but if they’ve got that one, they probably have more. I don’t want to become a victim and I certainly don’t want to be seen as one either.’

  ‘So you’re still happy to stay the full month?’ he asked.

  Gisele studied his expression for a microsecond. She thought about leaving. She thought about packing her bag and walking away, drawing a line under her relationship with him, never to look back. He was giving her permission to do so. Could she do it? But, more to the point, did she want to do it? He had, for the first time ever, revealed something about the horror of his childhood. How much more might he tell her if she stayed on the full time? Wouldn’t it help her to understand him better? She wanted to understand. ‘I’ll stay on,’ she said.

  He put his hands on her shoulders, his fingers cupping her gently in an embrace that touched on something deep in her soul. He had touched her in a thousand different ways in the past, but somehow this was different. His charcoal-dark eyes held hers for a long mesmerising moment before he bent his head and briefly but tenderly brushed her mouth with his. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I will do everything in my power to make sure you don’t regret it.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  OVER the next week the meetings Emilio had set up went off brilliantly. Gisele came out of each one with a renewed sense of purpose and vision for her work. It was all happening so fast but she was happy to be swept along with it, as it was just the distraction she needed.

  In private, Emilio was tender but distant. She knew he was still coming to terms with the knowledge of being a father to a child he would never meet. She found it hard to reach out to him. Part of the reason was because she was frightened of talking about it in case he brought up the topic of having another child. It was the proverbial elephant in the room. It made her conversati
ons with him stilted. She knew she sounded distant and removed but she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  But, in spite of her assiduousness at avoiding the subject, there was a heart-stopping moment when she was confronted with how much Emilio had missed out on by not knowing about her pregnancy and how dearly he still wanted a family of his own. They had been visiting one of the main baby wear outlets in an exclusive department store. Gisele was showing the manager some of her samples and had not realised Emilio had moved to a selection of infant toys farther along. The store manager excused himself to speak to a staff member about something urgent and that was when Gisele’s gaze went to where Emilio was standing. He had picked up a soft teddy bear dressed in a pink tutu, his expression so wistful she felt an ache that took her breath away. She bit her lip and turned away, relieved when the manager came back from dealing with his little crisis so she didn’t have to deal with her own.

  After the first day or two the press’s interest in her relationship with Emilio had died down a little, but not enough to make her feel totally at ease. The sense of living under a microscope was petrifying at times. She wondered how big-name celebrities coped with it. And yet Emilio seemed to handle it all in his stride. But then he seemed to know what places the paparazzi frequented, cleverly managing to avoid them. He took Gisele to quiet, off the radar restaurants where the food was magnificent and the wines like nectar. As the days passed, she felt she was gradually getting to know the real Emilio, not the super-successful architect, but the real man. The man behind the mask he wore in public. He was making an effort to lower his guard with her, perhaps because he had sensed her closing off from him.

  It came home to her in a powerful way when they were walking back from having dinner in one of the less trendy suburbs of Rome. They suddenly came across a young girl who was obviously stoned on some drug. She staggered up to Emilio, teetering on her shabby and scuffed high heels, her skin-tight skirt showing more than was decent of her scarily skinny thighs. She said something lewd in Italian and put a hand out to Emilio’s chest. He covered the girl’s scabby hand with his and pulled it off his chest, but he still held it within his. He spoke to her like a concerned father would do to a wayward daughter.