The Italian Marriage

‘You can’t be sure of anything where Marcus is concerned. And I don’t need his help. I’ll manage,’ Gemma said positively before going out into the hall to call upstairs again. ‘Liam, Mummy will be late for work.’

Joanne Hampton followed her daughter out into the hall. ‘How will you manage?’ she persisted. ‘The cost of living in London is going through the roof, Gemma. You have to be practical. It’s hard being a single parent.’

‘I’ve got a good job, Mum,’ Gemma reminded her patiently. ‘And I’m in line for promotion again. If I get this new job, who knows, maybe I will be able to put in a bid for this house.’ As she spoke she swallowed down nervous anticipation. She did have a good job and her career had been going from strength to strength over these last few years. She had worked her way through the various editorial departments of Modern Times, a glossy monthly magazine, and had been made deputy editor last year. Now she was up for consideration for editor because Susan Kershaw, the present editor, was leaving.

Everyone said she stood a very good chance of getting the top job. She was talented and she was driven. Even Gemma was quite confident that she could outperform the competition. Circulation of the magazine was up and she had more than proven herself over the last year. In fact, she had been feeling quite relaxed about the whole thing until rumours of a take-over bid for the magazine had started a few weeks ago. And suddenly her rosy picture for the future had developed a few disturbing black clouds.

No one was certain who had made the take-over bid, but if it was successful there might be redundancies. The first to go would be the top jobs, as the new company were likely to want to put their own key people in.

But even if she lost her job she would walk into another one, she told herself confidently. She had a great CV.

All right, maybe she wouldn’t earn enough to buy a house as beautiful and in such a good area as this, but she could afford to rent something decent around here. And as long as she maintained her independence and a nice way of life for Liam, that was all that mattered.

Gemma glanced towards the stairs again. ‘Liam, I’m going to come up in a minute,’ she warned.

‘What’s he doing up there?’ her mother asked.

‘Playing with a train set Marcus bought for him last week. The tracks are all the way around his bed.’

Joanne smiled. ‘He’s a good man. Gemma, why don’t you go out for dinner with him tomorrow night. I’ve been thinking about it and the pair of you should sit down and talk about Liam’s future, work this custody matter out. I’ll babysit for you.’

‘There’s nothing to work out,’ Gemma insisted. Marcus had rung several times that week and had left messages on her machine, but she hadn’t called him back and she wasn’t going to. ‘Marcus has my answer and that’s the end of it.’

‘Nevertheless, you need to talk to him about it, soften your attitude.’

‘Soften my attitude!’ Gemma looked at her mother in consternation. ‘If I do that he’ll walk away with my son, and that will be that.’

‘Marcus is a reasonable man. I’m sure you can come to some compromise.’

‘Not over this.’ Gemma shook her head firmly. She wished her mother wouldn’t always talk so positively about Marcus. She never tried to hide the fact that she thought he was wonderful and at every opportunity she thrust the fact at Gemma. Over the years Gemma had got used to it and accepted it. But given the circumstances, the fact that Marcus wanted to take Liam away, she would have thought her mother might be seeing things a little more from her side at the moment. It was disturbing that she wasn’t—hurtful, even.

‘Do you think Liam is right and Marcus is getting married?’ her mother asked suddenly. ‘Maybe he’s settling down with that Italian girl. What’s she called? Sophia? Maybe that’s why he’s moving back there.’

‘Maybe.’ That thought had already tormented Gemma through several long sleepless nights. ‘But, whatever the reason, he is not having Liam.’

Gemma was relieved when Liam appeared at the top of the stairs, bringing the conversation to a close.

As he hurried down to stand beside them, Gemma noticed he looked a little flushed. ‘Are you okay, darling?’ she asked, bending to put one hand on his forehead.

His skin felt clammy under the coolness of her hand. ‘Are you feeling ill?’

‘I’m okay.’ Liam shrugged.

‘He’s probably been racing around after that train,’ his grandmother said with a laugh.

‘I’ve built tunnels under the bed and a big loop by the bathroom door,’ Liam said with a grin. ‘Come and look, Nana.’

‘Maybe later.’ Joanne smiled. ‘We have to go now. Otherwise, Mummy will be late for work and I’ll be late for my bridge club.’

Thank heavens Liam hadn’t been ill this morning, Gemma thought, as she sat at her desk half an hour later and dealt with a mountain of paperwork. If she’d had to have today off it could have been disastrous. The office was chaotic and a lot of the top executives were huddled together in the boardroom, giving a sense of urgency to everything.

‘They’re calling a meeting later.’ Richard Barry, the new features editor of the magazine, paused by her desk on the way to get himself a coffee. ‘Looks like the take-over is going through after all.’

Gemma felt slightly ill at those words. If that was the case, it was likely that all her hard work for the job of editor wouldn’t pay off.

‘Hey, don’t look so worried.’ Richard perched on the edge of her desk for a moment. ‘You are one of the most talented editors I’ve ever worked with, you’ll get your job.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Richard, but I doubt it.’ She smiled up at him. Richard was an attractive man and he had become a close personal friend over the last couple of months. She really liked him. Liked him more, perhaps, than any other man she had met in the last few years.

‘Shall I get you a coffee from the machine to cheer you up?’ he asked now.

Gemma laughed at that. The coffee from the machine was so bad that it had become a standing office joke. It was said that anyone who wanted to end it all only had to overindulge by a few cups to achieve their aim. ‘Go on, then. I’ll live dangerously, thanks.’

As Richard left her office she watched him through the glass walls of her office. She had one of the few private offices on the floor but her door was always open and the glass walls made her feel part of what was going on out in the main body. Now she noticed there was a stir up by the reception area, and as she glanced over she saw with a shock that Marcus Rossini had just stepped out of the lift.

The nerve of the man, she thought furiously. How dared he come to confront her at work? She watched with a small gleam of satisfaction, knowing that if he didn’t have an appointment, Clare, the receptionist, would not let him in without gaining clearance from her first…clearance she had no intention of giving. Marcus could get lost.

She waited for the phone on her desk to ring, but instead, a few minutes later, Gemma watched incredulously as Marcus strode on in through the office in the direction of her desk. What the hell had he said to Clare? she wondered. Probably turned on that fabulous Italian charm of his, or maybe he had merely smiled. She noticed the effect he was having on the other women out in the office as he walked past them: they were all looking at him with ill-disguised appreciation. It was always the same, Gemma thought with annoyance, women just fell at Marcus’s feet. But not her, she thought grimly. She was older and wiser now and knew the dangers of that particular pitfall.

She had to admit, though, he did look good. The dark business suit did incredible things for an already very desirable physique. Annoyed with herself for allowing that thought to cross her mind, she glared at him as he strolled nonchalantly into her office.

‘What on earth do you want?’ she asked sharply. ‘Because I’m telling you now, Marcus, I haven’t got time for whatever it is.’

‘That’s hardly a congenial welcome, Gemma,’ he chastised softly.

‘That’s because I’m not feeling particularly congenial where you are concerned.’ She felt a tremor of apprehension as he shut the door behind him, closing her into the confined space with him. ‘That door always remains open,’ she told him, but he ignored her completely and left it closed, taking a seat in the chair at the other side of her desk.

He looked extremely relaxed and yet more formidable than ever, his expression as businesslike and serious as his clothing.

‘Clare shouldn’t have allowed you in here,’ Gemma said heatedly. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m trying to work and this isn’t a convenient time.’

‘Unfortunately, there never seems to be a convenient time, does there, Gemma? As you have not returned any of my calls, you’ve left me no option but to come in here to sort things out in person.’

She didn’t like the sound of that at all. It made a nervous flutter start in the base of her stomach. ‘Marcus, I have nothing to say to you, and I want you to leave now.’

As he made no effort to move she continued in a more heated tone. ‘Look, I’ve asked you nicely, but if you continue to refuse you’ll leave me no option but to ring through for Security to remove you.’

Far from seeming worried by that, he looked slightly amused. ‘I never realized before what a fighter you are, Gemma,’ he murmured. ‘But I have to warn you that if you take such an action, you might get more than you bargained for. You might find that you are the one who is removed from the office.’

Gemma shook her head contemptuously. ‘Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me, Marcus. You may have been able to charm your way around the receptionist, but two burly security guards will be a different matter.’

‘Why haven’t you returned my phone calls?’ he asked, totally ignoring that.

‘You know why.’

‘You’ve been working day and night for the last few days?’ he said sardonically. ‘When I dropped Liam back on Sunday your mother told me you were working. And I’ve left several messages on your answering machine now, the first on Sunday evening, the last yesterday morning.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘Too busy to make time to discuss our son’s future?’

The nonchalant question fired her blood. ‘There is nothing further to discuss.’

He didn’t answer that. ‘Nice office you’ve got here,’ he remarked instead. ‘And I hear you’re looking to move even higher within the company.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘You seem to forget that I’m a player in the publishing world myself. Let’s say I’ve got my ear to the ground.’

If ever there was an understatement, it was that. Marcus didn’t just ‘play’ at publishing: he ran one of the largest companies in Europe. Rossini House was massive; it owned some of the most well respected publishing firms in the business. Modern Times was very small fry compared to anything Marcus ran or was remotely interested in.

‘Well, I’m flattered that you’re taking such an interest in my career,’ she replied sardonically. ‘Obviously, you have a lot of spare time on your hands. Or is life just incredibly dull for you at the moment?’

‘Life’s pretty good, Gemma. Thank you for your concern,’ he replied smoothly, completely ignoring her sarcasm. ‘So what do you think your chances are of getting this promotion?’

‘I don’t know…I suppose I’m quietly confident.’ She frowned, wondering why he was asking her this.

‘If I remember rightly, you’re not bad at your job,’ he reflected.

‘Not bad?’ Her frown deepened. ‘Actually, I’m damn good at my job, as you well know. It’s the reason I was offered a job all those years ago at one of your companies.’

He regarded her steadily for a moment as if she were a piece of artwork he was thinking of buying. Her blonde hair was tied back in a schoolgirl ponytail, which showed the perfect proportions of her face, the high cheekbones, the soft, sensual curve of her lips, the large, vivid blue eyes. She wore light make-up but she didn’t need any; her skin was flawless and creamy.

Her body was still ripe perfection.

At twenty-nine, Gemma had hardly changed since the day she had first walked into his office five and a half years ago. ‘Your work wasn’t the only reason you were offered a job,’ he said with soft emphasis, then smiled as he saw a bright flush of colour light her skin.

‘I’m sure you haven’t come here to reminisce about old times, or ask about my work, so perhaps you had better just get to the point,’ she said, annoyed with herself for allowing that remark to unsettle her.

‘I think you know what the point is,’ he said quietly.

‘Liam is not going to live with you in Italy, so you may as well just give up on the idea and go away.’

‘Giving up isn’t an option, Gemma.’

She glanced beyond him towards the main office. People were looking over at them; curiosity was obviously rife out there. ‘You are causing a scene, Marcus, and I want you to go.’

‘Not until you’ve agreed to come out for dinner with me tomorrow.’

‘I can’t—’

‘Your mother informed me that she would gladly babysit for us, so what time shall I pick you up?’

‘Watch my lips, Marcus. I will not go out with you tomorrow. And where Liam lives is not up for discussion. He is staying with me.’

‘I’ll book a table at Bellingham’s for seven-thirty. How does that suit?’

‘You can get a table at Buckingham Palace for all I care. I still won’t be there.’

Why was he being so insistent about taking her out for dinner? she wondered furiously. Did he think that was the best place to tell her he was planning to get married? Gemma shivered at the thought…that was a bit too civilized for her taste.

She tried to return her attention to her work, to pretend he wasn’t there. And hoped he would just get the message and leave.

‘Is it always going to be like this between us?’

The softly spoken question made her look up. ‘Like what?’ she asked, puzzled.

‘Guns drawn at twenty paces.’ He gave a small smile.

‘That’s not fair, Marcus. I have always been very cooperative with you. I’ve let you see Liam whenever you want. Even at very short notice, I change my plans to fit in with your work schedule. I think I’ve been more than helpful—’

‘What about the fact that I don’t agree with the school you are sending him to in September?’ Marcus cut across her suddenly.

She frowned, the remark taking her by surprise. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that school. It’s close by—’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘What do you mean, you don’t like it? What would you know about it?’ she asked impatiently.

‘I just think we could send him somewhere better.’

‘You mean to a school with colossal fees?’ She shook her head angrily. ‘Just because a school costs a lot doesn’t—’

‘That’s not what I mean at all, Gemma.’

‘So what do you mean?’ she asked, and then promptly wished she hadn’t when she noticed the smile of satisfaction on Marcus’s face.

‘You see, we do have things to discuss.’

‘Discussing local schools is a very different proposition to discussing taking Liam out of the country completely,’ she said quickly.

‘Yes, but up to two minutes ago you didn’t even want to discuss local schools,’ Marcus pointed out coolly.

He was right; she didn’t. The simple fact was that she was scared of Marcus taking over completely. It was in the nature of the man: he was arrogant, and he was powerful. If she gave him even an inch he would take the whole nine yards. He thought he could say and have anything he wanted…and maybe he could, maybe that was really what scared her. He had always had the strangest effect on her. Just sitting this close to him across the desk made her heart rate increase, made her whole body turn to red alert. Having sensible, unemotional talks with Marcus was something she was incapable of doing.

‘I just want to be more involved in my son’s upbringing, Gemma. Is that such a bad thing?’

Gemma stared at him in exasperation. She couldn’t honestly say that it was.

‘But you don’t let me help you in any way—’

‘If you’re going to start talking about money, you can forget it, Marcus. We have been all through this subject before and I’ve told you I don’t want or need your help. I’m managing perfectly well by myself, and that’s how I like it.’

She saw his face tighten, saw the flare of annoyance in his dark eyes, but she held his gaze with determination. She was resolute on this, because she knew if she handed over the financial reins to him he would really have a hold over her.

‘And don’t worry about the school,’ she continued hurriedly. ‘It will be good for Liam. My friend’s little girl, Annie, goes there as well, so he will feel right at home,’ she continued firmly.

‘Oh, well, if Annie goes there it must be fine,’ Marcus grated sarcastically. ‘To hell with academic achievement.’

‘He’s four years of age, Marcus. He can train to be a brain surgeon a little later on,’ she retorted with equal sarcasm. ‘My main priority at the moment is that he’s happy.’

‘If that’s the case, then come out for dinner with me tomorrow night.’

‘So we can fight between courses. I don’t think so. Liam is not going to Italy, he is staying here with me, and he is going to a local school.’ She glanced beyond him towards the office again. There was a sense of unreality about being closeted in here with Marcus discussing schools of all things on a stressful Thursday with deadlines looming and chaos reigning in the boardroom. The day had started on a bad note and seemed to be going rapidly downhill. She wondered if it could get any worse.

‘You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met, do you know that?’ Marcus said quietly.

Gemma noticed Henry Perkins, the company director, coming out of the boardroom to get himself a coffee from the machine. He looked as stressed as she felt, she noted. Although he was a relatively young man at forty-five he seemed to have aged ten years in the last few weeks.

‘The fact remains that, no matter what you say to the contrary, Liam is a very happy child.’ She returned her attention to Marcus. ‘He’s well adjusted and secure, and I want to make sure things stay like that. And anyway, maybe if you cared a little more about Liam and a little less about yourself, you wouldn’t be thinking of leaving him and going to live in Italy.’

She knew she had scored a bulls-eye with that remark as she saw his face darken angrily. He wasn’t the only one who could use emotional blackmail to get what he wanted, she thought with satisfaction.

‘Things aren’t that black and white,’ he said crossly.

‘They never are.’ She hesitated before asking curiously, ‘So what’s drawing you back to Italy? Some nubile woman waiting in the wings, I take it. Or are you finally going to make an honest woman of Sophia?’

There was a moment’s silence, then Marcus grinned. ‘Hell, Gemma, you sound almost jealous.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She wished she hadn’t asked now, wished she had contained both her curiosity and the barbed comment. ‘On the contrary, I hope you will be very happy.’

‘Thank you.’

Was that all he was going to say? Was he not going to enlighten her at all? She stared at him in frustration, wanting to ask him more but not daring to in case he thought she really was jealous…which, of course, she wasn’t, just consumed with curiosity.

‘So, while we are on this new and enlightened “be nice to each other” path, how about agreeing to have dinner with me tomorrow night?’

‘The answer is still no, Marcus. Now we’ve had our conversation, and I want you to go. I’m stressed enough at the moment without you coming in here making trouble.’

‘What are you stressed about?’ he asked calmly.

For a second she contemplated telling him about the rumoured take-over bid for the magazine, then decided the less he knew about the details of her financial life the better. ‘Let’s just say that today is not the best of days in this office, and your presence here is making matters worse.’ She glanced up, noticed Richard hovering outside the door with her coffee and waved him in, in the hope that Marcus would go once someone else was present.

As the door opened Marcus glanced coolly around. ‘Wait outside, will you?’ he said to a startled Richard, who had only taken a step inside. ‘We are having a private conversation.’

‘Oh, right you are.’ To Gemma’s annoyance, Richard immediately retreated and closed the door again.

‘How dare you talk to Richard like that?’ she flared angrily. ‘He’s the features editor, not one of your lackeys.’

‘I don’t care who he is. Richard can wait,’ Marcus ground out tersely.

She glared at him.

‘You think you can manage very well on your own, Gemma, but you are being naïve. It’s hard being a single parent—’

‘I know it’s hard. You’re preaching to the converted, Marcus. It’s you who has no idea of reality. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a living to make and a son to support.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I know you like to think of yourself as very independent, but believe me, without my support you would find things very tough…very tough indeed.’

The quietly spoken words puzzled her. ‘I don’t need any support from you, Marcus. I never have and I never will.’

‘Really?’ Marcus rose from his chair, his manner very cool suddenly. ‘Such big words…let’s hope you’re not speaking rashly, Gemma. Because, from what I hear, your life is in a state of flux at the moment.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, for one thing, I hear that the house you are renting is up for sale,’ he said casually.

‘How do you know about that?’ She stared up at him in confusion and then the mist cleared. Obviously, her mother had contacted him this morning, had gone ahead and asked for his help. Was that why he had rushed around here now, because he thought he could use this to his advantage? Furiously she shook her head. ‘Look, Marcus, I don’t know what Mum has told you, but…’

‘Your mother hasn’t told me anything.’

‘So how do you know the house is for sale? It hasn’t even gone on the market yet.’

He leaned on the back of the chair and stared at her, a wry look on his face as he watched her perplexity. ‘Oh, come on, Gemma, you didn’t honestly think you could rent a house like that for what you’ve been paying?’

‘You mean you’ve been paying my rent?’ She struggled blindly to comprehend what was going on here.

‘I’ve waived your rent,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘The house belongs to me. You see, I know you have been determined not to accept my help in any way but I have been doubly determined that you should.’

‘Well, you had no right!’ All colour drained from her skin and she stood up to face him on legs that were decidedly shaky. ‘I told you I didn’t want you interfering in my life—’

‘I wasn’t interfering and I didn’t do it for you, I did it for my son,’ he said calmly.

‘And now, when it suits, you’re throwing us out…’ Her tone was icily cold. ‘And you wonder why I didn’t want to accept any help from you in the first place.’

‘I’m not throwing you out. You can continue to live there for as long as you like. I’m just giving you a wake-up call. I’ve tried to tell you nicely, now I’m telling you clearly. I won’t allow you to shut me out of Liam’s life for a moment longer.’

‘Well, here’s a wake-up call for you,’ Gemma retorted furiously. ‘I wouldn’t want to live in that house now if it was the last one left standing in London. Liam and I will be moving out at the end of the month.’

‘When Liam moves out of that house he will be accompanying me back to Italy,’ Marcus replied calmly.

‘Not while there is a single ounce of strength left in my body.’

Marcus walked slowly around the desk until he was standing very close to her, then reached out and touched her face. Considering the fact that they were both intensely angry it was a strangely tender caress and it made her shiver deep inside. ‘I can think of better ways for that beautiful body of yours to expend energy,’ he murmured.