Italian Mavericks: New Year Temptation

‘Look, Mummy, look.’ Charlotte was high on her father’s shoulders and had just placed the fairy on top of the tree. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

‘It’s lovely, sweetheart.’

‘When’s Santa coming?’

‘Tonight, when you’re in bed.’

‘Can I go to bed now?’ she asked excitedly.

‘No, darling, it’s too early.’

‘Will he bring my presents here?’

‘Of course he will.’

‘How will he know I’m here, though?’

‘Because he’s magic. He knows where all little girls and boys are,’ she answered.

Luigi lifted his daughter down and as he did so his eyes met Megan’s, and whether it was the magic of the occasion or because she’d been thinking about their first Christmas together, Megan wasn’t sure, but she felt a volt of electricity arc through her. She turned swiftly away. It was a warning to be careful. She didn’t want to get involved with Luigi again, not at any price. Not unless he changed his lifestyle, and she couldn’t see that happening in a hundred years.

It made her increasingly aware how dangerous it had been to come here. She ought to have stood her ground even if it had meant disappointing her daughter. Not that Luigi would have let her. He’d been fully determined to have his daughter for Christmas, with or without her mother.

In fact it might have been safer to let Charlotte come on her own. No! She immediately negated that thought. She would have lost her. Luigi was adamant that he wanted his daughter—permanently. And she was equally as resolute that he would not.

Luigi had felt a warm surge of pleasure as he held his daughter aloft. It was unlike any feeling he’d ever experienced. This was his child, his flesh and blood, something he had created. She was nothing short of a miracle. And he knew that he never wanted to let her go—unlike his handsome Italian father and fun-loving English mother who had never really wanted him, who preferred to go out partying instead of looking after their son.

When he was eight he’d been taken from them and fostered out. Even then he’d been tossed from one family to another because he’d proved to be too much of a handful. He was full of anger and resentment over the treatment he’d received and several times he’d run away, never settling, never knowing what it was like to be truly loved.

It had made him into the tough person he was today. It had made him decide that he was going to make something of his life. He was quick to learn and very intelligent and at sixteen he had left school and started his first job with an IT firm. In fact he’d had a few little money-earners going long before then.

He’d helped school-friends with their homework and charged them. He had good computer skills and published a teenage magazine that was purchased by dozens of his friends both in school and out. He’d bought and sold all sorts of stuff, anything that would make him a profit. By the time he’d left school he’d amassed almost a thousand pounds. But he’d got his eyes set on a million before he was thirty, and he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He didn’t even know what he was worth these days.

Money gave him security, something he’d never had, and he was hurt that Megan didn’t like his house. To him it was the pinnacle of all that he’d worked for.

Charlotte was speaking now. ‘Do you think, Mummy, that ‘cos I asked Santa for a daddy and he’s given me one, he won’t leave me anything else?’

‘Of course he will, sweetheart,’ answered Megan, gathering the child into her arms and giving her a great big hug.

Luigi felt an unbelievable sadness. He’d never experienced a mother’s arms around him like that. All he’d ever been to his mother was a nuisance, someone to be fed and clothed and told to keep out of the way, often left in the house for long periods alone.

‘I expect he’ll leave you lots,’ he said to his daughter now, and was hurt when Megan gave him a damning look. What did she expect, that he wouldn’t give his daughter anything? That he’d given her enough with the few things he’d put into her room? They were nothing, just a few toys to make her feel at home. Wait until tomorrow, she would be the happiest girl alive.

And Megan too; he had no intention of leaving her out, even though she was making it very clear that she wasn’t pleased to see him. All that would change, he felt certain, when she realised how much better it would be for Charlotte to have a father as well as a mother.

He couldn’t even begin to understand why Megan had kept their daughter a secret. If he hadn’t spotted her in Gerards he might never have known. Charlotte would have grown up and had children, his grandchildren, and he would have been none the wiser.

The very thought sent a spurt of anger through him and he knew he had to get to the bottom of it. Was Megan being truthful when she said that she’d left him because of the long hours he worked? Or had there been another man involved? Was there still someone else? The one he had seen coming and going from her house, for instance?

Luigi’s lips compressed at the thought that there might be some other man in her life. And in his daughter’s life! This man could be the reason why Megan had been so adamant about wanting to spend as little time with him as possible. He needed to speak to her about it, about him, and soon.

The opportunity presented itself as soon as Charlotte had been bathed and put to bed. He’d stood and watched, marvelling at the bond between mother and daughter. It was something he wanted, something he’d missed out on, and he vowed that whatever it took, however much he had to bribe or force, Megan and Charlotte would become a part of his life—for ever!

At least they were still married, that should make things easier. He wondered why Megan had never got around to divorcing him. On his part it was because he’d never met anyone else he wanted to marry—though there’d been plenty of girls who wanted to marry him. But Megan, what was her story? Did she love the man she shared the house with? What sort of a guy was he that he was content to live with a woman who could never be his in the eyes of the law?

‘Asleep at last,’ said Megan as she left Charlotte’s bedroom and discovered Luigi still lurking. ‘She’s so excited. Sleeping in a strange house and wondering what Santa’s going to bring her is a lot for a little girl.’

‘And will it be a lot for her mother, sleeping in a strange house? A house she doesn’t particularly like?’ he asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. It had disappointed him that she hadn’t been as enthralled as he was. He had expected her to be impressed by how well he’d done. In fact he had hoped that it might prove a deciding factor in bringing them back together.

‘I don’t expect I’ll sleep very much,’ she admitted.

‘Are you excited about Christmas too?’

‘Not on your life,’ she retorted. ‘I wish I was anywhere but here.’

Luigi felt as though she’d kicked him in the stomach, although, he supposed reluctantly, it had been a big step for Megan to take. She had been honest about why she’d run away and he’d virtually forced her here. Not that he regretted it.

They would both grow to love it, he felt sure. All they needed was time. At least Megan did. Charlotte seemed happy enough, though he wasn’t sure whether she’d be so content if her mother didn’t stay. In fact he knew she wouldn’t. Which made it even more imperative that he persuade Megan to move in with him permanently.

He would need to treat her with kid gloves, which might be difficult because he wasn’t used to holding back. And he’d need to show her what she and Charlotte would be missing if she went back to their cramped little house. She’d made it very homely but, given the choice between there and here, he couldn’t see there was a choice. This house would win hands down. And he would win too; he would make sure of that.

Couldn’t Megan see that Charlotte would be far better off? Not only because of the space in the house, but the grounds as well. There was a copse, a tennis court, a swimming pool, a lake. It was a child’s dream. There were even stables, though he had no horses yet. But if Charlotte wanted a pony then it would be hers for the asking.

‘It’s too early for you to judge whether you’re going to be happy here,’ he said to Megan now. ‘When—’

‘It’s not altogether the house,’ she retorted sharply, ‘even though I think it’s too pretentious. It’s you! You’re obsessed with money. You’ve always been the same. You think you can buy happiness. Well, let me tell you, Mr Rich Guy, you can be happy living in the tiniest hovel, so long as you’re with the right person.’

‘And you’ve found the right person?’ He couldn’t avoid the hard edge to his voice. He wanted to kill the guy, whoever he was. This was his wife.

‘I was talking generally.’

She flashed her grey eyes at him and he thought how beautiful she was, still flushed from bathing Charlotte, her hair in slight disarray. His groin stirred and he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her—thoroughly. He wanted to prove to her that their love had never gone away; it had simply got lost. ‘But there is someone else? I know because you didn’t refute it earlier. In fact I’ve seen him.’

Megan’s head jerked, her eyes widened. ‘You have?’

‘Come and sit down,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’ He led her downstairs into a cosy little room with panelled walls and a log fire. Red velvet curtains were drawn against the cold winter day and table lamps cast a warm glow. He saw Megan looking around appreciatively. There were a few pieces of antique furniture that he had chosen himself and actually the room was overcrowded, but he quite liked it that way.

‘This is my den,’ he told her. ‘It’s—’

‘The smallest room in the house,’ she finished for him. ‘Proving that you don’t need a mansion. Big rooms are too impersonal; you can’t relax. It’s like living in a National Trust property that’s open to the public.’ She perched herself on the edge of an easy chair.

‘So you’re saying small is cosy?’ He had hoped she would flop down and relax. It looked as though he still had a long way to go. He dropped into the chair opposite so that he could study her to his heart’s content, and stretched out his long legs.

‘Absolutely.’

‘That’s why you’re happy in your own home?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s not because you can’t afford anything bigger?’ Lord, she was more beautiful than ever. What a fool he’d been not to continue his search. He would have promised her the earth if she’d come back to him. Instead he had given up and got on with what really interested him. And it was only now that he realised his mistake.

Megan sucked in a disapproving breath. ‘There you go again, bringing money into it. I tell you, money doesn’t interest me.’

‘You’re one on your own, Megan, do you know that?

‘Because every other woman you’ve met has been more interested in your bank balance than you?’ she asked sharply.

Her words struck home. It was quite true. He’d never appreciated before he had acquired his wealth how mercenary some girls could be. In one way it pleased him that Megan was different; on the other hand he felt irritated because he wanted her to be excited by what he had achieved.

‘It would make life a lot easier for you if you moved in here,’ he said, trying his hardest to sound gentle. In reality he wanted to shake her. He had no idea that she could be so stubborn. This was a side of her that had never surfaced in the early years of their marriage.

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ she retorted.

He could see by the glint in her eyes that she meant living with him would be abhorrent, and it hurt. ‘You’d never need to work again. That must be every woman’s dream?’

‘I admit it would be nice not to have to leave Charlotte. On the other hand, she enjoys playing with other children. And soon she’ll be at school.’

‘Will that make any difference?’ he asked tersely. ‘What if she becomes ill? Can you take time off work? Would your boss understand? Admit it, Megan, you’d be far better off giving up your job and moving in here. Unless, of course, it’s the boyfriend! Is he the one holding you back?’

‘So you have been spying on me?’ Megan spat the words loudly and, without giving him time to answer, added, ‘How low is that?’

He hadn’t considered it low. He’d wanted to find out where she lived, what sort of a lifestyle she had. He wanted to make sure she didn’t move again. Was that wrong? ‘I must confess that when I discovered your address I did sometimes keep watch. Not that it was my intention to spy, Megan. I was hoping to catch sight of you so that we could talk. I would have preferred it that way rather than knocking on your door and giving you the surprise of your life.’

‘Fright of my life, more like,’ she riposted.

‘So, tell me about your boyfriend. He’s clearly not asked you to marry him, otherwise you’d have sought a divorce. What does he mean to you? How long have you known him? Does he have a good job?’

‘I think,’ said Megan tightly, ‘that it’s none of your business.’

‘You’re my wife. It’s every bit my business,’ he challenged.

‘In name only,’ she retorted. ‘Our marriage was over a long time ago.’

‘Then why haven’t you applied for a divorce?’ he asked. This surely had to be in his favour.

Megan shrugged. ‘I never got round to it.’

‘Because you were secretly hoping that one day we’d get back together?’ he suggested.

‘You know that’s not true,’ Megan thrust. ‘And, while we’re on the subject, let me make it quite clear that I shall never come back to you. Never! So we might as well start divorce proceedings as soon as Christmas is over.’

Stunned by Megan’s statement, Luigi sat forward in his chair and looked at her in consternation. ‘Divorce? Now! When we’ve found each other again? When we have Charlotte to consider?’ Despite the warmth from the blazing logs a chill radiated out from his heart until his whole body felt as though it were packed in ice. This was the last thing he’d expected—or wanted! She couldn’t have given him a crueller Christmas gift.

‘I’m perfectly serious,’ she retorted. ‘We’re not compatible, you and I. We each want different things in life.’

‘I want Charlotte.’ He was adamant on that point. Whether Megan came with her was her problem, but he wasn’t letting the child go. She meant more to him than any amount of money. The thought surprised him because previously the state of his bank balance was the most important thing in his life.

‘Charlotte doesn’t come without me,’ she announced. ‘And as I have no—’

‘You’re not being given a choice,’ he warned her testily. ‘I’ve got you here now and you’re staying whether you like it or not.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘IS THAT a warning?’ asked Megan, the air constricting in her throat as it closed tightly over Luigi’s words. He sounded deadly serious.

‘It’s not a warning, it’s a fact,’ he announced. ‘And if you dare to defy me I’ll have every court in the country on your back. You’ve denied me my daughter all these years; you can no longer be allowed to get away with it.’

Panic struck in Megan’s heart. Could he do it? Had he the right? Surely the courts would find in her favour? Could she afford to take the risk? Was she stuck in this situation? She felt the colour drain from her face and sank back into the chair. ‘I can’t believe you’d do this to me.’

‘You can’t? After what you’ve done to me?’ he countered harshly. ‘I think you’ve got away with too much for too long.’

‘What if Charlotte doesn’t want to stay here? What if Charlotte doesn’t like you after she’s seen what a bad father you’ll be to her? Don’t forget I know how much time you spend away from home. She won’t like it, she won’t be very forgiving.’

‘Then I’ll have to spend more time here, won’t I?’ Dark brown eyes seared steadily into hers. He had beautiful eyes; she had always thought that. The whites were very clear and if you looked closely there was a black line around the brown iris. It gave them extra definition, and as he looked at her now she felt that he was seeing right into her mind.

And he was seeing the doubt, the unhappiness, the fear. And he was waiting for her to speak. ‘You know you won’t,’ she flared. ‘Maybe for a while, but you’d soon fall back into your old ways. It’s a way of life. You wouldn’t know what it was like to spend every evening and weekend with your wife and child. You’d be itching to get back to work, to check that things were running smoothly in your absence. You don’t know how to delegate. As a matter of fact you don’t even know how to play with Charlotte.’

Her rebuke hit home. A dark red flush swept across his face and the air suddenly went chill. ‘If I’d been given a chance then maybe I would,’ he shot back. ‘You’re the one who’s being unfair here, not me.’

‘I like that,’ she tossed fiercely. ‘You’ve more or less said that you’re going to hold us prisoner—yet I’m the one who’s being unfair? I don’t think so.’

Luigi jumped to his feet. ‘I’m sure that by the time Christmas is over you’ll have had the chance to see for yourself that it makes sense. It’s time for us to eat. Come, we mustn’t keep Cook waiting.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ protested Megan.

‘You will be when you see what culinary delights Edwina has managed to conjure up. She’s a marvel in the kitchen.’

Megan reluctantly allowed herself to follow him into the smallest of the two dining rooms where a walnut table had been set for the two of them. It looked very festive with a holly table decoration and red napkins tucked into gold rings, but Megan guessed that there would have been none of these seasonal trimmings if he were eating alone. He probably wouldn’t even have been home yet. He would dine out, or make do with a sandwich at around midnight. That used to be his normal practice.

William, the butler, served their meal and Megan found with surprise that she was hungry, very much so.

They started with mango and lobster on a green salad, a combination Megan had never had before, and she found it truly delicious and complementary. ‘Is your cook always this inventive?’ she asked between mouthfuls.

‘Always,’ he agreed. ‘She keeps urging me to have dinner parties so that she can show off her prowess.’

‘And do you?’ Megan dabbed a drop of French dressing from her lip with her napkin, an action Luigi watched closely. His eyes on her mouth reminded her of the time on their honeymoon when they’d shared a bowl of strawberries. He had dipped each one in cream and then held it between his teeth for her to take half. And any cream that was left on her lips he had licked off. It had been a truly sexually exciting experience and she dashed the memory away quickly. It was dangerous allowing such thoughts. Besides, such sensual activities had stopped once they were home and work consumed his every waking hour.

The whole meal was a gastronomic experience, making Megan wonder what Christmas Day itself would be like. Her own cooking skills were limited to plain cooking. She ensured Charlotte had a well-balanced diet, they had no takeaway meals or fast food and they ate plenty of fruit, but she wasn’t into this type of cookery.

‘You’re enjoying your meal?’ Luigi had hardly taken his eyes off Megan all the time they were eating.

‘Very much so,’ she said. ‘You’ve found a treasure in Edwina.’

‘You could eat her food all the time if you—’

‘And I’d end up piling on weight. No, thank you. I prefer my own simple cooking.’

‘Maybe I should give Edwina her marching orders?’

‘Maybe you ought to get the message that we’re not staying,’ Megan retorted coolly.

Luigi’s lips compressed and he said no more, but even when their meal was finished he wasn’t ready to let her go. ‘Where do you normally put Charlotte’s presents?’

‘I fill a stocking from Santa which I put by the fireplace, and a couple under the tree from me.’

‘Then we’d better start,’ he said.

Megan frowned. ‘It won’t take a minute; it’s too soon. What if she wakes and comes down?’

‘If she wakes we’ll hear the monitor. I thought it a wise precaution in a house of this size. We don’t want her getting lost and upset.’

We, thought Megan, as though he was already of the opinion that they were back together as husband and wife. But maybe it was a good idea to put the presents out because then she could go to bed early and escape him for a few hours. She really wasn’t looking forward to Christmas Day, which was a shame because it was normally the highlight of their year.

It wasn’t that easy to get away from him, though. After they’d placed their presents—and she was pleased to note that there was only one from Luigi for his daughter—he invited her to join him for a nightcap. Megan wasn’t really in the mood but Luigi was insistent, and she knew he wouldn’t let her go until she’d agreed.

She couldn’t help wondering how things would have been if she hadn’t run out on him. Would he be where he was today or would he have become a doting father and spent a lot more time at home? She would never know and, surprisingly, she felt a faint pang of regret that she’d never stopped to find out.

‘Would you have ever told me?’ he asked, his eyes steady on hers now as he sipped his Scotch.

‘About Charlotte?’ How had he known what she was thinking?

‘Of course.’

‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly. ‘Maybe one day, if Charlotte began asking about you. Not simply, Why haven’t I got a daddy?’

‘Then I can thank my lucky stars that I was in the right place at the right time. I could have waited a long, long time to meet my daughter.’ And with a swift change of subject, ‘You’re more beautiful than ever, do you know that? Motherhood suits you.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ Megan assured him tartly.

His lips curved upwards into a gentle smile. ‘It’s not flattery for the sake of it, it’s the truth.’

They were back in his den, sitting in companion armchairs, the lights turned low, the fire flickering in the grate. The whole house was centrally heated, and she’d never thought Luigi the type to like old-fashioned comforts, but even so it was very welcome. Maybe the fire was in honour of Christmas. There was one already laid in the drawing room fireplace where the tree had been set up. Tomorrow she could imagine it roaring up the chimney, adding to the magic of Christmas for Charlotte.

‘Would you have gone to all this trouble if we hadn’t been here?’ asked Megan, preferring to steer the conversation back to safer grounds. ‘I mean the Christmas tree and the log fires.’

‘Truthfully?’

‘Truthfully.’

‘No,’ he answered. ‘What would have been the point? This is going to be the best Christmas ever for me—and for you too, I hope.’

‘I’m merely here to make Charlotte happy.’

‘You’re making me happy.’

His voice went down an octave, seeming to vibrate through her bones, and Megan turned her head away, concentrating on her drink, taking large sips of the vodka and orange he had mixed for her. A big mistake; it went straight to her head. Much more of this and she wouldn’t be in charge of her senses. ‘I’ve never seen you as the slippers in front of the fire sort of guy.’

‘So how do you see me?’ he asked with a roguish growl, his eyes reflecting the glow of the embers.

Megan felt them warming her—or was it the fire? Or even the drink? Whichever, she was growing hotter by the second. ‘As the tough businessman who’s feet never hit the ground. What made you buy Gerards? I thought you were in the IT industry.’

‘I still am, but I have my finger in lots of pies. I’ll tell you about them some day,’ he added dismissively, ‘but for the moment I want to talk about you. Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy? Why did you walk out without saying a word?’

‘Because I knew you’d stop me,’ she retorted, her eyes condemning as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. Her almost empty glass, she realised. ‘You’d probably have sworn that you’d change, but I knew differently. And I was right, wasn’t I?’