A Life Sublime (12 page)

The most delicious buffet food was brought out in canapé dishes that Belinda couldn’t even begin to find fault with, once she could see straight, along with fresh drinks to keep what was turning into a fantastic party going. The music ranged from swinging sixties, to R’n’B, pop, blues, soul and Belinda’s favourite, disco. She had no idea what time it was, but there wasn’t a hint of light in the sky that didn’t come from the artificial spotlights of the grounds.

Clapping enthusiastically at the uniform dancing of the guests to Cameo’s
Candy
, Belinda finished her glass of champagne and thought Massimo was coming to join her. She patted the seat next to her, but instead he held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

No, no, no. Talking was one thing. Dancing with him was a guaranteed bachelor’s degree in stupidity. He didn’t seem to acknowledge the blind panic on her face and instead, picked her up to dance.

This song was the Pied Piper of romance, drifting from one’s head all the way along the spine. Belinda had always found this song particularly sensual. She recalled the days when she’d dance to it with her husband at parties or when she made herself ready for a night out. This song always guaranteed the night ended with her sated and happy. She didn’t quite know how to feel about dancing to
I Only Have Eyes For You
with the tall, severe Italian, his startling eyes not leaving her face.

He twirled her at the end of his arm prompting an unadulterated yelp of surprise. “Silly man!” she gasped as he spun her back, much closer than before. And this was all him, a hot and hard wall of man.

“You and I dance very well together,” Massimo stated lightly. “As if we have danced together in a previous life.”

Belinda’s brows deepened into a prominent V. “I think you’re drunk.”

He shook his head, his smile catching the fairy lights surrounding the gardens. “Just happy. I have a beautiful woman in my arms.”

A blush rose in Belinda’s cheeks.
Smooth.
“I’m far too old for such nonsense.”

“Do you mean I am?”

“You have two grown up children who are now both married!” she blustered.

Massimo’s palm warmly spread over her lower back, his mouth brushing gently from her cheekbone to her ear. “There is a saying, you are only as young as the person you feel. And you, my dear Belinda, feel like a prison sentence.”

“You’re not funny,” she grumbled. “You’ll be a grandfather soon, then it won’t be so easy to joke about your age.”

“You are very interested in my age,” he told her. “I believe you are attempting to convince yourself to take orders.”

“From who?”

“Orders, such as those a nun would take. You are in the appropriate place. A former convent.”

Belinda heard a comment coming that had plagued her since her husband left. “I am not a cold bitch.”

The tips of Massimo’s fingers stroked along the spine of the silk dress, his palm coming to rest just above the curves of her bottom. “Not at all. You speak your mind. I like to think of you as passionate.”

She pressed her lips together and looked at a point over his shoulder, her glossy nails catching the lights. Her view did little to dampen the effect of being cradled in the hard heat of Massimo’s body. Everyone, it seemed, had merged into couples. Tony and Lydia were slow dancing, their foreheads touching, Paul and Sofia were waltzing around everyone singing along quite loudly. Gina and Nick were standing in the centre of them all, swaying slightly but simply kissing one another.

“I was hoping that they would wait,” Massimo said gently. “I am happy for them, believe me. But I was hoping they would enjoy each other before they had any children.”

“I think they enjoy each other a little too much,” Belinda grumbled. “Which is why she’s pregnant.”

Massimo’s lips curved, “Mrs Afriyie, you sound envious.”

She hadn’t touched a man since her divorce. Of course she was envious! It was easy to put such feelings to one side when it wasn’t all around her, when it didn’t have her wanting to move a certain man’s hands down, when it wasn’t pressed to her breasts and definitely not when she could feel sensation tingling where the last thing she’d felt was the heat of stripping wax.

She took a step back. “Song’s finished.”

Her hand seemed locked into Massimo’s. Apparently, he had other ideas. He pulled her right back into his arms, steady with his arm heavy on her waist. “And the dance begins again. No, shh and stay where you are. Mr. Al Green is teaching a valuable lesson.”

Oh no more, this was torture! How was she supposed to go back to normal after all this contact? Either he should kiss her or just let her go and sit down and drive herself to insanity questioning why he wouldn’t. “I think that’s enough now.”

“Belinda,” he said softly and stupid woman she was she looked up. Goodness, for a man, he had a lot of eyelashes. “Shall we sit somewhere quietly with a drink?”

“It’s a wedding.”

“All the better to leave them to it.” He lifted her hand to his lips and without waiting for an answer, simply led her back to the villa, picking up a bottle of whiskey and two glasses along the way. Belinda noted they were at her balcony and Massimo had made himself rather comfortable, pouring her a glass. She rushed into her room and closed the bathroom door. Her reflection showed there wasn’t a single hair out of place, curls uniform from the curling tongs Lydia had used in the morning while contributing to global warming by using half a can of hairspray. Quickly, she cleaned her teeth and reapplied her lipstick.

“Are you going to sit down?” he asked mildly, when she returned only to stand awkwardly by her table. With a raised brow, she sat down and picked up her whiskey.

“You should have some ice in your room. Allow me find some for us.” He disappeared into her room and she really prayed she hadn’t left anything embarrassing on display for him to see. God help her, she hadn’t even thought about that! The moment alone gave voice to the most serious of her doubts.
What are you doing?

Having a drink
, she retorted.

It’ll end in trouble, you’ve been warned.
It was altogether a correct assumption, but she was still sitting there, waiting for him to return. He came back with a smile in his blue eyes and a glass full of cubes of ice. Dropping two in her glass before he attended to his own, he sat down and turned to her. “Tell me about Ghana. Where you grew up.”

And she did. She talked. They talked until the floor lights lit up the coast in the distance along with the candles that Massimo leaned down to light with a solid silver lighter. The night turned even darker, the scent of cooling earth and sea mixing richly with the predominant scent of the gardenias and nectarine flowers. They’d left behind their childhoods and discussed the villa, moreover the distinct changes Massimo had made after his wife’s death. Massimo again topped up Belinda’s glass and she sent him a smile in thanks. The question was on the tip of her tongue and the whisky just encouraged her. “Do you miss her? Your wife?”

Massimo sighed deeply, “How can I miss someone I did not know?”

“You were married to her for how long? Thirty odd years, how could you not know her?”

He looked into his glass, swirling the ice cubes. “She was not the woman I married. She had not been for a long time.”

“You’d have known that if you’d talked to her,” Belinda asserted, from bitter experience.

“I did talk to her. I also wanted to protect her. By the same turn, she made everything about our children and nothing we discussed was ever about us, more specifically her. I accept responsibility for that. But I also wanted to protect my sons.”

“Didn’t they see what was going on? They’re not stupid. Contrary to behaviour I’ve seen today.”

“They would have if I had told the truth. If I had, she would have lost them too.” He leaned forward, placing the glass on the table in front of them. “Whatever she did to me, I could never take them from her. I could weep to God for forgiveness for the things I have done. But I will never regret that. Never.”

Belinda felt a frown furrow her brow. “Neither of them mentioned her once today.”

“I did not account for the other things she had done to undermine the love she had for our sons. I am sure there are things you now know about your husband that you did not when he was alive.”

“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Do they know about you? Your husband’s children?”

Belinda focused on a flickering candle. How had the conversation turned so abruptly to her? “They did when I sold the house. I didn’t think their father would think about their future so I left them some money. When we were married in 1980, one of the houses we bought was eighty thousand. When I sold it a few years ago, it was worth six hundred thousand. Rather than give Herbert his half, I put it in an account and sent the details to his wife. They can deal with all the whatever, whatever.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s all up to them.”

“Belinda, that is extremely generous of you.”

It hadn’t felt like generosity at the time, it felt like another duty. Had she known Gina was struggling, she’d have damned Herbert and his children to hell and given it to Gina. She was all but her daughter and it pained her to know that she hadn’t felt able to ask for help. It pained her to think she hadn’t been keeping her promise to her best friend. Benjamin Robinson may not have appreciated Belinda’s ‘input’ but what mattered was Esther had asked her to keep an eye on Gina if anything happened to her, and she hadn’t done it properly. All she could do now was make amends.

Toeing off her shoes, Belinda yawned and stretched, “It’s done now. Better we divorced rather than he make a fool of me with God knows how many women. I could tell you some stories. At least you have that in your favour.”

“Actually, Mary Alice was not a faithful wife,” Massimo stated.

A shudder passed over Belinda despite the still, balmy air. The woman had to have been mad. What had she found lacking in all of that man? The thought of going home to a man like him every night caused a ripple of electricity to spark through her knees.
Silliness
, she warned herself.
Behave yourself
.

“I don’t think she was well.”

Massimo laughed. “That is a lovely thing to say. Given you were immune to my charms earlier.”

“What?” she barked.

“When we were dancing.”

Massimo’s hand snaked around her own. “Well, it was just … you know… Look, I’m only human.”

“Did that hurt you?”

“What?”

“Admitting you feel as a mere mortal feels.”

“Oh be quiet,” she snapped in Fanti.

Massimo grinned further. “I know what that means thanks to my new daughter-in-law. Nicholas finds it rather amusing to say it on a regular basis.”

“
Ewuradzi Yankopong
.” Looking at the lightening horizon she got to her feet. There was no point looking at the time, it had to be nearing five in the morning. She felt the gentle tug of Massimo’s warm hand on her own. “Stay...”

“Am I a dog?”

“…where you are,” he finished. “Finish your drink. Being proud of children is exhausting.”

“I don’t have—”

“Georgina has treated you like her mother from the moment you arrived. And you were as proud of her as if she were your own. You certainly scolded her as a child.”

“She’s just like her mother. Esther. She was my best friend and I
miss
the woman every day.” Massimo kissed her knuckles, which only made her throat tighten further. Goodness, she was far too emotional today. Belinda sank back into her seat, hoping she could compose herself.

“If she was at all like Georgina, then I deeply sympathise.”

“You should like her, she’s a wonderful girl. Strange, but wonderful.”

“Just like my son.” Massimo got up and glanced over the balcony. Music was still drifting in the air. “The party goes on.”

“They don’t know parties. I used to go to this club when I was nineteen. I’d been in London for a few months and it was disco. I didn’t go home until eight, nine in the morning and I’d still go to work.”

Massimo pressed his other hand to his chest. “Please tell me you wore hot pants. I beg you.”

“Massimo Da Canaveze,
makaachreo
, you are heading for a slap.”

“That means yes.”

She got to her feet. He was teasing her again and it was very unfair of him. “I think it’s time to go to sleep. We’ve been out here for a long time.”

Scooping her shoes into her hand, she headed to her room. She turned, meaning to say a modest goodnight to him and instead, found all six feet two inches of Massimo Da Canaveze hovering over her, as if he intended to do something she’d be praying about for forgiveness until Judgement Day.