The Mistress: The Mistress\Wanted: Mistress and Mother (25 page)

“It was him with the problem, not you.” His accent was
thick.

“He said the same thing—the other way around, of course.”
Matilda sniffed. “I guess it’s a matter of opinion who’s right! I spent the last
few months trying to get back what we’d once had, trying to make it work, but in
the end...” She shook her head, unwilling now to go on, the last painful rows
still too raw for shared introspection. Thankfully Dante sensed it, offering her
another drink from the bottle they’d practically finished, but Matilda declined.
“What about you?”

“Me?” Dante frowned.

“What about your relationship?” Matilda ventured.

“What about it?”

“You said that it wasn’t perfect...”

“No.” Dante shook his head.

“You did,” Matilda insisted.

“I said that I knew that they were not
all
per
fect—it doesn’t mean I was referring to
mine.”

Matilda knew he was lying and she also knew that he was closing
the subject, yet she refused to leave it there. She’d revealed so much of
herself, had felt close to a man for the first time in ages and didn’t want it
to end like this, didn’t want Dante to shut her out all over again.

“You said that you wanted to fix your problems, Dante,” Matilda
quoted softly. “What were they?”

“Does it matter now?” Dante asked, swilling the wine around his
glass and refusing to look at her. “As you said, there are always two sides—is
it fair to give mine when Jasmine isn’t here to give hers?”

“I think so,” Matilda breathed, chewing on her bottom lip. And
even if her voice was tentative, she reeled at her boldness, laid her heart on
the line a little bit more, bracing herself for pain as she did so. “If you want
to get close to someone then you have to give a bit of yourself—even the bad
bits.”

“And you want to get close?”

He did look at her this time, and she stared back transfixed, a
tiny nervous nod affirming her want. “Tell me about you, how you’re
feeling...”

“Which part of hell do you want to visit?”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t say anything, just stared back,
watching as slowly he placed his glass on the table. His elbows on his knees, he
raked a hand through his hair and so palpable was his pain Matilda was sure if
she lifted her hand she’d be able to reach out and touch it. She held her breath
as finally he looked up and stared at her for the longest time before
speaking.

“Always there is...” He didn’t get to start, let alone finish.
A piercing scream from the intercom made them both jump. He picked up the
intercom, which had been placed on the coffee table, and stood up. “I have to go
to her and then I think I’ll head to bed, I’ve got a pile of paperwork to read.
’Night, Matilda.”

“Let me help with her...”

“She doesn’t like strangers.” The shutters were up, his black
eyes dismissing her, the fragile closeness they had so nearly created
evaporating in that instant.

“Dante...” Matilda called, but he wasn’t listening, her words
falling on his departing back as he closed the door behind him. “Don’t make me
one.”

Chapter 7

P
redictably, Katrina had a plumber
screeching up the driveway within seconds of Dante’s chopper lifting off the
smooth lawn, and Matilda could almost envisage her bags being moved yet again,
but quietly hoped for a miracle. And it wasn’t all about Dante. Waking up to the
most glorious sunrise, stretching like a lazy cat in the scrummy bed, as
superficial as it might be, Matilda was terribly reluctant to leave her very
nice surroundings.

* * *

“White ants!” Katrina almost choked on her Earl Grey as
the plumber she had summoned popped his head around the kitchen door and Matilda
smothered a smile as she loaded a tray with coffee to take out to the workers
for their break. “Well, surely you can replace the water system and then we’ll
get the place treated once...” She managed to stop herself from saying it, but
the unspoken words hung in the air and Matilda took great interest in filling up
the sugar bowl as Katrina paused and then, rather more carefully, spoke on.
“Just sort out the water, please. It doesn’t all have to be done today.”

“Can’t do, I’m afraid,” he said cheerfully. “The wall’s not
stable enough to hold a new system. The place needs to be treated and then some
of the walls will have to be replaced—it’s going to be a big job.”

* * *

It wasn’t the only big job the next couple of days
unearthed.

Katrina practically moved into Dante’s, appearing long before
he went to work and staying well into the night when Dante finally got home—not
that Matilda really noticed. All her energies were taken up with the garden—her
efficient start to the job but a distant memory as problems compounded problems.
The glorious willow tree had roots that weren’t quite as wondrous, thwarting
Matilda’s carefully lain plans at each and every turn. And a rather unproductive
day followed by a floodlit late night were spent with the plumber and
electrician, trying to find a suitable spot to lay the pipes for the water
features. Then, just when that was taken care of, Matilda awoke to the news
that, despite her inspection, the white ants had migrated from the summerhouse
to the rear wall of the fence, which would set things back yet another day while
it was ripped out and replaced. More skips delivered, more delays ensuing, and
by the time she dragged herself back to the house, all Matilda could manage was
a warmed-up meal and a very weary goodnight as, drooping with exhaustion, she
headed off for bed.

Still as the week drew to a close, if not order then at least a
semblance of control had been restored. Finally the pipes were laid, the
electricity was on and the garden that had till now merely lived in her mind
could actually start to emerge.

“I think we must have a mole on steroids,” Dante quipped,
eyeing the mounds of earth that littered the area, and his easy humour bought
the first smile in a long time to Matilda’s tense face as he wandered in with
Alex late one evening to check on the progress. “I hear things haven’t gone
exactly to plan.”

“On the contrary,” Matilda replied. “Things have gone exactly
to plan—there’s always a disaster waiting to happen with this kind of work. But
I think we’re finally under control.”

“Will you be joining us for dinner?”

“Us?” Matilda checked, because Alex was clearly ready for
bed.

“Katrina and Hugh have come over—I should give Janet the
numbers.”

“No, thanks.” Matilda shook her head but didn’t elaborate,
didn’t make up an excuse or reason.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been over.” Dante switched Alex to his
other hip. “My trial preparation has taken up a lot of time, things have been
busy—”

“Tell me about it,” Matilda said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m sure that I’d bore you to death,” Dante responded,
completely missing the point. But somehow the language barrier actually worked
in their favour for once, the tiny misunderstanding opening a door, pushing the
stilted, polite conversation way beyond the intentions of either participant.
“Are you really interested?”

“Very,” Matilda responded. “Completely unqualified, of course,
but terribly interested.”

“But you know that I cannot discuss it with you.”

“I know,” Matilda answered. “I mean, at the end of the day, the
barrister mulling over his case with the gardener...”

“I cannot discuss it with
anyone
,”
Dante broke in, and she watched as his eyes closed in shuttered regret, felt
again the weight of responsibility that rode on his broad shoulders and ached to
soothe him.

“I know,” Matilda said softly, then gave him a little
spontaneous nudge. “Well, I don’t
know
exactly, but
I have got pay TV.” She smiled at his frown. “I’ve paced the courtroom floor
with the best of them, and from what I’ve gleaned you’re allowed to talk in
general terms.”

“You’re crazy.” Dante laughed, his palpable tension momentarily
lifting, but the shrill of his mobile broke the moment. Matilda watched as he
juggled his daughter and flicked out his mobile, watched the vivid concentration
on his face, the turn of his back telling her that this call was important. She
reacted as anyone would have, held out her arms and offered to take his
daughter, lifting the little girl into her arms, hardly registering the surprise
on Dante’s face as he barked his orders into the phone.

* * *

“She went to you!”

A full fifteen minutes had passed. Fifteen minutes of Dante
talking into the phone as Matilda at first held Alex but when she got a bit
heavy, Matilda put her down, gathering the few exhausted, remaining daisies from
under the willow, slitting the stalks with her thumb and making if not a daisy
chain then at least a few links—chatting away to an uncommunicative Alex. But
the little girl did appear to be watching at least and now Dante was kneeling
down with them, staring open-mouthed at what Matilda considered was really a
very normal scene.

“Sorry?” Matilda was trying to wrestle a very limp stalk into a
very thin one.

“Alex actually went to you.” Dante’s voice had a slightly
incredulous note as he watched Alex take the small chain of daisies Matilda was
offering.

“I’m really not that scary, Dante.” Matilda smiled.

“You don’t understand. Alex doesn’t go to anyone. You saw what
she was like the other day when it was
me
trying to
pick her up.”

“Maybe she’s ready to start trusting a little again...” Matilda
looked over at Dante and spoke over the little blonde head that was between
them. Even though it was Alex she was talking about, they knew her words were
meant for both. “Maybe now she’s done it once, it will be easier the next time.”
For an age she stared at him, for an age he stared back, then his hands hovered
towards his daughter, ready to pick her up and head for the house, ready to walk
away yet again. But Matilda’s voice halted him. “Let her play for a few minutes.
She’s enjoying the flowers.” She was, her little fingers stroking the petals,
concentration etched on her face, and for all the world she looked like any
other little girl lost in a daydream. “Talk to me, Dante,” Matilda said. “You
might surprise yourself and find that it helps.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do,” Matilda said firmly, watching as his gaze drifted to
Alex, and finally after the longest time he spoke.

“Remember when we talked at the restaurant?” She could hear him
choosing his words carefully. “You asked if I ever regret winning and I said
no?” Matilda nodded. “I lied.”

“I know,” Matilda answered.

“Not professionally, of course.” Dante pondered, his accent a
little more pronounced as his mind clearly wandered elsewhere. “I always walk
into a courtroom wanting to win, I wouldn’t be there otherwise, but, yes,
sometimes there is a feeling of...” He snapped his fingers in impatience as he
tried to find the right word.

“Regret?” Matilda offered, and Dante shook his head.

“Unease,” he said. “A sense of unease that I do my job so
well.”

“There would have to be,” Matilda said carefully, knowing she
couldn’t push things, knowing she had to listen to the little information he was
prepared to give.

“There is another side, too, though...” His eyes found and held
hers and Matilda knew that what he was about to tell her was important. “There
are certain cases that matter more. Matter because...” He didn’t continue,
couldn’t perhaps, so Matilda did it for him.

“Because if you won there would be no unease?” She watched the
bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, knew she had guessed correctly, that
Dante was telling her, as best he could, that the man he was defending was
innocent and that this case, perhaps, mattered more than most.

“You’ll win,” Matilda said assuredly, and Dante let out a tired
sigh and gave a rather resigned smile, pulling himself up to go, clearly
wondering why he’d bothered talking to her if that was the best she could come
up with! “You will—you always do,” Matilda said with absolute conviction. “Your
client couldn’t have better representation.”

“Matilda,” Dante said with dry superiority, “we’re
not
talking about my client and, anyway, you have
absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I do.” Her green eyes caught his as he reached out for
his daughter.

“You know nothing about law,” Dante needlessly pointed out.
“You know nothing about—”

“Perhaps,” Matilda interrupted. “But you’ve already told me
what you’re capable of, already told me that you can do it even if you don’t
believe...” She paused for a moment, remembering the rules, remembering that she
had to keep it general. “If I were in trouble, I mean.” She gave a cheeky grin.
“Suppose I
had
been caught taking those chocolates
and assuming I could afford you...” She gave a tiny roll eye as her fantasy took
on even more bizarre proportions. “I’d want to walk into court with the
best.”

“Am I the best for him, though?” He raked a hand through his
jet hair and it was Dante who forgot to keep things general.

“Absolutely,” Matilda whispered. “I’d want the best I could
afford, Dante, but having you believe in me would mean a thousand times more.
Think of what you’ve already achieved then imagine what you’re capable of when
you actually believe in someone.” A frown marred his brow, but it wasn’t one of
tension, more realization, and Matilda knew that she’d got through to him, knew
that somehow she’d reassured him, maybe helped a little even. “You’re going to
be fine,” Matilda said again, and this time he didn’t bite back, this time he
didn’t shoot her down with some superior remark, just gave her a gentle nod of
thanks.

“Time for bed, Alex,” Matilda said, holding her arms out to the
little girl, and even though Alex didn’t hold out her own arms, she didn’t
resist when Matilda picked her up and wandered with Dante to the gate.

“She likes you,” Dante said as he took a sleepy Alex from
Matilda.

“I’m very easy to like,” Matilda answered.

“Very easy,” Dante said, only, unlike before, Matilda knew
there were no double meanings or cruel euphemisms to mull over. As he walked
away the echo of his words brought a warm glow to her tired, aching body.

Quite simply it was the nicest thing he’d ever said.