The Reluctant Wife (12 page)

Abby took a hesitant step. For a split second, she wanted to race into her grandmother’s arms and confess all. She longed for Nana to tell her everything would be all right.

“Nothing. It’s not important.” Nana stood looking at her, waiting. Abby crossed her fingers behind her back. “I changed a hair appointment, Nana, that’s all.”

Her grandmother’s face broke into a smile. “I was worried for a moment. When you collapsed my first night in hospital, I thought the worst.”

She hugged her grandmother. “I was worried about you, too.”

“I know. Besides, that was over five weeks ago and you’ve not had a repeat of the pain. I’m sorry, your abdominal seizure must have been caused by all the stress of my operation.” She hugged Abby back. “I promise not to scare you again.” Nana disentangled herself from Abby’s hold and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll go and ensure Katarina has packed a few clothes that actually cover you.”

Just as well Nana had her back to her, for as soon as she’d turned to leave, Abby immediately collapsed onto a chair, her legs giving out from under her. She was late, she realized. And she was never late.

Her period was overdue.

Her hand fluttered above her stomach. Her whole body drumming with leashed excitement. No. She would not get her hopes up. She needed to get hold of a pregnancy test. And fast. If she was pregnant, this was going to be the best honeymoon ever.

Chapter Fifteen

They’d been in Maldives, paradise as she called it, three days and yet Abby still stared dry-mouthed at her husband’s bronzed, muscular torso as he walked out of the water. His stomach was flat, his shoulders wide, and his chest shadowed with dark hair that only added to his ruggedly masculinity. He was incredibly handsome, and a familiar warmth developed low in her pelvis, immediately followed by the gut-wrenching persistent sorrow churning in her stomach. She’d been nauseous since the pregnancy result, which had been negative. Worse, during their two nights in Paris, she’d experienced some spotting.

She wasn’t pregnant.

Even with a view like this, virgin white sand so fine it seemed almost translucent, turquoise blue water almost as stunning as Dante’s pale blue eyes, and a man who was a real-life fantasy, she could barely contain her sorrow. It was hard hiding it from him. It was draining trying to be happy.

She watched Dante shake the water from his hair and swipe the black curls off his face. Guilt ate at her soul. He was still oblivious to the news that would devastate his world.

It was time. She needed to tell him.

The first night at their seaside private villa, as they lay on the lounge under the cloudless sky alight with diamond-sparkling stars, he’d told her about his father and how he thought he might die young, too. She’d hugged him close and said, “So that’s why having a son as soon as possible was so important to you. As we’re only one year into our formal separation, we wouldn’t be divorced for another two years and you thought you’d run out of time.” Her body shook with stabbing hurt. “It didn’t matter who the mother was.”

He’d cupped her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “The moment you entered my den, just over six weeks ago, it mattered. That’s why I insisted on the deal. I instinctively knew I had to have you back. Just as I instinctively knew the first time I saw you that you were the one for me.”

Heat had flooded up her throat and her breathing almost stopped. “Then why were you so cold to begin with? I thought you hated me.”

He’d kissed every inch of her face and explained that he felt ashamed and selfish for intending to make her love a dead man walking. She’d kissed him back and said every person was a dead man walking. Everyone died.

“I’m stupido. I know. What do you expect? I’m a man.” He’d laughed. Then he’d laid her on the cushions and made slow, erotic love to her under the stars, proving to her just what a man he was. They’d been so happy over the following days that she’d chickened out of telling him.
Why ruin the moment?
a loud voice inside her head shouted.
Tell him after the honeymoon
, she’d told herself sternly.

Not telling him will only make it seem worse later
,
a smaller voice had replied.

Dante approached over the sand of their private beach. The water droplets glistening over his skin made him look magical. She was definitely under his spell and didn’t care. His eyes gleamed with undisguised need.

She stared back a hungry welcome.

He flopped down on his towel beside her. “My little flower looks as though she’s wilting in the heat. Go in for a swim.” He shook his head, sending water droplets cascading all over her.

Abby gasped at the feel of the coolness against her heated skin. “I was enjoying the view too much.”

“Then fair’s fair. It should be my turn to enjoy the view.”

She accepted his challenge. She’d see how long it took before he couldn’t resist joining her in the water. She reached for her bikini top. He stopped her. “You won’t need that.”

“Fine. I’ll need some more sunscreen then.” She purposely squeezed suntan lotion onto her hands and began rubbing it all over her naked breasts. He gave a low groan and reached for her.

She stepped back. “No. No. You said I needed a swim.” She walked in her thong bikini bottom, with hips swaying, toward the sea. She bet he wouldn’t let her get to the water’s edge before racing to join her.

She was almost at the water when she heard a mobile phone ring. She smiled at the curse issued from his lips. She knew he had to answer it. A man running a large business dynasty couldn’t just disappear. Dante had been pretty good at keeping work at bay. Usually he dealt with the interruptions quickly, delegating tasks to his two brothers-in-law or telling them he’d get to it later.

She shielded her eyes against the glare and looked up the beach. He stood and gave a hesitant wave before heading toward the villa. The call must be important. The water lapping at her toes was very inviting, so she decided to have a swim. Dante could be a while.

Her hands and feet had gone wrinkly, she’d waited so long in the water for Dante to return. But he hadn’t emerged back onto the beach. On her way back, she picked up her things and, singing softly to herself, made her way to the villa. Her stomach rumbled loudly. She hoped housekeeping had left the plate of freshly cut fruit she’d ordered.

Still singing, she entered the villa. She could hear Dante barking at someone on the phone. She noticed all the drawers and cupboards were flung open and Dante’s bags were packed and standing by the door. So much for being able to spare a full seven days off work. She couldn’t help the niggling annoyance.

Dante walked out of the bathroom. A wave of unease swept over her.

“Are we going somewhere?” she asked, disappointment ringing in her tone.

“No.”

“Then why are the bags packed?”

“My bags, not yours.”

“Oh. Was the call urgent then?

Dante swung to face her, hostility screaming at her from his stern features. “Care to tell me about Dr. Molinari?”

Her mouth went as dry as the Sahara under the baking sun, and she gripped the door handle for support. “How did you…” She stepped backward, flustered, confused, and appalled he’d spoken to Molinari before she could explain the situation.

“He rang to see how you were since you’d postponed your laparoscopic surgery. How long, Abby? How long have you known you have a problem conceiving?” He slammed his fist against the wall. “Did you know before you agreed to give me a son? Did you know before you married me?”

“No,” she cried, reaching for him. “No.”

He knocked her hand aside and looked at her in disgust. “Two nights ago, I poured my soul out to you in this very villa. Not once did you say, ‘Oh by the way, I might not be able to have children.’”

“I didn’t think this was the best time.”

“Perhaps you’d have kept me waiting and guessing, just like the first year of our marriage. Every month hoping and praying for a pregnancy.” He took two strides toward her, gripped her upper arms, and glared down at her. “I never thought you could be so cruel. The waiting, the hoping, when all the while you knew it would never happen. You were on the pill then.
Dio
, how did I ever let you fool me again?”

He thrust her away and she wrapped her arms around herself, staring at him in shock. She could feel the imprint of his fingers, reminders of his rage. Feel the pain of his grip, reminders of her guilt.

“Please let me explain. I was going to tell—”

He held up his hand. “Don’t. I don’t wish to hear more lies.” He moved toward his suitcases. He bent to pick them up and Abby suddenly found her voice.

“Please, you must let me explain. It’s not confirmed that I can’t have children. Dr. Molinari is waiting on tests. I have to have a small operation, and that’s why I haven’t told you.”

He ignored her and walked to the door.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. Just like you didn’t tell anyone about your tests. I didn’t want to worry you until I was certain.”

Her words petered out as he dropped his bags and raked a hand through his hair. His look was so full of hate it almost stopped her heart.

“I don’t believe you, Abby. I thought you’d grown up. I thought this time we could have a grown-up relationship. A real marriage. But you’re still a child. Still playing games filled with lies and deceit.”

Her limbs refused to move. She swallowed back the tears. “That’s not true. You’re using me not telling you about Dr. Molinari as an excuse to get rid of damaged goods!”

“
Christo
, grow up, Abby. I don’t care about the fact you might not be able to conceive. It would be a blow, but there are ways and means around these things. It’s about trust,” he said, stalking closer again. “I can’t trust you. These past weeks with you made me realize what a true marriage was all about and more importantly, that I wanted it. I wanted someone to share the good and bad life throws at you. Someone to love and be loved in return. A wife who would always support me and me her, a real partnership—like my parents.” He looked at her with such disappointment it made her heart ache. “I thought that woman was you. But I was mistaken. I refuse to give my heart to a woman who locks me out, who doesn’t confide in me, who lies to me—”

“Oh, like you confided in me.”

“When it counted, I did confide in you. I told you everything. I bared my soul and got nothing in return,” he roared. “I can’t—no, won’t—live with that.”

Abby sucked in a breath. “I only learned about my condition shortly after my grandmother’s operation. I’m only twenty-three years old and to be told I might need a hysterectomy… You have no idea what that feels like, especially when the man who means everything in the world to me is so desperate for a child he blackmails me into his bed.” She gave a sob. “How could I tell you?”

He stopped pacing and glared at her. “In the beginning, I understand why you didn’t tell me. I’m not proud of how I behaved. But here, on our honeymoon, alone—after the other night?” He shook his head. “You should have told me. Now it’s too late. I don’t think I can ever forgive you for not trusting in me.”

An icy blast wafted over her, chilled her down to the bone. She hung her head in defeat. She knew what was coming.

“That’s the problem, Abby. You didn’t trust in me. I’m leaving for Paris. I need some space to think. I’ll send the plane back for you to take you wherever you want to go.”

“Go? I’m going back to Florence. Back to the villa, our home. You just accused me of being immature. Surely we can discuss this like two adults.”

He looked out at the serene ocean, glittering in the sunshine. “I don’t know if I can do this, our marriage. I originally thought having a wife I didn’t love was the best thing all around. Neither of us would be left brokenhearted if anything happened to me. Clean and neat. All I wanted was children.”

She dashed tears from her cheeks. “That doesn’t sound like living. It sounds like hiding, giving up, letting the best things of life—love, family—pass you by.”

Dante’s face was dark and he nodded slowly. “You’re right. It would be a waste of life—mine and yours. That’s why I have to think. I no longer want a wife just so I can have a child. I want more.”

“You have that with me.”

“Do I?” He looked deep into her eyes. “I wonder if that’s true. I don’t think you ever loved me. You left and never looked back. You only came back to me because you wanted to help your grandmother. If I find out you’ve known all along that you couldn’t have children… Then I’ll know you never loved me, and this was all about the money for the operation.”

She took a step forward, pleading. “Please don’t do this, Dante. I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”

He ignored her. “Go back to the villa.”

“You’re taking the easy way out. You’re trying to find a reason to get rid of me because I can’t have children.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. The raw pain on his face told her that his feelings went much deeper than that. But she was furious and hurt, and she wanted him to stay and fight for her—for them.

Grabbing his bags, he made for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you. I can’t bear to be in the same room as you right now.”

“Now who’s running away?”

He turned back to her. He was a big blur in her field of vision. She swiped her tears away, watching him shake his head.

“You would know, mio fiore. You did it quite well.”

Chapter Sixteen

Dante’s stomach gnawed with pain as if he’d been sucker punched. He clenched his fists as waves of anger swept him along the Paris sidewalk.

Abby had lied to him—again. A lie by omission was still a lie. It wasn’t even a little lie, but a lie about something that fundamentally affected their lives together. He wondered how long she’d have waited to tell him. He suspected she must have known before she agreed to move back home and provide him with a son. That was why she hadn’t wanted to tell him until much later. She wanted to make it look as if she hadn’t known and hadn’t fooled him all along.

She’d made him look stupid. However, guilt also hammered away at his head until he couldn’t think. He’d had this headache since he’d left the villa twelve long hours ago. Abby had accused him of using her silence about her inability to conceive as a reason to walk out on their marriage. Her words pricked at him and he didn’t like it. She was the one who’d hidden things from him, who’d lied and misled him. What of the family name, the title—the business? His shoulders felt weighed down with stark disappointment.

His hands sank deep into his trench coat pockets. He stood at the entrance to Parc Monceau and watched the world around him. He saw a family. The mother sat on a bench pushing a baby in a stroller back and forth. The father was on the grass teaching his toddler how to kick a ball. Would he ever have this? Would he ever have this with Abby? He knew he didn’t want it with anyone else. That’s what hurt the most. Was that what he was truly angry about? Was he angry at the situation they found themselves in, rather than Abby’s deceit? Wouldn’t this pain still be here regardless of whether Abby told him the truth any sooner?

His memory journeyed back to the day his father collapsed and was taken to hospital. The shock of ascertaining how sick he actually was and learning he’d kept it hidden from them almost broke his mother.

Dante remembered how angry she was at his father for not telling any of them about his illness. But looking back, he realized it wasn’t his father’s omission that she was angry about. It was the fact that his father would die.

Was Abby protecting him?

He’d made it perfectly clear to Abby how important a son was to him and his family. Christ, he’d resorted to blackmail to ensure a son. The family name, the tradition, the title… In the Maldives, he’d gone on and on about how they could have a big family. Loads of children. Yet all the while she knew she might have to smash his dreams. She must have been dying inside. If she felt nothing for him, she would have simply told him the truth, not caring if she caused him pain. The fact that she might not conceive would be easy to tell a person you had no feelings for. But telling a person you loved…

He swung around and headed back to his apartment. “
Essere dannati!
” He broke into a jog as he continued to curse in Italian. He needed to get home. He knew the jet had flown her back to Florence. His heart began to pound in his chest, growing faster with each stride.

…

“He’s gone to Paris? Without you?” Katarina asked incredulously. “On your honeymoon?”

“Business, Katarina. It waits for no one, not even Dante.”

Katarina understood the demands of the Lombardi Group. Even if Abby’s words were untrue, Katarina suspected nothing.

“Si, I remember the number of times our holidays were canceled.”

Nana was a different matter. She was not hearing a word of it. Abby could read it in her eyes. Her grandmother linked her arm in hers. “Come and see the cottage. It looks amazing.” When Abby didn’t move, she added, “I’ll make you a nice up of tea. You look a bit peaked under that tan.”

She felt more than peaked. She’d cried an ocean of tears on her own at the resort until they ran out on the flight back home. She felt drained and emotionally exhausted, and she had a dull ache in her lower belly. She pulled her arm free. “Later, Nana. I need to lie down.”

Katarina giggled. “Dante’s exhausted her. If he’s anything like his father…”

“Go, Abby, you do look exhausted. I’ll bring you a nice cup of tea and you can tell me about the Maldives tonight at dinner. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Abby’s tremulous legs managed to carry her to the bedroom. The pain in her stomach had worsened, but she couldn’t even muster a whimper. The thought of her life without Dante was more painful than the feeling of being stabbed with a knife. She only just made it to the bed when pain ripped across her stomach. She doubled over and screamed. The room was spinning and she felt wetness dribble down her legs. She looked down and all she saw was bright red. Everything went black and she saw no more. Nor did she hear the bloodcurdling scream, or the sound of smashed crockery, when fifteen minutes later her grandmother entered her room.