The Italian's Doorstep Surprise Page 15

  The old lady moved forward, as if to embrace him. Nico tried to step back, holding up his flute of sparkling water like a shield. But it was not enough.

  “Which means...” Lifting up on her tiptoes, she threw her arms around him with a sob. “You are mine...”

  Gasps and exclamations rippled through the crowd. Some of the guests had tears in their eyes, obviously enjoying the scene, as if it were some melodrama on television, the reprobate prodigal son being welcomed with open arms by his dead father’s widow.

  Looking around him, at the way his party had been taken hostage, and his whole life story revealed to people who might somehow use it against him someday, Nico tried to smile and pretend he was calm and pleased. But inside, he was seething with rage greater than he’d ever known. He felt embarrassed, angry, ashamed.

  And looking at his beaming wife beside him—so beautiful, so deceitful—he knew just who was to blame.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AGAINST ALL ODDS, she’d succeeded.

  As Honora watched her husband and his elderly stepmother embrace, tears filled her eyes.

  She’d taken a terrifying gamble, inviting the woman here, praying that he could finally forgive her and let go of the resentment and anger poisoning his soul. She’d been so scared that Nico would refuse, that he’d make a scene and toss Egidia from the house, and that he would hate Honora for what she’d done. But she’d been brave enough to risk it anyway.

  And this was her reward.

  “I’ll tell my lawyers the Villa Caracciola should be yours,” Egidia Caracciola said tearfully.

  “Thank you,” Nico said. Looking around at his guests, he added, “I will, of course, pay you the estate’s full value.”

  “That’s not necessary—”

  “I insist.” All the guests smiled approvingly at this obvious generosity, of each side making a concession, the picture of family compromise and unity.

  Coming forward, Honora embraced her stepmother-in-law. “I’m so happy,” she whispered. “For both of you.”

  “Me too.” The white-haired woman smiled at her through her tears. “All this time I was fighting him, I thought I was protecting my husband’s memory. But I was wrong. Nicolo is actually his son. He is the one I must protect now.”

  Honora glanced at Nico to see if he’d heard. He was watching them, his handsome face impassive. He abruptly gave his stepmother a smile.

  “May I get you some champagne?”

  For the rest of the evening, Honora felt a warm glow of happiness. After the awful last twenty-four hours, she felt like everything would be all right. Their family was healing. The future was bright—for all of them.

  The reception had been a greater success than she’d dared to hope, and she was grateful to all his friends who’d come to wish them well. By the time the last guest had finally left at around two in the morning, trailing off into the cool August night beneath a black sky swept with stars, Honora had spoken with every single person who’d attended. From the Milanese automobile heiress—she was actually very sweet—to the pompous duke with dyed black hair—he told such funny jokes—and thought they were all lovely, lovely people. Honora was happy to call them friends.

  As the door finally closed on the last guests, collected by their chauffeurs to head back north to Rome, Honora felt like she’d never been so happy. She turned to face her husband, expecting gratitude, or maybe praise, but not needing either. All she wanted was to share their joy, maybe by him taking her in his arms for a kiss.

  But once they were alone, Nico’s whole demeanor changed.

  “How could you.”

  His voice was a low growl, his powerful body in the tuxedo standing silhouetted in front of the wide windows facing the sea, bathing him in a pool of silvery moonlight.

  Honora didn’t understand. She came forward in the pale pink beaded dress, the emerald necklace sparkling coldly against her collarbone. “What do you mean? Everything’s better now, isn’t it?”

  He turned on her, his face coldly furious. “Better?” He let out a low, sharp laugh. “I suppose. At least now I know I can’t trust you. Ever. Again.”

  She felt an icy chill down her spine.

  “But the two of you made up,” she whispered. “You forgave her. You said—”

  “What was I supposed to say, surrounded by guests? Did you expect me to knock the woman down? You knew I could not make a scene. I could not show weakness, or even anger that might reveal how much that woman hurt me.”

  “But you made peace.” Honora felt dizzy. “Egidia accepted you’re her husband’s son. Even though it clearly hurts her, because it proves that her husband was unfaithful, and also it must make her feel heartbroken about her own babies that died. But she still claimed you. In front of everyone.”

  He snorted. “Because she knew my lawyers were at her throat, and she’d soon lose the villa anyway. She thought she could manipulate me, with this tender family reunion.” He said the words as a sneer. “And it worked. I had no choice but reciprocity. Now I’ll be paying her a tidy little bundle, whereas before she would have been left with nothing.”

  Honora stared at him in horror. “How can you be so cynical?”

  “How can you be so gullible? Can’t you see how the world really is?”

  “Just your own awful world you’ve created for yourself, where you believe the worst of everyone!”

  “And they so rarely disappoint me.” Nico’s eyes were as cold as a wintry midnight sea. “I should have known you would be the same.”

  Honora felt a sharp ache in her throat.

  “I was trying to help you,” she whispered. “I wanted you to forgive your stepmother, and your father too, so you wouldn’t be so angry all the time.” She abruptly looked away. “I thought if I could heal your heart, then maybe you could love us. The baby and me.”

  Love us. The longing in her voice as she quietly spoke those words seemed to echo in the ballroom. Wishing. Begging.

  Nico glared at her, then lifted his chin.

  “Why shouldn’t I be angry?” His voice was dangerously low. “My wife stabbed me in the back.”

  Standing in the ballroom, shadowy and dark but for the silvery moonlight flooding the six tall windows, Honora felt forlorn, suddenly shivering in her fancy beaded dress. She saw confetti at her feet, which had been tossed earlier by their friends, saw some cake that had been smashed by someone’s shoe into the marble floor. The remnants and trash of the party, like the bitter aftertaste of earlier joy, were all around.

  The ballroom was starting to spin. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to breathe. “I never meant to... But you seemed glad!”

  His cruel, sensual lips curled. “I lied.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I’ll never trust you again. Never.”

  Honora stared at him in the harsh, cold silvery-green moonlight.

  She felt shaken to the core. He saw her as his enemy now, she realized—all because she’d tried to heal him.

  Did Nico really have no love inside his soul? No ability to care for anyone but himself?

  What kind of husband would that make him? What kind of father?

  Nico Ferraro is a selfish bastard. Benny’s words came back to haunt her. He doesn’t care for anyone but himself. And sooner or later he’s going to hurt you. A man like that can do nothing else.

  Shivering, Honora wrapped her arms around her baby bump in the sparkly, pretty cocktail dress. “So I’m your enemy now?”

  “You ambushed me. Betrayed me.”

  She lifted her gaze. “And how do you intend to punish me?”

  Setting his jaw, Nico turned to a nearby table. He poured himself a drink of Scotch from a nearly empty bottle. He drank a long sip and didn’t answer.

  She watched him in despair. “I thought you weren’t going to drink as long as I was pregnant.”

 
; “And I thought you were on my side.” He took another sip. “Seems we’re both a disappointment.”

  She had the sudden memory of her parents’ arguments when she was a child, as her mother had raged at her father over his drinking, the two of them clashing and blaming each other. Honora had always felt so small, hiding in a corner or outside the doorway.

  After one very loud fight when she was nine years old, her mother had taken Honora back to her childhood home. I never should have married him, she’d overheard her mother sob late that night in the kitchen. And Granddad, putting his hand on her shoulder, had replied sadly, You never should have gotten pregnant before you knew what he was.

  He hadn’t known Honora was in earshot. But as she’d crept away to her sleeping bag down the hall, she’d known her parents’ unhappiness was her fault, because she had been born. Later that night, her mother had found her crying.

  She blinked. “I would give anything to see my mother again,” she said quietly. “And my father. I understand better now. I wish I could tell them that. And that I’ll always love them.” She lifted her gaze. “I wonder if that’s what you were wanting this whole time, Nico. Not revenge. Connection. For your father to acknowledge you. And your stepmother. It was never about the villa. I think you were just trying to get their attention. I think you wanted...to be a family.”

  He stared at her, aghast. “Are you out of your mind? I hated them. I vowed to destroy them. And I have.”

  Honora’s shoulders slumped.

  Feeling like a burden as a child, she’d done everything she could to be loving and kind and giving, even to the point of eating things she didn’t like, and doing things she didn’t want to do.

  But Nico, feeling unloved, had gone the other way. He wanted to punish anyone and everyone. And he would never stop. Never forgive.

  “Now I know I can’t trust you, I’m not sure how our marriage can succeed.” He drank another gulp of Scotch as he looked out toward the dark moon-swept sea. He looked back at her, his face in shadow. “And it must. For the baby.”

  Honora’s hands froze over her belly. She felt the delicate sparkling beadwork, rough beneath her fingertips.

  I’m not sure how our marriage can succeed. And it must. For the baby.

  She looked down at her baby bump.

  Did she want her daughter to spend her whole life feeling as Honora had—that her parents were trapped in a cycle of misery and blame, all for the apparent benefit of their miserable, blamed child?

  She had the sudden memory of her mother’s beautiful, sad face when she’d found Honora crying that night in her sleeping bag.

  Oh, my darling, don’t cry. It’s my fault, all my fault. We’ll go back home tomorrow. Her young, heartbroken mother had started crying too, and hugged her tight. Just be happy, Honora. Please. Her voice had caught. You have to be happy. For all of us.

  Honora suddenly looked up.

  “It was never my fault,” she whispered.

  Nico’s head turned, and she saw his sudden scowl, edged with silver light. “What do you mean? Of course it was. You’re the one who invited her here.”

  Honora shook her head, lost in her own realization. “My parents made mistakes. They did the best they could. But I was never to blame. I was just a baby.” She looked down, her hand resting protectively on her own unborn child. “I’ll never do that to you,” she whispered. “Never.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She looked at him in wonder. “My whole life, I’ve felt like I didn’t deserve to be happy, or speak out for the things I wanted.” She shook her head. “You helped me learn to stand up for myself.”

  “And you turned against me.”

  “I was never against you, Nico,” she said quietly. “I’m always on your side, even now, though you can’t see it. I love you.” She looked down. “But you’ll never love me back.”

  Nico’s posture changed. His dark eyes looked haunted.

  “Love was never part of our arrangement,” he said in a low voice. “But I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought if I romanced you, with passion and gifts—”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I know.”

  He set his jaw. “But trust, watching each other’s back—that’s what I expected in our marriage. And you couldn’t even uphold your end of the bargain. That’s what your so-called love is good for.”

  Standing in the ballroom of this elegant Italian villa, pregnant with a much-desired child, married to a handsome billionaire and draped in jewels, Honora had never felt so sad and alone.

  She thought of how her mother had loved her, so much that Bridget had given up her own chance for happiness, for her child’s sake.

  What would have happened if her mother had left her father that night for good, and never gone back? Could Bridget have learned to be happy? Could her father have cleaned up his act? Would they both still be alive today—blessed to live long enough to learn to do better?

  Honora suddenly saw her choice clearly.

  Would she stay with a man who considered her an enemy if she said he’d made a mistake? Would she teach her daughter to feel like a burden? Teach her that families should be filled with anger and blame, rather than forgiveness and love? Teach her that wives stayed and put up with misery, no matter what?

  No, she thought. No.

  “You have no love in your heart,” she whispered. “Not for me. Not for anyone. No love. No forgiveness. Nothing.”

  “It’s who I am,” he said coldly. “You knew that when you married me.”

  “But I thought—” She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t live like this anymore.”

  His mouth fell open. He quickly recovered. “You can’t leave. Under the terms of the prenup, you’ll get almost nothing.”

  “You think I care about that?” she choked out.

  “Everyone cares about money, no matter what they say.” His dark eyes glittered. “Money is power, and power is everything.”

  She gave a laugh that was more like a sob. “Money? Power? It’s love that matters, Nico. Loving your family, but also loving yourself. It’s about being kind and helping each other. Because living can be hard, and everyone has secret bruises and broken hearts they try to hide.”

  Nico looked at her coldly. “I don’t.”

  Honora stared at him. The pain in her throat felt radioactive. “I realize that now. Nothing I can do will help you or heal you. Because you don’t want to be helped. You don’t want to be healed.”

  His dark eyebrows lowered. He walked toward her, and his handsome face came fully into the moonlight. He looked younger than he was. His expression seemed strangely lost.

  “You can’t leave.” His voice was uncertain.

  “I have to,” she whispered, “or you’ll drag me into your darkness. Drag all of us.”

  Stiffening, he glared at her. “Just because I protect myself and don’t forgive my enemies. Just because I seek justice. Just because I’m angry you went behind my back and—”

  She held up her hand, stopping him midtirade. She felt tired and so, so sad. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it. But I can’t let you ruin my life—and our daughter’s.”

  “Our daughter!” He drew back, his expression shocked. “I would never do anything to hurt her!”

  Honora took a deep breath, fighting to be reasonable and kind when she felt so hurt. “If that’s true, you can still be her father.”

  “Big of you,” he said, sneering.

  “I’ll make sure she knows you never abandoned her. You can visit her anytime you like. I’ll wait until after she’s born before I start divorce proceedings.”

  Nico’s voice caught. “Divorce?”

  She looked at him quickly. His darkly handsome face was as inscrutable as ever. She must have imagined emotion in his voice. He would never feel anyth
ing, certainly not hurt, let alone despair.

  “I won’t ask for alimony. I’ll take all the blame,” she said. “She’ll live with me, but legally, we’ll share custody. As long as you’re good to her. And don’t turn her into your enemy, and try to punish her, or push her utterly out of your life any time she disappoints you.”

  “You really think I would do that?” he whispered.

  Honora took a deep breath, blinking back tears.

  “It’s what you do,” she said.

  Turning, she left the ballroom. She was proud of herself that she didn’t fall apart, but walked away steadily, without looking back. Pride was all she had to hold on to, and a quiet, desperate hope that someday, somehow, she might climb out of this misery.

  I have to stand up for what is right, she repeated to herself desperately, her hands clenched. To truly love my daughter, I also have to love myself.

  But it was hard for her to even imagine ever being happy, as she left the only man she’d ever loved behind, in the dark, forlorn ballroom where, just hours before, she’d thought they had a future ahead of them of limitless joy.

  * * *

  Nico had never imagined she’d just leave.

  The villa was dark as he stood in the ballroom. A few minutes later, he heard her final footsteps and the slam of the front door. It crossed his mind to worry about how she would travel, whether she’d be safe. He paced, then called his security chief, who was staying in the carriage house. “My wife is heading for the garage. Take her anywhere she wants to go. Wake the pilot if necessary. Just go with her, Frank. Keep her safe.”

  But as Nico hung up, his lips twisted bitterly. Why was he worried about her? In the short month that they’d lived here, Honora had made friends everywhere, both inside this house and in the surrounding villages. She would be safe. Everyone loved Honora, because she loved everyone first.

  And she’d said she loved him. He’d thought he could trust her, that their marriage would last through anger and arguments and pain. He’d never imagined she’d just...disappear.