The Italian's Revenge

It seemed he didn’t have an answer to that one, because the silence behind her deepened again. So, opening the French door, she stepped back into the bedroom. Vito didn’t follow her. In fact he remained outside, leaning against the balcony for ages afterwards, thinking—she knew not what. But when he did eventually reappear, one brief glimpse of his closed, very grim expression was enough to tell her that his thoughts had not been pleasant ones.

And what bit of closeness they had managed to find in their bed that afternoon had now been well and truly obliterated.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SO DINNER that evening was a strained affair. Luisa clearly had not yet recovered from the angry scene with her grandson in her drawing room earlier. And the way she kept on looking anxiously from Vito to Catherine said she too was acutely aware that the fine peace they had all been enjoying since Catherine had come back here to live had been completely shattered.

Did she ever bother to ask herself why that was? Catherine wondered, and decided not, because to do so would mean Luisa seeing the faults in her wonderful family.

Even Marietta was unusually quiet for her. She spent most of the wretched meal seemingly lost in her own deep train of thought.

Jet-lag, she called it when Luisa anxiously asked her if anything was the matter. But she did briefly raise herself to attempt polite conversation with Catherine. ‘I believe you have been working for Templeton and Lang while living in London,’ she remarked.

Go to hell, Catherine wanted to snap. But she smiled a civilised smile and answered cordially enough. ‘Yes. I originally trained as a legal secretary, so it was nice to get back to it.’

‘And your gift for languages must have been very useful to a firm which specialises in European law.’ Marietta nodded in understanding. ‘Have we ever used them, Vito?’ she asked.

Busy glowering into his wine glass, Vito seemed to stiffen infinitesimally, though why he did Catherine had no idea. ‘Not that I recall,’ he answered briefly.

‘That is very odd.’ Marietta frowned. ‘For I am sure I know them. Marcus Lang is one of the senior partners, is he not?’ she enquired of Catherine.

‘No. Robert Lang and Marcus Templeton,’ she corrected, feeling Vito’s tension like a sting in her throat as she said Marcus’s name.

‘Ah. My mistake,’ Marietta replied. ‘Still...you are going to miss the stimulation, no doubt,’ she murmured sympathetically. ‘I know I would not like to go back to doing nothing again.’

‘I have some work to do.’ Vito rose so abruptly that everyone was taken aback. ‘Marietta, I could do with going over a few things with you before you retire, if you are not too tired.’

‘Of course,’ Marietta agreed, but she was already talking to Vito’s back, because he was striding from the dining room.

She followed very soon after him, which left Catherine to smooth out poor Luisa’s ruffled feathers before she too could escape to the relative sanctuary of the bedroom. And by the time she had undressed and crawled into bed, she was ready—more than ready—to switch today off by dropping herself into the oblivion of sleep.

So having Vito arrive only minutes later was the last thing she needed.

Presuming he was coming to bed, she lay curled on her side with her eyes closed and pretended to be asleep. So when his finger gently touched her cheek only seconds later, her eyes flicked open in surprise to find him squatting down by the bed beside her.

‘Something has come up,’ he told her quietly. ‘I need to go into Naples to my office for a while.’

‘Alone?’ The question shot from her lips without her expecting it, never mind Vito. And instantly she wanted to kick herself as she watched his expression harden.

‘Yes, alone,’ he gritted. ‘And if you don’t watch out, Catherine, your mistrust is going to eat you alive!’

With that, he levered himself upright, turned and walked out of the room.

She didn’t blame him. And he was right about her lack of trust eating her alive. Because it was already doing it.

‘Oh damn,’ she breathed, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. ‘What am I doing to myself?’

You know what you’re doing, she immediately answered her own question. You are tearing yourself apart over the same man you have been tearing yourself apart over for the last six years.

Hearing the sound of a car engine firing into life, she got up and walked out onto the balcony to watch Vito leave. She arrived at the balcony rail just in time to see his red tail-lights gliding down the driveway.

‘I love you,’ she whispered after him. ‘Even though I don’t want to.’

And miserably she watched those tail-lights snake their way down the hillside until they became nothing but red dots among a million other red dots. She was about to go back inside when the sound of yet another car engine firing caught her attention. Turning back to the rail, she watched a black BMW come around from the back of the house where the garages were situated.

It was Marietta.

Even though it was too dark to see from up here who was driving, she just knew it was Marietta, and that she had to be following Vito to wherever they had arranged to meet.