The Italian's Revenge

Confusion began to replace the numbing sense of surprised horror. ‘But what is he doing here?’ she murmured, bewildered.

‘You mean you cannot guess?’ Vito taunted grimly.

‘It has nothing to do with me, if that’s what you’re thinking!’ she protested.

‘No? I would say that his being here has everything to do with you,’ he coolly informed her.

As if to confirm that, Marcus’s restless eyes suddenly alighted on her standing there, with Vito tall and grim behind her. And colour rushed into the other man’s face. It was awful. Like watching, helplessly from the sidelines, someone slowly drown without being able to do a single thing to help him.

Then she caught the flash from a pair of malevolent eyes, and suddenly realised that this was all Marietta’s doing. Marietta had somehow managed to find out about Catherine’s more personal association with Marcus and she had brought him here with the single intention of using that information to cause trouble.

But who could have told her? Her mind quickly tried to assess the situation. Certainly not Marcus himself. Besides his clear discomfort with his present position, he was not the kind of man who told kiss and tell stories.

And what was even more worrying was how Marietta was no longer attempting to hide her malevolence. It was out of the closet and on show for anyone to see—including Vito, if he wanted to.

Determined to find out just what was going on, Catherine went to break free from Vito. But his steely grip held her.

‘No,’ he refused. ‘This is Marietta’s game. We will let her play it.’

And he wasn’t shocked. He wasn’t even angry! ‘You knew he was coming,’ she realised shakily.

‘It is very rare that anyone enters my home without my prior knowledge,’ Vito replied smoothly.

Beneath his resting hands her stomach gave a quiver of disma

y as a brand-new suspicion began to form like a monster, and she spun around angrily. ‘This is all your doing,’ she accused him. ‘You told Marietta about Marcus and me. You helped her to arrange this!’

He didn’t answer, and his expression was so coldly implacable that for Catherine it was an answer in itself.

Contempt turned her green eyes grey. ‘I despise you,’ she breathed, and turned back to look at the trio by the doorway just in time to see Marcus excuse himself to Luisa so he could come striding purposefully towards them.

He looked angry, he looked tense, and his eyes were filled with a mute plea for understanding even before he spoke. ‘Catherine...’ he said as he reached them. ‘My sincere apologies, but I had no idea whose party this was until I was introduced to your mother-in-law just now.’

‘It is called being set up,’ Vito dryly inserted.

As Marcus glanced warily at him, Catherine took her moment to break free from his grasp and stepped towards Marcus. ‘Dance with me,’ she said, and before he could protest she had pulled him into the middle of the dance floor and placed herself firmly in his arms.

‘I don’t think your husband is pleased that we are doing this,’ Marcus said uneasily.

Well, I’m not pleased with him, Catherine countered silently. ‘Just smile, for goodness’ sake,’ she told him. ‘And tell me what you are doing here.’

On a low groan that was packed full of contempt for his own gullibility, he explained about Marietta turning up at his offices that week, asking specifically for him. ‘Having never heard of a Signora Savino before, I had no idea at all about her connection to the Giordani family.’

‘She is my mother-in-law’s goddaughter,’ Catherine informed him.

‘So I’ve just discovered.’ Marcus nodded. ‘She seems a nice lady, your mother-in-law,’

‘She is,’ Catherine confirmed. Shame about the rest of her family.

‘But the goddaughter doesn’t seem quite so nice.’

Catherine’s eyes turned arctic grey. ‘How did she get you here?’ She prompted him to continue.

‘With that magical word business,’ he replied. ‘And can we go somewhere less public, do you think?’ he pleaded. ‘Only I am beginning to feel distinctly de trop here...’

‘Sure,’ Catherine agreed, and stopped dancing to lead the way out through the open French doors which led into the lantern-lit garden, without even bothering to check out what Vito was doing. She wasn’t interested. In fact, she didn’t care at this moment if she never set eyes on the manipulative, vengeful swine ever again!

The air out here was warm and silken on the flesh. Catherine breathed in a couple of deep breaths of it, then said, ‘Let’s walk,’ and began strolling down one of the pathways with Marcus pacing grimly beside her. ‘Go on with your story,’ she instructed.