The Italian's Revenge

‘Your husband?’ Marcus stared at her in complete disbelief. ‘You think your husband confided in that bitch about you and me?’

‘Vito knew you were coming here tonight.’ Catherine shrugged. ‘He told me himself.’

‘Then none of this makes any sense.’ Marcus was frowning again. ‘Because I can’t see what either of them aimed to gain by bringing me face to face with you again. It served no useful purpose except to give us both a couple of embarrassing moments.’

He was right, and it hadn’t. And they fell into a puzzled silence as their feet set them moving again—only to come to an immediate stop when the angry sounds of a familiar voice suddenly ripped through the air.

‘You think you are so very clever, Marietta,’ Vito rasped out. ‘But what the hell do you think you have gained by bringing him here with

you tonight?’

‘Vengeance,’ Marietta replied, and Catherine turned in time to see the metallic flash of Marietta’s dress as it caught the light from one of the many hidden halogens. They were standing facing up to each other on the path that ran parallel with the one Catherine and Marcus were walking along. A neat boxed hedge surrounding a bed of pink roses was separating them. But that didn’t mean Catherine couldn’t see the malice in Marietta’s face when she tagged on contemptuously, ‘You have been flaunting Catherine at me since the day you married her—why the hell should I not flaunt her lover at you?’

‘They were never lovers,’ Vito denied as, beside Catherine, Marcus released a protesting gasp.

‘They were lovers,’ Marietta insisted. ‘The same as we were once lovers! And when she tells you otherwise you know she is lying, Vito,’ she added slyly. ‘In the same way that she knows you lie every time you deny ever making love to me!’

‘No,’ Catherine murmured, closing her eyes as she waited tensely for Vito to deny the charge—now—when she could then let herself believe him at last!

But he didn’t. ‘That was a long time ago,’ he bit out dismissively. ‘Before I ever met Catherine—and therefore has no place in our lives today.’

Catherine felt Marcus’s arm come around her shoulders when she must have swayed dizzily.

‘It does to me!’ Marietta insisted. ‘Because you loved me then, Vito! You were supposed to have married me! Everyone expected it. I expected it! But what did you do?’ she said bitterly. ‘You settled for a short affair with me, then dropped me. And I had to settle for second best and marry Rocco—’

‘Rocco was not second best, Marietta,’ Vito denied. ‘And he loved you—genuinely loved you! Which from the sound of it was more than you deserved from him!’

‘Is that why you did it?’ she asked curiously. ‘Because Rocco loved me, did you step gallantly to one side and let him have me?’

‘No. I stepped gallantly to one side because I didn’t want you.’ Vito stated it brutally.

‘Shame you didn’t let Rocco know that,’ Marietta threw back. ‘For he died believing he had come between the two of us.’

‘Oh, my God.’ Catherine breathed out painfully, remembering that bright shining star that had always been Rocco, scintillating the world while inside he must have been feeling wretched.

As wretched as she was feeling right now, she likened bleakly.

‘When you brought Catherine here and made her your wife he actually apologised to me,’ Marietta told Vito.

‘Not on my behalf,’ Vito rejected. ‘Rocco knew exactly how I felt about Catherine.’

‘Are you suggesting that you married her for love?’ Marietta mocked. ‘Don’t take me for a fool, Vito,’ she scoffed. ‘Like everyone else around here, we all know you married her because you had to if you wanted to uphold family tradition and make Santo legitimate. If I had known that getting pregnant was what it would have taken to get you to marry me I would have used the tactic myself! But such a sneaky manipulation didn’t occur to me—unlike her,’ she added witheringly. ‘With her cool English ways and clever independent streak that kept you dancing on your toes in sheer fear that she was going to do something stupid enough to risk your precious son and heir!’

‘I think you’ve said enough,’ Vito gritted.

‘No, I haven’t,’ Marietta denied. ‘In fact I haven’t even got started,’ she pronounced. ‘You had the arrogance to think that all you needed to do was banish me to Paris and all your marital problems would be over. Well, they will never be over while I still have a brain in my head to thwart you with!’

‘So you intend to do—what?’ Vito challenged. ‘Lurk in some more dark corners listening in on private conversations in the hopes that you can discover some more dirt to throw?’

‘Ah,’ Marietta drawled. ‘So you knew I was there.’

‘On the balcony next to ours? Yes,’ Vito confirmed, unwittingly answering one question that had been burning a hole in Catherine’s brain. ‘When you later began quizzing Catherine about Marcus Templeton, I then found it a simple step to put two and two together and realise that you were planning to do something as—crass as this. But what I still don’t understand is what you aim to gain by it?’

‘That is quite simple. I mean to bring about the absolute ruin of your precious marriage,’ Marietta coolly informed him.

‘By bringing Marcus Templeton here?’ It was Vito’s turn to scoff. ‘Do you really think that my feelings for Catherine are so fickle that I would throw her out because you brought me face to face with her supposed ex-lover?’

‘No. But by having him here Catherine will have someone to fall upon when I tell her that I am pregnant with your baby.’