The Italian's Pregnant Mistress

‘He was doing this and that. You know. Well, actually, you probably don’t. I can’t imagine you were ever someone who just did this and that.’

‘I admit I never saw the value of wasting time trying out a few occupations for size before settling on the right one. Life is too short for wrong turnings.’ The only wrong turning he had ever made in his life had involved the woman sitting across the room from him now. She had the face of an angel and, for a moment in time, he had thought she had the personality to match. She hadn’t. She had wanted him, desired him, tantalised him, but she had never seen a future in him. He had made a huge error of judgement with her and he felt bitterly proud that he could be sitting here, conducting a conversation with her for all the world as though they had parted on good terms.

It was, he told himself, a mark of his self-control that he had managed to subdue the basic urge for revenge that had blinded him when he had unexpectedly set eyes on her a few days ago. Not only that, but he could engage in conversation about her lover. Of course, it helped that he had Georgina.

He realised guiltily that his fiancée hadn’t crossed his mind once since entering the house.

‘Sometimes you need to take a few wrong turnings before you find the right one,’ Francesca said, thinking of all the wrong turnings she had taken in her past.

‘Are you referring to us?’ Angelo asked silkily and she flushed.

‘No, of course not!’

‘Then what? Your past? A time before you met me?’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘You’re right. I was referring to us. I mean, here you are now, engaged to be married. It’s wonderful!’ She gave a high, brittle laugh. ‘And Georgina is just right for you, Angelo.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, she’s beautiful and well-educated and…sophisticated…’

‘And you were none of those things?’

‘We’re not talking about me.’ The little lies she had told came back in a rush. The non-existent education, and her sophistication had been of the purely surface sort. A few scratches and under the glitter was the hard, ugly metal. Not that he had ever known that. ‘How did you meet her?’ she asked, changing the subject.

‘At a party given by mutual friends.’

Francesca could picture the scene. A collection of glamorous, well-bred people, the elite of the elite. She could imagine Angelo’s reaction when he saw the small blonde, the awakening of sudden, intense passion, the pursuit. She had lived it and loved it for a short while.

‘You must be very excited at the prospect of getting married.’

‘The time is right.’ He shrugged and sipped some of the coffee. ‘There is no need to look so aghast, Francesca. Don’t tell me that you still believe in love and romance?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do.’

‘And it’s what you have found with your boyfriend? Love, romance and the promise of a fairytale ending?’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Francesca lowered her eyes. It crossed her mind that the small deceit about her relationship with Jack, initiated for all the right reasons, might not have been such a great idea after all. She now had no choice but to go along for the ride.

Angelo felt a sharp, brief stab of jealousy and smiled coolly. ‘Nothing if you happen to have your head in the clouds. You’re right. Georgina and I are well-matched. She is all that any man could want in a wife, a perfect foil for me, as a matter of fact.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning that she detests confrontations as much as I do. I find that an admirable trait in a woman. Makes for a very harmonious atmosphere.’

‘Makes for a doormat, if you ask me,’ Francesca muttered under her breath, and he leaned forward, straining to hear.

‘I don’t think I caught that.’

‘I just wondered whether a marriage in which there are absolutely no confrontations might be a little unchallenging for a man like you, Angelo.’

Same old indifference to his boundaries, he noted angrily. He opened his mouth to put her neatly in her place, but she had already taken up the threads of her observation.