“You know why I married you.”
For the sex?
He went on when she remained silent. “Even so, it was not a mistake. We can make our marriage work. We will talk when I return from Rome.”
He wanted to make their marriage work now? “I can’t deal with this. You just keep hurting me and I don’t want it anymore.”
“That is over. I will not hurt you again, cara.”
Was there something significant about the fact that he kept calling her beloved even after she had asked him not to? It was such a tantalizing thought that she rejected it immediately.
She had believed too many times things would work out only to discover they would not.
“We’ll talk when you get back,” she said, repeating his words.
What form that discussion would take she did not know.
When the maid brought her the phone the next morning, she was in a stronger frame of mind and prepared to discuss her marriage with Luciano. He had said he wanted to make their marriage work and he had apologized for being such a toad when she told him about the baby. Men like Luciano didn’t say sorry easily and if he was willing to work on their marriage, she was too.
Only her caller wasn’t Luciano. It was her grandfather.
“What the hell is going on over there?” he demanded in a voice that had her pulling the phone a few inches from her ear.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she hedged, wondering if Luciano had called him after she’d hung up the night before.
“I’ve got two society columns in front of me. They’ve both got pictures of your husband eating dinner with a woman in a swank New York restaurant. That woman is not you.”
Hope felt the words like multiple body blows. Luciano had promised. No mistresses. But he’d also promised to treasure her love and he’d broken that one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered truthfully.
“Could be his secretary I guess, but where were you when he was having these business dinners?”
“Here, in Palermo. Luciano flew to New York right after we returned from our honeymoon.” And he’d been furious with her when he left.
Would that fury have translated into actions that would destroy their marriage?
Yet, the idea of a series of business dinners was not so far-fetched. She knew what his secretary looked like after visiting his office yesterday, but if she asked her grandfather to fax the articles he would know she was worried. Maybe it was stupid, but her pride forbore her airing her marital troubles to either her family or Luciano’s.
“What else would it be besides a business dinner?” She forced a laugh. “Surely you aren’t implying that Luciano would have sought other feminine companionship so soon after our marriage.”
“Stranger things have happened, girl.”
“Not with a man like Luciano.” Until the last two weeks, she would have sworn she could trust him with her life and everything in between.
“There are things you don’t know.”
Dread snaked through her at her grandfather’s tone. “What do you mean?”
“That’s not important. Ask Luciano about these pictures, Hope. Communication is important to a healthy marriage.”
Coming from her grandfather, who considered asking if she wanted more wine at dinner a foray into personal conversation, that was laughable. Only she didn’t feel like laughing.
She rang off and went in search of a computer with Internet access. She found one in Luciano’s study. He didn’t have a password on the Internet browser, so she was able to go right in. It took her less than thirty minutes to find the newspaper stories her grandfather had mentioned. They were both small articles in the society section of a New York paper.
They mentioned Luciano’s name, but failed to identify his companion.
She didn’t need the information supplied to her.
The dark, exotic beauty was very familiar to Hope. The woman in the photos was Zia Merone and she was not wearing the expression of a woman discussing business.
Hope barely made it to the bathroom before she was sick.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in their bedroom with the door shut and a copy of the articles clutched in one hand, dialing his mobile phone with the other. She needed to talk to Luciano, to hear a rational explanation for his dinner dates with Zia. Or to hear from his own mouth that he had broken this promise too. Could she trust him not to lie to her? She just didn’t know.
It rang three times before being picked up.
“Ciao.”
Zia? Zia had answered Luciano’s cell phone.
Hope’s stomach did another somersault. “Ms. Merone, I would like to speak to my husband.”
“This is Hope?” Zia’s voice rose in surprise.