Challenging Dante (A Bride for a Billionaire 4)

Dante had slept with Topsy the night before. She had been so desperately busy all day that she had not seen him since and had thought nothing of it. Now she truly understood why Sofia had warned her off her son, for clearly Sofia had known that there was another woman in Dante’s life. An engagement was in the offing? Or had that suggestion been only journalistic excess? And what did it matter to her now anyway? After all, whatever happened now she was finished with Dante. There would be no coming back from such a revelation as his infidelity and deceit.

The celebrities were assembling for the meal and the catering staff, clad in plain brown medieval dresses and mobcaps, were moving round serving drinks. Reluctant to risk being mistaken for a waitress, Topsy had picked a similar dress in green and left off the mob cap supplied. As she checked the seating for the guests she discovered that a famous Italian actor had brought two female companions instead of the allocated one and she gave up her seat to one of the women without regret because the last thing she needed to do right then was share a table with Dante and his truly gorgeous girlfriend.

What an idiot she had been not to ask him if there was anyone else in his life! Why had she assumed that there was no competition? Why hadn’t she smelled a rat the instant he came after her? As far as looks went she wasn’t in the same league as Cosima Ruffini and only a body transplant could have remedied that hurtful reality. Cosima was a classic beauty.

Pain gripped Topsy as she watched Dante lead his girlfriend into dinner, the two of them effortlessly regal and impressive together. She was remembering him touching her, kissing her, holding her throughout the night and she sped off to convene with the caterers in the kitchen and escape the view of the hottest society couple in Italy surrounded by friends and admirers. She was sick with jealousy and the horrendous pain of betrayal and her own misjudgement, she acknowledged dully. She definitely wasn’t as clever and cool as she had believed she was because her fun holiday fling had downshifted into a sleazy conclusion and now she would remember Dante with hatred rather than fondness.

* * *

The ballroom was beautifully decorated with flowers and the band was already playing when Sofia and Vittore entered to officially open the public event. Sofia, splendidly glamorous in crackling golden satin, rose behind the podium to give a short amusing speech, closely followed by Dante, who gave the latest figures for the fund along with the expected travel date for the little girl, Maria, suffering from leukaemia.

Thunderous applause and stamping feet greeted the good news and it was a couple of minutes before Topsy noticed the furore at the top table and rose from her chair in the corner to investigate. Sofia had fainted and Dante had lifted his mother into his arms to carry her out of the room with Vittore hurrying anxiously at his heels. Reluctant though she was to go anywhere near Dante, Topsy was fond of his mother and concerned about her and she followed the small procession into the drawing room where Dante laid his already recovering parent down on a sofa.

‘What the hell’s wrong with her?’ Dante demanded of his hovering stepfather. ‘You didn’t seem surprised when she fainted.’

‘Don’t blame Vittore, Dante, it was very hot in there,’ Sofia groaned, raising herself against the sofa arm with difficulty. ‘This is my fault. I didn’t want anyone to know until I had to tell them.’

‘Tell them what?’ Dante prompted tensely, his concern palpable. ‘What’s the matter with you? Are you ill?’

Well aware of what was about to be divulged, Topsy darted out of the room to fetch Sofia a reviving glass of water and by the time she returned the other couple’s secret had finally been brought out into the open.

Dante was tellingly still staring at his mother in stunned disbelief. ‘You’re pregnant?’ he was saying unevenly. ‘Seriously?’

‘At least you didn’t say, “at your age” but I know you have to be thinking it,’ Sofia muttered waspishly. ‘And no, it wasn’t planned but we’re over the moon about it now that it’s happened.’

‘Why on earth couldn’t you simply tell me?’ Dante demanded starkly as Topsy presented his mother with the glass of water.

‘At first I thought it was the menopause. I never dreamt that I might still be able to conceive in my late forties,’ Sofia confided ruefully. ‘Of course I was overjoyed that I had but I was also very embarrassed about telling people, particularly because I’ve had several miscarriages. What would be the point of astonishing people with such an announcement if I was likely to miscarry again? And initially it did seem quite likely that this pregnancy wouldn’t continue either.’

‘But Sofia’s been seeing a very good consultant and he advised her to rest as much as possible for what remained of her first trimester. She’s doing very well now,’ Vittore added, gripping his wife’s hand as he settled down on the arm of the sofa beside her.

‘That’s why I scaled back my busy life to such an extent,’ Dante’s mother explained ruefully. ‘I want this baby. I want this baby very much.’

‘Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to tell me?’ Dante breathed tautly.

‘I didn’t want to worry you. This is a risky pregnancy,’ Sofia conceded honestly. ‘I knew you would remember how ill I was the last time I miscarried and I didn’t want to put you through that again. I was also afraid that you would urge me to—’

‘Dio mio! I’m not completely insensitive and would play no part in suggesting you terminate my own little brother or sister!’ Dante shot back at her in a strained undertone. ‘Yes, I’m afraid you will fall ill again but I can see how much this baby means to you both. All that I’m interested in is keeping you healthy and happy.’

‘Thank you, Dante,’ Vittore said awkwardly. ‘I appreciate your generosity. I do not want Sofia to put herself at risk, I have never wanted that, but you understand that the dream of another child is very dear to her heart.’

Deeming her presence unnecessary, Topsy began to tiptoe tactfully back out of the room.

‘Topsy...stop right there!’ Dante raked at her when she had not even realised that he had registered her. ‘We need to talk.’

‘I have nothing to say to you,’ Topsy told him succinctly.

* * *

‘Vittore and I will return to our table in a few minutes,’ Sofia murmured, smiling tensely at the younger woman as her attention skimmed uneasily to her son’s combative stance. ‘Go ahead.’

Within seconds, Dante had crossed the room to Topsy’s side, gritty tension etched into every line of his face. She stepped away from the guiding hand he put to her back, his proximity acting like a repellent on her because every time she looked at him she was remembering things she didn’t want to remember, thinking thoughts she didn’t want to think.

‘We’ll talk out here,’ Dante breathed, pushing wide the door next to the drawing room. The lush plant-filled orangery with its highly decorative mosaic-tiled floor and indoor fountain had wide doors standing open onto the sunlit terrace beyond.

‘What is there to say?’ Topsy enquired curtly, fingernails biting sharp crescents into her palms as if pain could help her stay in full control.

‘I’ve got plenty. For a start, why didn’t you tell me that my mother was pregnant?’ Dante demanded, sharply disconcerting her with that choice of topic and angle of attack. ‘We’re lovers. Why didn’t you share that with me?’

We’re lovers. That statement stung like a whiplash, reminding her only of her stupidity. He spoke as though nothing had changed but her world had fallen apart and she felt as if she were still stumbling round, struggling to stay upright in the midst of the debris. She was having to fight harder than she had ever fought in her life to stay in control. Nothing, she appreciated dimly, had ever really hurt her badly before; her sisters had protected her too well.

‘I couldn’t share any of it with you. Sofia wanted her condition kept a secret and it would have been wrong for me to i

nterfere in a family matter. I only found out because of certain symptoms she had and her consultant’s visits,’ Topsy related flatly.

‘My mother almost died the last time she was pregnant. I was fifteen years old and I’ll never forget it.’ Dante raked fingers through his luxuriant black hair, disordering it, his whole bearing illustrating that Sofia’s illness had been a very disturbing experience for him. ‘I am very concerned about her. You should have warned me.’

‘I work for your mother. My first loyalty is to her and I respect other people’s privacy,’ Topsy parried in tart disagreement.