The Mistress Wife

‘I couldn’t bear to be that miserable ever again,’ Vivien confided chokily. ‘It was the worst pain ever.’

‘So when you showed up in my office I was being torn in a dozen opposing directions. I wanted you and I didn’t want you. I didn’t want to be hurt again either,’ he confessed with obvious difficulty. ‘I believed I wanted to punish you and then slowly it started to occur to me that that wasn’t really what I was trying to do…’

‘It…wasn’t?’ Vivien was getting lost in his explanation.

‘I let the divorce go through because I needed to see that you would stay with me even if we weren’t married. I was testing you out like a stupid kid…I wanted you to prove that you loved me—’

Her swimming eyes overflowed. ‘I wanted you to prove the same thing…so that’s OK.’

Troubled dark golden eyes assailed hers. ‘I don’t know how to prove I love you.’

She thought of the fight he had started in the club the night before. She thought of the fear he had betrayed just minutes earlier. She thought of the natural bravado behind which he hid his human moments of uncertainty. And lastly, she thought of the way he was sacrificing his cool front and forcing himself to talk because he was afraid of losing her. She flung herself into his arms and held him tight. ‘Just tell me and I’ll believe you.’

‘I love you, amata mia.’

A cocoon of blissful happiness enclosed her. ‘I love you too. Will you marry me?’

Lucca tensed. ‘I thought that was my line.’

Vivien was amused. ‘But you’re not that hot at it, so I thought it would be easier if I took care of it. Well, will you or won’t you?’

‘I will.’

‘OK …now there are one or two little conditions,’ Vivien added winsomely.

‘Conditions?’

‘Nothing too onerous…just shorter working hours, only occasional foreign trips, another two children—’

‘Lots and lots of sex.’ Lucca was getting into the spirit of the occasion. ‘You never, ever take your wedding ring off. So when do we get married again?’

‘As soon as you like,’ Vivien told him blissfully, certain that this time around they would get everything right.

A year later, Vivien became the mother of a baby girl called Pia.

Eleven months earlier, Lucca and Vivien had re-married in a quiet London ceremony with the already-married Serafina and Umberto acting as their witnesses. For a long time after that life had literally been one long glorious honeymoon for Lucca and Vivien. With Marco young enough to travel freely, his parents had flitted between Italy and England according to their mood. They had been entirely self-indulgent.

Lucca had set up an office in Florence and built an experimental fernery for Vivien in a special glasshouse at Il Palazzetto. While she’d been pregnant with Pia she’d written a very entertaining book about the history of fern exploration, which had sold well to botanists. Bernice had met and married a wealthy banker and occasionally met up with Vivien for lunch in London. Vivien thought love had cured her sister of her extravagance. Lucca thought the banker had cured it with his wealth.

Jock had become a jet-set dog with a fake diamond collar. He had even featured in a spread in a fashionable magazine as a former rescue dog and he would have become quite unbearable had he been able to read. Lucca and he had become very fond of each other but neither one of them would have admitted it. Jock waited at the front door for Lucca every evening and was rewarded with giant bones and chocolate treats. Lucca said the rewards were training aids required to keep Jock from falling back into his old antisocial habits. Basically all that meant was that Jock only chased male visitors when Lucca was not around.

Three months after Pia’s birth, Vivien was more madly in love with Lucca than she had ever been. He came up into the nursery while she was tucking Pia into her cot. Their daughter regarded them with sleepy brown eyes and yawned. Marco, whose days were packed with relentless activity, was already fast asleep.

Lucca laughed softly. ‘They’re so quiet at this time of day.’

‘This place is magical,’ Vivien contended, for she revelled in the peace they always found at Il Palazzetto.

Lucca let long fingers slide into her hair, his palm curving to her delicate jawbone. His brilliant gaze met hers with loving appreciation. ‘You’re the gold dust in our lives, amata mia.’

Leaning into his tall, powerful frame, she let her soft lips open under the hungrily sensual onslaught of his mouth. She felt gloriously happy and loved. Home was inside the safe circle of his arms.