His Final Bargain

Eliza could see how a tired and overburdened parent would give in and do things for their child that they should really be encouraging them to do for themselves. It was draining and exhausting just watching the little girl work through her exercises and, even though Tatiana tried to make the session as playful as possible, Alessandra became very tired towards the end. There was barely time for a few mouthfuls of lunch before she was ready for her nap.

Eliza sat in the anteroom and read a book she had brought with her, keeping an ear out for any sign of the little girl becoming restless. An hour passed and then half of another but the child slept on. She could feel her own eyelids drooping when Marella came to the door with a steaming cup of tea and a freshly baked cup cake on a pretty flowered plate.

‘You don’t have to stay here like a prison guard.’ Marella placed the tea and cake on the little table by Eliza’s chair. ‘There’s a portable monitor. Its range is wide enough to reach the gardens and the pool. Didn’t Signor Valente show you?’

‘No…I expect he had too many other things on his mind.’

Marella shook her head sadly. ‘Poor man. He has too much work to do and too little time to do it. He is always torn. He wants to be a good father but he has a big company to run. He’ll drive himself to an early grave just like his father did if he’s not careful.’

Eliza lowered her gaze to the cup of tea she was cradling in her hands. She thought of Leo getting through each day, feeling overly burdened and guilty about the competing demands of his life. Who did he turn to when things got a little overwhelming? One of his mistresses? How could someone he was just having sex with help him deal with his responsibilities? Did he turn to anyone or did he shoulder it all alone? No wonder he seemed angry and bitter a lot of the time. Maybe it wasn’t just her that brought out that in him. Maybe he was just trying to cope with what life had thrown at him—just like she was trying to do, with limited success.

‘I can imagine it must be very difficult for him, juggling it all.’

‘After you’ve had your tea, why don’t you take a stroll out in the garden?’ Marella said. ‘I’ll listen out for the little one. I’ll take the monitor with me. I’ll be on this floor in any case. I have to remake the bed the agency girl was using.’

Eliza could think of nothing better than a bit of sunshine. It seemed a long time since she had been in the fresh air. The villa was becoming oppressive, with its forbiddingly long corridors and large gloomy rooms. She put her cup down on the table. ‘Are you sure?’

‘But of course.’ Marella shooed her away. ‘It will do you good.’

The sun was deliciously warm as Eliza strolled about the gardens, the scent of roses thick and heady in the air. Was it her knowledge of Alessandra’s blindness that made the colours of the roses seem so spectacular all of a sudden? Deep blood reds, soft and bright pinks and crimson, variegated ones, yellow and orange and the snowy perfection of white ones. Even the numerous shades of green in the foliage of the other plants and shrubs stood out to her as she wandered past. She went past the fountain and down a crushed limestone pathway to a grotto that was protected by the shade of a weeping birch. It was a magical sort of setting, secluded and private—the perfect place for quiet reflection. She slipped off her cardigan and sat on the wrought iron bench, wondering how many couples through the centuries had conducted their trysts under the umbrella-like shade of the lush and pendulous branches.

The sound of a footfall on the stones of the pathway made Eliza’s heart give a little kick behind her ribcage. She stood up from the seat just as Leo came into view. He looked just as surprised to see her. She saw the camera-shutter flinch of his features in that nanosecond before he got control and assumed one of his inscrutable expressions.

‘Eliza.’

‘Marella told me to take a break. She’s listening out for Alessandra. She’s got the monitor. I didn’t know you had one; otherwise—’ she knew she was babbling but couldn’t seem to stop ‘—she told me it would be all right and—’

‘You’re not under lock and key.’

Eliza tried to read his expression but it was like trying to read one of the marble statues she had walked past earlier in the long wide gallery in the villa. She wondered if he had come down here to be alone. Perhaps it was his private place for handling the difficulties of his life. No wonder he resented her presence. She was intruding on his only chance at solitude.

‘I’d better head back.’ She turned to pick up her cardigan that she’d left on the seat.