The Mistress Wife

‘Yes, you do…you know absolutely why!’ Vivien reasoned tautly, cheeks hotly flushed with agonised self-consciousness. She was struggling to concentrate rather than cringe at the suspicion that he had noticed her humiliating reaction to his proximity.

‘But possibly I don’t wish to engage on that subject,’ Lucca fenced in a tone as smooth as black velvet. ‘Why don’t you tell me instead how Marco is doing?’

Vivien blinked and then the tense anxiety etched on her face was softened by the warm beginnings of a loving smile. ‘He’s doing wonderfully well…he learns everything so fast, you know—’

Even that hint of a smile increased Lucca’s anger. ‘No, I don’t know.’

‘Sorry?’ Vivien didn’t understand. She had hoped that talking about their son, currently the only shared element in their lives, might take some of the chill out of the atmosphere.

‘I said that no, I don’t know how fast Marco learns because I don’t see enough of my son to make that kind of judgement. Obviously, he’s always doing or saying something new and different by the time I see him again.’

Vivien shrank at that icy clarification. ‘I suppose he must do.’

‘Evidently, it hasn’t occurred to you either that I also missed out entirely on his first smile, his first step and his first word.’

Over-sensitive tears lashed and stung the back of Vivien’s eyes and she had to keep them very wide to prevent them from spilling out and betraying her.

‘I suppose that I should count myself lucky that he seems to recognise me from one visit to the next,’ Lucca completed with the same cold, flat intonation.

For the first time, Vivien was confronted by his bitterness where their child was concerned. In shock, she swallowed so hard she hurt her throat and had to look away until she had control of herself again. Understanding how he must have felt at being excluded and essentially left unaware of all the most important moments in his toddler son’s life, how could she blame him for his hostility? It seemed beneath her to remark that he was talking like a much fonder father than she would ever have expected him to become. One of her least favourite recollections was Lucca’s annoyance when she had fallen pregnant.

‘I wish I knew what to say,’ she began awkwardly.

‘Not the overworked, ever-cheerful English cliché for the occasion…please,’ Lucca derided. ‘Perhaps it is now sinking in on you that, like most divorced couples, we don’t have much to talk about.’

‘We’re not divorced yet—’

‘As good as, cara mia,’ Lucca contradicted with an insolent insouciance that flayed her to the bone. ‘Before you leave—I’m sure you don’t want to be late—is there anything else you wish to discuss?’

Feeling harassed and unable to get her thoughts into any kind of useful order and horrendously loaded with guilt and unbearable regret, Vivien recalled her reluctant promise to her sister.

‘Money…’ she said abruptly.

Lucca frowned in surprise.

Vivien turned a beetroot colour and shifted uneasily off one foot onto the other. ‘I mean, I’m having a little trouble managing at present. I’m also well aware that it was my choice to accept only minimal financial assistance from you after we separated—’

‘We didn’t separate,’ Lucca interposed. ‘You walked out on our marriage.’

Vivien gritted her teeth together, for she did not require that reminder, nor did she wish to recall how very much she had once valued her ability to remain almost independent of his wealth. ‘Situations change. I was supposed to be writing a book this year and the department agreed to let me reduce my hours as a tutor. Unfortunately, the publisher decided the subject was too esoteric for the general public and pulled out. I won’t be able to return to full-time work in the botany department until the next academic year.’

‘I gather you had no contract with the publisher…’

Vivien nodded grudging confirmation and wondered how on earth she had let herself be persuaded into discussing something so remote from the emotions surging through her in great waves of frustrated grief.

‘My lawyers will contact yours and work out an appropriate arrangement. It’s not a problem. Did you think it would be a problem? Is that why you took the opportunity to approach me with fervent apologies today?’ Lucca demanded in a sudden switch of subject that caught her quite unprepared.

Vivien dealt him a startled glance. ‘Of course, it isn’t—’

‘Perhaps you thought I would be a mean bastard and refuse to step into the breach?’ Lucca flashed her a shimmering look of contempt.

‘No, I didn’t think that!’ But her pride, she was willing to admit, had shrunk from the prospect of admitting just how much she now needed the monetary help that she had once declined.

‘In spite of the fact that I was not the guilty party in the breakdown of our marriage, I was never petty. It was you who threw my generosity back in my face,’ Lucca condemned with harsh emphasis. ‘Although it was my right to contribute to my son’s upkeep, your selfish intransigence prevented me from advancing more than a tiny sum.’

Beneath that onslaught, Vivien had grown so pale and tense that her fine facial bones were clearly delineated by her pale skin. ‘I had no idea you felt like that about supporting Marco.’

His handsome jaw line squared to an aggressive angle. Again he shrugged, cold eyes black as polished jet dismissing her as a creature of no import. ‘Dio mio. Why should you have? Our only communication since you left has been through lawyers. Do you want a cheque now?’