Second Marriage

And then he was still. Perfectly still. And she had her answer.

'I want to go back, Romano.' And she did, back to a time when she didn't know Romano Bellini existed, to a world where the worst thing she had had to deal with was Jeff's desertion, the horror of the accident and the nightmarish months that had followed. Suddenly that all seemed bearable compared with the pain that was con­suming her now.

'Claire, I cannot promise you anything, you know this. I thought I had made it clear—'

'You did.' Her voice had been savage and she mod­erated it as she said again, 'Yes, you did. You did. I…this is not your fault, but please, please take me back. I want to go home.'

And the painful childishness of her last words brought his mouth into a thin white line as he turned, fired the ignition, and drove out onto the main road again without another word.

CHAPTER SIX

The next few weeks were the most difficult of Claire's life, but she got through them. She was a loving friend, companion and confidante to Grace, as well as a mixture of mother and nurse when the need arose; she was a cheerful sister and playmate for Lorenzo, a reassuring and solid support for Donato, and all the time she felt desperately, hopelessly, utterly miserable.

And she couldn't tell anyone. She rang her mother once a week to keep her informed of how things were, but it wasn't the same as a face-to-face chat, and there was no way she could burden her with the knowledge that her daughter was unhappy while she was hundreds of miles away in a foreign country, so she forced herself to sound bright and cheerful and positive.

Romano had been in the States on business for three weeks following their disastrous dinner date, and had used pressure of work as an excuse to cut his visits to Casa Pontina to the bare minimum on his return. It hurt, but not as much as seeing him did on the rare occasions when they met.

It was following one of these visits, in the middle of April, when Grace was eight and a half months pregnant and absolutely enormous, that Grace spoke to her as they sat together in the warmth of the tranquil evening air, Donato and Lorenzo being occupied in the house work­ing out a program on Lorenzo's computer.

'Donato is worried about Romano,' Grace said quietly as she settled herself more comfortably on the cushioned sun-lounger, shutting her eyes as she leant back against its support. 'He feels there's something wrong.'

'Wrong?' Claire had glanced sharply at her friend, but Grace's face was quiet and relaxed, her eyes still shut, and now Claire relaxed a little as she said again, 'Wrong? What do you mean?'

'I don't know—Donato doesn't know—but Romano has been strange recently, not like himself at all. Oh, I know he isn't the easiest person to get on with, espe­cially since—' Grace stopped abruptly and then con­tinued, 'The last two or three years have been hard, but there's something niggling away at him—or so Donato thinks anyway.'

'Has he tried to talk to Romano about it?' Claire asked carefully.

'Yes, but Romano is very much a law unto himself. He always has been.' Grace sighed heavily and opened her eyes, reaching for the glass of lemonade at her elbow and taking a long swallow before she said, 'Perhaps it's just work? He's always worked hard—with his father dying when he did all the responsibility for their busi­ness interests went straight onto Romano's shoulders— but since…since the accident he's immersed himself in work. I suppose it's therapy, in a way.'

'Yes.' Claire's stomach was knotted up but she forced herself to say as naturally as she could, 'It can't be easy, losing someone you love in such circumstances.'

'Someone…? Oh, Bianca. Yes, of course.' Grace glanced at her as she replaced the empty glass on the small table at the side of their loungers. 'He didn't say anything to you, did he? When you went out for dinner that time?' she asked carefully.

'Say anything? About work, you mean?' Claire pre­varicated, her heart beginning to thump. This would be quite the wrong time for Grace to find out about her feelings for Romano, and his lack of them for her, with the twins' birth imminent. It was important that she was worry-free and relaxed. 'I don't think so—why?'

'Donato seems to think he's been worse since about then.' Grace settled back against the cushions again, wincing as she tried to ease her aching back. 'Of course, the States thing didn't help. I understand he had to work hard to pull that contract around due to some mess-up in his office in Naples. Heads rolled, from what Donato said.'

'There you are, then. That's probably it.' Claire felt sorry for the heads that had rolled but relieved that an explanation- was to hand. 'It's probably just a passing phase, that's all.' And when she went back to England the phase would be well and truly passed, she thought bitterly. Romano was obviously irritated and annoyed that he couldn't visit his friends with the same ease as before. No doubt he held her personally to blame for his predicament. Perhaps she was to blame, at that.

As Grace settled down for a nap Claire's thoughts churned on. She should neve

r have let things get to such a stage as she had that night. She should have called a halt long before she did. He had spelt it out to her weeks before, his attitude to women, commitment and relation­ships, and she had no one to blame but herself. He had probably thought she was game for a flirtation to while away the weeks till she left Italy and returned home—a little amour, a light intrigue that they would both enjoy. Perhaps he'd had bed in mind, perhaps not, but he cer­tainly hadn't expected to be asked the million-dollar question of where the romance could go.

She twisted miserably in her seat, her cheeks burning as she recalled his stony face on the drive home from the restaurant, and the way she had sat huddled in her seat like a small, crushed child. What a fiasco, what an utter, utter fiasco. He was used to dealing with sophis­ticated, capable career women—women who knew what they wanted and exactly how to get it, who were aware of the score and used it to their own advantage in their dealings with the opposite sex. What must he have thought of her?

She cringed inwardly as she stared blindly over the beautiful landscaped gardens in front of her, the lawns and flowerbeds quiet and scented in the late evening air.

No wonder Donato had sensed something unusual in his friend of late. It was probably a lethal mixture of disgust, scorn and sheer exasperation, and all directed at her.

She was deep in the midst of futile self-recrimination when Donato stepped through the open French doors and walked quietly over to where the two women were sit­ting. 'She is asleep?' he asked softly as he glanced down at his wife.

'Just a minute or so ago,' Claire answered, just as softly. Grace had been finding sleep difficult in the last few weeks, her bulk preventing her from getting com­fortable, and the cat-naps she managed most nights left her tired and pale in the mornings. 'Is something wrong?' she added as she glanced up at his dark face.

'There is a problem. The police have just telephoned.' Donato's gaze didn't leave his wife's face as he spoke. 'It appears that there was a break-in at my offices and two security staff were hurt. The thief, or thieves, knew what they were looking for as they made straight for my office and my private safe.'

'Oh, no.' Claire sat up straighter. 'Was anything of value taken?'

'Not in the way of cash—it has never been a practice of mine to hold large sums of money either at the office or here at home—but there were some papers of a con­fidential nature that might prove troublesome in the wrong hands,' Donato answered distractedly. 'The police would like me to go and see what, if anything, is miss­ing.'