CHAPTER NINE
L ARK FOUND THE next few weeks unexpectedly happy.
For all that Cesare had told her that they’d go their separate ways during the day, he ended up staying at the palazzo quite a lot. He told her he was ‘working from home’ but seemed to spend a good deal of his time with Maya. Helping her ‘settle in’, apparently.
Not that she was complaining.
Not when every night she was naked in his bed, in his arms.
There was so much pleasure to be had from him, and yet another reason why she didn’t understand why he thought he was selfish, not when he was the opposite in bed.
He was inventive when it came to wringing orgasms from her, encouraging her to tell him what she wanted and how, then welcoming her passion whenever she gave it. He never refused her anything and seemed to get as much enjoyment from her pleasure as he did from his own.
There was nothing selfish about that, nothing at all.
Some mornings she’d come down to breakfast in the palazzo to find him lying on the ground with his daughter, letting her climb all over him and pull on his expensive silk tie with her dirty hands, or playing trucks, which really just consisted of banging them on the ground. Once, she’d come down to find Maya asleep in the crook of his arm and him singing softly to her in Italian.
That in particular had caught at her heart, her daughter’s red-gold curls nestled against the dark wool of his suit, golden eyelashes fanned over her rosy cheeks. He’d been looking down at her as he sang and the expression on his face had stolen her breath. She’d had to look away, feeling as if she’d invaded his privacy somehow.
He’d told her the day they’d got married that it wasn’t Maya who was important to him, but his legacy, and maybe he believed that. But it wasn’t true and Lark knew it. Not when he’d also said, not five minutes later that Maya came first, always.
Whether he knew it or not, he loved his daughter. It was written all over his face.
He didn’t just spend time with Maya, though. He was very insistent that they do things together ‘as a family’. Again, not something she’d object to, since she enjoyed those things as much as she suspected he did.
Sometimes it was as simple as having dinner outside on one of the terraces, with Maya in a highchair and Cesare insisting on feeding her himself as he listened to Lark tell him about Maya’s day. Afterwards, they’d lie on a blanket on the lawn, in the warm summer evening scented with the lavender that grew in the garden beds nearby, idly chatting about nothing as Maya played with her growing collection of trucks.
Sometimes it was more of an outing, such as the time Cesare took them to spend a few days in Venice in a luxurious palace beside the canals. They’d had gondola rides and Maya had squealed with delight at the pigeons in the Piazza San Marco.
He took them to other places around Italy too, Tuscany and the Cinque Terre, to Florence and Naples, and Milan. He said he wanted to show Maya the country since she was part Italian, but Lark had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t quite telling the truth about that. Because Maya was very little and probably wouldn’t remember or appreciate the beautiful scenery, but Lark did. Lark did very much.
Then in Rome, after a day spent wandering the streets with Maya in a buggy and all three of them eating gelato, Cesare organised a private tour of the Colosseum, and even though Lark had told him she’d already seen it, he insisted she go. Because Maya hadn’t seen it, he told her, and neither had she, not without all the crowds.
Privately Lark doubted Maya needed to see the Colosseum just yet, but she didn’t really mind. Yet as they stood there in the ruins of a once mighty empire, Cesare bent and picked Maya up, putting her up on his shoulders, and as her squeals of delight rang off the ancient stones, Lark remembered standing in this same place nearly two years earlier. And she’d watched a family standing together like this, a child on their father’s shoulders, the mother standing by. And she’d been hit by such a feeling of such isolation and loneliness, or wishing she’d had a family just like that one.
Now she had, yet it wasn’t the same. Not quite.
She had a daughter and a husband, but their marriage was lacking one thing. They were only married for Maya’s sake not their own, and while she and Cesare loved Maya, they didn’t love each other.
They respected each other—he’d kept his promise to her that he’d treat her with nothing but respect—but love wasn’t a part of that.
Why do you need love? You didn’t want it, remember?
She hadn’t, no. But now the lack of it made her worry for the future of their little family. Cesare had promised that Maya always came first and she agreed, but would that be enough to hold them together?
If she’d learned anything from her unsettled childhood it was that a broken relationship between a child’s parents could hurt their child, and Cesare too had been a prime example of that.
She didn’t want that kind of tragedy for her daughter. Not that she thought she and Cesare would suddenly turn on each other like their respective parents’ had, nevertheless... He’d promised he’d be faithful, but what if he got tired of sleeping with her? What if he wanted someone else? What would happen and what would she do?
The very thought of it sent a hot, bright bolt of unexpected jealousy straight through her, and because Cesare had chosen that moment to glance at her, she’d had to turn away quickly in order to hide it.
How ridiculous to be jealous. He’d been very clear that love was something he didn’t want, and that they’d be sleeping together only as long as this desire lasted and then they’d be done.
She’d agreed to it. She’d let him put that ring on her finger. She’d known exactly what a marriage to him had meant. Being jealous hadn’t never been part of this scenario.
You never thought you’d feel something for him, though.
Lark’s stomach dropped away.
The tour guide’s voice rose and fell, but she’d stopped listening.
She did feel something for him, it was nestled there close to her heart, and what it was, she didn’t know and didn’t want to. But whatever it was, it made the thought of him finding some other woman to hold at night...difficult.
A selfish man wouldn’t have noticed her sudden quiet. A selfish man wouldn’t have paid any attention to her at all. Yet after the tour was over and as they got in the car to return to the palazzo, Cesare glanced at her. ‘You’re very quiet, little bird. Is anything wrong?’
She couldn’t tell him about that jealousy, about that feeling in her heart, not when she didn’t have the words for it herself, so instead she pasted on her sunniest, most cheerful smile. ‘No, of course not. Why would there be? I’ve had the loveliest day.’
He looked as if he was going to say something more, but right then Maya dropped her soft rabbit on the floor of the car and started shouting with annoyance, which distracted Cesare nicely.
She should have known better than to think he’d forgotten, though.
When they’d got home and a very tired Maya had been settled in bed, Cesare slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in close in the hallway outside Maya’s door.
‘Now that I finally have you alone,’ he murmured. ‘You can tell me what’s wrong.’
Lark swallowed, the familiar warmth of his body against hers working its magic.
Damn him. She couldn’t tell him and it certainly wasn’t worth upsetting the balance they’d found in their marriage to even try articulating her strange doubts.
And it would upset it. She had no idea what he’d think about her feelings for him, but he certainly wouldn’t like it.
‘Nothing.’ She took a breath and then forced herself to look up at him, giving him the same bright smile that she always gave her mother. ‘Honestly. I was just a bit tired earlier.’
His gaze narrowed into glowing blue sapphire splinters. ‘You can smile at me like that till kingdom come, little bird, and I still won’t believe you.’
Annoyance gripped her. That smile had always worked for her mother. Why wouldn’t it work for him?
‘There’s nothing—’
‘Lark.’ His hands tightened on her hips. ‘You went very quiet at the Colosseum today and wouldn’t look me in the eye after the tour. Why? Something’s bothering you and I want to know what.’
She couldn’t help herself, she had to glance away. He’d see straight through her, because he always seemed to. He’d see her jealousy and the feeling that was growing inside her, the fear that she didn’t want to examine or even articulate.
That she was falling for him.
Instead she stared at the buttons of his casual black shirt and put her hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t the truth and coming up with nothing. ‘It doesn’t matter, Cesare,’ she said at last. ‘Leave it.’
But then her chin was being gripped in long fingers as he forced her gaze up to meet his. ‘Why do you do that?’ he demanded abruptly. ‘Why do you smile and pretend nothing’s wrong?’
Her annoyance deepened. ‘I’m not pretending.’
‘Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes and your smile is fake as hell.’
The annoyance became anger and for a minute it was all she could do not to snap and rip herself from his arms. And she didn’t want to snap. She didn’t want to ruin what had been a perfectly nice day with a foul temper.
‘Little bird,’ Cesare said, quieter this time, the look in his eyes softening unexpectedly. ‘You don’t have to pretend with me, you know that, don’t you?’
She wasn’t sure why her anger faltered right then. Why it simply flickered and went out like a candle flame. Perhaps it was because of his gentle reminder when she’d been expecting him to argue, or the concern in his eyes when she’d been expecting irritation.
And that was the thing, wasn’t it? She’d never pretended with him. She’d never been able to, not even right from the very beginning.
So she let herself relax against him, lean into his warmth and his strength. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s just... Mum was so fragile emotionally and getting angry or being in a bad mood always made her worse. Even just being sad was an issue. And I...didn’t want to make things harder for her than they already were. So... I made sure I was always in a good mood, that I was always smiling, because it was easier for both of us if I was.’
Cesare’s thumb stroked over her chin in a gentle movement. ‘Well, I’m not your mother, Lark Donati. I’m your husband and I’m not afraid of your temper, and you know that. We wouldn’t be standing right here if I was.’
Lark felt something inside her ease, a tightness that she hadn’t realised was there. ‘That’s true,’ she admitted. ‘You never have been.’
He was frowning, though. ‘I don’t like that she made you feel responsible for her moods.’
‘She wasn’t well,’ Lark said. ‘I didn’t want to add to it. And sometimes—’ She broke off all of a sudden, not wanting to say the doubt out loud, because part of her didn’t want her to acknowledge it even to herself.
‘Sometimes?’ Cesare let go of her hips, only to thread his fingers through her hair, holding her gently as he looked down into her eyes. ‘What about sometimes?’
She sighed. ‘Sometimes I used to wonder if she wouldn’t have been happier if I hadn’t been born at all. Then she wouldn’t have had to go on the run and maybe she wouldn’t have—’
‘She might,’ Cesare interrupted gently. ‘But also, she might not have. Also, as a parent, I know that even though Maya completely upended my life and yours, I’d much rather she was born than not.’
Lark let out a breath and the words she’d been keeping inside for far too long came spilling out along with it. ‘There was nothing I could do to fix her,’ she said huskily. ‘I tried to be happy, tried to keep smiling. Tried to stay optimistic. But nothing worked. Or it would work for a bit, but then she’d spiral again. Sometimes, she’d stay in her room with the door locked for days and days.’ Her throat tightened, the old fear flooding back. ‘And I used to be so afraid that one day she wouldn’t come out.’
Cesare’s blue gaze somehow became no less fierce, no less sharp, and yet there was something protective in it that wrapped around her heart and pulled tight. ‘I know your mother was in a difficult situation and that she was afraid. And that she might have been sick, as well, but why did she not get help?’
‘It was difficult, because she didn’t want anyone to know our names in case my father found us.’
‘So what provision did she make for you?’ His fingers tightened in her hair. ‘What if one day she actually hadn’t come out of that room? What would have happened to you then?’
Unexpectedly, Lark felt her tears fill her eyes. She’d been so afraid back then, and sometimes she wondered if perhaps her mother had infected her with her own fear and paranoia, that it was a vicious circle, each of them feeding off the other’s fear.
‘I don’t know,’ she said huskily. ‘She didn’t have any friends and wouldn’t allow me to have any either. She thought the less people who knew about us the better.’
Cesare’s mouth hardened and she saw the blue glow of anger in his eyes. But not at her she knew.
‘You can’t get angry at her,’ she said, feeling protective. ‘She did the best she could.’
‘No, she didn’t.’ His voice was flat. ‘The best she could would have been not to make you responsible for her wellbeing. That was her job, not yours.’
It was her most secret doubt, the anger that she kept locked tight away inside her. Anger at Grace for doing exactly that, for ensuring her childhood was one town after another, a cheap flat, a grotty motel room, a stranger’s basement...
No friends. No steady school. Only fear and the sense that she was always walking on eggshells around her mother, never sure what would send her into another depressive incident. The knowledge that she was the one who had to look after Grace, not the other way around.
Lark felt hot tears fill her eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe just the fact that he’d said it aloud and it was such a relief to have someone else acknowledge it. ‘I was...angry at her,’ she said. ‘I know it wasn’t her fault and that she wanted to protect me, and I loved her. But I’m angry with her all the same.’
‘You can love someone and be angry with them at the same time,’ he said. ‘And I know it doesn’t change things, but you should have had better, Lark.’
He believed it, she could see. There was a fierceness to his stare that for some reason felt like cold water on a burn, easing her. Soothing her.
‘Thanks,’ she said huskily. ‘That helps. And you know what? I don’t even feel angry any more.’
‘Good.’ The fierceness in his stare somehow intensified. ‘Then you won’t mind telling me what was bothering you earlier, will you?’
Cesare saw reluctance flicker through Lark’s wide sea-green eyes. She didn’t want to tell him, that was clear, though he couldn’t imagine why, not when over the course of the past few weeks they’d grown closer.
Having her here at the palazzo, in his bed at night and waking up to her in the morning, then sharing coffee on the terrace as Maya played at their feet...it had been so unexpectedly fulfilling. And while he still saw flashes of her delightful temper, she’d started to relax with him, the truth of her becoming apparent, so warm and open and genuine. Intelligent, funny and honest too.
She was a delight. The way she’d been that night two years ago.
Their daughter too was a delight.
He also hadn’t realised how completely fascinating having a child was. How a deep part of him kept getting drawn to this little girl with the big blue eyes the same colour as his own. Maya, too, had a temper that he admired and she was also very stubborn, which he also admired. She was very loud sometimes and he admired that less, but he respected her commitment to it.
She’d started smiling for him now and lifting her arms to him whenever she saw him, and he was sure she’d babbled Papa at him on more than one occasion.
He had no words to describe the strength of feeling inside him on those occasions.
The only thing he knew was that going places with his little family or even just staying at home with them had made him for the first time in his life...happy.
This was what he’d wanted to give his child that he’d never had himself. This happiness. He’d once thought that all families were like his, that most parents screamed and hated each other like his did, but it wasn’t until after they’d gone that he’d understood that no, most families weren’t like that.
Perhaps it had been then that all the anger he’d suppressed while he’d been a child trying to make two irrational people happy had started spilling out like poison. Anger at them and what they’d put him through, the childhood he’d been denied. Happiness. Security. Love.
All his parents had given him was their own rage, which they’d nurtured with their dysfunctional relationship and so now he was cursed with it too. There was no escape for him. There was always the doubt that if he gave in to it, he’d turn into them, violent and irrational and toxic.
But he’d been good these past few weeks. The simmering rage that had burned just beneath the surface of his skin had receded back down to where he’d buried it deep inside, and hopefully now it was gone for good. It hadn’t touched Maya or Lark, and he was glad.
He’d been feeling very glad at the Colosseum today, too, enjoying the feeling of Maya’s warm little body on his shoulders and hearing her laugh. He’d turned to glance at Lark to see if she was enjoying herself as much as he was, only to catch a glimpse of some troubled expression on her eyes, something painful. Then she’d looked away, avoiding his gaze.
A strange feeling had stolen through him then, an urge to find out what it was that was hurting her and take it away, soothe her. It was unfamiliar this feeling, yet he hadn’t questioned it after they’d got into the car. He’d asked her straight out what was wrong, but she’d only smiled, told him it was nothing and turned away.
Maya losing her toy had distracted him, yet he hadn’t forgotten. The smile Lark had given him had been fake. And he knew the difference. He’d been seeing Lark’s genuine smiles for the past few weeks, after all. When she held Maya in her arms and looked down at her. When he kept the light on at night, so he could watch her face as he made love to her, and after he’d given her as much pleasure as they both could handle, and after they’d both recovered, she’d smile slowly, like the sun coming up, lighting her face, lighting her green eyes.
That was a real smile. But the one she’d given him in the car was not.
Perhaps he should have let it go, but he couldn’t. The knowledge that something was bothering her nagged at him like a shard of glass caught in a place he couldn’t reach, and he knew that he couldn’t ignore it. He had to find out what was wrong.
Her happiness was vital to his new legacy plan, which meant he had to fix it.
He’d got sidetracked by talk of her mother and he could see now why she’d been pretending today. It had made him inexplicably angry the way she’d been treated as a child, the burden of responsibility that had been put on her shoulders by her mother, and he’d found himself wishing he could change it. Go back in time and tell Grace Edwards to get out of her head and look at what she was doing to her daughter. An irrational wish. Nevertheless he wished it. But all he could do was tell Lark that she shouldn’t have had to deal with that, that it had been wrong of her mother, and hope Lark believed him. Also, that he wasn’t her mother and she didn’t need to do that with him.
Lark’s lashes lowered, veiling her gaze as she toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said slowly. ‘Only...that night we met two years ago, I’d also just been to the Colosseum and I saw a family there. Parents and a child, and they were having so much fun. I remember wishing I could have had that as a kid.’ She let out a long breath and looked up at him. ‘Then we were there today and I realised I did have it. With you and Maya.’
He frowned, dropping his hands to her hips and then lower, sliding over the curve of her rear to bring her closer, where he preferred her. ‘You didn’t look happy, though,’ he said. ‘You looked as if someone had stabbed you.’
She stared up at him for a long moment. Then abruptly she pushed herself away and out of his arms. His first instinct was to grab her and pull her back, but he crushed the urge. If she wanted space then he had to let her have it. Her needs were important to his plan and he couldn’t let himself forget it.
‘What’s going to happen, Cesare?’ she asked. ‘When you find someone you want more than me? When you get tired of me? What will we do?’
His frown deepened. He didn’t understand why she was asking him this. ‘What has that got to do with you realising you have a family?’
‘That family I saw, they loved each other.’ Lark’s voice was flat. ‘All of them loved each other.’
‘So?’ He still didn’t quite see what she was getting at.
‘Our marriage isn’t a real marriage,’ she said. ‘We’re only together for Maya’s sake. So what happens if it breaks down between us? What happens if you decide you want someone else?’
‘Our marriage is very real,’ he insisted, slightly irritated because they’d already had this discussion right before she agreed to marry him. ‘You’ve taken my name. You wear my ring. You sleep in my bed. We live together. How is that not real?’
‘Because we don’t...care about other, do we?’ There was an odd pain glittering in her eyes that he didn’t quite understand. ‘And it’s the children that suffer when two people don’t care about each other, Cesare. You know that and so do I.’
A flicker of shock went through him, because he hadn’t been expecting this. It felt as if she’d taken a hammer to the most perfect mirror and now there was a crack running straight through it.
How could she think he didn’t care about her? When he’d done nothing but make sure she was happy for the past three weeks?
‘That’s not true,’ he said, itching to grab her and drag her back into his arms and show her just how wrong she was. ‘I do care about you. Haven’t I been proving it to you since we got married? Haven’t you been happy these past few weeks?’
She let out a breath, the expression on her face difficult to read. ‘Yes,’ she said, almost reluctantly. ‘I have. I just...want Maya to know what a good relationship looks like. What respect means. I want her to know what a good man looks like.’
That hit him hard, in a place where he knew he was vulnerable. Because he wanted that for Maya too, but he wasn’t a good man. He never had been.
You’ll just have to try harder then, won’t you?
Yes. He would.
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘And she will know, Lark. I promise on her life that she will know.’
Lark said nothing, her gaze was unreadable and he didn’t like it.
‘What more do you want?’ He was impatient now to get whatever this was out of the way so they could get on with being happy. ‘Tell me and I’ll give it to you.’
She remained silent a moment more, then said, ‘I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else while Maya is still a child. You’ll be faithful to me and I’ll be faithful to you.’
He hadn’t even thought about another woman since being with Lark and couldn’t imagine being with one either. So he answered without hesitation. ‘I don’t want another woman, Lark. I want you.’
‘Promise me, Cesare.’
He couldn’t ignore his instinct any longer. Reaching out, he pulled her back into his arms, settling her where she belonged, against him. ‘I am not going to get tired of you,’ he said. ‘In fact, I can’t see myself wanting anyone else for a long, long time. So yes, while Maya is growing up, the only woman in my bed will be you. I promise.’
Lark’s gaze was searching as she looked up into his face, so he let her see the truth, the force of his conviction to his promise.
Is this really just for the sake of your legacy now? Or is this for her?
But he didn’t understand that thought, because the two were the same, so he ignored it.
‘You mean that?’ Lark asked, the tension slowly bleeding out of her.
He raised a brow. ‘Do you want me to write out another agreement?’
‘God no.’ She flushed. ‘I think I’ve had my fill of legal documents from you.’
He laughed, pulling her closer as satisfaction stretched out inside him. ‘Does that mean you trust me, little bird? Trust me to keep my promise?’
‘Yes,’ she said on a long breath. ‘I do.’
‘Good. Now let’s seal the deal.’
And he bent his head and covered her mouth with his own.