Chapter One #3
‘The man is insane,’ Antonio said of the judge, before turning back to Simon. ‘I need you to find out exactly what these court assessments will involve.’
Simon nodded, looking increasingly more concerned.
Ivy had met quite a few people like Judge Carmondy over the years, people who had been pushed a little too far for a little too long and who had finally decided to dig their heels in.
And a part of her was sympathetic with his stance.
She’d always felt uncomfortable having promised love and fidelity in exchange for money, even if they were both consenting adults under no illusions.
But perhaps they shouldn’t be able to cheat the system and get away with it.
Yet despite that, even now she would make the same choice again. In a heartbeat. Just the thought of her brother and the changes he’d been able to make to his life was enough for her to know that she wouldn’t alter a single thing.
She felt Antonio’s hawkish gaze on her.
‘You’ve been well?’ he asked perfunctorily, as if some ingrained sense of decorum prompted his question rather than genuine curiosity.
And, for a moment, all she could do was blink. Didn’t he remember? Could he have forgotten that easily? Of course he had, Ivy realised, burying the hurt deep down to unpack later in private.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, hoping that he’d missed the brief hesitation before she answered. The millisecond’s pause as she constructed an answer suitable to what he expected of her. ‘And you?’
‘ Sì ,’ he replied, saying nothing of the grandfather she knew had passed four months ago, nor the million-dollar deal he was currently brokering between the Americans and the Chinese, a deal making waves around the world.
Things she knew because, on not so rare occasions, she caught sight of headlines about her husband in name only. It was almost hard not to.
The large clock on the wall behind him clicked closer towards eleven and she bit back a curse. She was going to be late.
She opened her mouth to speak just as Antonio did.
‘Do you have a passport?’
Taken aback, she replied without thinking. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. We’re returning to Italy this afternoon,’ he informed her imperiously.
Whether he’d become more presumptuous or she’d become more headstrong, Ivy couldn’t tell, but she very much disliked this new side of his character.
‘You are welcome to return to Italy, but I cannot.’
‘Of course you can,’ Antonio dismissed, pulling out his mobile phone and tapping on the screen.
‘I can’t,’ Ivy stressed, trying—and most definitely failing—to ignore the way his jaw muscle flexed and his eyes glittered with warning.
‘I don’t remember you being this obstinate,’ he observed.
‘I wasn’t,’ she said, unsure whether to be proud of herself or horrified for answering back.
‘It doesn’t suit you,’ he volleyed.
‘And arrogance doesn’t suit you,’ she returned.
A gasp turned into a choke over Antonio’s shoulder. His lawyer, looking almost as shocked as Ivy felt.
She turned to leave, half expecting to feel his hand around her wrist, the same way he had once done when she’d dismissed his proposal as a joke.
‘This is important,’ he said, his words stopping her departure instead.
She swallowed her impatience at his easy dismissal of her priorities and turned back to him. ‘I am sure it feels that way to you, but there’s not much I can do and it seems you both have this in hand.’
Antonio looked at her, appalled. ‘Is that a joke?’
‘Well, no. Not intentionally,’ she said with a tilt of her head.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, before returning that burning gaze to hers. ‘What would it take?’ he asked, the words forced out through a jaw so tight it looked painful.
Ivy stared at him in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
‘How much?’
‘For what?’ she asked, her patience fraying further.
‘For you to come to Italy.’ He looked at her, and what she saw in his eyes stopped her heart.
Disappointment. Inevitability. Resignation.
She took a moment to gather herself. She wanted to feel indignant, outraged even.
But could she really expect him to think any better of her?
After all, she had married him for money.
It was no wonder he thought that money would get him what he wanted.
But she was no longer that desperate nineteen-year-old and she wouldn’t, couldn’t , take any more of his money.
Shame painted red slashes on her cheeks as she shook her head.
‘There is nothing, Mr Gallo. I can’t come to Italy,’ she said as firmly as she dared.
Her job, her life—the life that she was only just beginning to get back on track—was here.
And no amount of money would change that.
Her phone buzzed, a message from work asking where she was.
‘I want to help, I really do,’ she said sincerely.
‘But I must go. When you figure out how to make this work, please call?’
‘I don’t understand. Is that a question? Why is everything so complicated today?’ he asked obtusely, the question clearly rhetorical.
‘Mercury is in retrograde,’ she offered with a touch of sarcasm, and allowed herself to relish the look on his face for a second before she hurried from the court.
She almost felt sorry for him. She doubted that Antonio Gallo was used to road blocks to his plans. Antonio might be the most aggressively handsome man that she’d ever encountered, but he was also the most ruthlessly selfish.
In the six years of their ‘convenient’ marriage, Ivy had reached out to him only once, three years ago.
It had been the lowest point of her young life.
She’d needed someone desperately. And, despite being called, he had not come.
So she knew exactly what she meant to Antonio Gallo.
Nothing. And it would remain that way. She would happily grant him the divorce they both needed, but she couldn’t let it derail her own plans.
The only person she could rely on was herself. The only person who could choose her was her. She had learned that the hard way.
‘This isn’t over, Ms McKellen,’ she heard him warn over her shoulder.
‘I would imagine not,’ she replied and hurried from the court to the bus that would take her to work, trying to ignore the way her feet burned with each step.