Chapter Three #2
He walked backwards from the cot, wincing when his large foot hit a creaky floorboard.
He stopped still, like he was playing a game of Pirate’s Treasure or something.
Then he continued until he was close to Addie again, near the door of the nursery.
He turned and looked at her with a smile of victory on his face.
‘Mission accomplished.’ He held up his hand in a high five and she lifted hers to meet it.
It was the lightest touch—no loud clap but a simple touch of male flesh on female flesh.
But their hands met in a tingle of electricity that shot sparks of heat to her feminine core.
She lowered her hand and tucked it close to her side, but it was still fizzing like a firework. ‘I know this sounds terribly British of me, but I could do with a cup of tea.’
‘Well, it is just about morning. I’ll get Lucia to send one up to your room.’
‘Oh, please don’t ask her to do that. She looked ready to drop when we arrived. I can make my own tea. Where am I to sleep?’
‘You’re in the blue room three doors down from here.’
‘Is there a closer room? It’s just your villa is huge, and I might not hear Katerina during the night.’
‘My room is next door to hers.’ He pointed to the master bedroom she hadn’t noticed on her dash up the stairs earlier.
‘Oh, right then.’ She moistened her lips and asked, ‘Are you a light sleeper?’
‘I’m sure I’ll hear a toddler crying. That kid’s got a set of lungs on her like an opera singer.’
They were still whispering because they were just inside the door of the nursery. It was very hard to whisper-laugh but somehow, she managed it. ‘Indeed, she does.’
‘But to put your mind at ease, the nanny brought a portable monitor with her. We can download the app on our phones and check on Katerina whenever we want. It will also alert us if she cries.’
He told her the name of the app and she quickly downloaded it. It was reassuring to know she could check on Katerina to make sure she wasn’t crying all alone like she used to do.
Vic took Addie’s elbow and gently led her out of the nursery, partially closing the door. ‘Come. We’ll have that cup of tea and then catch a few winks of sleep before Katerina wakes.’
She tried but failed to smother a yawn as she followed him downstairs.
He glanced at her with a concerned frown. ‘Tired?’
‘A little, I guess. Maybe it’s the jet lag but I feel a bit like I’ve stumbled into another universe.’
He made a sound of soft agreement in his throat. ‘You’ve been to Italy before, though?’
‘Once or twice with my mother as a child but not this far north.’
They came to the kitchen and Vic filled the kettle. ‘Are you a mug or a cup girl?’
‘Cup.’
A ghost of a smile twitched at his mouth as he sourced cups and a teapot from a cupboard.
‘You’re making real tea? Not tea bags?’ she asked in mock surprise.
‘You look like a real tea person.’ He had his back to her again as he was spooning tea leaves into the pot so she couldn’t read his expression.
‘How did you decide that?’
Vic turned and set the teapot and then two china cups and saucers on the island bench in between them. He gave a one-shoulder shrug. ‘Just a lucky guess. Milk? Sugar?’
‘Why don’t you guess?’
He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes making her knees turn to liquid. ‘A dash of milk, no sugar.’
‘I’m getting a little freaked-out by you.’
‘So, I’m right?’ He pushed the cup towards her with another devastating smile.
‘Yes.’ She picked up the teaspoon she didn’t need but stirred her tea anyway.
She watched the tiny whirlpool the action created and tried to get her heart rate to slow down.
‘My mother didn’t allow a packet of sugar in the house while I was growing up.
’ She kept her gaze on the swirling contents of her cup and continued, ‘She was always on some sort of diet. I was put on one of her cleansing diets when I was six. I ended up needing an iron infusion.’
Vic put his cup down on the saucer with a little clatter.
He was frowning so heavily there was a trench between his eyes.
‘Marcus hasn’t told me a lot about his childhood, but I can read between the lines.
I’ve met your mother’s type before.’ He picked up his cup again and looked at her over the rim as he held it next to his mouth.
‘My stepfather, for instance.’ An embittered look came over his face like brooding clouds.
‘What don’t you like about him? I mean, apart from his mismanagement of your father’s business.’
‘I still don’t understand why my mother married him. He’s nothing like my father. Total opposite, in fact.’ He drained the contents of his cup and put it back down on the bench.
‘I guess she must have been so lonely without your dad.’ She put her teaspoon back on the saucer and added, ‘Perhaps she was concerned about providing a father for you. A role model if you like.’
Vic gave a harsh laugh that was nowhere in the vicinity of humour. ‘Some role model he turned out to be.’
‘But he’s a good father to Isabella, right? I mean, they seem to have a good relationship. He led her down the aisle and gave a lovely speech and—’
‘Isabella doesn’t know him the way I know him.
She’s his blood child. I am not. He will do anything for her, but he has made my life difficult from day one.
’ His mouth tightened and he continued, ‘I was sent to boarding school because he didn’t want me in the house.
He didn’t like sharing me with my mother.
When I did come home for rare visits, he made my life a living hell.
Not in front of my mother or sister. He was too clever, too devious for that. ’
She hugged her arms around her body, feeling cold all of a sudden even though it was summer.
Before The Incident, she had considered herself a good judge of character, but since that night, she always doubted her ability to read a person’s motives.
She had liked Vic’s stepfather on the three occasions she met him.
He had been charming and friendly without being creepy.
And Isabella had been so warm and adoring towards him, which to be honest, had made her feel a bit jealous.
She couldn’t remember the last time she even saw her father, much less got a hug from him.
‘Oh, Vic, I’m so sorry, I never realised.
Marcus only said you didn’t get on with your stepfather.
He didn’t go into any details. Does Isabella know how difficult things were between you and her father? ’
He moved away from the bench and went to the window to watch the sun come up over the horizon. ‘She’s nine years younger than me. There’s a lot she was too young to remember. I didn’t want to destroy her relationship with him. Anyway, she’s got Marcus now.’
‘And you have no one.’ She said the words without thinking but in a way, they described her as well as him.
He turned to look at her with an unreadable expression. He reminded her of a fortress with the drawbridge pulled up. ‘I don’t need anyone.’
‘Is that something you’ve taught yourself over the years? Not to need anyone?’
Vic’s gaze held hers like he was waiting for her to break the lock first. She fought hard not to look away, but it took a mammoth effort. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, Addie.’ His tone was as cautionary as his keep-away-from-me expression.
‘I—I don’t feel sorry for you. I can relate to you, that’s all.’
Something in his expression softened—the drawbridge lowering a fraction. ‘Because of your mother?’
She gave him a grim look. ‘You’ve met her. You don’t need me to tell you all the gory details of our relationship.’
‘But I’d like to hear all the same.’
Should she tell him some of the things she hated most about being her mother’s daughter?
It wasn’t something she talked about. To anyone.
Not even her brother. But Vic had opened up to her about his difficult stepfather.
She could tell that wasn’t easy for him, so surely, she could be courageous enough to share a little bit about herself.
She picked up her teacup, closing her fingers around the fine bone china, but she didn’t bring it to her mouth.
‘I hated and still hate being compared to her. I’m not beautiful.
I’m not vivacious and charming. I’m not a party girl who loves being the centre of attention.
I’m a huge disappointment to my mother for not measuring up to her.
’ She hadn’t realised how firmly she was holding her teacup until Vic gently removed it from her clenched fingers and put it back on the saucer on the island bench with a soft little clink.
She hadn’t even realised he’d moved closer—she was too fixated on listing her shortcomings.
She looked up and met his gaze and something with soft wings fluttered in one of the ventricles of her heart.