Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin Page 11

  ‘I didn’t picture you with a dog...’

  ‘I didn’t picture me with a dog,’ Dante responded, and then added, ‘Or a baby.’

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘More than a hundred in dog years. He belonged to the woman in the apartment below, and when she was taken in an ambulance to hospital, Sarah offered to feed him.’

  Gosh, that corkscrew in her chest tightened a little as she pictured Sarah and Dante lolling in bed, only climbing out to the sound of sirens.

  Dante glanced over and saw the mottled colour on her chest and her pursed lips, and despite his dark mood found that he smiled.

  ‘So, when the old lady died, Sarah said that she would have him, except it turned out her husband was allergic to dogs.’

  He glanced over again, and the relaxing of her features had him smiling again.

  ‘I suggested he go to the pound to be rehomed. Sarah insisted he was too old and arthritic and too blind and that they would put him down. I said I thought that might be for the best...’

  ‘Dante!’

  ‘Yes, well, I should have listened to myself, because he’s been living on my couch ever since.’

  And having his ears stroked, Mia thought.

  She looked over at him and now, despite the imminent disaster of exposure, she felt oddly relieved that he now knew and that made her brave enough to ask, ‘Are you cross that I didn’t tell you last night before we...?’

  ‘No,’ Dante said. ‘I am cross that you did not tell me when I asked, and I am cross that in the weeks since you found out you did not think to pick up the phone—’

  ‘Of course I thought about it!’

  ‘Yet you didn’t do it. Instead, when I asked if there might be an issue, you told me that everything was fine. Twice,’ he added.

  ‘The first time I didn’t know,’ Mia admitted. ‘I’ve had no morning sickness, and there was nothing to make me think that I might be pregnant until you called.’

  ‘And the second time?’

  ‘I was just starting to get used to it myself,’ Mia said. ‘For the first time in two weeks I hadn’t cried myself to sleep and was just coming round to the notion of keeping the baby. I didn’t want to rock that fragile boat.’

  ‘You sounded fine on the phone,’ Dante pointed out, remembering her brisk and efficient tone. Certainly, she hadn’t sounded fragile, or like a woman who was crying herself to sleep at night. Still, there was one thing he wanted to make clear. ‘I am not cross that you didn’t tell me last night.’

  ‘Honestly?’ Mia checked. ‘I do feel bad about that, because I did think of telling you. When you put on the...’ The word ‘condom’ died on her lips. It was such a revolting word, though it had felt far from revolting at the time.

  ‘Never interrupt sex.’ He glanced over and saw her blushing. ‘If we are ever having sex and over my shoulder there is a newsflash that the world is ending, please don’t stop proceedings to tell me.’

  She gave a half-laugh.

  ‘There’ll be none of that for now, though,’ Dante said. ‘We need to sort things out properly.’

  They drove in silence for a while, both dwelling on that.

  For Mia, the ‘for now’ offered if not hope then a glimpse of possibility that this wasn’t the end of them.

  While for Dante he’d simply meant what he’d said: the attraction was there, it was pointless to deny it, and after all it had got him to considering more. Last night he had been thinking along the lines of an occasional affair, while knowing deep down that could never work in the long run.

  The debris from the bombshell was settling and he was starting to think with a clearer head.

  ‘Have you seen a doctor?’ Dante asked.

  ‘Yes.’ She looked at him. ‘I’m keeping the baby, whether you want me to or not...’

  ‘That is one thing we are agreed on at least.’ He glanced over and then looked away. As to the rest, it was one hell of a mess.

  ‘Whether you believe me or not, I didn’t plan this, Dante.’

  ‘Not at first perhaps,’ Dante said. He was always honest and so did not amend his thoughts as he vocalised them, ‘but I believe that I was your Plan C.’ He had done a lot of thinking last night. ‘I am sure that when you married my father, you wanted your little Romano baby to ensure endless wealth, and when my father was ill and could not...’ He blew out a breath as he couldn’t both drive and allow his mind to go there at the same time.

  ‘And my Plan B?’ Mia asked, curious as to how his mind worked.

  ‘Contest the will.’

  ‘I didn’t, though.’

  ‘Because there’s no need to if you’re carrying my baby.’

  ‘If?’ She gave a small mirthless laugh. ‘How did you get to be so suspicious?’

  ‘Because everyone lies.’ Dante shrugged. ‘My perfect family is a nest of liars.’

  Mia swallowed because she, perhaps even more than Dante, knew he spoke the truth.

  ‘I think my mother had a long-running affair,’ he said, taking the curves in the road with skill, but Mia found she was holding her breath, not just at his driving but as he inched towards the truth.

  ‘Dante, can you please slow down?’

  He glanced at the dashboard and then over at her and though he was within the limit, when he saw her pale features he slowed down the car but not the conversation. ‘Perhaps my father decided it was his turn to cheat...’ He blew out an angry breath. ‘And then you came along, dear Mia. Except he was too ill to give you a baby and permanent access to his fortune, and so to Plan B.’

  ‘But I didn’t contest the will,’ Mia pointed out.

  ‘No, you saw a chance for a Plan C.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘A last roll of the dice with me.’

  ‘Oh, please! Are you saying I set out to seduce you that night? Poor Dante...’ She scoffed.

  ‘I never said I was a victim,’ Dante countered. ‘We were both more than willing. I’m just saying you saw a chance and you took it—or rather,’ he added with a jaded edge, ‘you didn’t take your pills.’

  ‘If you think that,’ Mia said, ‘then you don’t know me.’

  His temper was building. His theory, now voiced, was growing in momentum as they neared Luctano, where she had lived as his father’s wife for two years.

  Two damned years!

  He ground the gears in place of his jaw and Mia felt not just his tension but her own and she again asked him to slow down.

  ‘I am within the speed limit!’

  But all the same he slowed right down, taking the bends like a tourist when he knew these roads like the back of his hand.

  Mia stopped pressing her foot on an imaginary break and looked out at the colour-drenched view. The splash of poppy fields in the distance, the tall cypress trees and the sights that had been her home for two years. She had honestly thought she would never see Luctano again, but there was no time to enjoy the now familiar scenery spread before her, for the enormity of them being exposed was starting to hit. She was nervous about facing Sylvia and the staff, and about her brother’s reaction too, and panic was building, though she tried to keep it from her voice as she broke the strained silence. ‘Dante, can you do anything to stop the photos being released?’

  ‘They’re already out,’ Dante said.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because from the buzzing in my pocket I might be forgiven for thinking I picked up your vibrator by mistake instead of my phone.’

  ‘You’re disgusting!’ Mia spluttered, appalled that he would say such a thing, but Dante was unabashed.

  ‘No,’ Dante shot back, ‘that title belongs to you.’ Their shameful night would be on stage now for the world to see, and he was furious with himself for his weakness for Mia and the awful feeling that the woman who fascinat
ed him and who he had come to adore might have played him. ‘It took two years for you to get a Romano between your legs. You must have needed something to help you along in the interim.’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Her cheeks were on fire, her hands bunched, stunned he would talk about such things. Such things she had never done, except for Dante it seemed to be a given that she had.

  ‘Was just thinking of the millions enough of a turn-on then?’ he asked.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Mia spluttered. ‘I didn’t know such feelings existed until you!’ She was embarrassed even to discuss it. ‘And,’ Mia added, ‘it was significantly longer than two years. I was a virgin when we slept together, if you remember rightly.’

  Oh, Dante remembered very well indeed.

  And he was trying not to do exactly that.

  But was Mia saying he’d been not just her first lover but her first orgasm? Dante was considering pulling the car over so curious was he.

  So curious!

  He looked over and saw her uptight features and for once felt rather chastised as Ms Prim took out her own phone to look at the articles. ‘Don’t,’ he said hurriedly. ‘You really don’t need to see them.’

  ‘I want to know what’s being said.’ Mia let out an anguished cry and dropped the phone in her lap as if it was a hot coal.

  Oh, it was such an intimate photo.

  Mia had barely recognised herself in the mirror before she had headed down to the ball, and she barely recognised herself now, because in the photo she was clearly on fire for Dante for all to see.

  There was not a strap or a button undone in the photo, yet she felt as if the world had been invited into her bedroom.

  ‘What?’ Dante said.

  But she refused to answer him, just sat with that pained expression and with her hand over her mouth. Even though they were only a little way from home, now he pulled over the car and retrieved her phone to see what was being said for himself.

  The headlines were pretty brutal, but one in particular stood out.

  Step-Mamma Mia!

  Beneath the headline was a picture of them groin to groin and with his face over hers. It had been taken from inside, probably with a phone, but it was enough to capture her in that red dress, gazing right at him, him holding her tight and close. There was a stirring in his groin as he recalled the feel of Mia in his arms, pressing the key into her hand and the quiet certainty that they were again headed for bed.

  ‘That’s not me,’ she said, and Dante frowned at her choice of words.

  ‘Oh, that’s you all right, Mia,’ Dante refuted, but it was dawning on him that this was a side to Mia only he had seen, and though usually this type of picture didn’t rattle him, her clear distress had him angry on her behalf. There was no real time to dwell on it, though, as her phone lit up then. ‘Someone called Michael is calling you.’

  ‘My brother.’ She shuddered. ‘He must have seen it.’

  Yet instead of declining the call, he was surprised and more than a touch impressed when she took the phone and answered the call with brisk aplomb. ‘Mia speaking.’

  She listened for a moment and then laughed dismissively.

  ‘Oh, do stop worrying Michael, it’s fine,’ she told him. ‘Just a stupid misunderstanding.’

  So she really did have a brother and one she seemed to be close to; Dante blinked when he heard her calm, upbeat tone.

  Now she was reassuring him. ‘Michael, I’m completely fine. In fact, I’m just heading to Dante’s now. I’m going to turn my phone off, but you can call me on the landline if you need me.’ If Dante had not seen her pallor and heard her moan just moments ago, he would have believed her when she said, ‘Absolutely. I’m fine.’

  It took the angry wind from his sails.

  Had Mia been like that when he’d called her about the reference and prompted her about the ball?

  Who was Mia? he pondered. She was like a chameleon. Seductive, yet reticent and shy, upset at times and the next icy calm. A wife, a virgin...pregnant.

  ‘Let’s get home,’ Dante said.

  Dante drove towards the sprawling Romano residence but as they approached the lake Mia thought of the grave, and knew there was no way she could stay there tonight.

  ‘I want to stay at the hotel.’

  ‘Mia, the whole point of being here is so we can have some privacy. There is no one but my father’s—I mean, my staff here...’ They were his now. ‘The hotel has its own helipad, the press will soon be there...’

  ‘You have your own helipad,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Yes, but if they dare land on my property they’ll be charged with trespassing and they know it. As well as that, the hotel is going to be full of paparazzi—the very people we are trying to avoid.’

  ‘Dante, I really don’t want to stay here.’

  ‘I’ve told you, the press can’t get to us.’ He assumed that was what concerned her. ‘There are guards on the perimeters.’

  It wasn’t the press that concerned her, though; it was the grave inside the perimeter.

  ‘It’s creepy,’ she attempted.

  But Dante had never known fear and gave a half-laugh. ‘If things go bump in the night, you know where to find me...’ Then he halted.

  No flirting, Dante reminded himself.

  Arriving at the residence, Sylvia greeted them warmly, except she flushed a little when she spoke. ‘It is good to see you, Signora Romano...’ Her voice trailed off and Mia knew she had seen the salacious articles. ‘How have you been?’

  ‘Very well, thank you.’

  ‘Should I take your case up to Suite al Limone? Or...?’ Her eyes flicked to Dante.

  ‘I’ll be staying in Suite al Limone,’ Mia responded quickly, feeling exquisitely uncomfortable. ‘I’ll take my own case up.’

  ‘Mia,’ Dante suggested, ‘why don’t you have a rest, then freshen up and get changed for lunch...?’

  ‘Get changed?’ Her laughter was slightly hysterical. ‘It’s this or a ballgown, Dante. I didn’t exactly come prepared to be hidden away in Luctano.’

  But Luctano was a little more prepared than she was.

  ‘You left a few clothes in the laundry,’ Sylvia said as she followed Mia up the stairs to the suite. ‘When Dante called, I remembered them, and I have put them in the cupboards and drawers. You can give me any laundry you have.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What happened to your leg?’ Sylvia asked.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ Mia blushed and glanced down to the foyer where Dante was still standing, but then she caught Dante’s eye and he gave her that gorgeous slow smile that said he knew it was hard for the wife of Rafael Romano to be back, mired in scandal with his reprobate son, and he could be kind when he chose.

  It helped.

  And it helped, perhaps more than it should, to be back in the gorgeous, familiar suite that she hadn’t felt quite ready to leave.

  ‘It’s good to have you back,’ Sylvia admitted.

  ‘How have you been, Sylvia?’

  ‘It’s been very quiet since you left,’ she admitted. ‘Dante has rarely been here. It is a bit of a ghost house really.’

  Mia swallowed, for she hated that kind of talk.

  ‘But we are still here, for now at least,’ Sylvia said. ‘It is good to have someone to cook for. I shall serve lunch at one, if that is okay?’

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  Mia took out the little linen bag that contained the dress and things from when she had flown into Rome.

  ‘I’ll have these back to you soon.’

  ‘Thank you, Sylvia.’

  After she had gone, Mia looked through the drawers and wardrobes. There wasn’t much.

  Her black woollen funeral dress hung in the wardrobe. And black funeral knickers, which had been peeled off by Dante, sat lonel
y in the top drawer. There was also a pair of grey capri pants and a cream top, and some espadrilles, so at least, after the long drive, she could get into fresh clothes. And there were also some tatty jodhpurs and her very old, short riding boots, which she’d left, meaning for them to be thrown out. The thought of a ride to clear her head was tempting but a rest was even more so and Mia gratefully closed the drapes.

  She stretched out, grateful for the reprieve from Dante’s accusations, while understanding his suspicions. After all, she had been married to Rafael for two years, and of course Dante would think it had been for money.

  God, how did she tell him the truth without breaking Rafael’s confidence? It was an impossible question, and one that often kept her awake at night. Just as she was drifting off, the buzz of a helicopter approaching had her climbing from the bed.

  Recalling what Dante had said about no one landing here, she peeled back one of the drapes just a touch. It wasn’t the press; it was Gian De Luca’s helicopter. Thanks to Sylvia’s observations, Mia recognised it and now watched it land, then swallowed when she saw who stepped out.

  Yes, Ariana Romano was gorgeous—stunning, in fact.

  And she was clearly furious!

  Dante had come out, and was walking towards her as Ariana ran towards him.

  ‘Oh.’ Mia let out a slight cry as Ariana delivered a vicious slap to his left cheek and then raised her other hand to do the same to the other side, except Dante caught it and words were exchanged.

  ‘That’s from me,’ Ariana said as she delivered the slap and then raised her other hand. ‘And this is from—’

  Dante caught her wrist and didn’t need Ariana to tell him that the second intended strike would have come from his mother.

  ‘How could you?’ Ariana spat, as Dante held her wrists. ‘With her!’

  ‘Stop this,’ Dante demanded.

  ‘After all she did to our family, to Mamma. I hate you for this, Dante.’

  ‘Come inside and sit down and we can speak properly.’