Buch lesen: «The Sicilian's Bought Bride»

The Sicilian's Bought Bride
Carol Marinelli

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

COMING NEXT MONTH

CHAPTER ONE

‘THEY wouldn’t have suffered.’

‘Of course they wouldn’t have.’ Catherine could hear the bitterness in her own voice, see the flicker of confusion in the young nurse’s expression, but she was too raw, too exhausted, and frankly too damn angry to soften the blow, to spare anyone’s feelings.

‘My sister and her husband refused to suffer anything. Why worry when you can have a drink? Why dwell on your problems when there’s always family to bail you out?’ She shook her head fiercely, pressing her fingers against her eyeballs and trying to quell the scream that seemed to be building up inside her.

She knew the poor nurse didn’t have a clue what she was going on about, that she was just trying to be kind and say the right thing, and that the car accident had happened in an instant, that it had been over for Marco and Janey before the skidding vehicle had even halted—but her words simply weren’t helping. Instead they were touching nerves so raw that every last word made Catherine flinch as she tried and failed not to envisage the final moments of her sister’s short life.

Maybe later, Catherine told herself, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself. Maybe later, when she could think straight—maybe in a few weeks—those words might bring some comfort. But sitting alone in the hospital interview room, exhausted and shellshocked, trying to fathom all that had happened, they brought no comfort at all.

‘I really am sorry.’ The nurse handed her a small manila envelope and Catherine held on to it tightly, feeling the hard shape of the metal inside it.

‘So am I.’ The bitterness had gone from her voice now, and Catherine gave the nurse a small nod of thanks. ‘You’ve all been wonderful.’

‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

Catherine shook her head, couldn’t even manage an answer, and again she was left alone. Tearing the brown paper, she slid out the contents, staring curiously dry-eyed at the three pieces of jewellery in her palm, tracing the outline of each precious piece as every one told its story. An awful sense of déjà-vu descended as she eyed the solitaire diamond ring Janey wore, that had belonged to their mother—the same ring that had slid out of an envelope and into her hand eight years ago. But familiarity brought no comfort. The crash that had killed her parents and the lessons it had taught offered no barrier to the pain she felt now.

It was actually eight years and two months ago, to be precise.

Eight years and two months since she had been handed her parents’ belongings along with more responsibility than any nineteen-year-old deserved. But the endless meetings with solicitors and accountants as they attempted to unscramble the chaos her parents had left in their wake had been the easy part.

Dealing with a wayward sixteen-year-old—her sister Janey—had proved the greater feat.

Catherine stared at the ring for a long moment and suddenly she was back there, standing at her mother’s dressing table, wishing her thick, dark, curly hair could be as smooth and as straight as her mother’s and Janey’s, wishing her solemn brown eyes could sparkle blue like theirs.

Instead she had inherited her father’s looks—his personality too.

Well, most of it. She was serious, studious, yet she wasn’t weak as her father had been, didn’t cave in the way he had. One giggle from their mother, one tiny pout of her pretty mouth and John Masters had been lost—would agree to whatever his lovely Lily wanted to put the smile back on her face.

And Janey had been the same—she had possessed the certainty that her looks would get her whatever she had wanted, the same take it or leave it attitude that had held men intrigued, the same inner confidence that someone would always pick up the pieces of the chaos she created—and up till now it had worked.

The glint of the massive sapphire that caught her eye next reminded Catherine so much of her sister’s blue eyes that for a second it hurt, physically hurt, to hold the engagement ring Janey had worn with such glee. She had been sure it was her ticket to the fast lane, an end to the financial mess she had got herself into, a way out of the problems that had been just too big for Catherine to sort out this time, however hard she tried.

‘Marco’s amazing!’ Catherine could hear Janey’s dizzy, slightly breathless voice as clearly as if she were in the room now. ‘Oh, Catherine, you should see where he lives. It’s right on the beach—and when I say on the beach, I mean it’s literally on it. You step out of the patio and on to the sand. His garage alone is as big as your flat.’

Catherine couldn’t have cared less what size Marco’s garage was, but she had let Janey ramble for a while, listened to her excited chatter, hoping that it would calm her, that if she let her go on for long enough the euphoria might somehow wear off and that she could find out some more important answers.

‘What does he do?’ When Janey didn’t answer she pushed further. ‘For a living—what does Marco do?’

Janey gave a small shrug, tossed her hair and poured herself a drink.

‘He has fun.’ There was an edge to Janey’s voice, a defiant look in her eyes as she stared at her older sister. ‘His mother died when he was a teenager,’ Janey explained, but without a hint of compassion. ‘Just as ours did; only the difference is Bella Mancini actually left something for her children…’

‘You mean she left money!’ Catherine’s voice held a warning ring. Lily might not have been the most conventional mother, but her love of life and her passion for her children had left a void that could never be filled, and no amount of inheritance would have lessened the pain of losing her.

For Catherine at least.

‘Oh, spare me the speeches,’ Janey spat. ‘I don’t want to hear again how money isn’t important. I don’t want to hear again how you worked two jobs while you went through teacher training college—but didn’t mind a bit just as long as we were together. If our parents hadn’t forgotten to pay their life insurance premiums you wouldn’t have had to work so hard. You wouldn’t have had to sell the family home and move into a pokey little flat…’

‘I didn’t mind,’ Catherine insisted.

‘Well, I did,’ Janey snapped, her eyes narrowing. ‘I hated being poor and I have no intention of spending the rest of my life chewing my nails over bills. Marco can look after me now, the same way his mother looked after him. Bella Mancini was a property developer, and when she died the business went to her children.’

A flash of recognition offered a ray of hope. The Mancini empire! Oh, Catherine wasn’t exactly into reading the business pages of the newspaper, but even without a shred of business acumen she’d have needed to live in a cave for the last decade not to know about the Mancini empire and the stranglehold it held on the Melbourne property market.

The drive along Port Phillip Bay was littered with their latest acquisitions—the smart navy signs telling anyone who cared to see, that this bayview property was being developed by Mancini’s.

To make it in the cut-throat world of property development would take stamina, intelligence and, dare she even say it, responsibility. Which, Catherine realised, were the very things Janey needed in a man to keep her on the straight and narrow.

‘So Marco’s into property development? He’s part of the Mancini chain?’ Catherine asked, trying not to sound too keen. She had learnt long ago that her approval was the kiss of death for any of Janey’s relationships. But the hope that Janey’s latest boyfriend might actually posses a scrap of responsibility was doused as quickly as it flared.

‘Marco’s sold his share of the business to his brother Rico,’ Janey corrected, with a note of irritation that Catherine refused to acknowledge. She was determined to find out more about the man Janey was involved with, and was liking him less with each revelation. ‘When Marco turned eighteen he was all set to go on board, but by then Rico had decided that he wanted to “grow” the business, to work sixty-hour weeks—’

‘That’s what people do, Janey,’ Catherine interrupted, but Janey tossed her blonde hair and took another slug of her wine.

‘Why?’ she asked, with a glint of challenge in her eyes. ‘Why would you bother when you’ve already made it? Marco’s rich in his own right; he doesn’t need to work and so he doesn’t—it’s as simple as that.’

‘So he lives off his inheritance?’ Catherine shook her head, bewildered. ‘He’s never even had a job?’

‘You sound just like his brother,’ Janey sneered. ‘And I’ll tell you the same thing Marco tells Rico. He doesn’t sponge off his family; the money is his to spend.’

‘But what sort of a man—?’

‘Oh, what would you know about men?’ Janey spat back spitefully, ‘Who are you to give me advice?’

‘I’m your sister.’ Cheeks flaming, she had tried to keep her voice even, determined not to rise to the venom that appeared every time she tried to reel Janey in. ‘I care about you, Janey, and whether you like it or not I’m concerned about you. Since Mum and Dad…’ Her voice trailed off for a second. She didn’t want to rake up the past, didn’t want to go over those painful memories, but knew that now it was called for. ‘I’ve done my best for us, Janey. I’ve tried as hard as I can to be there for you, and I’m asking you to listen to me now. I just think it’s all too soon. You’ve only known this Marco for a couple of months. Why are you rushing into things? Why not wait a while and see how things—?’

‘I’m pregnant.’

The words were enough to still Catherine, enough to shed a whole new different light on the rumblings of their argument. But even though the news had floored her Catherine deliberately didn’t look shocked; she even managed to bite her tongue as Janey took a long sip of wine, knowing now wasn’t the time for a lecture.

‘Then I’m here for you,’ she said again. ‘We can sort this out, Janey. Just because you’re pregnant it doesn’t mean you have to marry him. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.’

‘You really are stupid, aren’t you?’ The sneer on Janey’s pretty face was like a slap to Catherine’s cheek. ‘For a schoolteacher you really are thick—do you know that? As if I’d get knocked up by accident.’

‘Knocked up?’

‘Pregnant.’ Janey gave a malicious laugh. ‘Don’t think for one moment, Catherine, that I don’t know what I’m doing. Don’t for one second think that this baby is an accident.’

‘Janey, I’m sorry.’ Catherine stood up. ‘I wasn’t suggesting you don’t want your baby. I just never thought you…’ She struggled helplessly for a second. ‘You’ve never shown any interest in babies.’

‘And I don’t intend to start.’ Janey’s eyes narrowed spitefully. ‘Do I really have to spell this out, Catherine? I’ve never had it so good. I can go into a shop, any shop—and not look at the price tags. I can walk into the best restaurants without checking the prices. And if you think I’m going to let it end then you don’t know me at all.

Maybe Marco does love me, maybe this would have carried on indefinitely, but I’m not prepared to take the risk. So I’ve created my own little insurance policy.’ She patted her stomach, but without a trace of tenderness, laughing mirthlessly at Catherine’s shocked expression. ‘And if you’re worried about my lack of maternal instincts, then don’t waste your time; Marco can afford the best nannies. I won’t have to do a thing. So you can save the big sister lectures, save the boring speeches—because I don’t need you, Catherine.’

Even a year later the words hurt.

The shiny cool gold of Janey’s wedding band held its own batch of memories—only this time they weren’t exclusive to Janey.

Rico, smart in his dark suit, pausing a fraction too long before handing the rings over, his hand hovering over the Bible before dropping them down in an almost truculent gesture. For Catherine had come the welcome realisation that she wasn’t alone in her doubts about this union…

‘How are you doing?’

The nurse was back, providing a welcome break from her painful memories, and Catherine gave a tired smile, standing on legs that felt like jelly and smoothing down her skirt as she picked up her jacket.

‘I’m fine, but I think I’d like to go to the children’s ward and sit with Lily.’

Lily.

A wave of bile threatened to choke her as she thought of her niece, orphaned and alone in the children’s ward, and for a moment she wrestled with a surge of hatred—hatred for her sister that was surely out of place now she was dead.

‘They said they’d call down when they were ready. It shouldn’t be too much longer. I know you must be exhausted, dealing with all this on your own, but at least we’ve finally managed to locate Marco’s parents. Apparently they’re holidaying in the States; that’s why it’s taken so long.’

‘His father and stepmother,’ Catherine corrected. ‘His mother died a long time ago.’

‘Well, they’ve been contacted.’

Catherine gave a weary nod. She hadn’t expected the Mancinis to drop everything, and even though she knew a lot needed to be organised and a lot of choices needed to be made, secretly she was relieved nothing would be done tonight.

Tonight was hard enough.

‘Someone called Rico’s coming, though; he rang on his mobile and said for you to wait here…Are you all right, Miss Masters?’ Catherine could see the nurse’s mouth moving, the concern in her face as Catherine swayed slightly.

‘I’m fine. It’s just…’ Her pulse seemed to be pounding in her temples and her tongue was dry as she ran it over her lips. Legs that had just found their bearings seemed to be collapsing beneath her again as the nurse pulled the chair nearer and guided Catherine into it.

‘Take some slow, deep breaths, Miss Masters, and keep your head down. That’s the way. You’re just a bit dizzy, that’s all, which isn’t surprising after all you’ve been through. I’ll get you some water. Just wait there. It’s all been such a shock for you it isn’t any wonder you’re feeling faint.’

Catherine gave a weak nod, burying her head in her hands and feeling a vague stab of guilt at the nurse’s kindness.

Today hadn’t really been a shock.

It was agony. It hurt more than she could even begin to bear. But the nurse was wrong again. The sad end to these lives hadn’t been a shock. The way Marco and Janey had lived their lives, flaunting society’s rules, sure that money would protect them, that rules didn’t somehow apply to them…today had been inevitable.

It wasn’t the accident and its aftermath that had caused her near-faint—although, Catherine admitted, it would certainly have contributed to it—it wasn’t even the long interviews with social workers, trying to map out a tentative path for Lily, and it had very little to do with the fact she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was all down to the fact that Rico was coming. After all these months she was finally going to see him.

‘Rico,’ she whispered his name out loud, dragging in the stuffy hospital air and closing her eyes, allowing her mind to drift away for a slice of time, drift away from this awful room and the awful day to the beauty she had once witnessed. The horrors of the days receded as his face came into focus—a face she had pushed out of her mind for a year now, refused to dwell on, forcibly removed from her consciousness, but a face that had always been there, slipping into her dreams at night, supposedly unwelcome but shamefully, gratefully received.

He had made her laugh.

The wedding she had dreaded had turned out to be the most exhilarating, heady night of her life, and it had all been down to Rico.

It had been Rico who had come up to her as she’d sat, seemingly aloof but actually tense and awkward at the head table, watching confused and bewildered as Janey and Marco made a mockery of everything sacred and twirled around the dance floor.

Rico who had turned her world around.

‘I need you to talk to me!’ The urgency in his voice had caught Catherine completely off guard.

‘Me?’ Turning, she had opened her mouth, questions bobbing on her tongue as to why the most eligible of eligible bachelors should suddenly be paying attention to her. ‘Why?’ Catherine asked rudely.

‘I’ll tell you in a moment, but I really need for you to talk to me,’ he insisted. ‘I know this is probably the last thing you need right now, but I want you to look as if you’re engrossed.’

She already was! It wasn’t hard to give Rico Mancini her full attention, wasn’t exactly a feat to stare into those dark, dark eyes and appear mesmerised. He had turned his chair so he was facing her. His knees casually apart he dragged her chair forward an inch or two, effectively caging her in, an earnest look on his face as he moved in closer and begged in low, urgent tones for her to stay put.

‘What on earth’s going on?’ Catherine giggled, embarrassed and pleased and suddenly excited all at the same time.

‘Would you believe me if I told you the minister’s wife was coming on to me?’

‘Esther?’ Her mouth dropped open and her eyes automatically flicked across the room to gape in open disbelief at the paragon of virtue, dressed in twinset and pearls, her newly set hair lacquered firmly in place. She was scarcely able to believe Esther was capable of coming on to anyone. Mind you, Catherine mused as Esther’s gaze wandered anxiously in their direction, from the effect two minutes up close with Rico was having on her, maybe even ministers’ wives weren’t immune.

‘Don’t look!’ He put a hand up to her cheek, forcing her attention.

‘I’m sorry.’ Catherine was flustered, jumping a mile as he touched her, her cheeks stinging red as a blush worked its way upwards. She desperately tried to keep her voice even. ‘Surely you’ve misread things!’

‘That’s what I told myself,’ Rico agreed. ‘That’s what I kept on telling myself as she started fiddling with the buttons on my jacket….’

‘She didn’t!’

‘That’s not the half of it.’ He gave a small shudder and Catherine started to laugh. ‘If your sister had settled for a good Catholic wedding, then none of this would have happened.’

‘That’s Janey for you,’ Catherine said dryly, and for a second so small it was barely there they shared a knowing smile.

‘I excused myself, of course—said I had to get back to my girlfriend; so if you don’t mind I’m going to have to borrow you for a while.’

‘Borrow away.’ Somehow she smiled. Somehow she accepted the champagne glass he offered with hands that were amazingly steady, given her heart-rate!

It had been the best night of her life—even if it had been a false togetherness; even if it had been just for Esther’s benefit he’d made her feel special. Made her feel as if she was the only woman in the room.

Later, alone in his hotel room, those dark, brooding and suspicious eyes had softened, gazing into hers as that strong, inscrutable face had moved in to kiss her. She could still almost taste the velvet of his lips, smell the heady tang of his cologne, feel her fingers in that jet hair as she had drowned in his kiss, responded to his urgent demands in a way she never had before. His kiss had fueled responses, unfamiliar, yet achingly welcome. Her breasts had pushed against his chest, her groin had pressed into his as his hand had worked the buttons of her dress, his frustration mounting as the tiny pink buttons proved too much for the frenzy of emotions that had gripped them. He’d ripped the pale pink tulle till her shoulders had been exposed, and she hadn’t cared—hadn’t cared he’d ruined her dress. She had hated it anyway, hated Janey for forcing her to wear it.

She had stood exposed but curiously excited, her dilated pupils struggling to focus, as one olive-skinned hand moved the fabric apart. The contrast of his dark skin on her soft white breast had caused her breath to catch in her throat, a tiny groan of ecstasy escaping as he’d buried his face in her bosom, his lips hot on her stinging nipples, flicking them with a firm tongue. The blood had rushed down—not to her breasts, though, down to her groin, and then the flicker of her first orgasm, as impatient hands slid up her legs, tearing the tiny panties aside. His fingers had snaked inside her wet warmth, his breath hot and hard as he sucked on her breasts, and she’d shuddered in the palm of his hand, lost in the frenzy of it all, stunned at how easily her body had responded, scarcely able to fathom how she could yield so much to him.

He had seemed to understand how overwhelmed she had been, had held her afterwards, and for that slice of time, for one tiny moment, life had felt safe.

‘We have to go back down,’ he whispered into her hair as the world slowly drifted back into focus, seemingly understanding that this was alien for her, that she was feeling overwhelmed by the frenzy of emotion that had gripped her.

But even Rico’s tender embrace wasn’t enough to stop cruel reality invading, the sting of shame to prickle her senses. She barely knew this man, had met him only that night, and yet here she stood in his arms dishevelled, her groin still curiously alive, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed. Her arousal was still only a whisper away, yet he quelled her doubts in an instant, reading her mind as if she were a book.

‘Don’t regret this.’ His voice was a low, delicious throb of reassurance in her ear. ‘You are beautiful—this was beautiful.’

‘I shouldn’t have—’

‘Hush.’ His own arousal still pressed into her and she felt a stab of guilt: No longer the situation, but at her own selfishness, sure all the pleasure of the moment had been hers.

One woefully inexperienced hand tentatively moved down, clasping the steel of his erection, terrified of her own boldness, yet sure it was expected.

‘Catherine, no.’ His voice was breathless, his hand clamping over hers like a vice, and she flushed with embarrassment, terrified she had hurt him, sure he could feel the inexperience of her touch. ‘We must go back, I am the best man and you are the bridesmaid. It is my brother’s and your sister’s wedding.’

‘But I haven’t…’ She swallowed hard. ‘You didn’t…’

‘There is time for that later.’ His accent caressed her like a warm blanket on a cold night, and the glimpse of tomorrow, of another time, satisfied her craving in an instant. ‘After the bride and groom leave I have to go to the airport, I have to go to the States, but before then we will talk—arrange to see each other again.’ He kissed her then, slow and hard, but laced with tenderness.

She held onto his words all night, like a precious jewel clasped close to her chest, and it made the night bearable—made the night she had dreaded suddenly exciting.

‘Well, you’ve changed your tune.’

Helping Janey out of her wedding dress and into her leaving outfit, Catherine was barely able to keep her hands still enough to undo the zipper.

Rico was downstairs waiting for her. In an hour or so she would be in his arms again.

‘See—I knew if you actually let your hair down you might enjoy yourself.’ Turning, Janey stared for a moment, taking in the dark, dishevelled curls, the glittering eyes and flushed cheeks. ‘How come you changed your dress?’ Her eyes dragged over the simple rust silk tunic Catherine had changed into, watching her sister’s cheeks darken.

‘Pink tulle really isn’t my thing,’ Catherine answered as blithely as she could with her heart in her mouth.

‘Well, it’s certainly Rico’s thing. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.’ Calculating blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Where did you two disappear to after the speeches?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Catherine was flustered, appalled that her sister might know. ‘Come on, Janey, you’ll miss your flight.’

‘It will wait,’ Janey said airily, ‘When you’ve got your own private plane it doesn’t leave without you.’ Her voice dropped then, suddenly serious, and her eyes were wide with an urgency that made Catherine suddenly nervous. ‘Play your cards right, sis, and all this could be yours.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous…’

‘It really could. I’ve paved the way for you, Catherine, do you know how hard I had to work to convince Marco I wasn’t just after him for his money? That I wasn’t some cheap little gold-digger?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it, Janey.’

‘But I am a cheap little gold-digger.’ Janey gave a malicious smile. ‘And now I’m married to a very rich man. You could do it too, Catherine.’ She gave a dry, mirthless laugh as her sister shook her head and covered her ears, her voice rising in excitement as she pulled Catherine’s hands away, enjoying her sister’s embarrassment as she warmed to her subject. ‘You hate your job, hate working with those awful children, hate your poky little flat…’

‘Janey…’ Catherine gave in then. Gave up trying to reason with her sister. Janey would never believe that even though she moaned about staff shortages and even her students at times, she loved her work—truly adored it. And, yes, her flat might be small, but it was home.

Tears were threatening now, at a vision of her sister so alive, so excited—such an appalling contrast to the cold, lifeless body that lay just a few rooms away. Balling her fists into her eyes, Catherine held them back. There was no point in tears, none at all. There was no one to wipe them—hadn’t been since the day her parents had died—and there was no one to comfort her tonight. Her memories flicked back in a second to the awful reality she faced—a reality she had to accept.

Janey was dead.

Rico despised her.