Sicilian's Baby Of Shame. Carol Marinelli
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a lot older than me, more than forty years old,’ Sophie said, and screwed up her face.
‘Is that why you ended it?’
‘Not really.’ She shook her head. Looking back at that time, she remembered that moment when she had felt as if she could see her life spreading out before her, and not liking what she saw.
Sophie had never discussed it with anyone and perhaps she should not now but there was nothing regular about this morning. She had never met anyone who felt less like a stranger before. Bastiano knew more about her than her flatmates and she had lived with them for a year. More about her than Gabi, for she had been a touch elusive of late and their catch-ups had petered out. And he knew more about her than her parents, for they had never once asked for her take on things.
‘Luigi came over to my parents’ for dinner, as he often did...’
Bastiano said nothing, he even fought a slight eye rise, but at forty shouldn’t the guy have at least been entertaining her?
Sophie glanced at him—the truth was a touch personal, but his eyes were patient and finally there was a person to whom she could speak her truth.
‘That night I felt a little sick and didn’t really eat much. When my mother took away the plates and my brothers and father left us alone he asked what was wrong with me. I told him that I had gone on the Pill.’ She blushed just a little as she said it but far less than she had when she had told her fiancé. In fact, Bastiano seemed completely at ease with the sensitive topic.
Unlike Luigi.
It hadn’t been up for discussion. Sophie had had to find everything out for herself. Even the village doctor hadn’t been particularly friendly. In the end, it had been her friend at the bakery who had told her that she could skip her period entirely if she chose.
‘What was his reaction?’ Bastiano asked.
‘He seemed cross. He said, “Why would you go on that?” Then he told me that he wanted children straight away and a lot of them!’
She pulled such a horrified face that Bastiano laughed.
And there was that thunder again, only this time she was counting the minutes, for the delicious storm drew closer with each revelation and with each passing word.
‘I said that we needed my wage from the bakery and my mother came in from the kitchen. She didn’t hear the part about the Pill, of course, just me saying I would put off having children so I could work, and she said she would look after them. It’s not that I don’t want children...’
He halted her when she tried to further explain for there was no need.
‘Sophie,’ he said in that rich voice of his, ‘well done for running away.’
Bastiano was the first person she had really told about it and his reaction made her feel warm with pride for her choice, rather than sick with shame as her family had. ‘Thank you.’
Oh, they were as natural as that, for Bastiano, who rarely bothered with conversation, was telling her some more about himself.
‘I flew Lydia over from England with her stepfather, Maurice, under the guise of business. We were supposed to be meeting in the bar and then going out for dinner but when she turned up she said that she was going out with friends instead.’
Sophie gave him a quizzical look, because she really couldn’t imagine declining dinner with him, but Bastiano read her frown as curiosity.
‘I think she had worked out it wasn’t just dinner.’ He saw her cheeks darken in a blush and he further clarified that it had not been sex he was after. Bastiano had no trouble at all finding that. ‘Like your fiancé, I had got it into my head that maybe it was time to settle down.’
Though his main reason had been simply to beat Raul to it.
Bastiano had everything money could buy and so too did Raul. The only thing neither had was a family.
He had decided that he would be first.
It had been as simple as that.
‘Had you been going out with each other for long?’ Sophie asked.
‘We’d never been out.’ Bastiano yawned and it really was a relief not to have to explain that romance and love were not always prerequisites for marriage back home. ‘It just seemed like a good idea at the time, though not so much now.’ He shrugged. ‘Easy come, easy go. On reflection, I think I’m far more suited to the single life.’
‘Well, with your looks and...’ she looked around the lavish suite and stated the obvious ‘...your money, why not have fun?’
‘Oh, I do,’ Bastiano said.
Though lately he wouldn’t describe it as fun.
He lay back on the pillow, but as their eyes met the silence was heavy. She wore no make-up, not a scrap, Bastiano noted as he took in her dark lashes. He felt her gaze move to his mouth and for once he was unsure where they were going, for usually when a woman was on his bed there was no question as to what was about to happen.
Come here, he wanted to say.
Sophie knew that.
Her perfect storm had now gathered and it would be so terribly easy to be swept into it, but she really was no Inga, even if he perhaps thought of her as such.
There was a reason the maids were told not to accept gifts.
Yet there was no air of expectancy from Bastiano.
Sophie felt no pressure as she put down her cutlery, took a drink of water and then stood.
She gave him a polite smile and effortlessly she was back to being a maid. She put her plate neatly back on the trolley.
‘Thank you,’ Sophie said. ‘That was delicious.’
‘You’re more than welcome,’ Bastiano said. ‘So were the pastries.’
She came over to collect his plate.
It rested on his thigh and, though covered by the sheet, Sophie thought it was better that he be the one to retrieve it for she could see a black snake of hair on his stomach—as much as she tried not to look. There was desire pitted low in her stomach and an itch to pull the sheet down. Her hands shook a little and just like that she was no longer a maid. Their fingers met for a little too long and rather than pull back she lingered for his skin was warm and even that slight touch had her aching for more.
‘I have to go,’ she said as she fought for control.
‘Of course.’
Yet still she stood there and instead of turning away she put the plate down on the bedside table. She was not so much uncertain, more nervous of her own curiosity.
‘Thank you,’ she said again.
Bastiano could not read her, for he could feel her desire and yet sense her reticence so he moved things along a fraction. His index finger came up and he tapped it twice on the cheek nearest to her, the one that was not scarred.
A kiss to the cheek was still okay, Sophie thought, for she would kiss her friend Gabi on the cheek when they said farewell after sharing a meal. But even as she tried to convince herself, Sophie knew that this situation was nowhere near as innocent as that.
It wasn’t even a conscious decision. It was more that she might as well have been standing on a conveyer belt, for it was as if she glided towards him.
She bent forward and moved her mouth to where his finger had tapped, the place where his rough morning shadow transitioned into smooth skin. The contrast sent shivers down her spine. The warmth of him on her lips was enticing and her tongue fought not to taste as her lips lingered.
Sophie sensed him holding his breath and hers now came a little too fast in response. She pulled her head back and moved to kiss the other cheek.
Bastiano