In the Italian's Bed: Bedded for Pleasure, Purchased for Pregnancy / The Italian's Ruthless Baby Bargain / The Italian Count's Defiant Bride. Carol Marinelli
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plunging. ‘Why?’
‘Our son is getting engaged—it is right that she is told.’
‘She lost her right to be informed thirty years ago.’ Incensed, he stood up. ‘Why would you do that? Why would you even think to call her?’
‘Actually, I didn’t call her,’ Rocco responded calmly. ‘Your mother called me. You know she has been calling for the last few months…’
‘Since she found out you were sick!’ Zarios sneered. ‘Can’t you see what she is doing?’
‘Is it impossible for you to believe she might regret what happened?’
‘Yes,’ came Zarios’s curt reply.
‘She wants to ring you tonight—to congratulate you herself.’
‘Tell her not to bother.’
You need to forgive your mother, Zarios.’
‘It’s rather hard without even an apology from her,’ Zarios said, standing up. ‘Come,’he called over to Emma as he strode out of the room, ‘we have to get going…’
‘I thought you were staying the weekend?’ Rocco said.
‘I’m not staying to watch you being made a fool of—and I have nothing to say to your ex-wife!’
Rocco gave Emma a tight smile at the fading sound of Zarios climbing the stairs.
‘It must be hard for him.’
‘She has never had more children, and she has never settled down. She hates herself for what she did, but she was ill…. Am I a fool, Emma?’ Sad, tired eyes searched Emma’s for an answer she simply couldn’t give. ‘Am I a fool to believe she might actually be talking to me now because she cares?’
‘I’ve never met her…’ Emma said helplessly. ‘Only you can answer that, Rocco.’
‘You’d better go.’ Rocco kissed her on the cheek, as he always did, then cuddled her for a moment. ‘He does need to forgive her, Emma. And not just for my sake—it is not good for him to carry so much hate in his heart. Talk to him…’
Which was an impossible task.
Any closeness that had been captured in the night had long since faded. Zario was driving back into the city as if the devil himself were chasing them, in absolutely no mood for a pep talk. Though she did try!
‘He was right to tell her. I mean, if your father does believe we’re really engaged, then of course he was right to tell her!’
‘I don’t give a damn what he told her,’ Zarios cursed loudly, his hand lifting off the steering wheel as if he were swatting a fly. ‘It is that he is even talking with the puttana…’ He stared over at her appalled expression. ‘You think I should not talk of my mother like that?’
‘Yes! And I also think you’re being a bit hard on your father.’
‘You do, do you?’
They were sitting at traffic lights, Zarios beating a restless tune on the steering wheel, only talking again when the lights turned green and they were moving again.
‘My father did what he had to do. There was no work in his village, and he had no family in Australia to help with me. I accept why he left me in Italy. But that woman he calls my mother…’ Zarios shook his head. ‘She has never been a mother, and it’s too late to start now—way too late to start playing happy families just because my father is now sick. If he cannot see she is using him, then I am only too happy to point it out!’
‘He deserves to be happy…’
‘Emma!’ Zarios snapped. ‘If you were my real fiancée perhaps your opinion would be warranted. Unwelcome,’ he added, ‘but possibly warranted. But, given that you’re not…’
They were pulling up outside The Casino, a valet parker making his way over, and Emma felt herself shrink into the seat.
‘Why are we here?’
‘To find you a ring,’ Zarios answered, watching her closely as he spoke. ‘To sort out your clothes and get your hair styled—we can do all that here. Is there a problem?’
Her heart was fluttering in her chest, her eyes wide as she watched the flurry of activity in the foyer. The Casino was a jewel in Melbourne’s crown, hugging the Yarra River, and filled with lavish restaurants, designer boutiques and exclusive jewellers. And it was positively the last place Emma wanted to be. On many occasion she’d spent endless hours searching the gaming rooms there for Jake. Despite his alleged clean slate, still deep inside Emma couldn’t relax—couldn’t help wondering if Jake was here now, creating more debts.
‘Do you have a problem being here, Emma?’ There was an edge to Zarios’s voice that she didn’t understand.
‘Of course not…’ Emma tried to keep her voice light as her car door was opened, but knew she’d failed.
Zarios certainly made heads turn.
As they walked through the humming foyer, Emma could feel the glare of the spotlight his mere presence created. His aura caused people to frown as they tried to place him, or just to take a long, lingering look at a truly impressive specimen of man. Not that Zarios seemed to notice the stir he created. He merely dispatched Emma to a very exclusive beauty salon and had the nerve to tell the beautician what he was hoping she could achieve.
‘Can I leave you here, then?’
Emma shot him a withering look. ‘Tell me a time to meet you and I’ll be there.’
‘We will meet here,’ Zarios said. ‘And if you do finish early, please try and restrain yourself.’
She had no idea what he was talking about—just slipped into a gown while he went off and did whatever it was that people like Zarios did. Emma sat while her straight blonde hair was shot through with layers and caramel foils added. Then, when her hair was deemed suitable, her complexion that had been so ravaged these past weeks, from sleepless nights and too much crying, was given the attention it craved, along with the mammoth task of getting rid of the bags under her eyes.
Gone!
Staring in the mirror, waiting for Zarios, Emma could only marvel. Weeks of pain had been wiped away. Her hair was glossy and shiny, with chunky, angular layers giving it an up-to-date edge. The perfect hair and new make-up gave her a sophisticated air that belied the terrified, grieving child inside.
Zarios didn’t comment when he came to collect her—his mood clearly hadn’t improved, and neither had Emma’s. She felt like a puppy being picked up from the kennel.
Humiliatingly, he paid the bill and then led her downstairs to a very exclusive jeweller, which looked, to Emma’s untrained eyes, to be closed.
Zarios pushed on the intercom and growled out his name. It was clearly the abracadabra word, because the thick black glass doors parted.
‘Mr D’Amilo…’ A suited gentleman greeted them politely, ushering them to waiting chairs. An assistant entered with two glasses of champagne and an arrangement of chocolates, before the serious business of choosing a ring began. Emma hesitantly tried a couple on with the encouragement of the jeweller, as Zarios sat drumming his fingers on his thigh as he did when he was bored.
‘They’re all beautiful…’ Emma gulped. ‘What do you think?’ Her eyes turned to his, silently pleading with him for some help, but his uninterest was embarrassingly apparent, causing Emma to flush in front of the jeweller.
‘Does that one fit?’ Zarios pointed to the one she was wearing.
‘Don’t worry about size—’ the jeweller began, but Zarios’s mind was already made up.
‘I think my fiancée has chosen.’
He