Claiming His One-Night Baby. Michelle Smart
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her brother, Daniele. It was the figure who appeared behind her brother-in-law that almost shattered the poise Natasha had forced on herself.
As was the custom with her Italian in-laws, exuberant kisses and tight embraces were exchanged with whispered platitudes and words of comfort. Then it was time to greet Matteo.
Bracing herself, she placed a hand loosely on his shoulder, felt his hand rest lightly on her hip as they leaned in together to go through the motions of something neither could forgo without arousing suspicion. When the stubble on his warm jaw scratched her cheek she was hit by the vivid memory of that same cheek scratching her inner thigh and had to squeeze her eyes tightly shut to block the image, something she must forget.
But she could smell his skin and the scent of his cologne. Smell him. Feel the strength of his body, the curls of his dark hair between her fingers...
It had been a terrible mistake, something neither of them had needed to vocalise.
She didn’t know it was possible for someone to hate themselves as much as she hated herself. She owed Pieta absolutely nothing, she knew that, but...
She just couldn’t believe it had happened. Couldn’t believe she had lost all control of herself, couldn’t work out how it had happened or why.
It was as if some madness had taken hold of them both.
For one hour she had left behind the girl who had done everything she could to please her parents to the point of abandoning the life she’d so desperately wanted, and had found the hidden woman who had never been allowed to exist.
Protection had been the last thing on either of their minds.
They’d been stupid and so, so reckless.
Francesca hadn’t said she would be bringing her brother and cousin with her. It hadn’t occurred to Natasha to ask. Daniele and Matteo both ran enormously successful businesses that took them all over the world. She’d assumed their input for the hospital—especially Matteo’s—would come at a later date.
But then she looked properly at Francesca and understood why Daniele at least had stuck around in Pisa. Her sister-in-law looked more bereft than she had at Pieta’s funeral. More than bereft. Like the light that had always shone brightly inside her had been extinguished. Daniele would never leave his sister in this state.
And Francesca looked closely at Natasha in turn. ‘Are you okay? You look pale.’
She gave a rueful shrug. None of them could pretend they were okay. ‘I’m just tired.’
‘You’re holding your back. Does it hurt?’
‘A little.’
The housekeeper brought in a tray of coffee and biscotti, which distracted them all from Natasha’s health. They sat around the large dining table onto which Francesca placed a stack of files.
Natasha couldn’t even remember what the meeting was for. Matteo being under the same roof as her had turned her brain into a colander.
Why had he come? Was it to punish her?
Every time she’d seen him over the past seven years had been a punishment she’d accepted. She’d let him kiss her and then hours later had agreed to marry someone else, in front of him, in front of everyone. Not just someone else, but his cousin and closest friend. She’d let the moment when she should have told him about Pieta slip by in the haze of his kiss.
Would things have been different if she’d told him, either then or in the weeks beforehand when Pieta’s intentions had suddenly become clear? Or would the outcome have been the same?
She’d called and left dozens of messages but Matteo had never answered and he’d never responded. He’d cut her off as effectively as he’d wielded his scalpel.
If things had been different, though, would her life have been any happier? She’d long stopped believing that. Matteo wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. He wasn’t a man any woman with an ounce of sanity would consider spending her life with unless she was a masochist. It wasn’t just a love of wealth he’d developed since the days she’d fancied herself in love with him; he’d developed a hedonistic streak to match it. No man who had a new woman on his arm every week could ever be content to settle down with only one.
Daniele took control of the meeting, explaining where they were with the project and how he and Matteo were planning a trip to Caballeros in the next couple of weeks. It was hoped construction would begin soon after.
‘That quick?’ Natasha found the energy to ask.
‘It’s Caballeros, not Europe,’ Daniele answered with a shrug. ‘Bureaucracy doesn’t exist there in the way we know it.’
‘Have you had any publicity ideas?’ Francesca asked, reminding Natasha of the role she’d agreed to take in the project.
‘I’m sorry, but no.’ She stared at the polished surface of the table in her shame. All she’d done these past two weeks was drift. ‘I’ll get thinking and send you some ideas over the next few days.’ She rubbed her temples, hoping she wasn’t promising something she would fail to see through. The more publicity they had for it the more donations they would receive, the more donations they received the more staff they could employ.
Dull thuds pounded behind her eyes. As Pieta’s next of kin this was her responsibility. Everything concerning her husband’s foundation now rested on her shoulders and so far she’d abdicated all responsibility for it.
She would abdicate that responsibility for ever if it was in her power.
At some point soon she would have to think things through clearly but right now her head was so full yet so loose that she could hardly decide what she wanted to eat for her breakfast never mind make decisions that carried real importance.
She couldn’t carry on like this. She didn’t know if it was shock at Pieta’s death or what had happened with Matteo that had her like this but she had to get a grip on herself.
There was a whole new future out there waiting for her and sooner or later she needed to figure out what she wanted from it. So far, all she knew with any real certainty was that she would spend it alone. She would never remarry. She would never allow anyone, not a man, not her parents, to have control over her again.
Francesca raised a weary shoulder. ‘There’s no rush. The end of the week will be fine.’
Eventually the ordeal was over. Chairs were scraped back as her family by marriage rose to leave. Following suit, Natasha rose too but as she stood, a wave of dizziness crashed over her and she grabbed hold of the table for support.
Francesca, who’d been sitting next to her, was the first to spot something amiss and took hold of her wrist. ‘Are you okay?’
Natasha nodded, although she felt far from okay. ‘I’m just tired. I should probably eat something.’
Francesca studied her a while longer before letting her go. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’
Considering that Francesca looked as bad as Natasha felt, the suggestion was laughable, but it had come from her sister-in-law’s kind heart so she would never laugh at her even if she had the energy.
Burning under Matteo’s equally close scrutiny, she found she could only breathe normally when the front door closed behind them.
Needing to be alone, she sent the housekeeper out to do some errands and sent silent thanks to Pieta for agreeing with her request that their other staff not live in. How sad was it that she had to request such things, like a child asking a favour from a parent?
Everything about her marriage had been sad. Its ending was the least of it. She’d had no autonomy over any of it.
Now the dizziness had passed she realised she was famished. She’d felt a little nauseous when she’d woken and had skipped breakfast, which had saved her the worry of deciding what to eat, and had managed to forget to have any lunch.