Page 39 of The Italian's Marriage Bargain

A tentative hand reached for one broad shoulder. Even in sleep she could feel his tension, feel the taut muscles under her hands. A tiny shrug as he subconsciously dismissed her had her hand pulling back as if she had touched hot coal, and an awful sense of foreboding filled her, her stomach spasming simultaneously with her heart as Luca rolled further to his edge of the bed and further out of her life.

He awoke at the first ring of his alarm, jumping out of bed with military control when surely his body must be aching for a few more hours of undisturbed rest, and she watched him through sleep-deprived eyes. Her whole night had been spent tossing and turning, and the pain in her stomach was one she didn’t want to acknowledge, but one she couldn’t ignore.

‘You look terrible.’ He was knotting his tie, fresh-shaven now, utterly in control.

Utterly out of reach.

‘I didn’t get much sleep,’ Felicity admitted, pulling her knees up to her stomach and wishing the pain would abate, wishing he would just go so she could deal with whatever her body was dishing out. Privacy was something she craved now.

‘Maybe this will make you feel better.’ Reaching into his briefcase, he handed her a bundle of papers, watching with questioning eyes as Felicity struggled to sit up, noting her flushed cheeks as she slowly turned the mountain of pages. ‘It is the deeds for the golf resort. You will see your father is the owner now.’ A tiny pause, a tiny hesitation—and, though Felicity couldn’t be sure, a tiny tinge of sadness before he carried on talking. ‘It is watertight, Felice. My lawyers have been working on it all week; I cannot suddenly change my mind.’

Tears pricked her eyes as she felt the mattress indent, watched one large, dark-skinned hand move across the sheet and take hers.

‘We haven’t made each other very happy, have we? I’m tired of fighting, and seeing you so sad, like a prisoner here—well, it isn’t what I intended.’ His hand tightened around hers, and Felicity had to bite through her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out as Luca went on. ‘You’ve got what you wanted. Matthew’s out of your life and your father has his resort back, which is no less than he deserves.’

‘But what about you?’ Her voice was a mere croak as cruel reality hit.

‘Me?’ He gave a low laugh. ‘With your permission, of course, I’ll tell my mother that my one attempt at marriage has put me off for life. It should keep her off my back for a couple of years at least—so, you see, it hasn’t been a total waste of time.’

It was over, over, over, and if anything Luca was relieved.

‘What I said about Anna…’ Felicity started, but Luca just shook his head.

‘It isn’t just about Anna, Felice; you know that deep down. It is as much my fault. You wanted details and I refused to give them, but I didn’t think I should have to spell everything out.’

Bemused, she stole a look from under tear-laden eyelashes, her lips parting, longing to stop him, to halt the horrible end, but Luca carried on relentlessly, his farewell speech obviously well rehearsed—no questions from the back of the room, please!

‘I didn’t just wantfun, a mistress with a ring on her finger. I wanted a wife.’

‘I want to be your wife,’ Felicity begged, but Luca just shook his head.

‘Ricardo is like my second father—you know that, I have told you again and again, but have you come to the hospital with me? Have you held my hand, been there for me? I know that the hospital has bad memories for you, I know about Joseph, and I would have supported you through that, been there to help you if only you had met me halfway. Shown me you cared.’

‘I do care,’ Felicity insisted, but it fell on deaf ears.

‘Anna is not my lover, not my mistress. Over and over I have told you, yet you steadfastly refuse to believe me. Felice I cannot live like this, cannot face the accusation in your eyes every time I am home ten minutes late. I explained on my first day with you how things were; I thought you would trust me. I admit I have said some hurtful things, but that was in the heat of a row—a row you continually instigated.’ He let his words sink in for a moment before continuing, more gently this time. ‘You are holding back from me. Every day I feel I know you a bit less; every day I feel you distance yourself a bit more.’

Standing, he stared at her for an age, before depositing a soft kiss on her cheek and heading for the door.

‘We both deserve better, Felice; you know that as well as I do.’

Watching him leave, watching him turn and walk away, was like seeing the coffin lowered. She wanted to fling herself on him, to beg for a second chance, for the hands of time to pull back, for the powers that be to breathe life into all she had lost. But, battling with nausea and grief, all she could do was stumble from the bed. The heavy door closed and the tears finally came, the pain in her stomach a dull ache compared to the loss in her heart.

She had lost him, lost the only man she had ever loved, and her nausea trebled. Hearing the chopper thudding overhead, pulling him away with every swoop of its rotors, she was literally overwhelmed by grief. Beads of sweat rose on her brow, and the pain in her stomach ripped through her like a gunshot. Felicity felt as if her world had been ripped apart at the seams.

She only just made it to the bathroom in time.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SOMETHINGwas wrong.

Rinsing her mouth at the sink, Felicity caught sight of her ashen face in the mirror. Only two spots of color flamed, but her skin felt as if it were on fire. Resting her cheek against the cool mirror, she closed her eyes, begging the room to stop spinning, for her breathing to even out, for the pain in her stomach to abate somewhat.

She couldn’t be losing the baby. Felicity battled with a tidal wave of emotions. The little life she had felt so equivocal about suddenly took on momentous proportions. Telling Luca she loved him would be so much easier without a baby on board, so less complicated without a pregnancy to comprehend, but Mother Nature was playing her cards now, signing Felicity up for a crash course in maternal instinct, and she sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to somehow protect the tiny life within as gradually, mercifully, the pain lessened.

With or without Luca, this baby was everything to her.

It wasn’t just a Santanno, it was her child, and losing it now would be like losing her soul.

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