Page 40 of The Italian's Marriage Bargain

‘Signora!’Rosa was tapping on the door, her voice annoyingly loud, and Felicity struggled into a robe and pulled open the bedroom door. ‘Signor Santanno just telephone—he forget his briefcase. He needs some papers for a lunchtime meeting, so my husband is going to drive it to Rome for him and drop it into Reception.’

‘Okay.’ Her voice sounded amazingly normal as she retrieved the case from the floor.

‘Signora Felicity!’ Rosa did a double-take as she took the case and made to go. ‘You look terrible.’

‘So everyone keeps telling me,’ Felicity said dryly, then forced a smile. ‘I’m fine, Rosa; I’ve got a stomach upset, that’s all.’ She was about to blame it on something she’d eaten, but, anticipating the hysterics that would send the elderly woman into, Felicity quickly changed tack. ‘A bit of gastric flu or something.’

‘Do you want me to send for the doctor?’

Felicity hesitated. A doctor was exactly what she needed, but not with Rosa hovering anxiously downstairs. Luca deserved to hear the news from her first.

‘Rosa, could you ask Marco to wait? I’ll only be five minutes. I want to go into Rome myself; if he wouldn’t mind giving me a lift that would be great.’

‘But you are sick.’

Oh, she was sick, Felicity thought sadly. Sick of the lies, sick of putting everything off, sick of avoiding confrontation.

‘I need to see my husband,’ Felicity said firmly, and Rosa gave a heavy shrug. ‘I’ll get dressed now.’

The journey seemed to take for ever. Battling with nausea, forcing a smile as the questioning eyes of Marco surveyed her from the rearview mirror. All she knew was that she had to see Luca, tell him the truth and then take it from there. Together they would go to the hospital. Together they would face the truth about their unborn child.

Gradually the lush mountains gave way to the occasional village, soon joining into one mass of streets, and the coiling, writhing city came to life before her eyes as they battled the heavy traffic. The inevitable horns, the beautiful women and handsome men rushing along the streets, the pavement cafés littered with lovers and smart businessmen, backpackers and tourists, all descending on this most beautiful city.

Just as she had left it a year ago.

A sign for the Trevi Fountain came into view as the car slowed, and for a moment so did Felicity’s heart.

‘One coin means you’ll come back, two to marry an Italian, three to live happily ever after.’ Joseph’s voice echoed through her mind. The last precious days of Joseph’s life, those poignant final days, days that had been too painful for recollection until now.

God, she missed him so.

‘Ére.’Marco’s voice snapped her mind to attention as they drew up outside the hotel, the door opening before the car had even come to a halt, and as the green-uniformed man realised who she was he called for the concierge, Rafaello.

‘Bongiorno, Signora Felicity,’ Rafaello called as he flew down the steps to greet her, a beaming smile splitting his face as he tried to relieve her of the briefcase. ‘This is a pleasant surprise! Allow me to take Signor Santanno’s case for you; I will take it to him directly.’

‘Bongiorno, Rafaello.’ Felicity returned the warm greeting as he walked towards the revolving doors. ‘But there’s really no need. I’ll take it to Luca myself.’

‘It is no problem,signora.’ Suddenly the beaming smile didn’t seem quite so natural, and Felicity felt her eyes narrow as her fingers tightened around the handle. ‘I will arrange some morning tea for you. Signor Santanno is in a meeting.’

They were crossing the courtyard now, and Felicity felt every last vestige of hope, of trust disappear as Rafaello carried on talking, the beautiful, lyrical accent grating now as the ream of excuses pounded in her ears.

‘I will let him know you are here, and no doubt he will come down directly, but he made it very clear he didn’t want to be disturbed.’

‘Did he, now?’ Felicity’s voice was quiet, but strong. She had come here to face the truth, but it would seem from the staff’s reaction that the truth might be a touch more complicated than she had envisaged.

Her eyes met Rafaello’s head-on. ‘I don’t want morning tea—thank you for asking. And I most certainly don’t want to sit and wait. My husband wants his case, and I intend to take it up to him.’

‘Butsignora…’

‘Please.’ Putting up a slightly trembling hand, Felicity stopped Rafaello mid-flow. Whatever life was about to throw at her, it needed to be faced. She was tired of following Luca’s golden path, tired of the staff that smoothed over the cracks, tired of Luca’s refusal to follow life’s simple moral code. ‘This isn’t your problem.’

Cheeks burning, she strode through the golden revolving doors, barely acknowledging the grandeur of her surroundings as she spun through the massive foyer, ignoring the agonised looks from the concierge as he gestured to one of his staff to pick up the telephone. It was an old-fashioned lift, and as the gates pulled closed she felt as if she were being imprisoned, locked in her own eternal hell. She braced herself for what was to come as she rummaged in her purse for her swipe card.

Poor Rafaello would be joining Ricardo in the coronary care unit, Felicity thought ruefully as he burst through the stairwell door, admitting defeat with a sorry shrug as she determinedly swiped her card and pushed open the heavy door.

She’d thought she had prepared herself for the sight that might greet her, but the pain that seared through her as she took in the scene told Felicity that nothing ever truly prepared a person for loss.

Anticipation was no antidote for confirmation.

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