Page 33 of The Italian's Marriage Bargain

‘My studies are important,’ Felicity flared, but Luca most annoyingly just flicked his newspaper and carried on reading. ‘Just because you consider women should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen…’

‘Heaven forbid.’ Luca visibly shuddered, angry eyes peering over the top of the paper. ‘Could you imagine the hell a baby would add to this supposed domestic bliss?’

It wasn’t a point Felicity cared to dwell on, but she was saved from answering as Rosa appeared, with the inevitable coffeepot in hand, filling his cup without waiting to be asked. Suddenly Felicity had had enough. If Luca wanted her to carry on as normal around the staff, to say what was on her mind, then she damn well would.

‘Do you realise I don’t know how many sugars you have in your coffee?’

‘What the hell has that got to do with anything?’

‘Everything,’ Felicity flared. ‘You’re my husband, yet I’ve never even made you so much as a drink. It’s not just room service with you, Luca; it’s a butler and waitress to boot. I’ve never ironed you a shirt, never cooked you dinner…’

‘You’re contradicting yourself,’ Luca drawled. ‘You were just saying before how important your studies were; now you’re complaining there’s not enough domestic drudgery for you. I could have a word with Rosa,’ he offered sarcastically. ‘I’m sure she can rustle you up a pile of dirty laundry if that’s what you so desire.’

‘Oh, you’re impossible.’ Flinging down her napkin, Felicity forced back the sting of tears in her eyes. God, he was loathsome, conceited and difficult—but she loved him. And, as boring and pathetic as it sounded, she wanted all of him, not this tiny slice she was being offered, but Luca just couldn’t see it.

‘I have to go to Florence today.’ He was sitting reading his paper, not a care in the world, turning the pages slowly as he demolished a pastry and three impossibly strong short black coffees.

Felicity surveyed the gleaming quiet kitchen and tried to fathom Luca’s take on it with a baby sitting in a high chair, throwing egg around and disrupting his much loved morning peace.

‘Florence?’ Felicity took a nervous sip of herlatte, praying she could keep it down till Luca had left for work at least. She was used to the helicopter revving up around seven a.m. now, whisking him off to the Rome hotel as easily as pulling the car out of the drive, but Florence was hardly a hop and a skip away.

‘I might stay the night; it depends how much work there is to do.’

‘Fine.’

She could hear the chopper revving up in the distance, knew the routine already so well it hurt, but as Luca glanced at his watch and downed the last of his coffee, the very last thing she wanted was him to leave.

He gave her a vague kiss on the cheek and then, because Rosa came in, he kissed her more thoroughly, but the heavy scent of his aftershave was too much in her fragile state. As she flinched slightly she saw the start of confusion in his eyes. ‘I’ll ring when I get there. I’ll know more then.’

‘Luca?’ He was at the door now, gorgeous in a dark suit, the crisp white shirt accentuating his strong olive neck, his haughty face cleanshaven, a black briefcase in his manicured hand. He looked angry and restless and confused, but infinitely beautiful. ‘Have a safe trip.’

How paltry her words sounded, how utterly empty and meaningless, when the fact that she loved him was at the tip of her tongue, that she had never been more scared in her life, that today was the day she found out for sure if she was carrying his child.

He gave a stiff nod, a tight smile, but didn’t say anything, and all that was left to do was sit and drink herlatte, sit and listen to the helicopter lift into the gently rising morning sun, the whirring blades humming their own tune as he flew away.

The feel of snow crunching under her new boots was as unfamiliar as everything else, but Felicity liked it. Liked the sinking feeling as she walked along, her face hidden behind a massive wrap, her shoulders hunched in the camel-coloured coat she had bought.

She’d been offered a driver, a car, even, but to the staff’s bemusement she had refused, determined to have some time to herself, to wander into the village alone and come back when she was good and ready. The mountains were amazing, everywhere she turned a picture postcard in the making—blues, greens and purples capped with snow, villages dotted like models—and Felicity took her time, stopping at the war memorial, waving to curious onlookers as they salted their paths and rushed to catch the bread van. Walking past a tiny graveyard, on impulse she wandered in. Brushing the snow off the stones with her gloved hands, she read the inscriptions. Santanno, Giordano and Ritonni appeared with alarming regularity, staring back at her like a mocking taunt again and again.

Luca, Ricardo and Anna.

Each carefully worded inscription confirmed the futility of the love triangle she had entered. Every one alienated her further, ramming home the incestuous ties that bound this town, the impossible hand she had been dealt.

This truly was Luca’s territory, and never in a million years would she belong.

Even with her non-existent Italian, the wordfarmaciawas pretty universal, and Felicity took a tentative step inside, relaxing as she saw the white-coated uniform of the staff. The rows of items were touchingly familiar, and she was sure she would have no trouble locating the pregnancy testing kits.

A pretty assistant smiled, offering her help, but Felicity politely declined, far happier to wander than explain what she was here for.

There they were. Congratulating herself, she surveyed the kits, looking for what she hoped would be a simple one.

‘Do you know what you’re looking for?’

Pulling her hand back as if she were touching hot coals, Felicity swung round aghast. ‘Anna! I’m just trying to find some paracetamol. I couldn’t get the staff to understand me.’

Anna frowned. ‘I thought Cara spoke some English. No problem—I will show you.’ She gave a low laugh. ‘I hope for your sake you won’t need one of these for a while. I’d hate to be the unlucky girl who tries to tell Luca he is about to become a father.’

She looked more closely at Felicity’s shocked expression, thankfully misinterpreting it. ‘These are pregnancy testing kits,’ she explained with a throaty chuckle. ‘Now do you understand what I am saying? Can you imagine Luca Santanno a father? Believe me, I know from experience it’s not on his list of must-haves.’ A wistful look flashed over Anna’s face, and a smile bordering on sympathy flickered on her lips as she caught Felicity staring at her. ‘I thought I was pregnant by the great man himself once.’

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