Marriage Made of Secrets Read online

  On cue, her stomach growled. Cesare gave a low laugh and released her. ‘You finish up here, I’ll go and wake up Annabelle.’

  ‘Okay...wait!’

  He turned at the door.

  ‘You were going to give me the information on Tay-Sachs.’

  A wary gleam entered his eyes but he nodded. ‘We’ll look at it together after dinner.’

  Her heart hammered as she watched him walk away, his powerful shoulders and tall, streamlined body reminding her just what she stood to lose if she decided to walk away from him.

  Confusion crowded her senses, along with the undeniable knowledge that the reason why she was in so much pain was because she’d never really stopped loving Cesare. If anything, the rare glimpses into the man underneath all that control—the man who, despite his brother’s rejection, had done everything he could for Roberto—made her love him even more.

  Far from what he led her to believe, family meant a lot to Cesare. His brother had meant a lot to him despite their rocky relationship, and she’d seen him remain strong for his parents.

  Which meant it was her he didn’t feel the ultimate connection to.

  Would that ever be enough without his love? What of the alternative? The thought of never being with Cesare intensified her pain until she couldn’t sit still any longer.

  Jumping up, she grabbed her oldest camera, a gift from her mother the year before she died. The camera Cesare had given her was worth thousands of euros, but this one was priceless. Every time she used it, she felt closer to the mother who’d believed and championed her desire to be a photographer when her father had scoffed at the idea.

  Her mother had protected her against her father’s bullying right up until the moment she’d lost her battle against cancer. Ava’s devastation had been all the more acute, because with her mother gone, she’d lost not only a parent but an ally and protector. Her father had barely acknowledged her existence, and her brothers had soon followed suit.

  For a long time, her camera had been her only companion...until Cesare.

  Could she bring herself to let him go? Or would staying to fight, to push for what she wanted only drive him further away?

  Shaking her head, she went out onto the terrace and walked down the jetty. The setting sun hung between the hills, its orange-gold rays a perfect backdrop for the yachts on the lake. The rich vibrancy of Lake Como in summer was a beauty to behold and, even though it didn’t soothe her troubled soul, she took several pictures, her fingers clicking automatically.

  Hearing voices behind her, she turned. Cesare stood on the edge of the terrace, Annabelle in his arms. Something she said made him laugh and Ava’s heart caught at the love she glimpsed in his face. Acting quickly, she snapped a few shots of them. Cesare glanced up, straight into the camera, and the want, the need as his gaze connected with the lens stopped her breath.

  She wanted to believe, yearned to trust what she saw in his face. But how could she, when her heart felt ripped to pieces?

  * * *

  ‘Be warned—our daughter has tasked us to bring back the perfect princess gown. Apparently it has to be purple. With pictures of giraffes on it.’

  Ava summoned a smile as she buckled her seat belt. ‘At least it’s not pink.’ She shuddered.

  Cesare slammed the door and turned the ignition to the luxury SUV. ‘Sì, that is a small mercy. However, I’m at a loss as to where to acquire such a dress.’

  ‘Ah, welcome to the challenges of parenthood.’

  He looked worried. ‘Seriously, you didn’t see the look on her face when she told me what she wanted. I don’t think I’ll survive if I don’t bring her exactly what she wants.’

  Despite the despair ravaging her soul, she laughed. ‘We’ll find something that will please her, I promise. But you didn’t have to come shopping with me. I could’ve sorted this out on my own.’

  So far the truce was going well. It had gone slightly wobbly when Cesare had presented her with the dossier containing information on the genetic condition two nights ago. Seeing the stark words in black and white had sent her into another crying jag, one which Cesare had withstood with silent, unwavering support.

  Tay-Sachs was a horrible disease, and her heart bled for what Roberto had gone through; what Cesare could still go through. Annabelle was less likely to suffer the same fate as Ava wasn’t a carrier but she would need monitoring all of her life, a fact that had struck fear anew in Ava’s heart.

  ‘What makes you think only women have the right to the I don’t have a thing to wear line?’ His query brought her back to the present.

  ‘Yeah, right. You hate shopping with such a passion that you instruct top designers to send you their collection at the start of the season so you don’t have to lift a finger. Which makes me think you’re only coming along because...’ She paused.

  He shot her a heat-filled look. ‘You would be right. I’ll take any moment I can with you, even if I have to endure a few brain cells committing hara-kiri while you shop.’

  He joined in when she laughed. ‘That is not the way to make a girl feel special. But thank you.’

  His right hand left the steering wheel, caught hers and brought it to his lips. Heat drenched her and although her heart surged with foolish delight, a part of her clenched in distress. This was the part of the truce that wasn’t going so well. By mutually unspoken agreement, they hadn’t discussed sex. Or the distinct lack of it. At night, they went to their separate beds, where Ava endured either tortured yearning-for-Cesare dreams or hours of wide-awake craving-Cesare tossing and turning.

  Another kiss on the back of her hand recaptured her attention. His darkened eyes told her he was struggling with this part of their truce too.

  Unable to dispel the atmosphere, she plucked her shades off the top of her head and slid them on. Not that it helped one iota. ‘Let’s go.’

  She found her dress in an exclusive designer shop in Amalfi. And, despite thinking it impossible, they found the perfect purple gown for Annabelle.

  ‘Those aren’t giraffes, cara,’ Cesare muttered, the worry back in his eyes.

  ‘No, but she loves purple horses just as much. We just have to manage her expectations a little bit.’

  His lips firmed as he handed over his platinum card. ‘If she threatens to annihilate me with those adorable green eyes, I will use you as a human shield.’

  ‘Wow, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be slayed by a three-year-old.’

  ‘She’s almost four. And you haven’t been watching, tesorio mio. I was slayed a long time ago.’

  Every single breath whooshed out of her lungs as she stared into Cesare’s golden eyes. He stared right back, a vulnerability lingering in his eyes she’d never seen before.

  In that single moment, Ava knew she owed it to herself and Annabelle to find a way to make this work—even if it meant accepting less from Cesare.

  * * *

  The Marinello wedding took place in another stunning palazzo on the shores of Lake Como after the official blessing at the Duomo in Amalfi.

  Cesare watched his wife, who, in a stunning cream silk gown that bared her arms and back, and hugged her perfect backside, could’ve been mistaken for the bride, save for the camera slung around her neck. Despite that clunky accessory, she was a bombshell whose figure made his breath catch and his body burn with hunger every time he looked at her.

  She was also scarily talented. Her work with the Marinello couple was displayed on a giant screen on the side of the ballroom where the reception was being held, and Cesare watched with pride as the guests effused over the stunning sepia and black and white pictures. Also, despite her threats to cause her bodily harm, Ava had managed Agata Marinello with a skill that left him awestruck. In the same circumstances, he wouldn’t have been so kind to the shrill, demanding woman.


  Lifting her camera now, she captured another image of the happy couple, then glanced down at the image. Raising her head, her gaze caught his. She tried to smile but he saw her distress. His insides churned.

  They’d agreed to talk after the wedding but the back of Cesare’s neck tingled with the premonition that time was running out. He had a toast to give—something Agata had sprung on him as they’d left the church—and several acquaintances and the Marinello family to acknowledge before he could reasonably get away.

  He glanced Ava’s way again. She was crouched, camera poised, as Annabelle and a newly made friend posed in front of her. This time her smile held a joy that made his own lips curve upward.

  In the next moment, the alien feeling attacked him again. Sudden hunger clawed at his insides that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the unwavering feeling that he needed to act now or lose his wife.

  Surging to his feet, he picked up a dainty sterling silver spoon and tapped it against his crystal champagne flute. His speech was a few minutes early but, what the hell. He had more important things to do. When he had everyone’s attention, he racked his brain for appropriate words and made a reasonably coherent toast to the happy couple.

  Duty done, he stepped from the VIP table and made a beeline for his wife.

  ‘Your first dance is mine, I believe.’ He caught her around the waist as the string quartet struck up.

  ‘Cesare, I’m working!’

  ‘I’m the guest of honour. If I choose to dance with the super-talented photographer of this wedding, then this is what I shall do.’

  He drew her close, a deep satisfaction welling up as she leaned into him. His body sprang to life, the unique scent of her making him ache.

  Pulling her closer still, he teased his lips over her earlobe. ‘I can’t wait for this thing to be over.’

  ‘It won’t be for an hour or so yet. And then there’s the evening reception—’

  He frowned. ‘That is unacceptable.’

  She laughed. ‘I was going to say I’ve got most of the pictures I need. Once the bride changes into her evening gown, I’ll need a few more shots but, apart from that, I’m done. Agata wants to be the one to take the last picture of them leaving on their honeymoon. I didn’t see the harm, so I don’t have to stay till the end.’

  He exhaled in relief. She heard it and pulled back to stare at him. His breath caught at how beautiful she looked.

  ‘Why the urgency?’

  ‘Other than the fact that you look breathtaking and I’m insanely jealous of any man who looks at you?’

  One elegant brow arched. ‘Try again.’

  He sighed. ‘I know we were going to wait until after the wedding to talk but...I’ve been going crazy not to be able to be with you. I’ve missed you in my bed.’

  Her lips parted on a sigh and his blood rushed forcefully south. She felt his body’s reaction and stumbled. He used the excuse to bring her closer and watched her face bloom in a delicate blush.

  ‘I...I thought we were putting everything on hold until Tuscany, including sex.’

  ‘A foolish addendum. The moment we leave here I aim to resolve that.’

  A look crossed her face that brought the feeling he’d experienced earlier back.

  ‘And would sex come with strings?’

  He frowned. ‘What does that mean—strings?’

  ‘I mean will you make love to me completely or will you...do what you did in Rome?’

  Mild shock went through his body. ‘Surely it can’t mean that much to you?’

  Her face flamed with the heat of a thousand candles, but she held his gaze. ‘What if I said it did? What if I told you that when we were married—’

  ‘We’re still married.’ He caught her left hand and, despite his displeasure at her bare fingers, he kissed the knuckle where her wedding ring should be.

  She licked her lower lip and fire shot into his groin. ‘I meant what if I told you that it’s important to me because in that moment, when you lose control in my arms, I feel closest to you? That when you took that away from me I felt as if I’ve lost you completely? Would that change your mind then?’

  Cesare froze. After several seconds, she pulled away. He couldn’t find the strength to stop her.

  ‘I thought not.’ She left him on the dance floor, walking quickly away.

  He didn’t get a chance to talk to her again, not for another hour and not until Ava had taken her last picture and it was time to leave.

  With Annabelle buzzing from making new friends and chatting incessantly, Cesare was forced to wait until they were back home. The chatter lessened as they drew closer to the villa and, by the time they were home, their daughter’s head was lolling to the side.

  ‘She’s worn out,’ Ava said.

  ‘All day talking about horses and giraffes will do that to a girl. I’ll put her to bed.’

  ‘No, let me.’

  ‘Ava...’

  She avoided eye contact. ‘I’ll come and find you when I’m done with her.’

  Cesare stood at the bottom of the staircase watching her walk away. The sinking sensation in his stomach intensified and for a wild second he wanted to rush after them, crush them in his arms and never let go.

  Stemming the need, he turned towards his study. He needed to put the decision he’d made in the small hours of this morning into effect. It was the only way to ensure his family’s safety. Once he was in possession of all the facts, he’d tell Ava. She would probably argue with him but at least they would talk it through together.

  Ten minutes later, he was regretting not having left this phone call till morning.

  ‘I’ve given you all the pertinent facts.’

  He listened and blew out an exasperated breath. ‘Yes, I’ve thought this through. Are you able to make it happen straight away or not?’

  The stuttered protests echoing down the line sent a wave of irritation through him. Surging from his desk, he strode to the window, the phone clamped to his ear. ‘No, I don’t need my head shrunk. I am thinking straight. I know exactly what I want and I’m counting on you to make it happen... No, my decision is final...I definitely do not want any more children.’

  The pained gasp that sounded behind him was the deadliest sound he’d ever heard. And even before he caught sight of Ava in the doorway, her face paler than he’d ever seen it, he knew he’d lost her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  UNCONTROLLABLE SHUDDERS RAKED through Ava. She couldn’t catch her breath and the lack of oxygen made her head swim crazily. She squeezed her eyes, hoping to stem the relentless tide of hopelessness that threatened to drown her.

  Even when she heard footsteps in the salone, where she’d retreated to, she couldn’t move. For several minutes, Cesare stood behind her in silence, his breathing unsteady. Then firm hands settled on her shoulders. She flinched but when she tried to move away, he held on.

  ‘Ava, listen to me.’

  ‘No...’ A weak, drained breath puffed out. His fingers tightened momentarily before he let go. She sensed him move away but she was too numb to lift her head.

  Seconds later, he returned and held a glass against her lips. ‘Drink this,’ he commanded.

  She caught a whiff of the cognac and jerked away from him. ‘Getting drunk, as tempting as it sounds, isn’t going to solve what’s wrong with us, Cesare.’

  ‘No, but it will help.’ Contrition tinged his voice as he sat down beside her. ‘It will also calm you long enough to let me explain.’

  ‘What’s there to explain? You spoke in English so I don’t need anything interpreted—’ She stopped as her phone buzzed. She was almost afraid to check the message; afraid that yet another blow would flatten her completely.

  He caught her chin between his fin
gers and swung her to face him. Golden eyes narrowed immediately. ‘You’ve been crying again,’ he rasped.

  ‘And this surprises you, why?’ she shot back.

  ‘We may drive each other completely insane at the best of times but I’ve only ever seen you cry once. Your natural reaction tends to be to claw my eyes out.’

  ‘I must be getting soft in my old age.’ Her phone let off another ping.

  ‘Come on, Ava. You’re clutching your phone. Has something happened? Something other than what you think you overheard just now? Tell me,’ he demanded.

  She tried to free herself. ‘Why should I? You want me to share, and yet you don’t reciprocate.’ She jerked when her phone vibrated for the third time.

  He glanced from her phone to her face. ‘Who’s calling you?’

  A terrified breath whooshed out of her. Before she could stop them, her eyes filled with fresh tears. ‘I feel as if my life’s unravelling,’ she murmured, more to herself than to him. From the moment she’d woken up in Rome, she’d felt as if the unstoppable avalanche of heartache she’d been running from was catching up with her—fast. ‘Every time I think I have a handle on it, something else slips out of my grasp.’

  ‘Nothing’s slipped. I haven’t slipped. I’m still here.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You like to think you’re changing but you’re still the same—’

  ‘I’m here, Ava, and I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s going on. Now.’

  She shook her head and finally glanced down at her phone. ‘The texts are from Nathan. He called me five minutes ago. My father’s ill. He’s asking for me.’

  * * *

  Cesare stared down at her bent head, the feeling he’d experienced on and off back in full force. Something wasn’t right. It took a moment before he placed his finger on it. His feisty wife was sitting before him with her shoulders bowed, her beautiful skin paler than porcelain. Her fingers fretted with her phone.

  The fire seemed to have gone out of her. And it scared the hell out of him.

  Setting down the glass containing the amber liquor, he crouched before her. ‘What did Nathan say? How bad is your father?’