The Sicilian's Bought Bride. Carol Marinelli
She heard the scorn and contempt in his voice and deliberately kept hers even. ‘Yes, me, Rico. I will fight for Lily. I will do whatever it takes to ensure her future. Whatever it takes,’ Catherine repeated, just to be sure he understood. ‘I know you don’t think much of me, Rico. You made that abundantly clear on the night of the wedding—’
‘That night has no bearing on this discussion.’
‘Oh, but it does.’ The sting of embarrassment brought a flush of colour to her pale cheeks, but Catherine refused to be silenced. Lily’s future was too important for her to dodge behind embarrassing facts. ‘You were the one who treated me like a cheap tart, Rico.’ She saw him wince at her brutal words, but ploughed on anyway. ‘You were the one who walked out of the reception without even a goodbye…’ Her cheeks were red now, but not with embarrassment. Instead it was with a year’s worth of humiliation and anger at this man who had treated her with such contempt. ‘I ran after you, Rico. I came to your car and knocked on your window and you refused to even look at me…’
‘Because you disgusted me.’
Her recoil was so visible he might as well have hit her. The colour that had suffused her cheeks drained, and tears that had stayed buried all day, were stinging now, but Catherine bit them back, refusing to let him see her cry, to allow him the glory of her utter humiliation.
‘Might I remind you, Rico—’ her voice was strained but dignified, her lips barely moving as she struggled to hold it together ‘—that it takes two? And if you’re going to try and use that night to discredit me in court then it won’t work. You were very much a participant in what happened.’
‘What are you talking about?’ he sneered.
‘Presumably you’re one of those chauvinist men who assume it’s okay for men to behave in such a fashion but that’s it somehow different for women?’ He opened his mouth to speak but Catherine overrode him, her voice coming louder now. ‘And maybe you’re right, Rico. Because try as I might I cannot justify what happened that night. I cannot explain to anyone, let alone myself, how I ended up in a hotel room with a man I barely knew. Yes, I behaved like a cheap tart—so you see, Rico, you can’t hurt me with your cruel words, can’t shame me any more than I shamed myself that night. I may disgust you, but I can assure you I disgust myself more.’
They stood in bristling silence, her words resonating like an awful echo until Catherine could no longer bear it—couldn’t bear to stand there a moment longer. Her eyes scanned the luxurious room for an exit, settling instead for the safety of the bathroom, and only when she’d closed the door did she let out the breath she had been inadvertently holding. Her jaw was aching from gritting her teeth together.
How could she explain to him that to her dying day she would never be able to fathom how she had so brazenly allowed him to touch her, hold her? That even a year on she could scarcely comprehend the intimacies she had shared with a virtual stranger that night? But he hadn’t seemed like a stranger, Catherine recalled, resting her burning face against the mirror as she remembered the passion that had gripped her, that had sullied her sensibility and overridden her normal reservation.
How could she explain to Rico what she couldn’t understand herself?
Peeling off her clothes, Catherine stepped into the shower, the welcome bliss of water on her body soothing somehow, giving her a few moments to compose herself, to sort through the jumble of events today had thrown at her. She wished she could stay there for ever, wished she could hide from the world for just a moment longer, but somehow she had to be strong, had to go back in that room and face him.
For Lily’s sake.
Pulling on a thick white robe, she tied it firmly before filling the sink to wash her stockings and knickers. Luxurious as the hotel might be, it didn’t come with a fully stocked wardrobe—and anyway she was glad of the chance to prolong the discussion a few moments longer.
‘What are you doing?’
Appalled, she swung round, scarcely able to believe his gall.
‘How dare you come in here without knocking?’ Eyes blazing, she met his gaze. ‘How dare you come in here? I could have been naked…’
‘You are dressed in a robe,’ Rico pointed out, clearly unmoved at her protests. ‘We need to talk, and instead you are hiding in here.’
‘I’m not hiding,’ Catherine lied, but Rico just shook his head.
‘Why are you washing your clothes like some gipsy in the river, then?’ he sneered. ‘You are hiding, Catherine…’
‘You really are the limit—do you know that? For your information, I didn’t stop to pack an overnight bag when the police arrived at my door.’
‘Send your washing down to Housekeeping, then.’ Rico shrugged.
‘I have some pride,’ Catherine retorted. ‘Not much, I admit that—you’ve managed to obliterate most of it—but if you think I’m going to hand my underwear over to be washed and ironed then you’ve got another think coming.’ Very deliberately she turned away, rinsing out her washing and draping it over the bath ledge, making sure she took her time, sensing his bristling impatience yet refusing to be rushed, refusing to turn as he commenced the discussion she had hoped to delay.
‘If Lily were older undoubtedly we could ask her what she wanted. But given she is only six months old, that is of course impossible.’
She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t turn, just gave a small nod as Rico continued.
‘So perhaps we should ask ourselves what her parents would have wanted?’
His words made sense, and reluctantly she turned to face him, willing to at least listen to what Rico had to say.
‘Marco and I may have rowed on occasion, and I may have alienated myself from him to some degree because I didn’t approve of his lifestyle, but we still met up regularly. As I said before, we came to this hotel for many lunches, and whatever trouble he was in Marco knew he could always call on me. I know that he did respect me.’ His voice thickened and he swallowed hard before continuing. ‘I know in my heart that he loved me, Catherine, and I also know he would have wanted me to raise his child. So now it’s your turn. What about Janey?’
His eyes never left her face, taking in every flicker of reaction as his question reached her. ‘What would Janey have wanted for Lily?’
‘She’d have wanted me to have her…’ Her voice trailed off, her startled eyes blinking rapidly, and Rico leapt in, sensing weakness and exploiting it in an instant.
‘Because she loved you?’ His voice was so silken you might almost have missed the derisive sneer, but Catherine was like a radar where Rico was concerned, and she flinched at his insensitivity. ‘Janey would have wanted you to have Lily because she adored her big sister Catherine?’
‘She did love me; I was her sister.’ Her lips were impossibly dry and she ran her tongue over them, her head spinning as he relentlessly continued.
‘You don’t have to love your sister, Catherine,’ Rico pointed out mercilessly. ‘You don’t even have to love your husband—and Janey didn’t love Marco, did she? Did she?’ He roared the words the second time—the roar of a lion defending its territory, of a beautiful animal to be admired from a distance, but that could turn in a second. ‘In fact Marco was just a walking, talking chequebook to his young bride…’
‘Rico, please…’ Catherine started. She wanted him to stop, wanted to end this horrible interrogation, didn’t want to sully the few precious memories she had with the awful truth—didn’t want to admit even to herself how little Janey had thought of her.
‘Janey wanted the fast cars, the nice home, the maids, the lifestyle—and I don’t doubt she’d have wanted the same for her daughter.’
‘Janey would have wanted me,’ Catherine insisted,