She jumped as a door snicked shut somewhere close and then Dominic appeared on the landing, stopping when he saw her halfway up the stairs, his dark eyes fixing her. ‘Angelina?’
Angie couldn’t move, held captive by those damning eyes. Would he think she’d been snooping? Would he take her for a thief? He already thought the worst of her; it would only be a small jump to make. The cup rattled against the saucer in her hand. She put the other one out to steady it. ‘I’m sorry. I was actually looking for the kitchen to return my cup. I must have taken the wrong turn.’
His eyes flicked down to the cup in her hand and back to her face as if he was measuring her words and weighing them for truth. He started down the stairs towards her, his long legs carrying him down, step by decisive step. He’d changed from his business clothes into dark trousers and a slim-fitting T-shirt, the fabric so fine it seemed to skim over the wall of his chest and accentuate his perfect proportions. He stopped on the step alongside her and she saw the tiny beads of water clinging to his hair, smelt his recently showered masculine freshness. She tugged the edges of her robe together, suddenly conscious of the fabric against her nipples, feeling hopelessly unprepared for another meeting with this man. ‘The kitchen is not upstairs.’
She swallowed. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I saw the portrait. Is that… Is that your wife?’ She looked back at the portrait, feeling a bone-deep ache she didn’t care to analyse too much. The dark beauty was perfect for him. Polished and elegant and unerringly confident with it.
‘That’s Carla, yes.’
‘She was so beautiful.’
Dominic glanced back over his shoulder at the portrait. ‘She was.’ Then he took a deep breath and started down the rest of the steps. ‘Follow me. I’ll show you how to find the kitchen.’
He disappeared after he’d handed her into Rosa’s care in the massive kitchen, his car keys in his hand, telling Rosa he’d be back late. Angie wondered if he had a date as she watched him leave. She would be beautiful, of course. She’d have to be to attract a man like him, a man used to being surrounded by beautiful things…
‘Do you like tortellini?’
Angie blinked, Rosa’s question grounding her. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never had it.’ And Rosa just smiled as she put the plate in front of her.
Angie discovered she loved it. Especially home-made, as she learned Rosa’s was. ‘Did Mr Pirelli put you up to this?’ she asked, polishing off her second helping as she pushed wet hair she wished she’d dried out of her eyes. ‘Did he tell you I needed filling out? He thinks I’m too skinny.’
Rosa just laughed. ‘I’m Italian too, cara. To me, everyone needs filling out. And you especially must keep up your strength. You are doing a very important job. Some would say the most important job in the world.’
Angie put down her fork and thanked her, feeling deliciously full for the second time today, still thinking about that portrait and the woman who should be carrying this child. ‘I saw Carla’s…Mrs Pirelli’s…portrait on the landing. She was beautiful.’
The older woman gave a sad smile as she took Angie’s plate. ‘That was painted shortly after they were married. She was a beautiful girl. She wanted desperately for a child to give Dominic. In the end… Well, in the end it just didn’t happen.’
Angie’s hand curled over her belly. ‘It’s not fair that she’s not here for this. It’s not fair that I’ve got her baby.’
And Rosa put a reassuring hand to her shoulder. ‘It’s a miracle, that’s what it is.’ She looked down at Angie’s empty plate and smiled though Angie sensed her sadness in the moisture that glossed her eyes. ‘Truly it is a miracle.’ Then she huffed in a breath, gathering herself as she carried it to the sink. ‘Well, what would you like to do now? Do you need anything I can help you with while you settle in?’
Angie shook her head. ‘It’s been a long day. I might turn in early.’ Although, she thought as she pushed her fringe out of her eyes again, there was one thing she could tackle. ‘You don’t have some scissors I could borrow, do you? My hair is driving me crazy.’