* * *
Octavia rose from a nap before dinner, showered and fed Lorenzo, then used her new baby monitor to listen for him as she went back to the sitting room. She was folding a little vest and placing it on the pile in the bassinet when Alessandro came in.
“The nanny can clean this up, can’t she?” he said.
“I asked her to leave it out so I could look at everything again.” Octavia wasn’t sure why she wanted to, but it made her feel good to touch all the tiny outfits. Everything was so handsome and sweet. She held up the tuxedo on its hanger, complete with ruffled shirt, cummerbund, bow tie and black socks. “Your mother said it’s for your grandfather’s eightieth.”
The event had been planned a year ago and until a few days ago, Octavia had had every intention of attending. Now...
She frowned, amusement falling away into a kind of despair.
Alessandro came farther into the room, bypassing the sofa to turn on the fireplace. The gas gave a low hiss and the flames leaped up, brightening the room that had turned gloomy as dusk dimmed the gray light coming through the filmy curtains.
For a moment the room seemed cheery, the mood between them intimate. Alessandro stood with one hand deep in his pocket, the other braced on the edge of the mantel, head hanging as he regarded the flames.
He was so beautiful. Like a sculpture of a Roman god come to life. And he had that gorgeous way of pursing his mouth when he was thinking, exactly as he did when he was ready to kiss her.
She swallowed.
“The police have requested we stay in London until they finalize their investigation,” he said. “That will likely take us to the end of the month. I’ll hold video conferences with the New York and Paris offices while I’m here, and reassign all of Primo’s duties. That will give Mother plenty of time with Lorenzo and still get us home in time for my grandfather’s birthday.” He straightened and turned, his tone brooking no argument. “I wish we could go home sooner, but at least the staff in Naples are mine. It’s the office I’m least worried about right now.”
Octavia looked away, tempted to let his implacable personality roll right over her. That was the crux of the problem right there. He was such a force, so smooth in his handling of everything, she had fallen in with whatever he had suggested from minute one. Of course I’ll marry you. Anything you want. Lie down on the bed? Here?
She’d given him her virginity, not her spine, she reminded herself, and made herself stand taller.
“I really would rather keep Lorenzo here,” she managed to say with calm assertion. Away from him, she could relearn how to think for herself. “As you’ve pointed out, you have a lot of demands on your time. You won’t see much of him anyway. At least here, he’ll have his grandmother every day.”
Not completely true, since Ysabelle was already talking about returning to her new lover in the south of France. Octavia forced herself to meet Alessandro’s daunting gaze.
“Your parents will want to meet him,” he said.
She pressed her lips together. Her father hadn’t responded to her email informing him of Lorenzo’s safe birth, only made a deposit of a ridiculous amount into her childhood allowance account. Her mother had sent flowers with a tag that read Congratulations. In Octavia’s mind, the word had come across as deeply sarcastic.
“My parents are as capable of climbing onto an airplane as your mother is,” she pointed out, tone sharpening with anger that they hadn’t even called.
“Don’t take out your anger toward Primo on me, Octavia,” Alessandro warned in a low, dangerous tone. “You’re better than that.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped her while an uncomfortable rush of adrenaline burned through her limbs as the moment became a confrontation. It wasn’t like her to push back, but she had to.
“I’m not angry with Primo. I hate him with every cell in my body,” she corrected with a tremble in her voice. “I am angry with you. You left me here with him.”
He absorbed that with a small rock back on his heels.
“I accept that. But I can’t fire my cousin for interfering with my marriage then go home without a wife. You can imagine how things look from a distance. Some are already siding with Primo.” His jaw tightened. “I can’t have that kind of rift, Octavia. You and I must present a united front. You need to show you’re not holding a grudge against the entire family. Together, we show everyone we are prepared to resume our lives without him and everyone will fall into line.”
“You want me to pretend we’re happily married,” she confirmed. “Despite all that’s happened.” She was crushing Lorenzo’s soft new jacket into a ball against her diaphragm.