“We’ll help,” Vito said, sliding Bianca onto a stool while Roberto climbed into the one his mother had been using. Vito was very good with the children and they openly adored him, grinning at his teasing, behaving angelically as he gently kept them on task.
Vito exchanged several texts with Paolo, who mentioned that everything was fine but there was a small delay in seeing the doctor.
“Paolo will be taking some family time now that the baby is here,” Vito said to Gwyn. “We had planned for this, but we’ll have a proper meeting when he gets back to review a few things before I assume his duties. You and I will spend the night here and head back to the city in the morning.”
Gwyn nodded absently, too caught up in watching him cut up a little girl’s food, steady Roberto’s hand as he shook out red pepper flakes then smoothly reached to top up Gwyn’s wineglass with a practiced flair. Throw in his ability give a woman orgasms and get the laundry done and he was the perfect man in every way.
He met her gaze.
Her thoughts must have reflected in her it. Building a career had been a dominating goal in her life, partly because she’d seen how hard her mother had struggled to support herself without a proper profession. Gwyn had focused on her degree and finding the right job and chasing opportunities for advancement. It had meant relegating a husband and children to a dreamy “someday” that she hoped would find her when the time was right.
But she longed for a place to settle and call home. She wanted a family within it that wasn’t a tenuous late-in-life connection, but a network of blood ties like this family had, where a woman could be nosy about a man simply because she cared about him. She could leave her children with him in utter confidence that he would keep them safe and give them the affectionate security that fed their souls.
“Be careful, Gwyn,” Vittorio said with gentle gravity, holding her gaze.
She scanned for hazards the children might tip before meeting his gaze again, confused.
He wore the tough, circumspect look of the man who’d first stared her down in Nadine Billaud’s office.
“This is not our life,” he said in the same temperate tone. “Not yours. Not mine. So stop thinking it will happen.”
She was far too transparent around him. It was achingly painful to be this obvious, especially when he had touched her so intimately they were practically lovers, then shot down her dreams so dispassionately, leaving her nursing a giant ache that hollowed out her chest.
“Not with you, perhaps,” she said, lifting her glass and her chin, holding his gaze even though the locked stare made her stomach cramp. “But there’s no reason I can’t have something like this, someday. Is there?” she challenged.
He might have flinched, but she wasn’t sure.
And the silence went on long enough for her to remember her own notoriety. Would anyone want her after this? Ever?
A noise at the door told them the new parents had returned.
Gwyn rose to set two more places, grateful for a reason to turn away and hide that her eyes were welling up.
* * *
“Do you need the address for my flat?” Gwyn asked the driver as they slid into the car the next morning.
“I have it, thank you,” the driver assured her as he closed her door for her.
The air was fresh, the sun shining and the children had both hugged her at the door. Nevertheless, Gwyn’s good mood took a dip when Vittorio made no protest against her going home.
She wasn’t about to ask him what he had planned for her, though. She had lain awake a long time last night considering her options. Her life wasn’t over, she had concluded. It just needed to be re-envisioned.
As Vito flicked through messages on his tablet, she took a firm grip on the future she had outlined for herself. She opened her social media accounts and started removing objectionable posts. Dear Lord there were some nasty people out there. Some thought she was a harlot, others offered to do lewd things to her...
She didn’t realize she was making noises like she was being roundly beaten in a boxing ring until Vito asked sharply, “What are you reading?”
“I want to connect with a headhunter to start searching out a position for when this is over.” She winced as an invitation to hook up flashed into her eyes with a photo that couldn’t be deleted fast enough. “I have to clean up my news feeds first, before potential employers look them over. It’s a minefield.”
“You don’t,” he growled, reaching across to click off her phone. “Plumbers exist to clean up sewage. I’ve already assigned you a PR assistant. She’ll meet with you this afternoon and scrub all of this.”