‘Two people who want the same thing,’ Rico broke in, refusing to move an inch. ‘Two people with a vested interest. Love doesn’t have to come into it. Love cannot come into it. There is too much at stake to lose our heads. This is the right thing,’ he added. He was speaking more softly now, but there was no mistaking the determination in his voice. ‘Lily needs a mother figure, needs some security, and if we don’t unite and present a proper case Antonia and my father will pull out all the stops to ensure a bloody, messy court battle. This is the only way.’
‘But the social workers will never believe that our marriage is anything other than one of the shams you so vehemently abhor.’
‘Why?’ He was almost shaking her now. ‘When it isn’t one? We both know the rules from the start. No talk of love, no promises we can surely never keep. We will tell them the truth—that there was an instant attraction when we first met a year ago and it flared again last night.’ His hands tightened their grip, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. But there was nothing tender in his touch, no affection in the arms that held her. ‘Of course we won’t shatter their illusions with the seamier side of your nature, Catherine. Naturally they don’t need to know that you are merely following in your sister’s footsteps, ensuring that your future will be very much taken care off. Apart from that, there is no lie.’
But there was.
One touch, one look from Rico and she was a gibbering mess. With just one show of tenderness, one crook of his finger she had tumbled into bed with him. To deny that love was involved was the biggest lie of all…for Catherine, at least.
‘We both care for Lily,’ Rico continued, taking her distraction as a motion to continue, ‘so we decided to accelerate things—build on our attraction to provide Lily with a stable home. When they hear that you are prepared to give up work—’
‘No!’ Her response was immediate, a knee-jerk reaction, and the single word came out with more force than she’d intended. As his eyes narrowed Catherine took a deep breath, adjusting her tone, but though her voice was softer there was no mistaking her determination. ‘I’m not giving up work, Rico. Maybe I don’t make millions, like you do, but my job is equally important. I’m a teacher,’ she insisted to her unreceptive audience. ‘I can’t just walk out mid-term.’
‘So teachers don’t have children?’ Rico asked with annoying logic. ‘Are you telling me that teachers around the world plan their pregnancies to fit in with term time?’
‘Of course not,’ Catherine wailed in frustration. ‘You’re impossible, Rico,’ she shouted. ‘Impossible and—and…’
‘And what? Come on, Catherine, say what you have to.’
‘Contrary to what you choose to believe, Rico, I’m too much of a lady to say what I really think of you. But tell me this—why does it have to be the woman who gives up work? Why should it be the woman?’
‘Do you really expect me to play house husband!’ It was Rico laughing incredulously now. ‘You expect me to walk away from my job to change nappies and go to the park each day to feed the ducks? I am a Mancini,’ he said pompously, as if his surname alone closed the discussion. But Catherine refused to be silenced—refused to be intimidated by his arrogant name dropping, even if the name was Rico’s own.
‘And I’m a Masters.’ Her brown eyes flared and Rico’s mouth snapped closed. ‘And I’ve worked just as hard as you to get where I am. Maybe I don’t make millions, Rico, maybe it won’t appear on the news if I decide to walk away from my work. But I have twenty-eight students relying on me to give them an education and I happen to believe I’m making a difference. So don’t try to belittle me, Rico. Don’t assume I measure my self-worth by your cold standards.’
‘I apologise.’ For a nanosecond she thought she’d won, thought she had actually made a dent in that cold black heart, but as her eyes flashed to his Catherine knew her victory was short-lived. ‘Of course you will work. You will carry on living in your tiny cramped flat and go on living the life you so clearly relish.’ Sarcasm dripped off every word as he mercilessly continued. ‘But tell me, Catherine, how do you intend to pay for all this? Surely if you work Lily will need full-time care?’
‘There are day-care centres,’ Catherine retorted. ‘Crèches. Lots of women juggle babies with a career!’
‘Do you know the price of full-time childcare?’
‘Oh, and you do?’ Catherine snapped.
‘Yes.’ His smile was anything but friendly. ‘Contrary to what you undoubtedly believe, I pride myself in looking after my staff. Along with their other perks, I decided some years ago to subsidise my working mothers’ childcare. It made good business sense: not only do I retain good workers, I am repaid tenfold by their loyalty.’
Damn!
She’d walked into that one. But Catherine consoled herself—it wasn’t her fault. Never in a million years could she have seen it coming. Rico Mancini and the reputation that preceded him didn’t exactly conjure up the words ‘caring’ and ‘sensitive’. How the hell could she have known he was in the running for the Employer of the Year Award?
But Rico hadn’t quite finished twisting the knife.
‘Now, call me pedantic if you will, but occasionally I even manage to run an eye over the cheques I sign. So you see, Catherine, I am well aware of the cost of good childcare. So I’ll ask again—how do you intend to fund this latest acquisition? How are you going to make the jump from single professional woman to single professional working mother?’
‘I’ll find a way,’ Catherine insisted, her mind racing.
‘How?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her fingers raked through her hair as she stalled for time, frantically trying to come up with an answer. ‘I’ll manage—women do. Lily will have some…’ Her eyes widened in horror, the steel of the trap Rico had laid for her closing around like a vice.
‘Some what, Catherine?’
Colour was whooshing up her cheeks now. Like a trapped animal she darted her eyes around the room, desperate for escape, for some breathing space. The percolator was still dripping, but instead of images of second cups it reminded her of Chinese water torture—relentless questions that demanded answers, Rico twisting and turning the facts until his truth was fashioned.
‘Shall I finish that for you, Catherine? Lily will have some money. Is that what you were about to say?’ She didn’t respond. Not that Rico gave her much option. ‘There will be no childcare.’ Rico’s eyes were menacing now, his hands gripping her wrists as he spelt out the rules. ‘That baby has had enough of being palmed off, enough of strangers caring for her. If we do this then we do it right, Catherine. You will have a nanny, a housekeeper—all the staff you need. But Lily’s day-to-day care will be provided by you. You will not work.’
‘I’m not even discussing this.’ Shaking his hand off, she moved away, refusing to look at him as she worked the room, picking up her clothes, trying to locate her shoes, shaking her head in furious disbelief when Rico relentlessly continued.