‘Gaetano... I’m your lawyer as well as being your friend. My primary goal is to protect you. You married her without a prenup and because of that she could ask for the shirt off your back and get it in a British court,’ Dario warned him worriedly. ‘But as things stand,sheleftyou. You have lived apart for the requisite two years and a no-contest divorce is straightforward.’
Gaetano nodded in silence, struggling to get a grip on the emotions simmering up inside him, emotions he had successfully managed to suppress for most of his life. He was convinced that letting his emotions loose was what had plunged him into trouble in the first place. He hadn’t known who he was when he first met Lara and his amnesia had made the most of that new exhilarating freedom to do and say as he liked. Without the restraints imposed by his birth and conditioning and the depressingly constant presence of the paparazzi, Gaetano had become a much more innocent, vulnerable version of his true self and he had allowed his emotional intensity to control him.
He was appalled by that truth and determined never ever to make such a mistake again. Vittorio had fallen in love several times with the wrong women before he finally married Giulia, a woman whom he’d loved only as a friend. Gaetano had grown up watching his brother get his heart broken, witnessing for himself how many gold-diggers and social climbers were willing to lie and cheat their way into Vittorio’s life and pretend to be something they were not.
‘Yes, a divorce should be straightforward. Of course, that is assuming that there is no chance that Lara Drummond’s child could be yours?’ Dario prompted, that question startling Gaetano out of his reflections.
‘She has achild?’ Gaetano exclaimed, incredulous at that news, stalking over to the window with the file and turning his back on his friend to read it again.
Lara had had a little boy but, as his birth certificate had yet to be tracked down, the investigation team could only make a rough guess at his age.Eighteentotwenty-fourmonths? Gaetano counted dates inside his head, and he did it so painfully slowly that nobody would ever have guessed that he was gifted in the mathematical field.
‘Evidently your runaway wife has not been living the celibate life in the same way that you have been,’ his friend pronounced in a rueful undertone. ‘It may well transpire that she was pregnant when you first met her. But no matter, it is, hopefully, another reason why she may well be happy to regain her freedom. The only evidence of a male in her life, however, is her landlord, who appears to be a friend.’
His strong jawline clenched like a rock, Gaetano swung back to face the other man. ‘Afriend?’ he derided.
‘The agency cannot be more precise because the landlord is a soldier deployed abroad and nobody has actually seen her with him.’
‘But she’s living inhishouse.’
‘It was originally his parents’ home and his sister lives there with her as well,’ Dario slotted in wryly. ‘So, no proof of anything untoward that could be useful to us.’
‘You have my gratitude for keeping this businesslike,’ Gaetano breathed, running a restive set of long brown fingers through his cropped black hair while resisting the temptation to smash a frustrated fist into the wall.
‘You knew her for six weeks and you weren’t exactly in your right mind during that time. I assume we can now proceed as planned?’ Dario studied him expectantly.
Gaetano’s dark as midnight gaze narrowed. ‘No. I want to see her first...when I’minmy right mind. I want to know how I react to her now.’
‘For many reasons that would be unwise,’ his friend warned him, frowning. ‘The press could catch on. You did nothing wrong in marrying her, but I know you would prefer that connection to stay out of the public domain. You could also meet her again and—’
‘I’m not going to fall down the same rabbit hole a second time!’ Gaetano scoffed with a contemptuous curl of his expressive mouth. ‘I intend to see and speak to her without turning it into a confrontation. Have a little faith in me, Dario. I’m not a complete idiot. I know I need this divorce, but I also have to move past what happened with her and I don’t think I can comfortably do that without seeing her one last time.’
Unaware that the life she had carefully rebuilt after getting her heart smashed to smithereens was about to crash into a major obstacle, Lara stepped out of the shower with a smile and began to dry her hair. She loved Saturday mornings because Alice gave the children breakfast, and she got a lie-in before taking the kids to the park. Sundays it was Lara’s turn to rise early and look after their little monsters. She crammed her mass of strawberry-blonde hair into a clip at the base of her skull. It felt heavy and she frowned.
Maybe it was time to get her hair cut to a more manageable length. It was sentimental to think of her grandfather smoothing her braid and admiring how long her hair was getting. But it was downright suicidal to remember long brown fingers feathering through her hair on a pillow and telling her how silky and soft it was. A sharp little pain pierced her chest as self-loathing set up shop inside her again. Gaetano was impossible to forget. As far as experience went, she had gone from zero to sixty with Gaetano the instant she laid eyes on him. Messy black hair in need of a trim, strong jawline outlined in black stubble, eyes as dark as pitch, set deep below strong brows. So handsome he had made her pinch herself to check that she wasn’t dreaming.
But in reality, shehadbeen dreaming, Lara reminded herself doggedly, because only in a silly girlish dream would a guy like Gaetano have truly fallen in love with her. Little ordinary Lara, the world’s most natural wallflower, the sort of girl whom most people overlooked and forgot. She lacked the hooks that attracted male attention. She was no good at flirting and her curves were of the modest variety. There was nothing exciting about her, nothing that made her stand out from the crowd and yet, for the space of a magical six weeks, Gaetano had made her feel like the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world.
And when he had emerged all at once from his loss of memory? Lara shivered and crammed those recollections back into the mental locked box where she kept all such damaging, hurtful things. Dwelling on the bad stuff didn’t change anything or indeed ease the hurt of those experiences. And Gaetano had hurt her so badly that on one level she knew that she would never recover from their brief marriage. That was what happened when you thought you had found ‘perfect’ and then it all suddenly fell apart in your hands.
Gaetano had made her feel wanted and necessary to someone else for the first time in many years. He had valued her when others had not, he hadseenher while others ignored her, not least her adoptive mother. His apparent love for her had seduced her into capitulating fast to his attraction, plunging them both headfirst into a whirlwind marriage. It was little wonder that she had run off once he’d emerged from his amnesia and regretted their relationship. Nor could she have borne telling him about their son because if he didn’t want her or to be married, why would he want a child from his mistake?
Clad in worn jeans and a sloppy sweater to fend off the winter temperatures, Lara ate her toast standing while Alice’s five-year-old daughter, Iris, fought with Lara’s son, Freddy, over the bike. The bike belonged to Iris, but Freddy, who wasn’t dexterous enough as yet to ride it, loved to sit on it and ring the bell. He pinned big dark expectant eyes on his mother, a guilt trip in a single glance. Freddy was a total drama llama, given to fiery tantrums and sobbing meltdowns. His intensity fascinated Lara, who had a quiet, calm nature, but it also reminded her painfully of his volatile, passionate father. Iris took the bike and Freddy flung himself down and sobbed noisily.
‘If you want my advice,’ her friend and one-time stepsister, Alice, whispered at her elbow, ‘you won’t take the bike with them to the park today.’
‘He can’t ride it anyway. He has to learn.’ Lara knew that her son would only shout and scream louder if she tried to lift him off the floor. ‘It’s not fair to deprive Iris of her bike.’
‘He issostubborn,’ Alice remarked in wonderment as Freddy kicked his feet and screamed while Iris wheeled her bike out to the small hall before walking back to try and comfort Freddy. She was a kind little girl, well aware of the fact that Freddy was still a baby. Freddy, however, was a pretty tall and sturdy toddler in spite of the reality that he was still only sixteen months old. He looked much older than he was because of his sheer physical size.
‘He’s a handful and no mistake.’ Alice sighed, a tall, elegant brunette with blue eyes and long hair in a ponytail.
‘Auntie Lara...?’ Iris danced in the doorway, her energetic little body raring to go. ‘Can we go now?’
Freddy stood up, tears magically dried as his mother helped him into his coat and buckled him into the pushchair. When Iris ran off to the swings at the park, Lara unclipped her son and lifted him onto the baby slide. He threw up his arms with pleasure as he whizzed down the slide. He stumbled clumsily off at the bottom to run back to her. He couldn’t manage the steps on his own yet and it annoyed him when he saw other children climb alone, but then the other children were all older and steadier on their feet.
As Freddy ran over to watch Iris on the swing, Lara followed, thinking about the coffee she would treat herself to once the kids had had enough. Life was so busy that she truly valued her rare moments of relaxation. Alice worked from home as an accountant and the two women shared childcare, although Lara was very aware that at present Alice was doing more than her fair share because Freddy was not at school like Iris in the mornings when Lara slept, and he required more attention.
Lara was very fond of Alice and her brother, Jack. Although Lara’s mother had divorced the twins’ father after only eighteen months of marriage, Lara had stayed in touch with her step-siblings. She was still grateful that they hadn’t blamed her for her mother’s change of heart and their father’s misery. Of course, they were well aware now of how many different partners Eliza Drummond had loved and left, and of how Lara had been forced to take refuge with her grandparents when she was sixteen because she had begun to feel threatened by her mother’s boyfriend. To say the least, Lara had had a colourful upbringing, although her early years had started out quiet, secure and happy.