This wasn’t about the stockings.
The same way as her frequent trips to Syracuse had nothing at all to do with business.
Since they had opened up their charitable project, the Valente Foundation, she had been required to attend a handful of fundraisers and benefits. Her presence wasn’t necessarily required in any of the institutions they supported on a day-to-day basis, and yet she had found herself taking on the role of patroness at the Syracuse orphanage with the aim of being a silent figure.
The first couple of trips had been to check on the progress of some renovations, and then she had arranged for a new playground to be built. That playground had been finished in the summer, and yet she still found reason to visit as often as she could manage. With Leo away she had found herself making the hour-long trip up to three times a week. Even the ever-smiling house matron had begun to look confused at her continued presence.
There were stockings up on the fireplace at the orphanage too. Seventeen of them, side by side, hanging on a string in the common room. Now that Leo was home she supposed she would find no reason to go to Syracuse again. He would ask questions about why she visited only one orphanage—why not all the others? Why not the hospitals? He would know, just as she knew, that her actions weren’t about being charitable at all.
The press had been merciless in the beginning: everyone had wanted to see Leo Valente transformed from playboy to father. Dara had never made a secret of her inability to bear children, so it had been no surprise that the press had caught wind of it soon after their wedding. The rumour mill had gone into overdrive. Would they adopt? Would they use a surrogate? They’d been a hot topic for quite some time.
They had decided that their business was their own, and that their choice to remain childless was both private and definite.
Hot tears threatened to fall from her eyes now, as emotion built in her throat. It just didn’t make sense. She had made it clear from the start—before they married—that children were not in her future. She’d made her peace with that on a hospital bed, upon being informed that her condition was incurable. She hadn’t been foolish enough to hold out any hope of some day carrying a child of her own. It was better to be realistic. She had never had strong maternal tendencies anyway. For goodness’ sake, she was a workaholic and a complete neat freak—both qualities didn’t exactly mix well with motherhood.
She knew all this and yet she had been selfish enough to go back to the orphanage after that first time. Selfish and inconsiderate.
She had been plagued by a sense of restlessness these past few months. Married life was wonderful, and her success in her career was at an all-time high. And yet it seemed as if the only time she felt whole these days was when she was there.
The children were wonderfully well behaved, thanks to the efforts of the brilliant schoolteachers led by Matron Anna. Each visit brought with it new adventures filled with laughter. Life was less serious, less stressful.
A vision of small brown eyes and a playful grin filled her mind. A small hand holding on to hers so tightly. She couldn’t keep lying to herself. There was only one reason why she kept going back there, and that reason had a mischievous smile and liked to curl up on her lap to read.
She heard the sounds of Leo waking up behind her and tried to wipe away the tears from her cheeks without him noticing. Tried and failed.
‘Dara?’ He was up in an instant, sleep clouding his eyes. ‘Has something happened?’
‘I’m fine—let’s just go up to bed.’ She shook off his embrace, pulling a blanket from the sofa to drape around her shoulders.
‘You’ve been crying.’
‘I’m fine...honestly.’ She tried to avoid his penetrating gaze, turning to poke at the dwindling embers in the grate.
‘You’ve been acting strangely since we got here. I thought you loved this place—I thought being here on a more permanent basis would make you happy.’
‘It does. I’m looking forward to us spending Christmas here together.’
‘Dara, I don’t know what is going on with you. You’ve been avoiding some of my phone calls while I was away. Even when I specifically called when I knew you’d be finished with work. And today my driver mentioned that you’ve been disappearing by yourself for hours at a time. With no reasonable explanation—’
‘You had your driver keeping tabs on me?’ Dara was incredulous.
‘I wasn’t going to pay it any attention, because I trust you. But dammit, Dara, you’re hiding something from me and I want to know what it is. Now.’