The Italian Boss's Secret Child(4)

It was happiness that had been tragically short-lived. The very next  day, on their way to show off the new arrival to his grandmother, all  three lives had been wiped out, victims of foul weather conditions and a  horrendous light plane crash.

Philly drew in a breath and turned to her mother, still transfixed by  the photo and clearly thinking, remembering, as two tears slid a crooked  path down her hollow cheeks. Then her mother sniffed, still looking at  the photo.

'I'd just love to see you settled, dear, bef … ' Her words trailed off  mid-sentence but she didn't have to finish them. Philly knew what she'd  been going to say-the unspoken words hung fat and heavy in the air,  weighed down with the inevitability of what was to come.

Before I die.

Something squeezed tight in her chest.

Less than twelve months to live. Her mother deserved some happiness,  something to look forward to. Something that promised a future that  would take her mind and thoughts beyond the doctors' sad prognosis.  Something to help her-not forget, she could never forget-but maybe just  ease the pain she was feeling at the premature deaths of a young family  who'd had everything to live for.                       
       
           



       

Instead she was giving herself up to the disease, accepting her fate  almost as if she was looking forward to being reunited with her late  husband and especially Monty, his beautiful wife and the grandchild she  knew by this one lone photograph.

The doctors had been sympathetic when the drugs just didn't seem to work  any more in arresting the disease. 'She has to want to live,' they'd  said. 'People often need something to live for, a reason to survive.'

Philly had failed her. She'd promised to give her mother a grandchild  but now, with a failed relationship, an aborted marriage behind her and  not even eligible for IVF, she'd run out of options. Sure, there was a  chance she might find a boyfriend in that time, but there was no way she  was likely to settle down and form a family within the next twelve  months-no way she was going to be able to brighten her mother's last few  months with the promise of a child.

But then, what real chance did she have of even finding a boyfriend?  Every time she'd thought about men or dating lately only one man had  sprung to mind. Every guy she met paled in comparison. He was better  looking, better built, more intelligent and had a charisma that reeled  her in.

She shook her head. Work must really be getting to her if Damien DeLuca  kept crowding her thoughts. Sure, he had great genes but if she kept  comparing every guy she met with him she was never going to find anyone  who made the grade. And she couldn't even say that she liked him-he was  far too arrogant and autocratic-though he sure had plenty going for him  besides.

What would he be dressed as tonight? Probably a pirate with his looks. A  buccaneer, swashbuckling and dangerous, in a soft shirt, ruffled at the  sleeves and open over his chest, the stark white a contrast against his  dark hair and tanned olive skin, and tucked into tight black breeches …

Her mother tugged a tissue from the box on her bedside table, pulling  Philly out of her thoughts with a jolt. Her nervousness at attending  this costume ball must be getting to her. Now she was imagining all  sorts of strange things.

'Oh dear, I am getting maudlin,' her mother said, blotting away her  tears and then blowing her nose. 'Don't listen to me. I'm just tired.'

'You get some sleep then,' Philly said, squeezing the older woman's hand  gently and kissing her softly on the cheek before she picked up the  empty cup.

'I won't be late.'





She shouldn't have come.

From behind her sequinned mask she took one look inside the door, saw  the myriad of characters in the lavishly decorated auditorium, the  mirror balls spinning crazy colours against the bizarre outfits of the  crowd dancing to the loud music, and knew she should have stayed at  home.

What was she doing here anyway?

Standing in the lobby, tossing up whether or not to enter the party, she  didn't know. Yes, it had been nice to dress up, to put on something  pretty rather than shrug into her sensible work wardrobe for a  change-Lord knows it had been long enough since she'd taken so much care  with her appearance. But what did she hope to achieve by it?

Who did she think she was trying to impress-Damien? Fat chance. In terms  of being a woman, he didn't know she was alive and he probably didn't  even care. The way he'd tried to make her feel so inconsequential when  she'd given that presentation … It was pure fantasy to think that she  might make an impression on him tonight.

As if he cared.

She wouldn't go in. There was no point at all. Even if she didn't  harbour a tiny desire to turn the tables on the one guy who'd made her  feel as insignificant as a gnat, she was just no good at this sort of  thing. No good at mixing with near strangers. Sure, she'd met plenty of  pleasant people in the few short months she'd been at Delucatek, but no  one she knew well enough yet to term a friend. Though admittedly that  was nobody's fault but her own. She'd been the one to turn down the  Friday after work drinks invitations, always too anxious to go home and  see to her mother.

And, of course, after Bryce and the fiasco of their wedding, trusting  people enough to get close to them hadn't been high on her list of  priorities. Just because he'd made the right decision in calling off the  wedding didn't mean she'd forgotten the pain of cancelling the church  and reception and explaining to the invited guests that the wedding was  now off.

The external doors behind her swung open as a new party of guests  arrived and the summer night air rushed inside, clashing with the air  conditioning in a gust that swirled across her bare shoulders and under  her slim-fitting gown. She hugged her arms to her, fighting the  unfamiliar sensations as she sidled as inconspicuously as possible out  of their path, using a potted palm as a screen.                       
       
           



       

She must be crazy!

As soon as this group extinguished their cigarettes and entered the party the coast would be clear and she'd make her escape.

'Hello? Who have we here? Don't tell me-Cleopatra. Am I right?'

She looked up at the gruff voice, startled to see a large nun, complete  with moustache and cigar, bearing down on her, the eyes of the rest of  his group all turned in her direction. The most disturbing thing was  that the nun sounded exactly like Sam Morgan.

'Don't you look something! Aren't you Sylvia from Accounts?' He took  hold of her hand in his own meaty paw and pulled her out from behind the  pot plant where she'd sought refuge.

She looked at them all, speechless. A fluffy grey koala, Tin Man and Humpty Dumpty all stared back.

'Sylvia?' the nun prompted. 'Is that you under that sexy get-up?'

She shook her head, unwilling to give away her identity. If she was  going to go home, the last thing she wanted was for Sam to question her  on Monday as to her sudden disappearance. She'd rather people thought  she'd never bothered to attend. 'Um. Marie,' she murmured, trying to add  a different note to her voice. 'From-the Sydney office.'

'Welcome, Marie!' said the nun. 'No wonder you're shy. Why don't you  come in with us? We'll take good care of you. Won't we, Tin Man?'

Tin Man rattled as he tried to nod enthusiastically, earning himself a quick dig in the ribs from the koala.

Before she could protest and extricate her hand from Sam's, Humpty  grabbed her other one and together they steered her towards the doors.  'Don't worry about Tin Man and Koala,' Humpty said conspiratorially.  'Newlyweds. And I know we're not supposed to take off our masks till  midnight, but I'm Julia. If you get lost or need any help, look for  Sister Sam-' she nodded her big egg head in the direction of the nun  '-or me. Now, let's join the party, shall we?'

Before Philly could protest, she'd been swept into the throng inside the  large room and her plan altered. She'd slip away in a few minutes,  while everyone was otherwise occupied. They'd assume she'd just met up  with some other people in this crowd and wouldn't give it a second  thought.

Someone put a glass in her hand. Tin Man took Koala off to dance to make  up for his gaffe and Humpty and Sister Sam found a group of colleagues  and were busy comparing outfits and guessing identities.

Philly stood on the fringe of the group, planning her escape. Just her  luck to run into Sam! At least he hadn't recognised her. Father Time  stood, scythe in hand, just across from her, a large fob watch  conveniently around his neck. Already after nine.

She'd give it just a few minutes and then she'd steal away and go home.





She was a goddess!

He was wending his way through the crowded room, enjoying the anonymity  lent by his disguise, dropping in to catch snatches of conversation with  this group and that, when he saw her. Even in this sea of costumes and  colour she stood out like a beacon. How could she not, looking like an  Egyptian queen?