Then Fiona took matters into hand. “These things happen,” she said sympathetically, giving Sasha’s arm a pat.
Sasha cleared her throat. “Yes, they do.”
Then one of the men started talking about something else and the conversation started up again somewhat awkwardly, everyone no doubt wondering what was going on out there on the patio and none more than herself.
She held her head high and determined to keep on doing so, but inside she was feeling less than certain. Who was Brenda, and how much had she and Nick meant to each other?
It seemed forever before he returned. His jaw was clenched as he came up and slipped his arm around her waist again, pulling her close. “Right, I’m back where I belong now.”
She knew he meant to comfort her but their relationship was such that she didn’t know which way the wind would blow. All this could be for show.
She winced. What was the matter with her? It was all for show.
All at once Brenda appeared at the open doorway, tears streaming down her beautiful face as she gave a loud sob and ran through the room to the front door. Every pair of eyes watched her, then all those eyes seemed to turn and look at her and Nick.
Sasha wanted to sink through the floor.
“Let’s dance,” he rasped, taking her drink and handing it to Boyd. Then he led her toward an area set aside for dancing.
He pulled her into his arms. “Don’t ask.”
“Nick, I—”
“Later. Right now I want to dance with my wife.”
She kept quiet but as she looked into his angry blue eyes she had to wonder if there was a reason he had called her his wife.
Was it to remind her that he was married to her?
Or was it a reminder to himself?
Thankfully by the time they’d finished their dance, the commotion Brenda had caused had receded into the background. Everyone had gone back to enjoying themselves and she was touched that some of the ladies seemed to be going out of their way to be nice to her.
She just hoped it wasn’t from pity. She couldn’t bear that. Not when she’d seen so many others pity her mother over the years.
They stayed at the party for an hour after that, more out of pride than not, Sasha knew. Once in the car, she couldn’t hold back any longer. She had to know.
“Do you love her?”
Nick’s hand stilled on the ignition key. “Of course not.”
“She loves you.”
His mouth tightened as he lowered his hand. “She thinks she does. She’ll get over it.”
Just like she had got over him years ago?
Just like she would have to get over her love for him now?
“That’s so hard-hearted, Nick.”
“What do you want me to say, Sasha? I’m married now. I can’t help her.”
Pain wrapped around her heart. “Would you help her if you weren’t married?”
He shot her a hard glance. “No.”
Is that all he had to say?
“Look, she went overseas and married someone else, and now she’s walked out on that marriage after six months and is pretending she still wants me? No way.”
She swallowed hard. Couldn’t he see what was right in front of him?
“Maybe she really does love you.”
He made a harsh sound. “Sure. Brenda came back through that room knowing everyone would feel sorry for her. Don’t you think a truly brokenhearted person would leave by the back door and away from prying eyes? Does all that sound like love to you?”
Her heart began to fill with relief. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“I was the one who broke it off. Brenda was a fling, that’s all. I would never have married her.”
“Never?”
“Never.” He reached out and put his hand over hers. “I’m glad I’m married to you.”
She ignored the warmth of his skin against her own. “Why?”
He blinked. “Why?”
“That’s what I said.”
Withdrawal came over his face before he turned back to put the key in the ignition. “There’s a whole heap of reasons.”
Yes, and none of them were love.
He glanced back at her. “Sasha, don’t let her get to you. She’s someone from my past and I can’t change that. But don’t let her into our future, okay?”
He was right.
“Okay.”
He waited a moment more, his eyes reading hers as if to be convinced, then he started up the engine and headed for home.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to my parents’ place?”
Sasha placed her hairbrush down on the dresser and looked at Nick. “No, I’d only be in the way.”
The Valente men were getting together at Cesare’s apartment now that Alex was back from London. And Isabel was having Sunday brunch with a friend, so it was no use going with Nick just to sit and listen to the men talk business.
“You wouldn’t be in the way,” he said, a touch of gruffness to his voice.
Tenderness filled her but she tried not to show it. She’d accepted what he’d said about Brenda and it was forgotten. Now she just wanted to get on with her life.
With Nick.
“No, I’ve got lots of things to do here.”
He went to kiss her then stopped to hover just above her lips. “So you’re okay about Brenda?”
“Yes, I am.”
And she was.
He kissed her then, a long lingering kiss that was meant to reassure her.
And it did.
Until she answered the phone an hour later and a woman asked to speak to Nick.
“He’s not here at the moment,” Sasha said, her fingers tensing around the handset. “Do you want to leave a message?”
“Tell him it’s Brenda.” The woman’s pause was definitely for effect. “I’m returning his call.”
Sasha held on to her composure. “His call?”
“Nick called me a little while ago and said to call him back. I thought it was from this number. This is his parents’ old number, right?”
Her words implied that she knew his parents’ number very well.
Sasha drew herself up straighter. “Yes, this was Cesare and Isabel’s house. It’s mine and Nick’s now. I’ll pass on the message that you called.”
Her hands were shaking as she hung up the phone and for a moment she felt a silly sense of triumph. Then it hit her.
Nick had called Brenda.
To meet with her?
Or to tell her to leave him alone?
All at once Sasha’s doubts rose again like weeds in a garden. She tried to mentally cut them off at the roots but they went too deep.
Was Nick lying?
She’d believed him about not being in love with Brenda, but was she being a fool to be so accepting? Had she wanted to believe him because of her love for him? Had it blinded her to his faults? Made her weak to his lies?
No, she didn’t want to believe any of that, but the scenario was all too familiar. Memories of her parents’ marriage were always at the back of her mind, her father always so glib at assuring her mother he was working when he was out with his latest girlfriend. Her mother always accepting his assurances. Sasha was certain her mother hadn’t always believed him, but she’d forgiven him anyway.
Was this the same situation between her and Nick?
Was she like her mother?
And was Nick more like her father than she wanted to admit?
All at once she had the urge to go see her parents. Perhaps by merely being around them she’d find she was just being silly.
An hour later her mother’s eyes lit up with surprise when she opened the door. “Darling, what are you doing here?” she said, giving her daughter a kiss. “And where’s Nick?”
“He had to go see Cesare about work,” Sasha said, stepping inside.
“Men! Your father’s not here either. He went into the office to fix something or other. On a Sunday, too!”
Sasha turned to hide her face so that her mother couldn’t read the suspicion in her eyes. Was that just an excuse? Was her father out with his latest mistress?
“Anyway,” Sally said. “It’s just us girls today. We can catch up over coffee.”
“That would be nice, Mum,” Sasha said, regretting having come now. Instead of doubting her suspicions about Nick, this visit was only reinforcing that she could never be like her mother and so accepting of her husband’s lies.
And if she couldn’t trust Nick, then how could she stay married to him?
They chatted over coffee on the patio until Sasha’s cell phone rang. It was one of the contractors handling the renovations. “Let me just get a pen and paper,” she said, looking around for her handbag, remembering she’d left it on the kitchen table.
Sally waved her toward the study.
Sasha nodded and entered by the French doors, hurrying over to her father’s desk. By the time she ended the call, she had the feeling this particular contractor was going to be more trouble than he was worth.
She sighed as she turned to leave and knocked into the bookcase, causing a large vase to fall on the carpet and break.
“Oh no,” she muttered, crouching down to pick up the pieces. She hoped it wasn’t irreplaceable.
Suddenly she realized there was some rolled up paper in the vase that had now spilled out. She picked it up. Her father wouldn’t be pleased to have his things all over the place, though why he would tuck them in a vase like this—
A shiver of apprehension slid down her spine as the paper unraveled and the name “Valente” caught her eye. She didn’t mean to pry but the words “correct figures” had been written in pencil at the top of the paper.