‘I...I don’t understand.’ Looking into Sergio’s dark eyes, Kristen had the strange feeling that she was hovering on the edge of a precipice and for some reason her heart was thumping.
‘My mother used to beat me when I was a child.’
The words circled around Kristen but she could not grasp them or make sense of them. Sergio seemed to realise that she was too shocked to respond and continued in a flat voice, ‘The bruises on Nico’s legs reminded me of the marks my mother used to leave when she caned me. When I was just a few years older than Nico I used to hope that my father would come and take me home to Sicily. I was desperate for his protection...but he never came.’ His throat worked as he fought to retain his iron self-control.
‘I guess I went a little mad. I had just discovered my son, and the possibility that he might be physically and emotionally at risk brought back memories of my childhood that, unfortunately, I can never forget. I wasn’t thinking straight,’ he admitted. ‘I have spent my life wondering if my father did not love me and that was why he failed to protect me. I was determined to protect Nico so that he would never have reason to doubt my love for him.’
It was strange to hear Sergio talk of love. Kristen had often wondered why he apparently lacked the normal range of emotions that most people had, and she had longed to break through his air of detachment and discover if he really was the empty shell he gave the impression of being. Now she knew. And the truth was utterly heartbreaking. The lines of strain on his face revealed a man who was struggling to control his emotions—and who could blame him? she thought sadly.
‘Why did your mother...?’ She could not go on, feeling physically sick as she imagined Sergio as a young boy, being beaten by the person who should have cared for him the most. It made her want to run to Nico’s bedroom and hug him tight. She would give her life to protect her little boy and she was able to sympathise with how Sergio must have felt when he had seen bruises on Nico’s legs. It was understandable that after his experiences as a child he had wanted to protect his son, but it still hurt that he had believed Nico had needed protection from her.
‘I don’t know why she did it,’ Sergio said heavily. ‘I think she was frustrated by her lack of success as an actress, and she had an issue with alcohol. She could be very loving, but I always felt I was walking on a knife-edge and the slightest thing could send her into a violent rage. She told me once that her father used to beat her and her mother after he had been drinking. While she was married to my father she seemed to be a caring mother to me and my brother. But when she took me to America she started to drink heavily. I used to think she beat me because she hated me. She seemed to enjoy making me cry, and so I learned to keep my emotions bottled up. It became a matter of pride not to show my feelings...and as I grew older the habit of hiding what I felt became second nature.’
Kristen felt a lump in her throat. It was no wonder that, after years of suffering physical abuse, Sergio had erected defences as a means of self-protection from being hurt emotionally.
‘Why didn’t your father help you? Surely, if you had told him what was happening, he would have tried to get you back?’
‘I had no contact with him from the age of five. My mother told me that it was my father’s choice. Years later, when I returned to Sicily, Tito insisted that he had tried to keep in touch and my mother had prevented him.’ Sergio’s jaw clenched. ‘Frankly, I suspect that he didn’t try very hard.’
‘So why did your mother allow you to go back to your father when you were a teenager?’
He hesitated, and Kristen sensed that he was struggling to talk about his past. ‘I beat up her boyfriend.’ Sergio grimaced when he heard Kristen gasp. ‘The guy hit me, and I snapped and hit him back, breaking his nose in the process. For a few seconds I was overcome by sheer rage and I wanted to kill the guy...’ he swallowed convulsively ‘...and my mother too. But afterwards I was ashamed that I had allowed my emotions to get the better of me. I must have scared my mother because she decided she couldn’t cope with my anger issues and sent me back to Sicily. But it was too late to build a relationship with Tito, and even with my twin brother. We had been apart for ten years, and I was jealous of Salvatore’s closeness to our father. In my mind, Salvatore was the favoured son. I felt I had to prove myself to Tito, especially in business, and show him that I deserved to be his successor just as much as my brother.’