The Italian's Christmas Child(19)

Vito gripped her hand so hard it almost hurt and hissed in her ear, ‘I did not know he was planning to tell our story!’

Holly said nothing. She wasn’t capable of saying anything, meeting Pixie’s compassionate gaze across the circular table, recognising Concetta Zaffari’s compassion on her behalf in her gentle appraisal. She could feel her face getting hotter and hotter and pictured herself resembling a giant blushing tomato and it was a mercy when Apollo had concluded his maliciously polite speech, which had left her pierced by a dozen poisonous darts of condemnation. He had outed her as a slut at the very least and a gold-digger at worst because he had made it sound the most impossible coincidence that her car had gone off the road at that convenient point. But worst of all, he had not uttered a single lie.

‘What a bastard!’ Pixie said roundly when she had contrived to follow Holly into the palatial cloakroom. ‘Vito’s furious! He asked me to come and see that you were all right.’

‘I shouldn’t be ashamed of being a waitress or a woman who fell pregnant after a one-night stand,’ Holly muttered apologetically. ‘But somehow sitting there in front of all those richly dressed, bejewelled people I felt like rubbish.’

Sylvia joined them at that point and put her arms around Holly. ‘That young man’s a rather nasty piece of work,’ she opined ruefully. ‘That was a very inappropriate speech, in the circumstances. Holly...sticks and stones may break your bones but words can never hurt you.’

‘Not true.’ Holly sighed, breathing in deep. ‘But don’t worry about me. I can handle it—’

‘But you shouldn’t have to on your wedding day, as I told your bridegroom,’ Pixie framed angrily.

‘No, no, let it go,’ Holly urged ruefully. ‘I’ve got over it already. I was being oversensitive.’

Her foster mother departed and Pixie said several rather unrepeatable things about Apollo Metraxis before the two women began to make their way back to the function room. And then suddenly Pixie stopped her wheelchair and shot out a hand to yank at Holly’s wrist to urge her into the alcove in the corridor. She held a finger to her lips in the universal silencing motion and Holly frowned, wondering what on earth her friend was playing at.

And then she heard it, Apollo’s unforgettable posh British accent honed by years of public schooling. ‘No, as you know, he wouldn’t listen to me. No DNA test, no pre-nup...get this? He trusts her. No, he’s not an idiot. It’s my bet he’s playing a deeper game with this sham marriage. Maybe planning to go for full custody of his son once he has them in Italy. Vito’s no fool. He simply plays his cards close to his chest.’

Holly turned deathly pale because there was not the smallest doubt that Apollo was talking about her and Angelo and Vito. For a split second she honestly wished she hadn’t eavesdropped and she could see by her friend’s expression that Pixie was now regretting the impulse as well because of what they had overheard. But without a word she planted firm hands on the handles of the wheelchair and moved her friend out of the alcove and back towards the function room.

But Holly was shattered inside and her expressive face was wooden and, after one glance at her, Vito whirled her onto the dance floor and closed his arms round her. Rage with Apollo was still simmering inside Vito like a cauldron. Well aware of his friend’s attitude towards his marriage, Vito blamed himself for still including him in the event. He had naively assumed that, after meeting Holly, Apollo would realise how outrageous his cynical outlook was when it came to her. But his misplaced trust in the Greek billionaire had resulted in his bride’s hurt on what he very well knew she believed should be a happy day. Even worse, he was still recovering from the unprecedented surge of raw protective reaction he had experienced during that speech. Any individual who wounded Holly should be his enemy, certainly not a trusted confidant of many years’ standing.

‘I’m sorry, really sorry about Apollo’s speech,’ he told her in a driven undertone. ‘If I’d had the slightest idea what he was planning to say—’

‘You should’ve kept your mouth shut about how we met,’ Holly told him in an unforgiving tone. ‘If you hadn’t opened your big mouth, he wouldn’t have known—’

‘Holly... I didn’t know that we were going to end up together—’

‘No, that came right out of left field with Angelo, didn’t it?’ Holly agreed in a saccharine-sweet tone he had never heard from her before. ‘Just boy talk, was it? The brunette slapper I pulled at Christmas?’

Dark colour rimming his high cheekbones, Vito gazed down at her with dark eyes blazing like golden flames. ‘Are you seriously saying that you didn’t tell Pixie about us?’

Hoist by her own petard, Holly reddened and compressed her lips.

‘Thought so,’ Vito said with satisfaction and she wanted to slap him very hard indeed. ‘We both spoke out of turn but you have the kinder and wiser friend.’

‘Yes,’ Holly conceded gruffly, tears suddenly shining in her eyes.

‘I have spoken to Apollo. If it’s any consolation I wanted to punch him for the first time in our long friendship. He’s a hothead with a very low opinion of marriage in general. His father married six times,’ Vito explained ruefully. ‘I know that doesn’t take away the sting but, speaking for myself, I don’t care how many people know how I met my very lovely, very sexy wife and acquired an even cuter baby. You’re a Zaffari now. A Zaffari always holds his or her head high.’

‘Is that so?’ Holly’s heavy heart was steadily lightening because it meant a lot that he was perceptive enough to understand how she felt and that he had made his friend aware that he was angry about that speech.

‘Yes, gioia mia. We Zaffaris take ourselves very seriously and if one is lucky enough to find a waitress like you in the snow he’s grateful for it, not suspicious. Apollo and I have a friendship based very much on the fact that we are opposites in character. He distrusts every woman he meets. He’s always looking for a hidden agenda. It must be exhausting,’ he said wryly.

Holly rested her brow against his shoulder as they slow-danced and she let the mortification and the anger seep slowly out of her again. It was being with Vito that was important, being with Vito and Angelo and becoming a family that really mattered. And in her heart of hearts she could not credit that Vito was planning a sham marriage purely to try and deprive her of their son. That accusation was hopefully the suggestion of a troubled, misogynistic mind, she reasoned hopefully.

* * *

‘This is your jet...like really? Your own jet?’ Holly carolled incredulously a few hours later when she scanned the ultra-opulent leather interior of the private jet.

‘I travel a great deal. It’s convenient,’ Vito parried, amused by her wide, shaken eyes.

‘As long as sleeping with the cabin crew isn’t included,’ Holly whispered, her attention resting on the more than usually attractive team overseeing the boarding of Lorenza and Angelo and all the baby equipment that accompanied her son. In consternation Holly realised that she had accidentally spoken that thought out loud.

Predominantly, Vito was shocked by the concept of having sex with anyone who worked for him and then he looked at his bride’s burning face and he started to laugh with rare enjoyment. ‘No, that sort of entertainment is probably more Apollo than me. Although I did take advantage of you.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ she told him before she hurried forward to grasp her son, having missed him during her enforced break from him throughout the day.

‘Older, wiser, plied an innocent with wine...’ Vito traded, condemning himself for his crime for her ears alone. ‘But if I had the chance to go back I would still do it again.’

Encountering a lingering sidewise glance from black-fringed dark golden eyes, Holly felt heat lick through her pelvis as she took a seat and cuddled Angelo. For possibly the first time since she had conceived she looked back at that night in the cottage without guilt and regret. No, on that score Vito had hit a bullseye. Given the chance, in spite of the moments of heartache and stress along the way, she would also still have done the same thing again.

And if Vito could be that honest, why shouldn’t she match him? Tell him about the phone call she had overheard Apollo making? She would pick her moment, she decided ruefully, and she would ask if he had ever thought of their marriage as a sham and if she had anything to worry about.

Angelo was asleep by the time they landed in Italy. Holly had freshened up, noting with disappointment that her outfit hadn’t travelled very well. The fashion stylist had tried to persuade her to buy a whole host of clothes but with Vito already paying for the wedding and her gown she hadn’t felt right about allowing him to pay for anything else before they were married. She had teamed an elegant navy-and-white skirt with a matching top but her get-up had creased horribly and looked as though she had worn it for a week rather than only a few hours. Straightening it as best she could, she wondered if Vito would even notice.

Holly was enchanted by the wonderful scenery that enfolded as the four-wheel drive moved deeper into the countryside. Charming low hills rolled across a landscape peacefully dotted with cypresses, serrated lines of fresh green vines and silvery olive groves. Medieval villages slumbered on hilltops while ancient bell towers soared into the cloudless blue sky. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of beautiful, weathered old farmhouses nestling among the greenery and the wild flowers and she wondered if Vito’s home resembled them.