The Italian's Christmas Child(24)

As Vito strode out Holly held her breath, feeling a little like someone trying to fight off a panic attack. He had voiced truths she didn’t really want to face. This was his world and, in marrying him, she had become part of that world. He saw no reason why his life shouldn’t continue the way it always had and he was making no allowances for Holly’s insecurities. No, it was her job to swallow her ire with Apollo and be nice. Well, that certainly put her in her place, didn’t it? Vito’s long-standing friendship with the Greek billionaire meant more to him than his wife’s loss of face at her own wedding. Just as work still meant more to him than settling into marriage and fatherhood. Vito, she recognised painfully, was highly resistant to change of any kind...





CHAPTER NINE

AFTER LUNCH THE same day, Holly lifted Angelo out of the high chair in the dining room and walked outside to settle the baby on a rug already spread across the grass. Her son beamed as she arranged several toys within his reach, enjoying the change of scene.

‘Tea,’ Silvestro pronounced with decision, having followed her, and he sped off again. Holly made no comment, having already learned that Silvestro liked to foresee needs and fulfil them before anyone could make a request and, truthfully, she did fancy a cup of tea.

She cuddled Angelo and studied the bird’s-eye view of the gardens spread out below in an embroidered carpet of multi-hued greens with occasional splashes of colourful spring flowers. Daily life at the Castello Zaffari promised to be pretty much idyllic, she reflected ruefully, feeling ashamed of her negative thoughts earlier in the day when Vito had left her to go to work.

Here she was on a permanent holiday in a virtual palace where she ate fabulous food and was waited on hand and foot. She had beautiful clothes, an incredibly handsome, sexy husband and a very cute baby. What was she complaining about? For the first time ever since Angelo’s birth she also had free time to spend with her son. As for the dinner outing? That was a minor hiccup and, having examined her new wardrobe, she had decided to follow the ‘little black dress rule’ rather than risk being over-or underdressed for the occasion.

A woman in a sunhat with a basket over her arm walked up a gravelled path towards her. Holly tensed, recognising her mother-in-law, Concetta Zaffari.

‘Are you on your own?’ the small brunette asked. ‘I thought I had seen Vito’s car drive past earlier but I assumed I was mistaken.’

‘No, you weren’t mistaken. He’s at the bank,’ Holly confirmed, as the older woman settled down beside her to make immediate overtures to Angelo.

‘Today? My son went into work today?’ his mother exclaimed in dismay.

Holly gave a rueful nod.

‘He should be here with you,’ Concetta told her, surprising her.

The rattle of china and the sound of footsteps approaching prompted Holly to scramble upright again. She handed Angelo to Concetta, who was extending her arms hopefully and chattering in Italian baby talk. The two women sat down by the wrought iron table in the shade while Silvestro poured the tea. He had magically contrived to anticipate the arrival of Vito’s mother because he had brought an extra cup and a plate of tiny English biscuits.

‘A honeymoon isn’t negotiable. It should be a given,’ Concetta pronounced without hesitation.

‘If Vito wants to work, well, then he wants to work,’ Holly parried, tactfully non-committal.

‘You and this darling little boy are Vito’s family and you must ensure that my son puts you first,’ Vito’s mother countered. ‘That is very important.’

Holly breathed in deep. ‘Vito loves to work. I don’t feel I have the right to ask him to change something so basic about himself.’

‘Priorities have to change once you’re married and a parent. As for having the right...’ The older woman sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘I will be open with you. I saw your distress after Apollo made that unsuitable speech at the wedding yesterday.’

Holly winced. ‘I was more embarrassed than distressed...I think.’

‘But why should you be embarrassed by this gorgeous little boy?’ Concetta demanded. ‘Let me tell you something... When I married Vito’s father, Ciccio, thirty-odd years ago, I was already pregnant...’

Holly’s blue eyes widened in surprise at that frank admission.

Concetta compressed her lips. ‘My father would never have allowed me to marry a man like Ciccio in any other circumstances. He knew that Ciccio was a fortune hunter but I was too naive to see the obvious. I was eighteen and in love for the first time. Ciccio was in his thirties.’

‘That’s a big age gap,’ Holly remarked carefully.

‘I was an heiress. Ciccio targeted me like a duck on a shooting range,’ the brunette declared with a wry twist of her lips, ‘and I paid a steep price for being young and silly. He was unfaithful from the outset but I closed my eyes to it because while my father was alive divorce seemed out of the question. Only when Ciccio dragged our son’s reputation down into the dirt with his own did I finally see the light.’

‘The scandal in the newspapers?’ Holly slotted in with a frown, fascinated by the elegant brunette’s candour.

‘I could not forgive Ciccio for saving himself at Vito’s expense.’

‘Vito wanted to protect you.’

‘That hurt,’ Concetta confided tautly. ‘It hurt me even more to see Vito falsely accused and slandered but it also let me see that he was an adult able to handle the breakdown of his parents’ marriage. Now I’m making my middle-aged fresh start.’

‘It’s never too late,’ Holly said warmly, noticing how Angelo’s sparkling dark eyes matched his father’s and his grandmother’s.

Concetta confided that she regularly took the flowers from the garden at the castello as arranging them was her hobby. Holly admitted that she had never arranged a flower in her life and urged the older woman to keep on helping herself. Vito’s mother promised to continue doing the flowers for the house and the two women parted on comfortable, friendly terms.

Holly spent what remained of the day doing her hair and her nails and refusing to think about the evening ahead. Thinking about it wasn’t going to change anything. Apollo was Vito’s friend and he thought highly of him, she reminded herself. Unfortunately it didn’t ease the sting of the reality that her husband seemed to rate Apollo more highly than he rated his wife.

Vito collected her in a limo. He wore a sleek dinner jacket. ‘I used my apartment to change,’ he admitted, smiling as she climbed into the car. ‘You look very elegant.’

But as soon as Holly arrived at the restaurant and saw the other two women she realised she had got it wrong in the frock department because she had played it too safe. Apollo’s girlfriend, Jenna, wore a taupe silk dress that plunged at both back and front and was slit to the thigh, while Jeremy’s wife, Celia, wore a short fitted scarlet dress that showed off her very shapely legs. Holly immediately felt frumpy and dumpy in her unexciting outfit, wishing that at the very least she had chosen to wear something that displayed a bit of cleavage.

While the men talked, Celia shot inquiries at Holly and it was no surprise to discover that the highly educated and inquisitive redhead was a criminal lawyer. Having her background and educational deficiencies winkled out and exposed made Holly feel very uncomfortable but her attempts to block Celia’s questions were unsuccessful and she was forced to half turn away and chat to Jenna to escape the interrogation. Jenna, however, talked only about spa days and exclusive resorts.

‘You’ve never been on a ski slope?’ she remarked in loud disbelief.

‘I’ll teach Holly to ski,’ Vito sliced in, smooth as glass.

Holly paled because the idea of racing down a snowy hill at breakneck speed made her feel more scared than exhilarated. As the entire conversation round the table turned to ski resorts and talk of everyone’s ‘best ever runs’, she was excluded by her unfamiliarity with the sport. Jenna’s chatter about hot yoga classes and meditation were matched by Celia’s talk about the benefits of an organic, natural diet, ensuring that Holly felt more and more out of her depth. She was also bored stiff.

‘How do you feel about yachting?’ Apollo asked smoothly across the table, his green eyes hard and mocking. ‘Do you get seasick?’

‘I’ve never been on a yacht, so I wouldn’t know. I’m fine on a fishing boat or a ferry, though,’ she added with sudden amusement at the amount of sheer privilege inherent in such a conversational topic.

‘Who took you fishing?’ Vito asked her abruptly.

‘Someone way before your time,’ Holly murmured, unwilling to admit in such exclusive company that it had been a rowing-boat experience with a teenaged boyfriend.

‘Way to go, Holly! Keep him wondering.’ Celia laughed appreciatively.

Her mobile phone vibrated in her bag and she pulled it out. ‘Excuse me. I have to take this,’ she said apologetically, and rose from the table to walk out to the foyer.

It was Lorenza phoning to tell her that Angelo had finally settled after a restless evening. Aware that her son was teething, Holly had asked the nanny to keep her posted. On the way back to the table she called into the cloakroom. She was in a cubicle when she heard Jenna and Celia come in.