was impossible and wrong, but wanting it just the same.
He shrugged elegantly, his hands palm up in an eloquent gesture. ‘You have my gratitude, whether you want it or not.’
She realised how much he used his hands, how they graphically emphasised his anger, determination and love.
When he’d spoken of Lio, his movements had been gentle and caressing. When he’d soothed her just now, they’d moved sympathetically and with infinite tenderness…
A flurry of heat moved lazily through her body. She was stunned to recognise it as sexual desire. Verity bit her lip, aware she was in danger of becoming dazzled by the handsome, charismatic Vittore. He’d twist her around his little finger if she wasn’t careful, and she’d find herself waving goodbye to a shrieking Lio before she knew it.
‘That’s because you haven’t heard what I have to say, yet,’ she rasped.
His head tilted slightly to one side, his expression puzzled.
‘You’re angry.’
Ripping her gaze from his smiling, arching mouth, she hardened her heart.
‘Scared,’ she amended, sick to her stomach with nerves.
‘Of me?’ he asked, eyebrows arching in eloquent surprise.
‘Of what you’ll do.’
She gulped, her eyes filling with tears, and scowled down at her glass so that he didn’t suspect that she was crying like a fool.
‘But you know what I’m going to do,’ he murmured.
Looking up quickly from under her lashes, she saw him smiling to himself as he contemplated his journey with Lio, perhaps his triumphant return and the happiness of being a father again.
But Lio needed someone sensitive to care for him, who’d devote time and patience to his needs—not a Lothario who breezed in and out of Lio’s life merely to show off the evidence of his virility to his admiring friends.
‘You must not take him!’ she blurted out.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’ he asked quietly.
‘You’re not right for him!’ she replied vehemently, her eyes clashing with his.
There was a silence so tense and profound that she could hear her heart beating and the clunk of the pendulum inside the grandfather clock that stood in the hall.
‘Ah. What exactly has Linda told you about me?’ he asked shrewdly.
‘You were unfaithful,’ Verity accused, blunt as ever. ‘Over and over again! You neglected Linda and Lio for your women and for one in particular. Bianca. You were a rotten father and an even worse husband!’ she flung.
‘I see.’ His tone was quiet. Subdued.
He didn’t deny her accusations as she’d expected. She waited for an explanation, excuses, anything, but none came.
‘And that’s why you think I’m unsuitable to care for Lio,’ he went on.
‘Yes!’ She was getting into her stride. ‘But not just that—’
‘Hmm. A category of complaints. I think we’d better start to unravel this. First, I need some information from you. What happened to Linda? How did she die?’
Did he care? she wondered bitterly. He’d been remarkably composed about his late wife’s sudden death. Not a flicker of pain had crossed his face. Not a word of sorrow or regret.
Scornfully she met his piercing eyes, certain now that Vittore’s infidelity had driven Linda to the edge and beyond. He’d effectively killed Linda. Ruined his own son.
‘Her death was rather unpleasant,’ she stated flatly.
She had his full attention. ‘Tell me.’
So she drew in a huge breath and gave it to him cold. It was how she’d heard, after all. And he clearly didn’t care.
‘I was at home, in my flat the other side of London,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘The police rang me. They’d found my name in Linda’s diary which had been in her bag. There was nothing about you.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ he said. ‘Go on.’
Her eyes met his and misery washed through her entire body. ‘They said my sister had taken an overdose,’ she whispered. ‘And that she was dead.’
He started, his face drawn with shock. And then his head bowed low. Verity wondered if he was ashamed because he knew he had been largely responsible for Linda’s state of mind. His hands covered his face and he let out a low groan.
‘Linda!’ he growled on a harsh outbreath.
Amazingly, she felt a surge of compassion for him and almost reached out to touch his arm. But not quite.
He had to know what damage he’d done by playing the field. Had to recognise that by being selfish you hurt people and caused them harm. Vittore should know that he mustn’t play around with people’s emotions and treat marriage so lightly, she thought angrily.
‘There was a note,’ she said, her voice shaking a little.
His eyes flicked up and she winced at the silver slashes of pain in them. ‘Saying what?’ he growled.
‘Not much. That I was to look after Lio.’ Being a witness to his distress was hurting her, and it shouldn’t. Resentfully she muttered, ‘The gist of it was that she couldn’t go on.’
He muttered something in Italian. ‘I can’t believe it!’ he exclaimed tightly. ‘How could she leave her child?’
‘I don’t know,’ Verity said honestly. ‘But she must have been out of her mind with distress. Not only was she upset by your appalling behaviour, but—’
‘My behaviour!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘Let’s get this straight. She left me over a year before she killed herself. I am not taking responsibility for her death. So what other reason was there? You seemed to be suggesting there was something else troubling her.’
Verity glared at the callous way he’d washed his hands of any blame. If he’d been half decent he would have made sure Linda had money of her own.
‘Well, she was desperately in debt,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I imagine it was hard, living without support. There are hundreds of unpaid bills stuffed in her desk. I had to sort through them and I know that there was a huge loan on this house which had been unpaid for months, bills and demands from masseurs, a manicurist, personal trainer, credit card companies…’ She bit her lip. ‘Everything here was a sham—a lifestyle on borrowed money,’ she said miserably. ‘Poor Linda had got herself into serious financial trouble.’
‘She could have come to me.’ He frowned, his mouth bitter. ‘Though she would have been obliged to let me see my son in return for financial assistance, wouldn’t she?’
The
