pinched the bridge of her nose until her eyes watered. ‘I’ve stuffed up so many lives.’ She sucked in a breath and released it raggedly. ‘I’ve tried to be a good person but sometimes it’s just not enough.’
‘You are a good person,’ he said. ‘Why are you so damned hard on yourself?’
Natalie felt the anguish of her soul assail her all over again. She had carried this burdensome yoke since she was seven years old. Instead of getting lighter it had become heavier. It had dug down deep into the shoulders of her guilt. She had no hope of shrugging it off. It was like a big, ugly track mark on her soul.
It was with her for life. It was her penance, her punishment.
‘When I was a little girl I thought the world was a magical place,’ she said. ‘I thought if I just wished for something hard enough it would happen.’
‘That’s the magic of childhood,’ he said. ‘Every child thinks that.’
‘I truly believed if I wanted something badly enough it would come to me,’ she said. ‘Where did I get that from? Life isn’t like that. It’s never been like that. It’s not like some Hollywood script where everything turns out right in the end. It’s pain and sadness and grief at what could have been but wasn’t. It’s one long journey of relentless suffering.’
‘Why do you find life so difficult?’ he asked. ‘You come from a good family. You have wealth and a roof over your head, food on the table. What is there to be so miserable about? So many people are much worse off.’
She rolled her eyes and headed for the bathroom. ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’
‘Make me understand.’
She turned and looked at him. His dark eyes were so concerned and serious. How could she bear to see him look at her in horror and disgust if she told him the truth? She let out a long sigh and pushed against the door with her hand. ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’
Angelo was having coffee in the breakfast room when Natalie came in. She looked cool and composed. There was no sign of the distress he had witnessed during the dark hours of the night and first thing this morning. Her ice maiden persona was back in place.
He rose from the table as she came in and held out a chair for her. ‘My mother has organised a shopping morning for you,’ he said. ‘She’ll be with you shortly. She’s just seeing to some last-minute things with the housekeeper.’
‘But I don’t need anything,’ she said, frowning as she sat down.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he asked. ‘We’re getting married on Saturday.’
Her eyes fell away from his as she placed a napkin over her lap. ‘I wasn’t planning on going to any trouble over a dress,’ she said. ‘I have a cream suit that will do.’
‘It’s not just your wedding, cara,’ he said. ‘It’s mine too. My family and yours are looking forward to celebrating with us. It won’t be the same if you turn up in a dress you could wear any old time. I want you to look like a bride.’
A spark of defiance lit her slate-blue gaze as it clashed with his. ‘I don’t want to look like a meringue,’ she said. ‘And don’t expect me to wear a veil, because I won’t.’
Angelo clamped his teeth together to rein in his temper. Was she being deliberately obstructive just to needle him for forcing her hand? He regretted showing his tender side to her last night. She was obviously going to manipulate him to get her own way. Hadn’t her father warned him? She was clever at getting what she wanted. She would go to extraordinary lengths to do so.
But then, so would he.
She had met her match in him and he would not let her forget it. ‘You will wear what I say you will wear,’ he said, nailing her with his gaze. ‘Do you understand?’
Her eyes flashed like fire. ‘Does it make you feel big and macho and tough to force me to do what you want?’ she asked. ‘Does it make you feel big and powerful and invincible?’
It made him feel terrible inside, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. ‘I want our wedding day to be a day to remember,’ he said with forced calm. ‘I will not have you spoiling it by childish displays of temper or passive aggressive actions that will upset other people who are near and dear to me. You are a mature adult. I expect you to act like one.’
She gave him a livid glare. ‘Will that be all, master?’ she asked.
He pushed back from the table and tossed his napkin to one side. ‘I’ll see you at the chapel on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I have business to see to until then.’
Her expression lost some of its intractability. ‘You mean you’re leaving me here … alone?’
‘My parents will be here.’
Her throat rose and fell over the tiniest of swallows. ‘This is rather sudden, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You said nothing to me about having to go away on business. I thought you were going to be glued to my side in case I did a last-minute runner.’
Angelo leaned his hands on the table and looked her square in the eyes. ‘Don’t even think about it, Natalie,’ he said through tight lips. ‘You put one foot out of place and I’ll come down like a ton of bricks on your brother. He will never go to Harvard. He will never go to any university. It will be years before he sees the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?’
She blinked at him, her eyes as wide as big blue saucers. ‘Perfectly,’ she said in a hollow voice.
He held her pinned there with his gaze for a couple of chugging heartbeats before he straightened and adjusted his tie. ‘Try and stay out of trouble,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you later. Ciao.’
THE private chapel at Angelo’s grandparents’ villa forty-five minutes outside of Rome was full to overflowing when Natalie arrived in the limousine with her father. The last few days had passed in a blur of activity as wedding preparations had been made. She had gone with the flow of things—not wanting to upset Angelo’s parents, who had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome.
She had talked to Angelo on the phone each day, but he had seemed distant and uncommunicative and the calls hadn’t lasted more than a minute or two at most. There had been no sign of the gentle and caring man she had glimpsed the other night. She wondered if he was having second thoughts about marrying her now he had an inkling of how seriously screwed up she really was.
Her parents had flown over the day before, and her father had immediately stepped into his public role of devoted father. Her mother was her usual decorative self, dressed in diamonds and designer clothes with a hint of brandy on her breath that no amount of mints could disguise.
Her father helped Natalie out of the car outside the chapel. ‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d end up with some tradesman from the suburbs. Angelo Bellandini is quite
