suppose I really should thank you, shouldn’t I? After all, you’re the one who reeled him in for me.’
Her father’s eyes became cold and hard and his voice lowered to a harsh, dressing-down rasp. ‘What else was I to do, you stupid little cow?’ he asked. ‘Your brother’s future depended on getting on the right side of Bellandini. I’m just relieved he wanted to take you on again. Quite frankly, I don’t know why he can be bothered. You’re not exactly ideal wife material. You’ve got too much attitude. You’ve been like that since the day you were born.’
Natalie ground her teeth as she walked to the chapel along a gravelled pathway on her father’s arm. She had learned long ago not to answer back. The words would be locked inside her burning throat just like every other word she had suppressed in the past.
They ate at her insides like bitter, poisonous acid.
Angelo blinked when he saw Natalie come into the chapel. His heart did a funny little jump in his chest as he saw her move down the aisle. She was wearing a gorgeous crystal-encrusted ivory wedding gown that skimmed her slim curves. It had a small train that floated behind her, making her appear almost ethereal, and she was wearing a short gossamer veil with a princess tiara that didn’t quite disguise the chalk-white paleness of her face. She looked at him as she walked towards him, but he wasn’t sure she was actually seeing him. She had a faraway look in her eyes—a haunted look that made him feel guilty for having engineered things the way he had.
He took both of her hands in his as she drew close. They were ice-cold. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.
She moved her lips but there was no way he could call it a smile.
‘Your mother chose the dress,’ she said.
‘I like the veil.’
‘It keeps the flies off.’
He smiled and gave her hands a little squeeze as the priest moved forward to address the congregation. He felt her fingers tremble against his, and for the briefest moment she clung to him, as if looking for support. But then her fingers became still and lifeless in the cage of his hands.
‘Dearly beloved,’ the priest began.
‘… and now you may kiss the bride.’
Natalie held her breath as Angelo slowly raised her veil. She blinked away an unexpected tear. She had been determined not to be moved by the simple service, but somehow the words had struck a chord deep inside her. The promises had reminded her of all she secretly longed for: lifelong love, being cherished, protected, honoured, worshipped … accepted.
Angelo’s mouth came down and gently pressed against hers in a kiss that contained a hint of reverence—or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part. Halfway through the service she had started wishing it was for real. That he really did love her. That he really did want to spend the rest of his life with her in spite of her ‘attitude problem’.
The thought of her father’s hateful words made her pull out of the kiss. If Angelo was annoyed at her breaking away he showed no sign of it on his face. He simply looped her arm through his and led her out of the chapel to greet their guests.
The reception was held in the lush, fragrant gardens at his elderly grandparents’s spectacular villa, under a beautifully decorated marquee. The champagne flowed and scrumptious food was served, but very little made it past Natalie’s lips. She watched as her father charmed everyone with his smooth urbanity. She watched in dread as her mother downed glass after glass of champagne and talked too long and too loudly.
‘Your mother looks like she’s having a good time,’ Angelo remarked as he came back to her side after talking with his grandfather.
Natalie chewed at her lip as she saw her mother doing a tango with one of Angelo’s uncles. ‘Deep down she’s really very shy, but she tries to compensate by drinking,’ she said. ‘I wish she wouldn’t. She doesn’t know when to stop.’
He took her by the elbow and led her to a wistaria-covered terrace away from the noise and music of the reception. Bees buzzed in the scented arras above them. ‘You look exhausted,’ he said. ‘Has it all been too much for you?’
‘I never thought smiling could be so tiring,’ she said with a wry grimace.
‘I should imagine it would be when you’re not used to doing it.’
She looked away from his all-seeing gaze. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if he sensed her deep unhappiness. He’d used to tease her about taking life so seriously. She had tried—she had really tried—to enjoy life, but hardly a day passed without her thinking of all the days her baby brother had missed out on because of her.
‘I like your grandparents,’ she said, stepping on tiptoe to smell a purple bloom of wistaria. ‘They’re so devoted to each other even after all this time.’
‘Are yours still alive?’ he asked. ‘You didn’t put them on the list so I assumed they’d passed on.’
‘They’re still alive.’
‘Why didn’t you invite them?’
‘We’re not really a close family,’ she said, thinking of all the stiff and awkward don’t-mention-what-happened-in-Spain visits she had endured over the years.
Everything had changed after Liam had died.
She had lost not just her younger brother but also her entire family. One by one they had pulled back from her. There had been no more seaside holidays with Granny and Grandad. After a couple of years the beautiful handmade birthday presents had stopped, and then a year or two later the birthday cards had gone too.
A small silence passed.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t arrange for Lachlan to be here,’ he said. ‘It’s against regulations.’
She looked up at him, shielding her eyes against the bright sun with one of her hands. ‘Where is he?’
‘He’s in a private clinic in Portugal,’ he said. ‘He’ll be there for a month at the minimum.’
Natalie felt a surge of relief so overwhelming it almost took her breath away. She dropped her hand from her eyes and opened and closed her mouth, not able to speak for a full thirty seconds. She had been so terrified he would self-destruct before he got the help he so desperately needed. She had suggested a clinic a couple of times, but he had never listened to her. She had felt so impotent, so helpless watching him destroy his life so recklessly.
‘I don’t know how to thank you … I’ve been so terribly worried about him.’
‘He has a long way to go,’ he said. ‘He wants help, but he sabotages it when it’s given to him.’
‘I know …’ she said on a sigh. ‘He has issues with self-esteem. Deep down he hates himself. It doesn’t matter what he does, or what he achieves, he never feels good enough.’
‘For your parents?’
She shifted her gaze. ‘For my father, mostly …’
‘The father-son relationship can be a tricky one,’ he said.
