Riccardo's Secret Child (19 page)

‘Where are you going?' Nicola asked idly from the bed and Julia caught her eye in the mirror.

‘Oh, just for a meal out, honey.'

‘Who with?'

‘A friend.'

‘What friend?'

‘Father Christmas.' Which evoked a response of thrilled excitement, and by the time they strolled downstairs Julia, at least, was smiling.

The sound of the key in the door and the sight of Riccardo entering almost eradicated the smile from her face, but she staunchly maintained it as their eyes met. He was in his working clothes, a dark, impeccably tailored suit
that he wore with easy panache. Julia stifled the flutter of awareness as she looked at him and kept the remnants of the smile on her face.

‘Nicola's eaten,' she said brightly, relieved when Nicola began describing their adventurous after-school activities of a shopping mall and burger.

‘And I'll be back later,' she threw in, edging towards the door with her jacket slung over her arm and her bag in her hand.

‘And where are you going?'

‘I have the telephone number here and my mobile number.' She handed him a slip of paper and began opening the door, almost expecting him to try and stop her, but he was already turning away with uninterest, and his indifference sent an arrow of pain shooting through her.

‘Have a good time.' With his back to her, he held out his hand for his daughter and Julia watched as the both of them left her standing by the door and headed towards the kitchen, with Nicola offering a cheery wave over her shoulder.

It already felt like the final goodbye.

T
HE
French restaurant was just off the King's Road and, aside from its name discreetly etched on a gilt plaque on the wrought-iron railings, it could have been a private residence. It breathed good taste. Just the sort of restaurant to appeal to a stockbroker. Nothing flashy, nothing ostentatious. Very English.

Riccardo stood outside for a few moments, letting the cold air cool him down.

He had had no intention of being here. He had watched Julia leave the house and thought that he had been superbly self-contained. Indifferent even. He had turned his back on her, signalling that he did not give a damn where she was going or who she was going with.

He had put Nicola to sleep and had then proceeded to spend an hour in front of a stack of files, tapping his fountain pen on the table and frowning at the blur of writing in front of him.

Who had he been kidding?

He walked down the four concrete steps to the front of the restaurant and pushed open the door to find himself towering over a diminutive, smartly dressed waiter. His eyes quickly scanned the room which was loosely sectioned off into three eating areas, pausing when he saw the object of his search. She was sitting at a table in the corner, her face propped on the palm of her hand and looking at the man who was with her and who was talking animatedly about something.

‘You have a reservation, sir?'

‘No.' Riccardo did not even bother to look at the man who was giving him an ingratiatingly apologetic smile.

‘Then I'm afraid—'

‘I'm joining those two people over there.' He indicated Julia and her date with a jerk of his head.

‘We were not told that there would be a third party.'

‘Well, I'm telling you now.'

‘I'm afraid…' The poor man's sentence remained unfinished as Riccardo began closing the distance between himself and Julia.

There was no lull in the low conversations as he strode past tables. The clientele were too well-bred to stare. He reached the table and only then did Julia look up, as he leaned forward and placed his hands firmly on the table-top, his body looming over them both intimidatingly.

‘Riccardo!'

‘Sir! I must ask you to leave at once. This is most un-orthodox!'

‘Bring me a chair,' was Riccardo's growling response and at the risk of causing an even greater stir, the waiter scurried off and returned with a chair.

‘What are you d-doing here?' Julia stammered. ‘Roger, this is…Riccardo. He's…he's babysitting for me. You haven't left Nicola in the house on her own, have you?'

‘Your mother is with her.' He turned to Roger and bared his teeth into a menacing smile. ‘Why don't you go,
old boy
? I'm taking over from here.'

‘What's this all about, Julia?' enquired a confused Roger.

‘Riccardo, please.
What are you doing here?
' One or two of the well-bred eyes were slanting in their direction and she sank into her chair.

‘Yes, what the heck are you doing here? Julia, who
is
this man?'

‘Why don't you tell him, Julia,
darling
?'

‘I say, this simply isn't on.' Roger signalled to the waiter. ‘This man is being a nuisance. Have him removed, please.'

The waiter hovered uncertainly behind Riccardo who ignored his presence. ‘If you want me removed,
Roger
,' he drawled, pushing his face further forward so that the sheer force of his powerful personality became a thinly veiled threat, ‘then I suggest you attempt to do so yourself.'

‘I don't indulge in scraps.'

‘Then why don't you either clear off or shut up?'

‘Riccardo, this is
enough
! You're creating a scene and…and embarrassing everyone!' Julia licked her lips nervously and felt a tremor of wild awareness as his black eyes met hers with burning intensity.

He didn't answer. Instead he sat in the chair, leaned back with his eyes narrowed on Roger's blustering face and signalled a waiter over.

‘A whisky.'

‘This man is
not
joining us!'

‘Julia…?' His black eyes swept over her flushed face, and in her moment of hesitation he smiled with tigerish satisfaction. ‘Your date is at an end,' he said to Roger and Julia reddened as both men stared at her. Now was the time to firmly send Riccardo on his way, but she couldn't. She couldn't choose Roger because she knew with weary resignation that he was second best.

‘Roger, perhaps you'd better leave. I'm very sorry, but if you don't we'll all probably end up being thrown out.'

‘But—'

‘But you heard the lady. Go.' His whisky had been brought to him and he sipped it, casually dismissing the hapless Roger, who stumbled to his feet, dropping the starched linen serviette on the table in front of him.

‘Don't expect to hear from me again,' he told Julia, who
smiled weakly at him, and as soon as he had walked off she leaned forward and said in a low, angry voice,

‘What do you mean by barging in here? How dare you interrupt my date?'

‘Have you eaten?'

‘Yes! No! We've had our starters. We
were
looking forward to enjoying our main course before you stormed in!' She looked at that dark, handsome face and felt a wave of irrational love wash over her, leaving her weak.

‘Good. In that case, let's get out of here and go somewhere a little less…' he looked around him condescendingly ‘…stuffy.'

‘I'm not going anywhere with you!'

‘Oh, yes, you are.'

‘Because you say so?'

‘Because you want to.' He stood up while Julia gaped at his sheer arrogance, clumsily following suit when he tossed some notes on the table and beckoned their confused waiter across. ‘This should cover the cost of the meal, with a very generous tip.'

‘I do apologise…' Julia began, but he was already taking her arm in his vice-like grip and steering her towards the door. The well-bred clientele had given up on their etiquette and were now openly staring as she was ushered through the restaurant.

‘You…
you…you caveman
!' she spluttered as soon as they were out of the restaurant.

‘I'd rather be a caveman than a wimp. I didn't notice your knight in shining armour jumping in to your rescue.' He hailed a taxi and ensured that she was left no choice in the matter of climbing in by blocking the open door with his big, muscular body, then he slid in after her and gave the driver an address.

‘Where are we going?'

‘To my apartment.'

‘There is no way under the sun that I am going to your apartment, Riccardo!' The prospect of being somewhere with him on her own, without the protection of other people around, sent her nervous system skittering into mad over-drive.

‘Oh, yes, you are.' He shot her a sideways glance and said unevenly, ‘We need to talk.'

‘We've already done that!'

Why should she be interested in going over old ground? How many more times did she have to hear that he wanted her and that she should capitulate? How many more times did she have to listen to him tell her that the physical attraction that burned through their bodies like hot lava was just too big to resist?

‘No, we haven't. At least, I haven't.'

There was something uneven in his voice that made her stare at him, but he wasn't looking at her and her heart was slamming against her ribcage as they completed the remainder of the short drive in tense silence.

‘I won't lay a finger on you, Julia,' he said as they took the lift up to his apartment. Surprisingly, he still wasn't looking at her and she felt a little flutter of dreaded excitement stirring in her blood. ‘I just want to…talk.'

She followed him docilely into his apartment, only vaguely registering the classic minimalist styling of the confirmed bachelor. A bachelor wealthy enough to have the best of everything, but without the desire to improve on any of it. The entire apartment was wooden-floored, with a sunken sitting area to one side that was lavishly furnished with a black leather sofa and two chairs. The kitchen was open-plan and looked brand-new, as though the various appliances had never been touched.

He was walking now towards a bar area that was an
exquisite blend of various woods, so smoothly joined together that it appeared as if they were all from the same tree.

‘Well, now that you've got me here, what do you want to talk to me about?' She dared not go any closer to him, so she remained where she was in the middle of the vast, open-plan room, clutching her little black handbag in both hands.

He poured himself another whisky, offering her a drink, which she refused with a shake of her head, and then moved to the leather sofa, where he sat down, leaning forward with his arms resting on his thighs and his head lowered.

He couldn't remember a time when he had been nervous. Not even when he had sat his exams in his youth, or taken his driving test. Certainly never in the company of a woman. He was nervous now. He could feel it racing through his veins like deadly adrenaline and his breathing was shallow and laboured.

He was only aware that she had approached him when he saw the black high-heeled shoes out of the corner of his eye. He waited until she had hesitantly sat on the sofa next to him, and even then he didn't dare look her in the face.

‘What's the matter?' she asked in a hushed voice. She was so accustomed to his towering self-control, his confident assumption that other people were born to fall in line with his wishes, that to see him like this now was throwing her into a state of inner turmoil.

‘Why did you come to the restaurant, Riccardo? What…what have you got to talk to me about?'

He finally looked at her, his black eyes shorn of their self-assurance. Julia felt her heart flip over and shakily told herself that this was all just another ploy to get her into his bed. He wasn't ready to forgo his challenge, he had simply
decided to switch tactics, to get her to somehow feel sorry for him so that he could move in on her vulnerability. It didn't quite ring true, but she braked at the possibility of speculating further.

‘I came to the restaurant because I had to. I had no option. I told myself that you could see whoever you wanted to see, that you were free to do whatever you wanted, but I realised that I do not want you to be free. I do not want you to see other men, to talk to other men or even to think about other men. I sat down in front of my work papers and all I could see was you and that man, laughing, talking, going back to his place, making love. I came because I was torn apart with jealousy.' He raked his fingers through his hair and then pressed the palms of his hands tightly against his eyelids.

Julia felt herself begin to melt. If this was a ploy then it was working. She could never be without this man and to have him for only a short while would be worth the lifetime of heartache that would follow. She tentatively reached out and placed her hand on his thigh and he covered it with his hand, squeezing it gently.

‘Riccardo.' She sighed and edged closer to him. ‘I give up. I know you want me and I want you and I just…give up. I'll be your little fling.'

‘It's not good enough.' He turned to face her fully and for a few dazzling seconds Julia was caught between bewilderment that her offer had just been refused and hope that the tender expression in his eyes would give her the answers she desperately yearned to hear. ‘I don't just want your body. Oh, I fooled myself that that was all there was, but I want your soul as well.'

‘What are you saying?' Julia whispered as the little seed of hope began to shoot up, swarming through her entire body until she was engulfed with it.

‘I'm saying that I love you.'

‘You love me?' Her eyelashes glimmered with the sheen of tears and he pulled her roughly towards him, burying his head in her hair so that his words were muffled.

‘I love you,' he confirmed in a shaking voice. ‘I don't know how and when it happened but you went from being the source of my rage to the object of more emotions I ever thought it was possible to have. I told myself that it was all about lust because I knew that I could control lust, that lust was transitory and did not involve the heart. I believed that one failed marriage had made me jaded towards the whole concept of love except…except when I thought about that I realised that what I felt for Caroline had never been love. I had fallen for the concept of the ideal woman. The truth was that Caroline left me cold, even before I finally admitted to myself that my marriage was dead and due a decent burial service. I clung on because of pride but now I realise that the best thing she ever did was to find someone else, someone who could restore her faith in human nature. But still, I stupidly tried to convince myself that there was no such thing as love. Then I told myself that I would seduce you as some warped form of punishment for dropping a bombshell in my life, and when that didn't work I said that I was just doing it because you were a challenge. But I wasn't. I wanted you because somewhere along the line I fell in love with you.'

‘Oh, Riccardo.' Her voice broke then and she tilted her face to his and gently kissed his lips. ‘Do you mean it? Mean it all?'

‘Every word,' he said in a choked voice.

‘I could never understand how you could possibly be attracted to me when all your ex-girlfriends had looked like Helen Scott…'

‘Because love runs deeper than looks. You are not just
beautiful on the outside, my dearest darling, you are beautiful on the inside as well. Why do you think that when I was in your company I could never tear my eyes away from you, and when you were not around my mind was filled with you? You made every emotion I ever felt pale into insignificance…

‘I know you have doubts about me,' he continued gruffly, ‘but—'