Marriage Made of Secrets

She watched as he gently placed Annabelle on the wide bed and stepped back. He waved her away when she stepped forward to help, and took off Annabelle’s shoes and socks.

Pulling a light sheet over her shoulders, he plucked a stuffed horse off a shelf and laid it in the crook of her arm.

Pain scythed through her. How many times had she wished Cesare would do this when Annabelle was a baby? How many times had she dreamed of him bending down to kiss his daughter’s forehead, murmur buono notte, bambina...?

She managed the pain for a second before he turned from the bed, his gaze slamming into hers.

‘Come. Our daughter’s presence is no longer an issue. Let’s have that talk, shall we?’ With purposeful strides, he headed for the door.

Tension emanated from the broad, set shoulders and, with every click of her heels on the marble floor, her own tension grew. She rubbed sweaty palms on the folds of her long skirt and suppressed the anxiety growing inside her.

She arrived in the living room to find him facing the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lush, perfectly manicured gardens and private mooring that abutted the world-famous lake. The view was so breathtaking, her fingers briefly itched for her camera before she forced herself to focus.

Cesare’s gaze tracked a sleek speedboat skimming across the turquoise water but she knew his mind was locked in the room.

‘You should’ve waited in Bali until I came to collect you, Ava.’ He spoke without turning.

‘I’ve never been good at taking orders without question, you know that. And you didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry to bring us back home.’

‘You had everything you needed.’

‘Yes, the staff you hired for us were highly trained and extremely resourceful. I only had to lift a finger for my every wish to be catered for.’

‘But?’

‘But I’d had enough of being surrounded by complete strangers. It wasn’t good for Annabelle. So here we are,’ she said calmly.

‘You should’ve told me!’

‘What exactly is the problem here? Are you angry that I wanted to come home or annoyed that I dared to question your authority?’

He inhaled sharply. ‘A lot has changed—’

‘I’m very much aware of that. Staying away wasn’t going to make it any better.’

‘So why return earlier than we planned?’ he enquired.

‘Because this isn’t just about you, Cesare. Life goes on and I need to make sure Annabelle returns to normal as quickly as possible. Besides, when I told you my plans had changed, I meant it. I’ve been contracted to cover the Marinello wedding.’

He frowned. ‘You’re an award-winning documentary photographer. When did you branch into covering celebrity weddings?’

‘Annabelle needs to be around the familiar for the foreseeable future. I’m not taking her on assignment to the far reaches of the planet. She needs me to be here.’

His jaw tightened. ‘The Marinello wedding is turning into a media circus. I won’t have Annabelle exposed to that sort of environment.’

‘I’ve never let my work disrupt her life in any way. It definitely won’t this time round.’

‘You didn’t think to inform me of this Marinello thing before now?’

‘Just take it as the side effect of my aversion to being abandoned.’

‘You weren’t abandoned. Annabelle needed medical care and she couldn’t travel before then.’

‘Yes, but that stay wasn’t indefinite. Although I’m beginning to suspect maybe that’s what you had in mind.’

‘It wasn’t. I agree that Annabelle needs to be home, but not...’ He paused.

The cold grip on her spine intensified. ‘Not your wife?’ When he refused to reply, she let out a shaky breath. ‘You don’t have to say it, Cesare.’ Her smile cracked around the edges. ‘Annabelle’s welfare is my priority right now. As long as she remains okay, you can go back to being indifferent to me. Or go back to Rome.’

A dangerous gleam flashed through his eyes. He balled his fists, his nostrils flaring. For a very long time he didn’t speak. The air crackled with each charged heartbeat. Finally, he rasped, ‘I’m staying here for the summer.’

Her heart skipped a beat, then immediately fell when she read the displeasure on his face. ‘Then this is going to be very awkward for one of us.’

‘I don’t want you here. Not right now.’

The blunt words stung deep.

‘Why not?’

‘I’m in the middle of...’ He stopped and shoved a hand through his hair. ‘We both know things haven’t been right between us for a while. But I can’t be...distracted by anything right now.’

She pulled in a shaky breath and reminded herself why she was doing this. She set her bag down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. ‘The state of your marriage is an inconvenient distraction?’

A nerve pulsed in his jaw. ‘Especially the state of our marriage. If you’d stayed in Bali—’

‘I didn’t. You like to control people and things around you but I’m not one of them. This is your home as much as it is mine so I can’t exactly throw you out. So you’ll just have to tolerate my presence here, just like you have to tolerate your daughter.’

‘Tolerate her? I’m her father.’

‘Trust me, I know a thing or two about being tolerated. I don’t think you’d want your performance as a father or husband to be rated. You wouldn’t like the results.’

His colour receded a little beneath his vibrant tan and the room seemed to darken with turbulent forces. She watched him visibly swallow. ‘If you want the civilised conversation you claim to want, I’d advise you to tread carefully, Ava. What is happening between us will not affect our daughter.’

She tried to stop the pain from biting deep. Selecting a seat as far away from his forceful presence as possible, she sat down.

‘That’s one thing we can agree on, at least. I suggest we set up a schedule. You spend time with her in the mornings while I meet with my clients; I’ll take over in the afternoons. As long as she’s happy, I need not interfere in...whatever it is you think I’m interrupting.’

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘You’re as non-interfering as a bull in a china shop.’

‘Only when I need to be.’ Like when confronted with an icily cold, angry, astoundingly gorgeous Italian male who threw out commands like they were sweets at a kids’ party. Or when you grew up isolated in a house ruled by a distant father who treated you as if you were invisible and brothers who were more than happy to emulate their father. ‘Sometimes it’s the only way people take notice of you.’

‘Is that why you’ve returned so suddenly? You want me to take notice of you?’ he enquired with disquieting softness.

That voice, that precise, perfectly pitched cadence, bathed her skin in goose bumps that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with unwanted memories. It threatened to dominate her senses. Forcing them away took much more effort than she was happy with. ‘I’m here because my daughter needs to be home.’

Another dangerous gleam darkened his eyes. ‘Our daughter. She’s as much mine as she is yours, Ava.’

She stormed to her feet. ‘Really? You’ve barely seen her in the past year. You choose to stay in Rome and make one excuse after another as to why you don’t come home any more. So what are you doing here, really? What’s changed? What’s prompted this sudden yearning to play papà?’