Convenient Brides (12 page)

“Without their mother and father?” He shook his head. “Think about that, Caroline. We’d be imposing our expectations, our changes, on a household set to other rules. Is that fair to the children?”

“You make it sound as if we’ll treat them like strangers!”

“More to the point is that we’re the ones who, in a way, will be the strangers, trespassing on hallowed ground. I can hear the twins now:
Mommy didn’t put my underwear in that drawer, Zia Caroline. You’ve moved Daddy’s favorite picture from his desk, Zio Paolo.”

She stirred her coffee thoughtfully. “I see your point. Maybe we are better off starting out in a place that holds no memories.”

“Well, some memories will come with us, of course, and that’s as it should be. But this will be
our
home, in which we’ll do things
our
way, and establish
our
traditions.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m always right!” he informed her, and laughed at the way her beautiful blue eyes widened.

“I can see we’re going to have to learn to compromise,” she said.

“I suppose we are. But you know, Caroline, our getting married is about more than just the children. It’s about us starting a life together as husband and wife.” He inspected her over the rim of his coffee cup. “Which brings me to another point. Ermanno and Vanessa chose a house big enough for four, and a couple of live-in staff. I hope, once the twins have made the adjustment to living with us and feel secure in their new home, that we’ll add to our family.”

Again, she turned all rosy and flustered. A charming picture, he decided. He’d have to make sure he caused it often. “I thought you didn’t want to bring a baby into the mix?”

“Not right away, but—” He stopped abruptly, as a thought occurred. “Or are you trying to tell me you think our romp on the beach left you pregnant?”

“No,” she said. “I know for a fact that I’m not.”

“Then there’s no problem. We wait until the time is right, yes?”

Another smile played around her mouth. “If you say so, signor.”

“I say we get out of here, before I forget myself so far as to drag you under the table and make love to you,” he replied, the desire she so easily stirred in him making itself felt. “That could take quite some time, and I want you to see these villas while it’s still light outside.”

Manziana, she discovered, lay close to Lake Bracciano, between rolling green hills. And the houses Paolo had selected? They were mansions! Palaces! Beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of occupying.

The first, Villa Santa Francesca, a rectangular stuccoed building surrounded by several acres of land, including an old English-style garden, had two floors, with the master suite on the main opening directly to the pool terrace. It also came with its own private chapel and small cemetery.

This last was what decided Caroline to choose the second. The children, she figured, hardly needed other people’s grave sites as a constant reminder of what they’d lost.

Il Paradiso Villa sat directly on the shores of the lake, with sweeping views from the distant hills, to the dome of St. Peter’s on the horizon. Gracious stone balusters marked the edge of the terrace, with wide steps leading down to a sandy beach. Fountains splashed in quiet corners, sometimes spilling from ancient carved gargoyles on the villa walls, sometimes from three-tiered stone basins set among the lawns and flower beds.

There were stables, with quarters attached for stable hands,
and a swimming pool. A tennis court and a putting green. A coach-house converted to hold five cars, with accommodation above for a housekeeping couple.

The house itself boasted hardwood floors rubbed to a satin finish by the passage of many feet over the years. A huge wine cellar lay below a big, rustic kitchen equipped with the most modern appliances, as well as a massive, ancient stone fireplace. A pool table, left behind by the previous owners, stood in the middle of the games room. Seventeenth-century frescoes adorned the ceiling in the entrance hall and main receptions rooms.

A carved winding staircase led to six bedrooms with attached bathrooms, as well as a nanny’s suite. A smaller staircase at the end of the upstairs hall accessed the third floor where, in addition to an attic that begged for the sound of children playing on rainy days, there were also two more rooms for live-in maids.

“What do you think?” Paolo, who’d left her to wander from one area to another without interruption or comment from him, joined her in the master suite after she’d ended her tour.

“It’s incredible.” She flung out her hands, encompassing everything from the stunning views outside, to the fine architectural proportions of the house itself. “This home was built with love and an eye for beauty.”

“It’s also undergone some major and much needed renovation. The plumbing is fairly new, also the electrical system.”

“But it’s lost nothing of its integrity in the process. Whoever undertook the upgrading did so with sensitivity to the original design. It’s a masterpiece, Paolo! A gem of a house. It has a warmth I can’t define that makes a person feel welcome, the minute she steps through the front door.”

“Are you saying you can see yourself living here?”

“Oh, yes!” She closed her eyes in bliss.
“Yes!”

“I was hoping that would be so.” He snaked his arm around
her waist and pulled her back to lean against him. “It’s my choice, too,” he said, resting his chin on her head. “The agent’s waiting downstairs. What do you say we make an offer on the place?”

She laughed and turned in his arms. “One too good to refuse?”

“Is there any other kind?” he murmured hoarsely, and covered her mouth with his in a kiss that stole her breath away.

An hour and two phone calls later, they drove back to the city with a signed contract in their possession.

And so the pieces fell into place, day after day, hour after hour, for the next week.

An early evening candlelight ceremony, they decided, under a marquee on the Raineros’s roof terrace, followed by a cocktail reception. Throughout, a harpist to play selections from Purcell, Vivaldi, Beethoven, and Pachelbel. A four-day honeymoon in Venice afterward, during which time the children would stay with their grandparents.

Meetings with the caterer, the florist. Deciding on a menu, a color scheme. Choosing furniture for the new house. Writing thank-you notes for the gifts that started arriving within hours of the invitations being delivered by hand to a guest list which, somehow, swelled from a modest thirty to a mind-boggling sixty-five, sixty of whom Callie had never met.

Being photographed for an article in a society magazine. Taping a television interview—an event which brought home to Callie just how newsworthy the Raineros were. Good thing she’d followed Lidia’s advice and splurged on several more designer outfits.

And during her free time? Shopping, shopping and more shopping! Finalizing the paperwork required by the authorities for a US citizen to marry in Italy. Dinner with Paolo’s parents, during which time Salvatore alternated between genial
and withdrawn, and occasionally looking as if just the sight of her at his table was enough to give him indigestion.

Haute couturiste Serena had been right, Callie realized dizzily. Her “simple” wedding had ballooned out of all proportion to what she’d originally expected.

The days were a mad scramble; a wild, exhilarating ride on a carousel running amok, with Paolo often too busy to keep her company. But the stolen nights she shared with him made up for it. Long, lovely hours made all the sweeter for the whispered plans, the murmured endearments, the quiet intimacy.

Then there were the children, the shadowed grief in their eyes lessening, their excitement at the new life awaiting them with their aunt and uncle most of the time driving away the ghosts of what they’d lost.

“I love you, Zia Caroline,” Gina confided. “You remind me of Mommy.”

“I’m glad we’re coming to live with you and Zio Paolo,” Clemente said solemnly. “It won’t be exactly the same, but you’ll sort of be our parents, won’t you?”

It was all too good to be true, Callie thought, as the days wound down until there were only two left before she became Signora Paolo Rainero.

She was right.

It was.
Much
too good to be true.

E
VERYTHING
fell apart on the wedding eve.

Callie had agreed to spend her last night as a single woman with the Raineros, “because no bride should wake up alone in a hotel room on her wedding day,” her future mother-in-law had decreed.

Consequently, Lidia had arrived at the hotel earlier in the afternoon, to help Callie pack her belongings into a set of new leather suitcases embossed with her married initials—all except for the wedding ensemble, of course, which was sheathed in layers of tissue paper inside a protective vinyl garment bag.

After one last sweep through the rooms to make sure nothing had been left behind, they’d summoned a bellboy who loaded everything into the Rainero limousine waiting outside the hotel’s front entrance, and within minutes were being driven through the rush hour traffic to the apartment.

Paolo had been tied up all day at his office, making sure his responsibilities were covered by others during his honeymoon absence, but planned to join Callie and his parents for dinner that evening. He had not yet shown up when Callie and Lidia got there, shortly after five, but must have arrived some time between then and seven o’clock when, having laid out her lingerie for the next day and hung up her wedding gown, Callie showered and changed into a sleek black dinner dress,
then made her way down the long hall to the library, for the customary predinner drinks.

The library door stood ajar, showing a fire leaping in the hearth, and Paolo and his father conversing quietly. Callie was about to announce herself when a fragment of the conversation between the men caught her attention.

“You believe this is the only way?” she heard Salvatore say.

“Without a doubt,” Paolo replied. “My policy has always been, know your enemies and keep them close if you want to retain control. A man can’t fight if he refuses to face facts, Father. He has to recognize what he’s up against.”

“What do you think she’ll do, when she finds out?”

“She’ll deal with the situation, because she doesn’t have any other choice.”

“What if she can’t handle it?”

“She can. She will.” He handed his father a glass: dry vermouth over ice, as usual, Callie noted peripherally, an uneasy chill prickling her skin. “You know better than to be deceived by appearances. Underneath that fragile exterior lies the heart of a lioness. I’d have thought you’d figured that out for yourself, by now.”

“How can any man know what really goes on inside a woman’s head?” Salvatore sank into his favorite chair and stared moodily into the flames. “Hell, half the time, I can’t even see inside yours, and you’re my own flesh and blood.”

Smiling, Paolo leaned against the carved mantelpiece, his glass cradled in his hand. “Don’t tell me you still think I made a mistake in asking Caroline to be my wife?”

“No. Your mistake lay in being in too much of a hurry. If you’d asked me before you proposed, I’d have recommended you think long and hard before taking such a step.”

“Momma thinks it’s the smartest move I’ve ever made.”

Salvatore shrugged and drank deeply from his glass. “As I just said, I don’t pretend to understand what makes a woman
tick. But why waste my breath? You’ve made up your mind, and I’m not going to change it at this late date, so let’s get back to what we were talking about a moment ago. I still think I should take care of business, and send for my lawyers. They could be here in minutes and have everything sewn up before dinner’s announced—and read Ermanno and Vanessa’s wills while they’re at it.”

“No.” Paolo shook his head emphatically. “You do whatever you feel you must to give you peace of mind, but the wills wait until after the honeymoon. It’s not as if they hold any surprises, after all. We both know what to expect. But I’m this close to getting what I’ve been hoping for—” he held up his hand and extended his forefinger and thumb a millimeter apart “—and I’m not about to risk tossing a spoiler in the works now, with my wedding day only hours away.”

Suddenly weak at the knees, Callie stepped away from the door and sank onto a nearby chair.

What business was Salvatore referring to?

Why would reading Vanessa and Ermanno’s wills act as a spoiler?

Why had Paolo lied to her when he said delaying the reading was best for the children, when his reasons clearly had nothing to do with them, but plenty, apparently, to do with her?

And most urgently, what the devil had he meant when he spoke of knowing his enemies and keeping them close?

The questions battered at her without mercy. And hot on their heels came the brutal answer, smashing her fragile happiness and laying bare the flimsy foundation on which it was all based. It had been staring her in the face from outset, as she’d have realized if only she’d kept her wits about her, and refused to allow sex to enter the picture.

Probably Paolo had known all along about her being the children’s sole appointed guardian. Not so surprising really; Ermanno had likely mentioned it at some point over the years,
never expecting it was something that would ever actually come to pass. Tragically it had, but by delaying the reading of the wills until after she became his wife, Paolo could pretend ignorance of the fact. What had he thought? That by marrying her first, setting up house with her, and drawing Clemente and Gina firmly into the picture, he’d render her powerless?

Oh, Paolo!
she mourned silently.
Don’t you know that you didn’t have to go to such lengths to get your own way? I love those children far too much to throw their lives into chaos, just to gain the upper hand. There was no need to seduce me, to ensure my cooperation; no need to make me fall in love with you all over again. You could have had it all, without resorting to trickery and deceit.

Crushed, she buried her face in her hands. This was what happened, when a woman forgot that history had a way of repeating itself. How did the old saying go? Kick me once, shame on you. Kick me twice, shame on me!

“Caroline?” His voice, filled with duplicitous concern, broke into her misery, close enough for his breath to drift warmly over the back of her neck. “What are you doing, sitting out here in the hall,
tesoro?
Are you not feeling well?”

“No,” she mumbled, and bit the inside of her cheek to hold her tears in check. She would not cry in front of him. She would not let him see how much he had hurt her. “I’m feeling lousy. Sick to my stomach, thanks to you and your father.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” he exclaimed, urging her to her feet and steering her into the library.

She had to hand it to him. He covered his tracks well, putting on an act of innocent confusion that would have fooled the most hardened cynic. “As if you don’t know!” she said bitterly. “The next time you’re plotting some underhand scheme, remember to close the door first, to prevent your victim from overhearing.”

“Victim…overhearing…? I don’t understand—”

“Obviously she was eavesdropping,” Salvatore cut in. “Hardly an admirable character trait in a wife, if you ask me.”

“I’m not asking you.” Paolo aimed a repressive stare his father’s way, before turning his full attention on Callie again. “I don’t know what you think you overheard,
cara
—”

“Enough to know you’ve played me for a fool for the last time.” Numb with pain and disappointment, she tugged the engagement ring from her finger and placed it carefully on the library table. “Since there isn’t going to be a wedding, I won’t be needing this any longer.”

Incredulous, he said, “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course there’s going to be a wedding!”

“Oh, let her go, if that’s what she wants!” his father snarled impatiently. “You don’t need her, Paolo. You never did.”

“In fact, he did and does,” Callie snapped, fixing the imperious old coot in a withering stare. “But what neither of you appear to appreciate is that
I
don’t need
him.
”

“I was under the impression that we needed each other,” Paolo said stiffly. “When did all that change, Caroline?”

“About five minutes ago, when I discovered I’m merely the means to an end for you. Controlling the children’s future is all that matters to you, and to do that, you have to go through me. It’s just too bad I’m not willing to let you use me like that.”

He closed his eyes in a slow, frustrated blink. “
Dio,
will you stop talking in riddles and speak plainly, woman? You’re making absolutely no sense.”

Woman?
Affronted, she drawled, “My goodness, Paolo, whatever happened to
tesoro?
”

“Whatever happened to the Caroline I thought I knew?” he returned, a noticeable touch of frost coating his words.

“She put two and two together and came up with four. You somehow found out that I’m named sole guardian of Vanessa and Ermanno’s children. That means I get to decide where and
with whom they now live.
If
I so choose, I can take them back to the States with me, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. So how do you prevent that happening? By proposing a marriage you’d never have entertained if it weren’t that you thought it was your only option.”

She stopped just long enough to swallow the lump in her throat. “What really sickens me, though, Paolo, is that you didn’t have to go to such extremes to get your own way. I admit, when I first came here, it was with the intention of exercising my legal rights, but I soon realized the only rights that counted were the children’s. I was prepared to leave the twins here, with the people
they
love the most, and settle for being an aunt who loved
them
enough to put her own feelings aside and focus on theirs.”

“Paolo…Caroline, what’s going on?”

At the intervention of a fourth person, the three them swung round to find Lidia hovering in the doorway, her face mirroring the anxiety in her question. “Your raised voices carried so clearly upstairs, I was afraid the children might hear. Did I really understand you to say the wedding is being canceled?”

“That’s right,” Callie said. “It seems I’ve been living in a fool’s paradise, Lidia. I’ve known from the beginning that ours was a marriage of convenience, but I had no idea until a few minutes ago that the man
I
was prepared to call my husband actually perceives
me
as his enemy.”

Although Paolo didn’t move a muscle, his bogus display of artless confusion froze into a stony displeasure that radiated from his entire body. “What the devil are you talking about, Caroline?”

“I’m quoting you, that’s all.”

“Then you’ve lost your mind,” he declared flatly. “I have never once referred to you as my enemy.

“Oh, please!” She rolled her eyes in eloquent disgust. “My Italian might not be flawless, but it’s more than adequate
enough for me to have understood every word you exchanged with your father. Know your enemies, you said. A man has to know what he’s up against.”

“What makes you think I was referring to you?”

“Because of what else you said, particularly the part about your not losing everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve. Let’s see, exactly how did you put it? Ah, yes!” She imitated his earlier gesture, holding her forefinger and thumb just as he had. “Something along the lines of ‘reading the wills can wait. I’m not going to risk losing everything I’ve worked for, with my wedding day just hours away.’”

Lidia turned mystified eyes on her son. “You said
that,
Paolo?”

“That, and a lot more,” Callie told her, the pain she’d so far managed to subdue threatening to rise up and devour her. “Including the fact that you think he’s making the smartest move of his life. Silly me, Lidia, to have believed you were actually on my side.”

“Caroline, darling…!” Lidia started toward her, arms outstretched.

But Callie shied away, so close to bursting into tears that she couldn’t bear to be touched. “Don’t, please! It’s over.”

“It is not over,” Paolo snapped, his tone iron-hard, his face tight with anger. “But we will continue this discussion in private. You will not drag my mother into it—or my father, either. This is between you and me, Caroline, and no one else.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Paolo. I’ve made up my mind.”

“As I have made up mine,” he informed her, taking a step closer. “We agreed to marry for the children’s sakes, and regardless of what you think you know or don’t know, I will not allow you to renege on that promise at this late date.”

I will not allow…!
There it was again, that autocratic Rainero trait rearing its ugly head with damning effect.
Standing her ground, even though part of her wanted to cower, she spat, “You don’t have any choice. We’re not living in the Middle Ages. You can’t force me to marry you.”

“No, I can’t,” he agreed stonily. “And if you really do suddenly find the idea to be so abhorrent, then of course I will bow out of your life graciously. You should know, however, that these ‘legal rights’ you speak of are not quite as straightforward as you seem to think.”

“Don’t try to intimidate me at this stage of the game, Paolo. I’ll stand by my word not to take the children back home with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to relinquish all say in their future. You’ll be answerable to me for the decisions you make that affect them. Even in Italy, a will’s a will.”

His smile and his sudden lapse into his native tongue made her blood run cold. “
Precisamente,
Caroline,
mio amore!
And the wills drawn up by my brother and your sister, less than a year ago, assign guardianship equally between you and me, something to which, as co-executor with my father, I can attest with the utmost certainty. And since you’ve already agreed that the children belong here…” He spread his hands expressively.

She staggered as if he’d landed a blow to her midriff and knocked the wind out of her. “I don’t believe you!”

“It’s true, Caroline,” Lidia said, and from her tone and the wounded sympathy she saw in the woman’s eyes, Callie knew that it was.

“Now that you’re fully in the picture,” Paolo continued remorselessly, “you might wish to reconsider your position because, Caroline, as you must now realize, I don’t
have
to marry you, at all. I proposed to you because I thought it would be the best thing for the children, for you, and yes, for me. I still believe that to be the case. But I must warn you that, if you elect to walk away, there is not a judge here in Italy, in the United States, or in Outer Mongolia for that matter, who will support your right to have
any
say in the children’s future.
You’re hoist by your own petard, my dear. Either you decide to go through with this marriage, or you accept a very secondary role in your niece and nephew’s lives.”