One Last Night (5 page)

'Is she young and beautiful?' Maya asked, mentally picturing a lingerie model clone flouncing around the villa, wearing nothing but a pair of high heeled fluffy mules and carrying a pink feather duster in her perfectly manicured hand.

Giorgio took one of his hands out of his pocket and traced a barely touching caress down the curve of her cherry-red cheek, his gaze dark and intense as it held hers. 'You really are jealous, aren't you?'

Maya put up her chin but she couldn't quite bring herself to move away from his touch. 'Maybe, but then so are you. You keep harping on about Howard as if I was about to marry him as soon as our divorce is final.'

A flicker of something dark and dangerous moved behind his gaze. The ensuing silence was tense and unbroken for long pulsing seconds that to Maya felt like years.

But then, just as suddenly, it was over.

'Are you thinking of marrying again?' he asked as he stepped back from her.

'I haven't thought much about it,' she said and, taking a painful breath, added, 'What about you?'

He looked at her and then looked away again. 'There is not the same pressure on me now that Luc and Bronte have settled here with Ella and their future child. When our divorce is final I will have more time to think about what I want in terms of a relationship, or even if I want one at all.'

'So you won't be marrying for the sake of convenience next time around, I take it?' she asked with an arch look.

'It was convenient for both of us, Maya,' he said as a frown settled between his brows. 'I gave you everything I could. You wanted for nothing. I made sure of it. Our relationship ran its course. There was nothing either of us could do about it.'

You could have loved me, Maya thought. Then maybe our relationship would have had a chance.

Giorgio drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. 'I need to get some sleep and so do you.

You wouldn't happen to have a spare toothbrush, would you? I didn't think to pack anything.'

'I think there's one in one of the bathroom basin drawers,' she said. 'There are fresh towels on the rail.'

Giorgio moved past her and went up the narrow staircase, stooping as the steps changed direction halfway up. The bathroom made him feel like a giant. He had to bend almost double to examine his reflection in the mirror. He looked every bit as tired as Maya looked, he thought. And, yes, she was right: he was every bit as jealous, if not more so. He hadn't even slept with that airheaded lingerie girl, not that she hadn't been keen. The opportunity had been there but he hadn't taken it. He had sent her on her way and downed half a bottle of whisky instead.

He breathed out a sigh, not really wanting to think about that particular headache, and opened the drawer beneath the basin. It was filled with the usual female bathroom paraphernalia: cotton tips, tweezers, tampons, tissues and a brand new toothbrush, still in its packet.

And then his eyes zeroed in on something else…

MAYA was making up the sofa as best she could with a spare blanket and a pillow when she sensed rather than heard Giorgio come in. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and even Gonzo dropped to his belly and gave a little doggy whimper, just like he did when a particularly nasty storm was approaching.

'Maya.'

She turned from smoothing out the blanket and came face to face with Giorgio's thunderous expression. Her eyes flared in panic when she saw what was in his right hand. Her heart knocked against her ribcage as if someone had shoved it from behind and her mouth went completely dry, so dry she had to brush her tongue out over her lips. 'I…You weren't supposed to find that…'

God, how awful that sounded, she thought in anguish.

He put the positive dipstick down with careful precision on the small coffee table near the sofa. It was like laying down a challenge. It lay in the space between them accusingly, threateningly, dividing them, Maya thought, when it should have been uniting them.

'When were you going to tell me about this?' he asked with diamond-hard eyes.

She sent the tip of her tongue out again to loosen her lips enough to speak. 'I…I didn't think it was worth telling you because-'

'Because it's not mine?' He cut her off savagely.

Maya's mouth dropped open. She couldn't speak for the shockwave of hurt that smashed over her. She shuddered with it. She even felt as if she would collapse with it. Bright lights like thousands of silverfish darted in front of her eyes and she had to grasp the end of the sofa to steady herself. His reaction was something she had not expected-not even for a moment had she anticipated such a response from him. How could he think that of her? But then she recalled the way the press had handled her one date since their breakup. Of course he would automatically assume the child was not his. After all, they had been unable to conceive for years. It would be all too easy to assume someone else had got her pregnant. She bit her lip as she thought about things from Giorgio's perspective. She felt ashamed that her focus had always been on how she felt about not getting or staying pregnant. She hadn't really asked him what he felt about it. Had he felt less of a man? Had he felt less potent, less virile because he hadn't been able to fulfil what he saw as one of his primary roles as a husband?

Giorgio swung away and paced the room, or at least with what little space allowed for his long legs. He stopped after a moment and faced her, his expression so full of loathing Maya actually cringed. 'Were you hoping to pass it off as mine?' he asked. 'Was that what that night was all about after my brother's wedding? You know, I did think at the time how it was a little out of character for you. You were the one so insistent on a divorce and then there you were, tearing my clothes off.'

'I didn't tear your clothes off.' It wasn't much of a comeback or a defence but it was all Maya could think of at the time. 'We were both almost fully dressed apart from…you know…'

Giorgio sent her a livid glare. 'No, you didn't bother with the preliminaries. It was all about getting laid as quickly and as thoroughly as possible so you could get your insurance policy in place.'

Maya wrung her hands for the want of something better to do. 'It wasn't like that, Giorgio…'

'Damn it; what was it like?' he demanded furiously.

It was wonderful, it was just like the old times and it was spontaneous and passionate and totally unforgettable, but she couldn't tell him that. 'I never intended sleeping with you that night,' she said. 'The thought never crossed my mind.' Liar, her conscience prodded her. It was just as he had said the other day. She had thought of nothing else from the moment she had walked into the church and seen him standing next to his brother. It had reminded her so much of their wedding, how excited she had been, how gorgeously handsome Giorgio had looked and how she had been so proud to be his chosen wife, even if he hadn't once openly declared he loved her.

No wonder she had consumed one too many glasses of champagne at his brother's reception. No wonder she had been so unguarded when he'd suggested they go up to his room to discuss the terms of the divorce. What a silly fool she had been. He had set the scene for seduction, not her.

How ironic that he had twisted things round to blame her for the consequences.

Giorgio stabbed a finger at her. 'You are a calculating little gold-digger,' he said. 'I am not the fool you take me for. How could this child possibly be mine when for two and a half years I have not been able to get you pregnant?' He changed the stabbing motion to a numerical one. 'Two and a half years, Maya.' He underlined the words with his biting tone. 'Do you know how many times we had sex during that time?'

Maya was close to tears but pride would not allow her to give in to them. 'You are the father, Giorgio, but my advice is to enjoy it while it lasts because it might not last much longer.'

His throat moved up and down as if he was trying to swallow a boulder. 'What are you saying?'

She met his frowning gaze with her glistening one. 'I am six weeks pregnant. I have never gone past eight weeks, you know that. Most doctors say twelve weeks is the time to stop holding your breath; others say fourteen.'

Six weeks. Giorgio did the maths in his head. He wasn't the financial controller of the Sabbatini Corporation for nothing. His stomach clenched as if a cruel pair of sharp-edged tongs had snatched at his insides.

Six weeks.

One thousand and eight hours ago.

The night of Luca and Bronte's wedding, the night when he had lost all control and taken Maya like a whore, not even bothering to make sure she got home safely. He had sent her on her way without a word. Pride had kept him silent. He hadn't wanted to beg her to stay the night, to stay another night and the night after that. But he had sent her away because that was what she had wanted. Damn it, it was what they had both wanted. They'd been desperately unhappy, sniping at each other at every turn. Sure, she was the one who'd insisted on bringing an end to their marriage, but it would only have been a matter of time when he would have got around to it.

But, if they were expecting a child, how could he possibly agree to a divorce now? He had been stalling over the divorce, making things as difficult for her as possible, not just because of what he stood to lose financially, although, as financial controller of a large corporation, he could not discount it. It was the sense of defeat he hated. He had failed to keep his marriage on track. He had failed to give her a child, the child they both desperately wanted. Their marriage had died and he hadn't been able to stop it. He had a list of excuses, which were all valid in their own way: the death of his father, the added responsibility that had put on his shoulders and then the fertility problems he and Maya had encountered. All had conspired against him to bring him to this impasse. Maya was on one side, wanting what she could get before she got out of his life for good, and he was on the other, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently.

The first thing he had to do was retract his appallingly cruel accusation. What was he thinking, accusing her of such behaviour when she had never shown any sign of it in the past? For the whole time they were married she had been faithful, even in the face of the scurrilous rumours that from time to time circulated around him when he travelled. It was the one thing he admired about her, the way her moral code was so unlike those of many of her peers. He had been her first lover and he had never forgotten how precious that moment had been for them both.

He cleared his throat, feeling like a schoolboy instead of a thirty-six-year-old man in charge of a billion euro corporation. 'Maya,' he began, 'I don't know how to say this but I want-'

The flash of her grey eyes cut him off mid-sentence. 'I am not consenting to a paternity test. Not until after the birth, if there is one. It's too risky.'

Giorgio felt another dagger point of guilt slice at his gut. 'I am not asking for a paternity test.'

'Y…you're not?' Her wary look wounded him all over again.

'No,' he said. 'If you say the child is mine, then it is mine. The timing is spot on, in any case. And I didn't use any protection. It has to be my child.'

She turned away in disgust. 'So what you're really saying is if there was any doubt over the time frame you would be marching me off to some laboratory for a test.' She threw him a contemptuous look over her shoulder. 'God, you're such a heartless bastard, Giorgio.'

Giorgio took that direct hit because he knew he deserved it. Over the last six months of their bitter separation he had started to see a side to Maya he had not realised she had possessed. She was a lot feistier than he had accounted for previously. She had always seemed so demure, so acquiescent, and yet over the time of their drawn-out estrangement he had seen her toughen up and fight back in a way that he found strangely arousing.

'It was a shock to find the test like that,' he said. 'You know I don't like surprises. I didn't have the time to think it through.'

He pushed his hair back from his forehead, reminding himself he needed to get it cut. Maya used to do it for him once. When had she stopped? He couldn't quite remember. He used to love the feel of her fingers running through his hair as she snipped away at it. She had chatted to him as she went about her task, giggling at his dry asides until the haircut inevitably turned into something else entirely.

But that was back in the early days…

She turned around to face him but her stance was defensive. Her arms were across her middle but he couldn't stop his eyes dropping to her still flat belly. The thought of his seed growing there, their combined cells rapidly dividing, the promise of new life so fragile and yet so hopeful, he felt a tight ache in his chest. Please let this one survive, he prayed to the God he had neglected and ignored for most of his adult life. He wanted to reach out and lay his hand across that precious part of Maya's anatomy, to ensure his child's safety, to protect it with the promise of his love throughout its life, no matter how short or long. Please, he begged.

'I don't want the press to find out about this,' Maya said. 'I don't think I could cope with everyone speculating on whether I will last the distance with this one.'

Giorgio understood what she was saying. He was used to the press, or as used to the press as anyone living in the limelight could be. He had grown up with the comments and the fabrications and the almost but not quite truths, but Maya had grown up in an entirely different world. She had been anonymous in her small suburb, and then the city of Sydney, where she had studied before travelling abroad. She had never got used to people recognising her, stopping her in the street for a comment or a photograph. Almost from the start she had shrunk in on herself, as if she wanted to hide from the world. He could see that now, when it was almost too late to change things.

Why hadn't he protected her more? Prepared her more? He had taken so much for granted: that she would slot into his high profile life as if she was born to it. By marrying her, he had cast her into a world totally foreign to her: a world of dog-eat-dog, where people took advantage of each other for financial gain, for a higher step on the social ladder. Maya had done her best to fit in, she had played the game as best she could, but it had come at a price.

Since she had left him, it had made him see his own life in retrospect. He had not had time to properly grieve the sudden loss of his father. He was still haunted by the tragic loss of his three-month-old baby sister all those years ago. Giorgio had always known the pressure to produce an heir had come from the devastating loss his parents had experienced. They had subconsciously, or perhaps even consciously, wanted to replace the tiny daughter they had lost so unexpectedly.

Neither of them had returned to the villa at Bellagio since. It lay empty, as Maya had pointed out, for most of the year. No one spoke of it. It was too painful for Giorgio's mother, especially since his father had died. Giorgio knew he should have told Maya more about that time but he too had locked it away. The one time he had taken her there, at her insistence, he had felt on edge the whole time. It had been too hard to confront his feelings about the place where he had left his childhood and innocence behind.

'I will do what I can to keep the press from knowing about this for the time being,' he said. 'But it might not be something I can fully control. Have you seen a doctor yet?'

She pressed her lips together for a moment. 'No, not yet.' She looked up at him like a lost child looking for directions. 'I wasn't sure whether to believe the test or not. I thought I might wait a week or two more…you know…to be absolutely sure…'

Giorgio knew what she was waiting for and it struck him again how misguidedly he had handled things in the past. He had allowed her to think he viewed her early miscarriages as blips in nature's course, hoping that by outwardly taking a philosophical approach it would help her get over it without the added burden of his own sense of failure and loss. He knew how much she had emotionally invested in each of them. He had done the same. Why hadn't he told her how he felt? Maybe it would have helped her cope if he had shared the loss instead of pretending it was nothing to worry about. Each one of those pregnancies had had the potential to be a child.

Their child.

After seeing his parents go through the loss of his baby sister, he had closed the door on his feelings. It had been the only way he had coped. But it had left him seriously short-changed.