Hot Picks: A Convenient Marriage

CHAPTER FIVE

NATALIE was handed a glass of champagne as soon as she entered the salon on Angelo’s arm.

‘This is such a happy occasion for us,’ Francesca said. ‘We were starting to wonder if Angelo would ever settle down, weren’t we, Sandro?’

Angelo’s father gave a benign smile as he raised his glass. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘But we always knew he would only ever marry for love. It is a Bellandini tradition, after all.’

‘Isn’t it also twenty-first century tradition to do so?’ Natalie asked.

‘Well, yes, of course,’ Francesca said. ‘But that’s not to say that certain families don’t occasionally orchestrate meetings between their young ones to hurry things along. Parents often have a feel for these things.’

‘I’m not sure parents should get involved in their children’s lives to that extent,’ Natalie said. ‘Surely once someone is an adult they should be left to decide what and who is right for them?’

Sandro’s dark brown eyes glinted as he addressed his son. ‘I can see you have chosen a wife with spirit, Angelo,’ he said. ‘Life is so much more exciting with a woman who has a mind of her own.’

Francesca gave Sandro a playful tap on the arm. ‘You’ve done nothing but complain for the last thirty-six years about my spirit.’

Sandro took her hand and kissed it gallantly. ‘I adore your spirit, tesoro mio,’ he said. ‘I worship it.’

Natalie couldn’t help comparing her parents’ relationship to Angelo’s parents’. Her parents spoke to each other on a need basis. She couldn’t remember the last time they had touched. They certainly didn’t look at each other with love shining from their eyes. They could barely be in the same room together.

‘Papa, Mamma,’ Angelo said. ‘You’re embarrassing Natalie.’

Francesca came over and looped an arm through one of Natalie’s. ‘Angelo tells me you are a very talented interior designer,’ she said. ‘I am ashamed that I hadn’t seen your soft furnishings range until I searched for it online. I cannot believe what I have been missing. Do you not have an Italian outlet?’

‘I’ve limited my outlets to the UK up until now,’ Natalie said.

‘But why?’ Francesca said. ‘Your designs are wonderful.’

‘I’m not fond of travelling,’ Natalie said. ‘I know I should probably do more in terms of networking in Europe …’

‘Never mind,’ Francesca said, patting her arm reassuringly. ‘Angelo will see to it. He is very good at business. You will soon be a household name and I will be immensely proud of you. I will tell everyone you are my lovely daughter-in-law and I will not speak to them ever again unless they buy all of your linen and use all of your treatments in their homes, si?’

Natalie thought of her father’s dismissal of her latest range as ‘too girly’ and ‘too Parisian’. She felt more affirmed after five minutes with Angelo’s mother than she had in a lifetime with her father.

‘I’ll get my assistant to send you a catalogue,’ she said. ‘If you want a hand with anything I’d be happy to help.’

‘Oh, would you?’ Francesca’s eyes danced with excitement. ‘I’ve been dying to redecorate the guest rooms. I would love your help. It will be a bonding experience, si?’

‘I’d like that,’ Natalie said.

Francesca smiled. ‘I have been so nervous about us meeting,’ she said. ‘But I am happy now. You are perfect for Angelo. You love him very much, no?’

‘I … I …’

Francesca squeezed Natalie’s forearm. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘You don’t like wearing your heart on your sleeve, si? But I can see what you feel for him. I don’t need you to say it out loud. You are not the sort of girl who would marry for anything but for love.’

Angelo came over and put an arm around Natalie’s waist. ‘So you approve, Mamma?’ he said.

‘But of course,’ his mother said. ‘She is an angel. We will get on famously.’

Dinner was a lively, convivial affair—again very different from meals taken at Natalie’s family home. At the Armitage mansion no one spoke unless Adrian Armitage gave permission. It was a pattern from childhood that neither Natalie nor Lachlan had been courageous enough to challenge.

But in the Bellandini household, magnificent and imposing as it was, everyone was encouraged to contribute to the conversation. Natalie didn’t say much. She listened and watched as Angelo interacted with his parents. They debated volubly about politics and religion and the state of the economy, but no one got angry or upset, or slammed their fist down on the table. It was like watching a very exciting tennis match. The ball of conversation was hit back and forth, but nothing but good sportsmanship was on show.

After the coffee cups were cleared Angelo placed a gentle hand on the nape of Natalie’s neck. ‘You will excuse us, Mamma and Papa?’ he said. ‘Natalie is exhausted.’

‘But of course,’ Francesca said.

Sandro got to his feet and joined his wife in kissing Natalie on both cheeks. ‘Sleep well, Natalie,’ he said. ‘It is a very great privilege to welcome you to our family.’

Natalie struggled to keep her overwhelmed emotions back behind the screen she had erected. ‘You’re very kind …’

Angelo kept his hand at her back all the way upstairs. ‘You didn’t eat much at dinner,’ he said. ‘Are you still feeling unwell?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not a big eater.’

‘You’re very thin,’ he said. ‘You seem to have lost even more weight since the day you came to my office.’

She kept her gaze averted as she trudged up the stairs. ‘I always lose weight in the summer.’

He held the door of their suite open for her. ‘My parents adore you.’

She gave him a vestige of a smile. ‘They’re lovely people. You’re very lucky.’

Angelo closed the door and watched as she removed the clip holding her hair in place. Glossy brunette tresses flowed over her shoulders. He wanted to run his fingers through them, to bury his head in their fragrant mass.

‘You can have the bed,’ he said. ‘I’ll sleep in one of the other rooms.’

‘Won’t your parents think it rather odd if you sleep somewhere else?’ she asked, frowning slightly.

‘I’ll think of some excuse.’

‘I’m sure we can manage to share a bed for a night or two,’ she said, looking away. ‘It’s not as if we’re out-of-control, hormonally driven teenagers or anything.’

Angelo felt exactly like an out-of-control, hormonally driven teenager, but he thought it best not to say so. He wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep a wink with her lying beside him, but he was going to give it a damn good try.

‘You use the bathroom first,’ he said. ‘I have a couple of e-mails to send.’

She gave a vague nod and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom.

When he finally came back into the bedroom Natalie was soundly asleep. She barely took up any room in the king-sized bed. He stood looking at her for a long time, wondering where he had gone wrong with her. Had he expected too much too soon? She had only been twenty-one. It was young for the commitment of marriage, but he had been so certain she was the one for him he hadn’t stopped to consider she might say no. It had been perhaps a little arrogant of him, but he had never factored in the possibility that she would leave him. All his life he had been given everything he wanted. It was part and parcel of being an only child born to extremely wealthy parents. He had never experienced disappointment or betrayal.

He had her now where he wanted her, but he wasn’t happy and neither was she. She was a caged bird. She would not stay confined for long. She would do her duty to save her brother’s hide but she would not stay with him indefinitely.

He slipped between the sheets a few minutes later and lay listening to the sound of her soft breathing. He ached to pull her into his arms but he was determined she would come to him of her own volition. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax.

He was not far off sleep when he felt Natalie stiffen like a board beside him. The bed jolted with the movement of her body as she started to thrash about as if she were possessed by an inner demon. He had never seen her jerk or throw herself about in such a way. He was concerned she was going to hurt herself.

‘No!’ she cried. ‘No! No! No! Noooo!’

Angelo reached for her, restraining her flailing arms and legs with the shelter of his body half covering hers. ‘Shh, cara,’ he said softly. ‘It’s just a bad dream. Shh.’

Her eyes opened wide and she gulped over a sob as she covered her face with her hands. ‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t find him.’

He brushed the hair back off her forehead. ‘Who couldn’t you find, mia piccola?’ he asked.

She shook her head from side to side, her face still shielded by her hands. ‘It was my fault,’ she said, the words sounding as if they were scraped out of her throat. ‘It was my fault.’

He frowned and pulled her hands down from her face. ‘What was your fault?’

She blinked and focussed on his face. ‘I … I …’ She swallowed. ‘I—I’m sorry …’

She started to cry, her face crumpling like a sheet of paper snatched up by someone’s hand. Big crystal tears popped from her eyes and flowed down her face. He had never seen her cry. He had seen her furiously angry and he had seen her happy, and just about everything in between, but he had never seen her in tears.

‘Hey,’ he said, blotting each tear as it fell with the pad of his finger. ‘It’s just a dream, Tatty. It’s not real. It’s just a horrible nightmare.’

She cried all the harder, great choking sobs that made his own chest feel sore.

‘I’m sorry,’ she kept saying like a mantra. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

‘Shh,’ he said again. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about.’ He stroked her face and her hair. ‘There … let it go, cara. That’s my girl. Let it all go.’

Her sobs gradually subsided to hiccups and she finally nestled against his chest and fell into an exhausted sleep. Angelo kept on stroking her hair as the clock worked its way around to dawn.

He could not have slept a wink if he tried.

Natalie opened her eyes and found Angelo’s dark, thoughtful gaze trained on her. She had some vague memory of what had passed during the night but it was like looking at something through a cloudy, opaque film.

‘I hope I didn’t keep you awake,’ she said. ‘I’m not a very good sleeper.’

‘You’re certainly very restless,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember you being like that when we were together.’

She focussed her gaze on the white cotton sheet that was pulled up to her chest. ‘I sleep much better in the winter.’

‘I can see why you choose to live in Scotland.’

She felt a reluctant smile tug at her mouth. ‘Maybe I should move to Antarctica or the North Pole.’

‘Maybe you should talk to someone about your dreams.’

She got off the bed and snatched up a bathrobe to cover her nightwear. ‘Maybe you should mind your own business,’ she said, tying the waist strap with unnecessary force.

He got off the bed and came to stand where she was standing. ‘Don’t push me away, Natalie,’ he said. ‘Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?’

She glared at him, her anger straining like an unbroken horse on a string bridle. ‘Back off. I don’t need your help. I was perfectly fine until you came along and stuffed everything up. You with your stupid plans for revenge. Who are you to sort out my life? You don’t know a thing about my life. You just think you can manipulate things to suit you. Go ahead. See if I care.’

She flung herself away, huddling into herself like a porcupine faced with a predator. But her prickly spines felt as if they were pointing the wrong way. She felt every savage poke of them into her sensitive soul.

‘Why are you being so antagonistic?’ he asked. ‘What’s happened to make you like this?’

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut as she fought for control. ‘I don’t need you to psychoanalyse me, Angelo. I don’t need you to fix me. I was fine until you barged back into my life.’

‘You’re not fine,’ he said. ‘You’re far from fine. I want to help you.’

She kept her back turned on him. ‘You don’t need me to complicate your life. You can have anyone. You don’t need me.’

‘I do need you,’ he said. ‘And you need me.’

She felt as if he had reached inside her chest and grasped her heart in his hand and squashed it. She wasn’t the right person for him. She could never be the right person for him. Why couldn’t he see it? Did she have to spell it out for him?

‘You deserve someone who can love you,’ she said. ‘I’m not capable of that.’

‘I don’t know what’s happened in your life to make you think that, but it’s not true,’ he said. ‘You do care, Natalie. You care about everything, but you keep your feelings locked away where no one can see them.’

She pinched the bridge of her nose until her eyes watered. ‘I’ve stuffed up so many lives.’ She sucked in a breath and released it raggedly. ‘I’ve tried to be a good person but sometimes it’s just not enough.’

‘You are a good person,’ he said. ‘Why are you so damned hard on yourself?’

Natalie felt the anguish of her soul assail her all over again. She had carried this burdensome yoke since she was seven years old. Instead of getting lighter it had become heavier. It had dug down deep into the shoulders of her guilt. She had no hope of shrugging it off. It was like a big, ugly track mark on her soul.

It was with her for life. It was her penance, her punishment.

‘When I was a little girl I thought the world was a magical place,’ she said. ‘I thought if I just wished for something hard enough it would happen.’

‘That’s the magic of childhood,’ he said. ‘Every child thinks that.’

‘I truly believed if I wanted something badly enough it would come to me,’ she said. ‘Where did I get that from? Life isn’t like that. It’s never been like that. It’s not like some Hollywood script where everything turns out right in the end. It’s pain and sadness and grief at what could have been but wasn’t. It’s one long journey of relentless suffering.’

‘Why do you find life so difficult?’ he asked. ‘You come from a good family. You have wealth and a roof over your head, food on the table. What is there to be so miserable about? So many people are much worse off.’

She rolled her eyes and headed for the bathroom. ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’

‘Make me understand.’

She turned and looked at him. His dark eyes were so concerned and serious. How could she bear to see him look at her in horror and disgust if she told him the truth? She let out a long sigh and pushed against the door with her hand. ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’

Angelo was having coffee in the breakfast room when Natalie came in. She looked cool and composed. There was no sign of the distress he had witnessed during the dark hours of the night and first thing this morning. Her ice maiden persona was back in place.

He rose from the table as she came in and held out a chair for her. ‘My mother has organised a shopping morning for you,’ he said. ‘She’ll be with you shortly. She’s just seeing to some last-minute things with the housekeeper.’

‘But I don’t need anything,’ she said, frowning as she sat down.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he asked. ‘We’re getting married on Saturday.’

Her eyes fell away from his as she placed a napkin over her lap. ‘I wasn’t planning on going to any trouble over a dress,’ she said. ‘I have a cream suit that will do.’

‘It’s not just your wedding, cara,’ he said. ‘It’s mine too. My family and yours are looking forward to celebrating with us. It won’t be the same if you turn up in a dress you could wear any old time. I want you to look like a bride.’

A spark of defiance lit her slate-blue gaze as it clashed with his. ‘I don’t want to look like a meringue,’ she said. ‘And don’t expect me to wear a veil, because I won’t.’

Angelo clamped his teeth together to rein in his temper. Was she being deliberately obstructive just to needle him for forcing her hand? He regretted showing his tender side to her last night. She was obviously going to manipulate him to get her own way. Hadn’t her father warned him? She was clever at getting what she wanted. She would go to extraordinary lengths to do so.

But then, so would he.

She had met her match in him and he would not let her forget it. ‘You will wear what I say you will wear,’ he said, nailing her with his gaze. ‘Do you understand?’

Her eyes flashed like fire. ‘Does it make you feel big and macho and tough to force me to do what you want?’ she asked. ‘Does it make you feel big and powerful and invincible?’

It made him feel terrible inside, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. ‘I want our wedding day to be a day to remember,’ he said with forced calm. ‘I will not have you spoiling it by childish displays of temper or passive aggressive actions that will upset other people who are near and dear to me. You are a mature adult. I expect you to act like one.’

She gave him a livid glare. ‘Will that be all, master?’ she asked.

He pushed back from the table and tossed his napkin to one side. ‘I’ll see you at the chapel on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I have business to see to until then.’

Her expression lost some of its intractability. ‘You mean you’re leaving me here … alone?’

‘My parents will be here.’

Her throat rose and fell over the tiniest of swallows. ‘This is rather sudden, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You said nothing to me about having to go away on business. I thought you were going to be glued to my side in case I did a last-minute runner.’

Angelo leaned his hands on the table and looked her square in the eyes. ‘Don’t even think about it, Natalie,’ he said through tight lips. ‘You put one foot out of place and I’ll come down like a ton of bricks on your brother. He will never go to Harvard. He will never go to any university. It will be years before he sees the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?’

She blinked at him, her eyes as wide as big blue saucers. ‘Perfectly,’ she said in a hollow voice.

He held her pinned there with his gaze for a couple of chugging heartbeats before he straightened and adjusted his tie. ‘Try and stay out of trouble,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you later. Ciao.’

CHAPTER SIX

THE private chapel at Angelo’s grandparents’ villa forty-five minutes outside of Rome was full to overflowing when Natalie arrived in the limousine with her father. The last few days had passed in a blur of activity as wedding preparations had been made. She had gone with the flow of things—not wanting to upset Angelo’s parents, who had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome.

She had talked to Angelo on the phone each day, but he had seemed distant and uncommunicative and the calls hadn’t lasted more than a minute or two at most. There had been no sign of the gentle and caring man she had glimpsed the other night. She wondered if he was having second thoughts about marrying her now he had an inkling of how seriously screwed up she really was.

Her parents had flown over the day before, and her father had immediately stepped into his public role of devoted father. Her mother was her usual decorative self, dressed in diamonds and designer clothes with a hint of brandy on her breath that no amount of mints could disguise.

Her father helped Natalie out of the car outside the chapel. ‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d end up with some tradesman from the suburbs. Angelo Bellandini is quite a catch. It’s a pity he’s Italian, but his money more than makes up for that. I didn’t know you had it in you to land such a big fish.’

She gave him an embittered look. ‘I 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?’