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Authors: Lynne Graham

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BOOK: Second-Time Bride
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‘So you must see that if I am to establish a relationship of any depth with my daughter she will be travelling to Rome on a very regular basis.'
‘Hmmm...' Daisy sighed absently, wondering if he remembered the time she had tried to take his jeans off with her teeth...seriously hoping that he didn't.
‘I think that you owe both Tara and me the chance to make something out of this mess.'
Daisy nodded and wished she had sat beside him instead of opposite.
‘I also want to give Tara what
she
wants, and I would have to be extraordinarily stupid not to know what she wants after yesterday.'
With enormous effort, Daisy fought to reinstate rational concentration and lifted exasperated eyes to his. ‘That's what this is all about, isn't it? You let Tara tie you up in knots, didn't you?'
Disorientatingly, Alessio's gleaming dark gaze flared with spontaneous amusement. ‘Not at all. When she asked me very loudly in the middle of a crowded restaurant whether I thought I could still fancy her mum, I took it beautifully.'
The challenging slant of Daisy's chin wavered as she slowly turned a beetroot shade, horror striking into her bones.
‘It was only half past twelve but I was already waiting for the question,' Alessio confessed lazily. ‘Tara has no subtlety. She can't wait for anything either. She just jumps right in and splashes everyone around her. Thirty-two years' experience of Bianca stood me in good stead.'
Daisy was mortified. ‘So you guessed what she was trying to do.'
‘She was like a suicide bomber forcing herself out on a diplomatic mission. She told me how she had always thought that you and I had a lot in common with Romeo and Juliet.'
Daisy went from mortification to sheer agony. “Oh, no—'
‘How divorce destroys children's lives: that was phase two. She backed that up with several hair-raising horror stories about schoolfriends. I lunched to the accompaniment of tales about spiteful stepmothers and abusive stepfathers. By the time the dessert cart came my appetite was flagging but Tara was putting away enough fuel to stoke a steam engine,' Alessio recalled wryly. ‘I was allowed a break until mid-afternoon before she embarked on the problems suffered by children from broken homes.'
‘I'm
really
sorry,' Daisy said feelingly.
‘She took me step by painful step through subjects such as low self-esteem and abysmal academic achievement—'
‘She's top of her class!' Daisy gasped.
‘I suspected that. Nobody that determined to make me feel guilty could possibly be lacking in intelligence. And by the end of my indoctrination session the picture was crystal-clear. Tara worships the ground you walk on. You have also attained martyr status while still alive,' Alessio murmured with sardonic eyes. ‘The divorce was fifty per cent my fault and fifty per cent the fault of the in-laws from hell. My evil, scheming parents, who sounded remarkably like a twentieth-century resurrection of the Borgias, may not have succeeded in driving you to suicide but then that is only a tribute to the strength of your character.'
Daisy gulped. ‘Teenagers can be very melodramatic.'
‘There were moments yesterday when I could have shaken you until your teeth rattled in your head,' Alessio confided. ‘But the bottom line is that Tara is consumed by a desire to see us reconciled.'
‘It's an understandable dream for her to have,' Daisy conceded grudgingly.
‘But I want to give my daughter that dream,' Alessio returned with dangerous softness. The limousine had stopped and the chauffeur walked round the car to open Daisy's door for her. Tight-mouthed, Daisy slid out. ‘Where on earth are we going?'
‘My apartment.'
Inside the lift, she breathed in deep. ‘Alessio... I love Tara very much and I understand that, the way you're feeling right now, you'd try to give her the moon if she asked for it, but I don't want—'
‘What you want doesn't come into this.'
Daisy's generous mouth fell wide open.
‘Haven't you had everything
your
way for long enough?'
Daisy froze in shock.
‘When the going go too rough, you walked out on our marriage without hesitation,' Alessio delivered with aggressive bite. ‘I got no choice then and I got even less choice when it came to my rights as a parent. You didn't compromise your wants and wishes until Tara gave you a guilty conscience. If she had had no interest in her absent father, I would probably never have learnt that I had a daughter.
Dio
...I feel I've earned the right to make some demands of my own!'
Daisy was devastated by that condemnation. Clearly, Alessio saw her as an utterly selfish individual who had caused unlimited damage. But she was being unfairly judged by adult standards. In marrying her at nineteen, Alessio had acknowledged that their child's needs should come first. It had been a fine and noble ideal but he had not carried through with the reality that their marriage would have to work to make that possible.
 
His penthouse apartment was breathtaking. Inquisitively she glanced through open doorways, taking in glimpses of richly polished wooden floors, magnificent rugs and gleaming antiques. In an elegant dining-room, the first course of their meal already awaited them. A silent manservant pushed her chair in, shook out her linen napkin and poured the wine before leaving them. Daisy emptied her glass fast. Over the rim, she collided with Alessio's broodingly intense dark gaze and the silence pulsed and pounded like the quiet before the storm.
Alessio expelled his breath in an impatient hiss. ‘When we met again, I admit that I was very hostile.' His strong jawline squared. ‘But that was self-defence. All the memories came back and I only allowed myself to recognise two reactions—lust and anger.'
In the past, Daisy had had a large personal acquaintance with both emotions, although, admittedly, Alessio had never before acknowledged the existence of either. She surveyed her empty glass with a sinking heart. She wondered what it would take to satisfy the Leopardi need for blood and retribution. When would Alessio take account of his own sins of omission?
‘But there was a lot of pain and bitterness in there too.'
Daisy experienced enough of a surge of interest and surprise to look up and pay closer attention.
Alessio's gaze was screened to a mere glimmer of gold. ‘I was amazed that I could still remember those feelings,' he admitted tautly. ‘But then my ego was very fragile at the time and you do hold the distinction of being the only woman who ever ditched me for a large injection of cash.'
Daisy's breath caught in her throat as she belatedly recalled that she had not yet explained about that money. ‘I—'
Alessio shifted a lean, autocratic hand to silence her. ‘But that sordid reality does not release me from what is patently my duty of care and responsibility towards my daughter. Nor do your personal feelings release you from that same obligation.'
Sordid reality? In the midst of reflecting that it might well have done Alessio a great deal of good to believe that he had been ditched in return for a large injection of cash, Daisy was sidetracked by his horrific use of that word ‘duty'. Her daughter had used it last night and it had given her mother a distinctly nasty turn. Leopardis were heavily into buzz words of the ‘duty' and ‘honour' variety. Employing such terms, they braced themselves to do masochistic things and then took revenge by punishing the unfortunate being who had forced them into those sacrifices.
That was the story of their first marriage in a nutshell, Daisy conceded with an involuntary shudder. Alessio had been punishing her for
his
sacrifice. She was not crazy enough to give him a second bite at the same apple. Tara would thank neither one of them for involving her in the misery of an unhappy marriage. If Alessio wanted a sacrifice, he was not going to find one in Daisy. Whatever he might think, Daisy knew she was not good martyr material.
‘Daisy...' Alessio breathed in a charged undertone. ‘Are you listening to me?'
Like a mouse slowly raising its gaze to risk the hypnotic and deadly enchantment of a snake, Daisy lifted her head. ‘Sorry?' she said very tautly.
Anger glittered in his incisive scrutiny. ‘No doubt it will surprise you, but I am accustomed to attention when I am speaking.'
Daisy was not at all surprised. Alessio had the most gorgeous dark, seductive drawl. That rich voice sent tiny, delicious quivers down her spine. He also had the most incredibly beautiful eyes and the most fabulous bone structure, she acknowledged, fully concentrating on what really mattered ... her
own
vulnerability. She could not remarry a man whom she had once loved so much and who had hurt her so terribly. It would be a suicidally stupid act. And she might have a bad habit of learning most of her lessons the hard way but nobody could ever say that she made the same mistake twice!
‘But then I am accustomed to dealing with individuals with some
small
measure of concentration,' Alessio added softly.
‘This has been a very traumatic week for me,' Daisy muttered evasively.
‘Really?' Alessio prompted dangerously, causing her anxious eyes to shoot back to his strong dark face.
‘Yes, really.'
‘How
could
it have been traumatic?' Alessio thundered in sudden, seething frustration. ‘You're on another bloody planet! You might be here in body but you're certainly not here in spirit!'
Daisy reddened with discomfiture. ‘I just lost the thread of the conversation for a—'
‘What conversation?' Alessio derided. ‘You've hardly opened your mouth since we got out of the lift! Barely a word has crossed your lips—'
‘I was
listening
,' she protested.
‘No, you weren't,' Alessio gritted with a flash of strong white teeth. ‘
Dio
, how this takes me back! You avoid things that you don't like.'
‘I didn't get very far with you, did I?'
Daisy was thinking about the mountain of recriminations that had already come her way. Not a lot to talk about there that she could see. There had been her denial of his parental rights. Fact. Her acceptance of cash in return for him—what other people called a divorce settlement but still fact, since she was technically in possession of that cash. Then there had been the lust and anger bit, followed by the pain and bitterness bit, neither of which had impressed her as being the conversational opener of the year. Alessio took account of only his own feelings and Daisy had not been tempted to reveal what
she
had suffered in the aftermath of their marriage...
Agonies, sheer appalling agonies, she recalled strickenly. She had been like one of those dreadfully clingy vines suddenly torn loose from its only support. Without Alessio, her world had collapsed. Day and night had fused into a progression of endless, miserable hours. If they hadn't kept on remorselessly shovelling food into her in the hospital she wouldn't have survived to tell the tale. But that was not a tale she was about to tell
him
. Wasn't it better that he should believe that she had cheerfully grabbed the money and run? Alessio thought she had departed with a big, brazen, gold-digging bang. Why share the news that she had been one very damp squib?
‘Daisy,' Alessio murmured grittily.
But Daisy was still being crushed by the weight of her memories. She had even missed the silences—those volatile, terrifyingly moody silences which had driven her into doormat mode on the least said, soonest mended principle. And yet now she couldn't shut him up, she thought in bewilderment. It was as if he had a mission to talk her to death. Couldn't he understand that she had nothing more to say to him on the subject of remarriage? At least nothing that would not be conducive to further conflict... and Daisy did not like conflict, unless she already had an escape route worked out.
‘That's it!' Alessio enunciated with grim emphasis.
Daisy flinched as he thrust back his chair and sprang upright. ‘Can I go back to work now?' she asked in a small and not very hopeful voice.
Alessio spread his lean brown hands wide in a frustrated arc. His smouldering golden gaze sizzled across the room and landed on her quailing figure like forked lightning. ‘No, you may not go back to work!'
‘There's no need to shout—'
‘It's shout or strangle you!'
Daisy stood up. ‘I was listening.'
‘How much did you take in?'
‘Were you expecting me to take notes?' Daisy demanded defensively.
In the act of leaving the room, Alessio stopped dead, his broad shoulders rigid. The atmosphere was electric.
‘Hang on every word the way I used to?' Daisy continued with unconcealed rancour.
BOOK: Second-Time Bride
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