The Mistress: The Mistress\Wanted: Mistress and Mother (31 page)

“I told you from the start that there could be no
relationship,” Dante said through gritted teeth.

“Well, you were right.” Matilda nodded. “Because a relationship
is about trusting and sharing and giving, and you’re incapable of all
three.”

“Matilda, I have a child who is sick and getting worse by the
day. I was doing you a favour by holding back. How could I ask you to turn your
life around for us? It’s better this way...”

“Don’t you dare!” Matilda roared, startling Dante and everyone
in earshot. Even if the Italians were used to uncensored passion, clearly
eight-thirty on a weekday morning was a little early for them. But Matilda was
operating on a different time clock. It was the middle of the night in her mind
as her emotions finally erupted, oblivious of the gathering crowd as finally she
let him have it. “Don’t you dare decide what’s best for me when you didn’t even
have the manners to ask. I loved you and you didn’t want it. Well, fine, walk
away, get on a plane and leave the country, walk out of my life without a
goodbye, but don’t you dare tell me it’s for the best, don’t you dare stand
there and tell me that you’re doing me a favour—when I never asked for one. I
flew to the other side of the world because I care about your daughter and in
time I’d have loved Alex, too. I’d have loved Alex because she was a part of
you, and you
know
that, you
know
that, Dante.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, jabbed the
words at him over and over, ramming the truth home to the motionless, rigid man.
“You didn’t want my love—that’s the bottom line so don’t dress it up with
excuses. You love Jasmine and you always will.”

“I loved Jasmine—” He started but she turned to walk away
because she couldn’t bear to look at him. She pushed her way through the little
gathered crowd and started to run because she couldn’t bear to be close to him
and not have him, couldn’t be strong for even a second longer. She’d said all
she had come to and way, way more, had told him her truth. There was nothing
left to give and certainly nothing more to take. She didn’t want his crumbs of
comfort, didn’t want to hear how in another place, another time, maybe they
could have made it.

“Matilda.” He caught her wrist but she couldn’t take the
contact, the shooting awareness that had propelled them on that first day even
more acute, even more torturous. She tried to wrench it away, but he gripped it
tighter, forced her to turn around and face him.
“Senti,
” he demanded. “Listen to me!” But she shook her head.

“No, because there’s nothing else to say.”

“Please?”

That one word stilled her, the one word she’d never heard him
say, because he’d never had to ask politely for anything. Dante had never had to
ask anyone for anything because it had all been there for the taking.

Till now.

“Please,” he said again, and she nodded tentatively. She felt
his fingers loosen a touch round her wrist, grateful now for the contact as he
led her away from the crowded streets and to the Villa Borghese, a green haven
in the middle of the city. He led her through the park to a bench where they
sat. Silent tears streaming down her face from her outpouring of emotion, she
braced herself for the next onslaught of pain, biting on her lip as Dante
implored her to listen, no doubt to tell her as he had in the first place why it
could never, ever have worked.

“I loved Jasmine...” he said slowly, letting his hands warm
hers. She was touching him for the last time, staring down at his long,
manicured fingers entwined in hers and even managing a wan smile at the
contrast, her hands certainly not her best feature. But it wasn’t her short
nails or her prolonged misuse of moisturiser that had Matilda frowning. Eyes
that were swimming with tears struggled to focus on a gold band that was
missing, a wedding band that to this day had always been there. Her confusion
grew as Dante continued talking. “But not like this.”

“Like what?” Matilda croaked, still staring at his naked ring
finger.

“Like
this.
” Dante’s voice was a
hoarse whisper, but she could hear the passion and emotion behind it and
something else that drew her eyes to his, recognition greeting her as Dante
continued.
“This
love.”

He didn’t have to elaborate because she knew exactly what he
meant—
this
love that was all-consuming,
this
love that was so overwhelming and intense it
could surely only be experienced once in a lifetime. And she glimpsed his
hellish guilt then, guessed a little of what was coming next as he pulled her
into his arms as if he needed to feel her to go on.

“We were arguing the day she died—we were always arguing.” He
paused but she didn’t fill it, knew Dante had to tell her his story himself.
“When I met Jasmine she was a career-woman and had absolutely no intention of
settling down or starting a family, and that suited me fine. We were good
together. I didn’t have to explain the hours I put into my work and neither did
she. It worked, Matilda, it really worked, until...” She felt him stiffen in her
arms, felt him falter and held him just a touch tighter. “Jasmine found out she
was pregnant. We were both stunned. We’d taken precautions, it just wasn’t part
of the plan, wasn’t what either of us wanted, and yet...” He pulled her chin up
and she stared up at him, stared as that pain-ravaged face broke into a ghost of
a smile. “I was pleased, too, excited. I loved her and she was having my baby,
and I thought that would be enough.”

“But it wasn’t?” Her voice was muffled by his embrace but
Matilda already knew the answer.

“No.”

Or part of it.

“It wasn’t enough for Jasmine. We got married quickly and
bought this house and for a few months things were OK, but as Jasmine got bigger
as the birth came closer, she seemed to resent the impact her pregnancy was
having on her career. She was determined to go straight back to work afterwards,
to carry on as if nothing had happened, and that is when the arguments started,
because our baby was coming, like it or not, and things had to change. I tried
to stay quiet, hoped that once the baby came she’d see things differently, but
she didn’t. She hired a top nanny and was back at work within six weeks, full
time. She hardly saw Alex. I understand women work, I understand that, but not
to the exclusion of their child, not when you don’t need the money. That is when
the arguments escalated.”

“People argue Dante...” Matilda tried to comfort him, tried to
say the right thing, but knew it was useless. Despite their closeness, she could
feel the wall around him, knew the pain behind it and ached to reach him,
ached
for him.

“She felt trapped, I know that,” Dante said, his voice utterly
bleak. “I know that, because so did I. Not that we ever said it, not that either
of us had the courage to admit it. The morning of the accident,
again
she was going into the office. It was a Saturday
and the nanny was off and
again
she wanted me to
have Alex, only this time I said no. No. No. No...” He repeated the word like a
torturous mantra. “No. You are her mother. No, for once you have her. No, I’m
going out. I told her it was wrong, that Alex deserved a better mother. I told
her so many things terrible things...” She heard the break in his voice and
moved to help him.

“Dante, people say terrible things in an argument. You just
didn’t get the chance to take them back.”

“I tried to—even as I was saying them I wanted it to stop, to
put the genie back in the bottle and retract the things I had said. I did not
want it to be over, I did not want Alex to come from a broken home. I rang the
housekeeper and was told Jasmine had taken Alex to work with her. She wouldn’t
pick up when I called and I had the florist send flowers over to her office. I
told them to write that all I wanted was for her to come home... She never
did.”

“Oh, God, Dante...” Matilda knew she was supposed to be strong
now, to somehow magic up the right words, but all she could do was cry—for him,
for Jasmine and for the stupid mess that was no one’s fault, for the pain, for
both of them.

“She
was
coming home, Dante,”
Matilda said finally, pressing her cheek against his, trying to instil warmth
where there was none, her tears mingling with his. “She got the flowers, she
knew you were sorry...”

“Not sorry enough, though.” He closed his eyes in bitter
regret, self-loathing distorting his beautiful features. “Not sorry enough,
because I was still angry. The problems were all still there and even if she
hadn’t died, I know deep down that sooner or later our marriage would have.”

“You don’t know that, Dante, because you never got the chance
to find out,” Matilda said softly. “Who knows what would have happened if
Jasmine had come home that day? Maybe you would have talked, would have sorted
things out...”

“Maybe...” Dante said, but she could tell he didn’t believe it,
tell that he’d tried and failed to convince himself of the same thing. “You know
what I hate the most? I hate the sympathy, I hate that people think I deserve
it.”

“You do deserve it,” Matilda said. “Just because the two of you
were having troubles, it doesn’t mean you were bad people.”

“Perhaps,” Dante sighed. “But I cannot burst Katrina and Hugh’s
bubble, cannot tell them that their daughter’s last months were not happy
ones...”

“You don’t have to tell them anything.” Matilda shook her head.
“Tell them if you must that Jasmine made you so happy you want to do it all over
again.” She cupped his proud face in her hand and forced him to look at her,
smiled, not because it was funny but because it was so incredibly easy to help
him, so incredibly
right
to lead him away from his
pain. “You did nothing wrong.

“Nothing,”
she reiterated.

“But suppose that you’d walked into that lift two years ago,
Matilda?” Dante asked. “Suppose, after yet another row, the love of my life had
appeared then? I punish Edward for what he did to you and yet...”

“Never.” Matilda shook her head, blew away his self-doubt with
her utter conviction. “You’d never have done that to Jasmine and you know that
as much as I do, Dante, because even if the feelings had been there, you’d never
have acted on them. My God, you’re barely acting on them now, so surely you know
that much about yourself.”

And he must have, because finally he nodded.

“Don’t beat yourself up with questions you can never answer,”
Matilda said softly. “You and Jasmine did your best—just hold onto the fact that
there was enough love to stop either of you walking away. You sent her flowers
and asked her to come home and that’s exactly what she was doing. The truth is
enough to hold onto.”

And she watched as the pain that had been there since she’d
first met him literally melted away, dark, troubled eyes glimmering with
new-found hope. But it faded into a frown as Matilda’s voice suddenly changed
from understanding to angry, pulling back her hands and folding her arms,
resting her chin on her chest and staring fixedly ahead. “You’re so bloody
arrogant, Dante!”

“What the hell did I do now?” Dante asked, stunned at the
sudden change in her.

“Sitting there and wondering whether or not you’d have had an
affair with me! As if I had absolutely no say in the matter! Well, for your
information, Dante Costello, I’d have slapped your damned cheek if you’d so much
as laid a finger on me. I’d never get involved with a married man!”

“Unless he was your husband!” Dante said, uncoiling her rigid
arms, kissing her face all over in such a heavenly Italian way. “That was
actually a proposal—just in case you were wondering.”

Matilda kissed him back with such passion and depth that if
they had been in any city other than Rome, they’d no doubt have been arrested.
It was Dante who pulled away, demanding a response from a grumbling Matilda, who
wanted his kiss to go on for ever.

“That was actually a yes.” Matilda smiled, happy to go back to
being ravished, to being kissed by the most difficult, complicated, beautiful
man in the world. “Just in case you were wondering!”

Epilogue

“A
re you OK?”

Standing in the garden—in
Alex’s
garden—Matilda hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks as Dante approached,
determined that he wouldn’t see her cry. Today was surely hard enough for him
without her tears making things worse.

“I’m fine,” Matilda answered, forcing a bright smile as she
turned around. But watching him walk over, Alex running alongside him, Dante’s
hand shielding their newborn son’s tiny face from the early morning sun with
such tenderness, her reserve melted, the tears resuming as he joined her.

“It’s OK to be sad,” Dante said softly. “And you can’t argue,
because you said it yourself.”

“I did,” Matilda gulped, but as the sound of the removal trucks
pulling into the drive reached her, she gave in, letting him hold her as she
wept. “I feel guilty for being upset at leaving when I know how much harder this
is for you. I know this is your house...”

“Our house,” Dante corrected, but Matilda shook her head.

“It was yours and Jasmine’s first so, please, don’t try and
tell me that you’re not hurting, too.”

“A bit,” Dante admitted, gazing down at Joe, tracing his cheek
with his finger, “but I was giving Joe his bottle, thinking about our new home
and Alex was running around, checking her dolls were all in her bag, laughing
and talking, and I promise you, Matilda, all I felt was peace. I knew in my
heart of hearts that Jasmine was happy for me, was finally able to admit...” He
didn’t finish but gave a tiny wry smile and attempted to change the subject, but
Matilda was having none of it.

“Tell me, Dante,” she urged, because despite all the progress,
despite their closeness, sometimes with Dante she had to. “Please, tell me what
you were thinking.”

“That I loved her.” He was watching her closely for her
reaction, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back as she
smiled. “Is it OK to say that to you?”

“It’s more than OK, Dante,” came Matilda’s heartfelt answer.
“It’s exactly how it should be.”

“I know we had our faults, I know that it probably wouldn’t
have worked, but sometimes when I see Alex laughing now, sometimes when she is
being cheeky or funny, I can actually see Jasmine in her and finally I am able
to remember the good bits. Finally I know that she is in a peaceful place. I
know that she is proud of the choices I have made, and it’s all because of
you.”

She didn’t even attempt to hide her tears, just leant on him as
he spoke on.

“It’s right to move on, right that we make a new start, with
our little family.”

“But just because we’re looking to the future, it doesn’t mean
we have to shut out the past,” Matilda assured him. “Even Katrina seems to have
come around.”

She had. In the tumultuous weeks that had followed their
revelation, it would have been so easy to hate her, but in the end Matilda had
seen Katrina for what she was, a mother that was grieving, a mother terrified of
the world moving on and leaving her daughter’s memories behind. And slowly the
tide had turned. Alex’s stunning progress, Dante’s respect, coupled with
Matilda’s patience, had won the coldest heart around.

“We need to do this,” Dante affirmed. “We need to make new
memories, build new gardens and look to the future...” He didn’t finish, the
words knocked from him as a very jealous young lady flung her arms around both
of them, eyeing her new brother with blatant disapproval as she demanded to join
in the cuddle.

“Together.” Matilda laughed, scooping up Alex, closing her eyes
in bliss as the little girl rained kisses on her face. “We’ll do it
together.”

* * * * *