The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MARCO’S secretary looked in alarm at the determined young woman who stood before her.

‘Does Signor Calvani have anyone with him just now?’

‘I don’t see what-?’

‘Does he?’ Harriet repeated.

‘No, but he has a board meeting in five-’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t be that long,’ she tossed over her shoulder as she opened the door to Marco’s office.

He was engrossed in a computer screen and looked up in alarm.

‘What’s wrong? Has something happened to my mother?’

‘No, I came to see you because this is the one place you can’t run from me. You’ve been avoiding me since we returned from Venice.’

‘Two days. You know I have work to do-’

‘And you know what I want to say. I’ll say it quickly so that you’re not late for your meeting.’

His lips tightened. ‘This isn’t the time-’

‘How much time does it take to say goodbye?’

‘Can we talk about this later?’

‘No, I fell for that one before. Not again. Besides, there’s nothing to talk about. Goodbye! Finito. Basta! End of story. I can’t marry you. This so-called engagement is over.’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said impatiently. ‘The invitations have started to go out.’

‘And I’m upsetting the organisation, the ultimate crime, I know. I’m sorry, but some things are more important than getting the books straight.’

Marco came out from behind his desk. He was pale but he spoke calmly. ‘Look, you’ve been in a strange mood recently, and maybe I haven’t been very sympathetic. And I shouldn’t have announced our engagement like that, but it just seemed the right thing to do. I’m sorry. I’ll do better in future.’

‘Listen to yourself,’ she cried. ‘You talk like a man punching keys on a computer. This one for “sorry”, this one for “do better”, and out comes the right answer. Life doesn’t work like that.’

He made a sound of impatience. ‘Do these trivial details matter?’

‘They’re not trivial. They’re the way you are. Everything labelled and in its little box. I’ve just told you that our engagement is off, and you’re angry because I’ve stepped out of my box into one you don’t know how to label.’

‘I’m angry because I don’t understand a word of this. Nothing you say is reasonable.’

‘Is it unreasonable of me to want to marry a man who cares about me, the way you don’t?’

He took a quick breath and seemed about to say something, but checked himself. When the words did come out they were calm. ‘I thought we’d-managed to grow closer-’

‘Not close enough. You’re possessive, and you try to organise every step I take, but that isn’t love.’ She sighed. ‘Well, maybe you’re right and I have been unreasonable. I should have worried about love much sooner, shouldn’t I? Like, the day we met. I’m sorry. I didn’t know myself very well then. I do now, and different things matter. Love matters.’

‘Love?’ he echoed.

‘Oh, Marco, you sound as though you’d never heard the word. There’s no love between us, is there?’

He was very still now. She had his whole attention. ‘It would seem not,’ he said quietly. ‘How stupid of me not to have understood.’

‘It’s my fault. I misled you, made you think I could live without it, like you.’

He regarded her sardonically. ‘And when did this suddenly become so important?’

‘Only recently. Do you remember the night of my father’s party?’

‘Do you?’ he flashed unexpectedly.

‘Vividly. But it’s no good is it? You can’t create what isn’t there. I’ve tried to play it your way, but I can’t do it, and it would only break us apart in the end.’

‘Maybe you give up too easily.’

‘I thought you prided yourself on being a realist. You’re not being realistic now. It’s not going to get any better, Marco. We’re both what we are. It’s too late to change.’

She watched his face, longing to see in it some softening, some hint that even now he could search his heart and discover that he didn’t want to lose her. Behind her brave front she knew that a loving word from him would have sent her joyfully into his arms. But no word came.

Instead, into her mind slid the memory of something he’d said in one of their discussions about business, ‘It’s like playing poker. When the deal collapses you keep a blank face.’

The deal was collapsing and his face was as blank as death. His complexion was even a little grey, and there was a strange, withered look in his eyes, as though the life was draining out of him.

‘Yes,’ he said at last in a voice of stone. ‘It’s too late for change. I thought-well, I was wrong. You can’t change just because you want to.’

In the silence that followed she had the strange feeling that he was at a loss, something she’d never known in him before.

‘What happens now?’ he asked at last.

‘I’ll leave as soon as I’ve spoken to your mother. When I get back to London-’

‘London? You were talking about staying in Rome.’

She surveyed him ironically. ‘You actually remember that conversation? I thought you pressed the “Delete” button the way you do when something doesn’t suit you. I did mean to stay in Rome, but I see now that I can’t. I have to get right away from you. When I’m home I’ll arrange to repay the money I owe you.’

‘There’s no rush. I promised you easy terms-’

‘No, I want to pay it all at once.’

‘You can’t afford a lump sum, we both know that.’

‘I’ll manage it somehow. It’s better if I’m not in your debt.’

Suddenly his face wasn’t impassive any more, but twisted with bitterness. ‘You can’t wait to be rid of me, can you?’

The injustice was like a knife in her heart, making her reply with equal bitterness to cover her pain.

‘I thought you’d be glad to see me gone, now that you know the proposed merger isn’t coming off. Cut your losses and don’t waste time over a dead deal. Your own principles, but useful for me, too.’

She heard the quick intake of breath before he said, ‘I seem to have taught you more than I knew. I can recall a time when you were too generous to say something so cruel.’

‘Marco-’

‘You’re quite right of course. Whatever made me think it worthy of discussion?’

‘Nothing is worth discussing any more. It’s over. There’s no more to be said. You’d better hurry, you have a meeting.’

She almost ran out of his office, not knowing whether to cry or hurl something at him. How dare he confuse her with that air of suppressed pain! She knew him too well to be fooled. It was no more than his trick of putting her in the wrong. But right now she couldn’t cope with it.

Telling Lucia was the hardest part, although the older woman was understanding.

‘I always knew there was something wrong,’ she sighed. ‘Even in Venice I sensed it. But I suppose I saw only what I wanted to see. I’m afraid Marco gets that from me.’ She squeezed Harriet’s hand. ‘What happened?’

‘It’s very simple. Marco and I made a business deal, but I found I couldn’t stick to the terms. My feelings got all tangled up, the very thing we agreed wouldn’t happen.’

‘But he wants you so much-’

‘Yes, he wants me, as he’d want anything that he’d decided suited him. But it’s not enough.’

‘Are you saying that you love him?’

‘It’s not as simple as that,’ she said, on her guard, remembering that Lucia would probably report all this to her son. ‘How can you love a man who doesn’t need to be loved?’

‘Every man needs to be loved, and Marco perhaps more than the others, because he fights it so hard.’

‘Yes, he fights it, and I can’t get past that. I don’t want to spend my life fighting.’

‘Can’t I say anything to persuade you?’

Harriet shook her head. ‘The hardest thing will be leaving you. You’ve been wonderful to me.’

‘We mustn’t lose that,’ Lucia said eagerly. ‘Now that we’ve found each other you must promise to stay in touch.’

Harriet promised, and the older woman put her arms around her. There were tears in her eyes. ‘When will you leave?’ she asked sadly.

‘There’s a plane at noon tomorrow.’

‘I’ll go to the airport with you.’

Harriet was half inclined to leave behind her new clothes. It didn’t seem right somehow to take from a woman she was disappointing so badly. But Lucia insisted that every last gown was packed.

‘Cara Etta,’ she said earnestly, ‘Forgive me for saying this, but I couldn’t bear for you to go back to looking as you did before.’

Over supper they tried to cheer each other up, and not admit that they were both waiting for Marco. Lucia glanced at the clock several times until Harriet said, ‘He isn’t coming, you know.’

‘Of course he’s coming. He won’t let you go without saying goodbye.’

‘He doesn’t need to say goodbye. He’s already “signed me off”.’

‘Don’t start to talk like him, my dear. That way of seeing the world hasn’t made him happy.’

‘I don’t know what would make him happy,’ Harriet sighed. ‘I just don’t think it’s me.’

‘And you?’ Lucia asked. ‘Could you have been happy with him?’

‘Can one be happy without the other being happy?’ was the only answer Harriet could make.

A heavy ache was pervading her, as though her chest housed a stone where her heart should be. As the hands of the clock ticked on she faced the fact that Marco was going to let her go without another word, and despite her defiant words about “signing off”, that hurt badly.

In a fine temper, Lucia called Marco’s home and then, receiving no reply, his mobile phone.

‘Don’t try any more,’ Harriet begged. ‘It’s better as it is.’

Yet she still lay awake most of the night, listening for the sound of his car. When it didn’t come she repeated to herself that this was the best way, for she knew she was weakening. She was in too much danger of throwing herself into his arms and promising anything if only she could stay with him. And that would be fatal. There could be no self-respect in living with a man who knew that you would abandon pride to be with him.

She managed to sleep for a couple of hours, waking with an aching head. Neither she nor Lucia had more than black coffee for breakfast. The hands of the clock were creeping to the moment when she must leave the villa for ever. Leave Marco for ever. No, she had already left him.

There was the sound from the gravel outside.

‘The chauffeur must have brought the car around,’ Lucia said. ‘Oh, Etta dear, remember you promised to keep in touch.’

‘I promise,’ Harriet said huskily, and was enveloped in Lucia’s embrace. Then she felt her hostess stiffen in her arms, and Lucia let out a glad cry.

‘Marco!’

He was standing in the doorway, very pale but composed. Harriet held her breath.

‘You came!’ Lucia was overjoyed.

‘Naturally. Did you think me so lacking in manners that I would allow our guest to depart without seeing her off? I’ll drive Harriet to the airport myself.’

Her heart was beating strongly from the moment of blazing hope, but she forced herself to be calm. This was Marco’s good manners. No more.

He waited in the car while she made her farewells to Lucia. She was still fighting back tears when she got in beside him. Marco studied her face, his own revealing little. Then his gaze dropped to her left hand, bare now.

‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ Harriet said, so I’ve given me ring to your mother.’

He swung the car out on to the Appian Way. ‘This has hurt my mother very much.’

‘I know, but we had a long talk and I think she understands.’

‘That’s more than I do.’

‘And I’ve promised to stay in touch with her.’

‘Good. Then I may hope to hear some news of you.’

‘What was that?’ A heavy truck had passed, drowning out his words.

‘I said I may hope to hear some news of you,’ he repeated in a harsh, desperate voice.

‘Yes, well-I’ll be in touch about the money.’

‘I’ve told you there’s no rush for that. We can arrange instalments-’

‘No, it’s better to sort it all out now.’

He swore violently under his breath. ‘You’re a hard and stubborn woman.’

Stubborn, yes, she thought. But hard? Perhaps she was just growing a defensive shell against the pain of leaving him. It would work out for the best in the end, she told herself, especially as he was showing her his least amiable side. It really would stop hurting. One day.

At the airport he stayed with her until check-in, and politely made sure that she had her ticket, passport, boarding pass.

‘I’ll go straight through,’ she said. ‘No need to hold you up. Thank you for bringing me.’

‘It was no trouble.’

‘Good luck with the partnership.’

‘What-? Oh, yes. Thank you. Well, I mustn’t waste time. Goodbye, and the best of luck for the future.’

He shook hands with her and strode away without looking back. He found his car, got in and switched on the engine. Then he switched it off again, dropped his head on his arms on the steering wheel, and stayed like that until somebody knocked on the window to see if he was all right.

‘Why did you make me seek you out here, my son?’ Lucia looked around at Marco’s apartment which seemed even more austere and dismaying than ever. ‘It’s been two days now. Why didn’t you come home and talk to me?’

His smiled was strained. ‘You know how busy I am just now, Mamma. This partnership-’

‘You made that excuse to her, and much good it did you.’

He was silent.

Lucia went into the kitchen and made some coffee. When she returned Marco was sitting with his fingers entwined between his knees, staring at the floor. He gave a faint smile of thanks accepting the cup, and one look at his face was enough to send her back to the kitchen, returning at last with a large plate of pasta.

‘When did you last eat?’ she demanded, setting it before him.

He shrugged. ‘Some time. Thanks Mamma.’ He ate a few mouthfuls. ‘This is good.’

She regarded him pityingly. ‘You’ve been very foolish.’

‘Me?’ He was stung. ‘I was the one who wanted our marriage to go ahead.’

‘Yes, and you went about it with all the subtlety of a bludgeon. What’s the result? I’ve lost a daughter-in-law, one I was particularly fond of. It won’t do.’

‘What do you expect me to do? I can’t force her to marry me.’

‘So you’ve learned that, have you?’

‘Mamma it’s easy to talk, but you can’t talk sense to Harriet. She lives in a dream world.’ He gave a grunt of sardonic laughter. ‘She calls herself a businesswoman but the man in the moon has more idea of commerce. She thinks running a business is a matter of loving the pieces and finding them “kind homes”.’

‘Oh, how like Harriet that sounds!’ Lucia sighed.

‘Yes it does. It also sounds like the way she ran the shop into the ground. Now she talks about repaying me the money I loaned her, in a lump sum. How does she think she can do that? She’s not the expert that she thinks she is.’

‘Really Marco, what do you know about the subject?’

He jumped up and went to a concealed safe. A few clicks on the combination lock and he opened the door, taking out an ornate gold necklace.

‘You see this? I took it to London and showed it to Harriet on the first day. Do you remember how proud Poppa was of this, how he used to show it off and tell stories of the dig where it was discovered? Harriet told me that was a fake.’

‘But, my dear boy, it is a fake.’

‘What do you mean? It’s genuine Etruscan.’

‘No, the original was genuine Etruscan. But years ago your father had financial problems, so he sold it. That’s a copy made by a professional forger. He was the best in the business, so good that in all these years nobody has ever spotted it. Until Harriet. She, of course, could spot a phoney at fifty paces.’

He stared at her.

For the second time Harriet lifted the pen, then put it down.

‘It just seems so final,’ she said sadly.

Mr. Pendry, her lawyer, nodded. ‘A sale is final,’ he said. ‘But you’d be very unwise to refuse Allum & Jonsey’s offer.’

‘But who is this firm?’

‘Does it matter? A &J has met your full asking price without any argument, and as you know, I always thought it a little optimistic. Plus they want you to stay and run the place. In a sense you’ll lose nothing.’

‘Except that it won’t be mine any more.’

‘Well, if you really don’t want to sell you could ask Signor Calvani if you could pay him by instalments. Shall I-?’

‘No, thank you,’ Harriet said firmly. He’d hit on the one argument that could sway her. She’d vowed to break all ties between herself and Marco. It was the only way to put him out of her life, if not her heart. Hell would freeze over before she asked him for a favour now. Swiftly she signed her name and pushed the paper over the desk.

‘Now this one,’ Mr. Pendry said. ‘It’s your contract, as manageress, for six months.’

Harriet paused again. ‘I don’t know. Isn’t a clean break the best thing?’

There’s no such thing as a clean break. Haven’t you discovered that in the lonely days and aching nights?

‘Do you have anything else lined up?’ Mr. Pendry asked.

‘No, I guess I don’t,’ she said, picking up the pen. ‘So what happens now?’

‘You just keep on running the shop. I dare say they’ll send someone to see you sooner or later.’

She lay awake all night, knowing that she’d signed because she was a coward. She couldn’t face another break so soon after the last one. She would see out her contract and separate herself from her beloved shop inch by inch.

Yet again, as she’d done so many times since returning to London, she asked herself why she’d taken such a stubborn stand against the man she couldn’t stop loving? Truth to tell, she’d always considered herself a touch on the wimpish side. So how had she found the weapons in her hands?

Because Marco had shown them to her.

He’d told her that she was strong and brave and independent, and it was true. The neglect and loneliness that had marked her life had taught her how to be alone, but she hadn’t known it until Marco revealed her strengths to her. He’d proved that she could do without the father she’d yearned for, and the next step was the knowledge that she could do without anyone.

Now she could do without Marco, because he’d taught her how.

Next day she overslept. It was Mrs Gilchrist’s day off so she couldn’t have picked a worse moment to be late. As she hastened to the shop, she crossed her fingers and prayed to whichever deity protected disorganised antique dealers not to let A &J send their representative today.

She knew her prayers weren’t being answered when she arrived to find the front door standing open. She’d been beaten to it. She was late. Just like that other time. She could just imagine what Marco would say to this.

And that was exactly what he said as he emerged from her cubicle at the back of the shop to stand regarding her sardonically.

‘Dammit Harriet, not again! Are you never on time?’